#EVE told Wall-E what she was

[purritobastard]

I am completely Normal about Wall-E and EVE, what are you talking about???

[crappymixtape]

tangled • part one

PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • PART VI ❝ all you’ve known your entire life is in the inside of your tower – the brick walls covered in your murals skating around you in a semi-perfect circle, the view from the very top one that would take anyone’s breath away, but how could it be beautiful when you could never leave? that is, until an unexpected someone happens upon your hidden tower and offers you a chance to escape | (  3.2k, tangled AU • fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

S E T M E F R E E, O H I P R A Y 🎶 cowboy take me away, fireswimmer

You were up with the birds, awake as fingers of sunlight slipped through your window and fanned out over the quilt you’d stitched together during the winter months. Spring was coming to an end and the days were growing warmer, enough to probably not need your quilt any longer, and when you stepped out of bed onto the cobblestone floor you felt a buzz of inspiration zip through you.

Maybe it was the way the sun crept through your window or maybe it was the sound of the waterfall rushing just outside the tower, but you wanted so badly to run your fingers through the grass. Hear the way the breeze blew through the trees. Dip your toes in the water and look at the details of a petal up close and–

“Rapunzel! Let down your hair!”

Mother’s voice drifted up from the bottom of the tower and you felt your heart hammer in your chest. You’d never asked her to leave the tower before, hadn’t asked her for much honestly, but with your birthday coming up maybe she would make an exception.

Every year, on the eve of your birthday, lights would illuminate the sky. Dancing and swirling among the stars and drifting beneath the moon. Beautiful and sparkling and it happened every single year. Why? You were dying to find out. They weren’t far from the tower, surely she would entertain your request. After all, it was your birthday.

“Rapunzel! I’m not getting any younger down here!”

“Coming, Mother!” you called back and tossed your long, shiny locks up over the hook spun into the roof of the tower. They cascaded down the wall and landed in a spun pile at her feet.

Pulling and pulling and pulling, Mother ascended up to the window inch by inch until she stepped up onto the ledge and into your circular room, “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mother.”

“It’s time to brush your hair dear. I saw on the way up, you’ve got twigs tangled up in the ends. Hardly a way to treat such beautiful locks, my goodness. What do you do all day? Tsk. Just another reason for me to keep you here, you can’t even manage to properly care for yourself.”

A pang of shame hit you square in the chest and you wrapped your arms around your torso, making yourself smaller. Unseen. Unheard.

“Sit,” Mother said pulling up a stool and you did as you were told, sitting on the small surface as she took the chair behind you, brush in hand. “Now sing me our song. You know how much I love it,” she demanded, not asked, and you did as you always did…

Flower, gleam and glow, Let your power shine, Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt, Change the fates' design, Save what has been lost, Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.

“That’s my girl,” Mother appraised, running the brush through the ends of your hair and pulling too hard at the end, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Mother…” you started, hesitant, reluctant. Should you ask? She seemed in as good a mood as ever.

“What is it?” she snapped, short. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but something in you pushed. Please, please ask. If you don’t ask we won’t ever know. And you had to know.

“I was thinking–”

“Never a good thing,” Mother teased meanly and you bit your bottom lip between your teeth. Nerves swelling in your chest.

“I was just thinking...tomorrow is my birthday and well–well, there’s something I was hoping we might be able to do.”

Mother hummed in her throat, a sharp thing that held irritation, like you were a pest she couldn’t rid herself of. “And? Rapunzel come now, speak up!”

“And–and I was wondering if you might take me to see the lights at the castle. They’re there every year on my birthday! They can’t be stars…I’ve charted them all and I just…I want to see what they are–”

“The lights?” Mother started to laugh. “The lights? Rapunzel you must be joking.”

“No, I’m not…I’m not joking, Mother I really do want–”

“Truly, how could you think I would just take you–”

“Mother, it’s what I really want! I just want to see the lights!” you shouted, but as soon as the words left your lips you clamped your hands over your mouth. Afraid of what you’d just done.

Mother narrowed her eyes at you, lips firmed into a twisted line, angry and her patience evaporated as she took a step toward you and you shrank again.

“You will never raise your voice at me like that again, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her voice notched up in volume as she stepped closer to you.

“And I don’t ever want to hear about those lights again, is that clear!”

She was closer still, breath heated and harsh against your cheek.

“Yes, Mother.”

Towering over you, Mother took you by the wrist and roughly pulled you up to her face so that you were inches away, the heat of her words spilling and burning and wicked, “And you will absolutely NEVER, EVER be leaving this tower! Is that clear??”

When you spoke for the final time your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks, chest burning with embarrassment and shame and regret. “Yes, Mother.”

Letting go of your wrist, Mother sighed and sank back into her chair, eyes closed and fingers pinching her the bridge of her nose.

“Ugh, now I’m the bad guy.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes hastily with the backs of your hands, trying and scrambling to regain your composure. Afraid to push her even the tiniest bit further. You wished you’d never asked, wished you kept your thoughts to yourself. The lights, your birthday, all of it. Wished you could take it all back.

Clearing your throat you sat back on your stool, curled into yourself as you peered up at Mother sitting her in chair. Impatient. Bothered. Exasperated.

“Mother…” you started tentatively, “I know what I want for my birthday now.”

“And what’s that?” she sighed.

“New paint? The kind made from the shells you once brought me.”

She fixed you with a look, the way you might regard a dog begging for scraps, “Well, now that is a long journey, Rapunzel.”

“Please? I promise not to ask about the lights again,” pressing your hands together you tried to look sorry, thankful, grateful, please.

Mother sighed again, but you held onto hope. “Oh, alright,” she conceded, standing from her chair to gather her things. Surely you couldn't do much damage over a few days. “I’ll be back in three days time. Are you sure you’ll be able to manage without me?” she asked.

You gave her a small smile, “Yes, mother. I’ll be fine.”

“You know I love you,” your mother said, a tight smile pulling at her lips.

“Yes, mother. I love you too,” you murmured.

“I’ll see you a bit, my flower!”

And with that you watched as she descended the tower, your hair in her hands sliding down, down, down to the grass below and off into the open, free, world you wanted so badly to explore, only to stand at your window while Mother disappeared into the vines draped at the edge of the meadow and into…well, unlike you, where ever she wished to go.

I SAID I WANNA TOUCH THE EARTH, I WANNA BREAK IT IN MY HANDS, I WANNA GROW SOMETHING WILD AND UNRULY.

Unbeknownst to you, the path to your freedom lay in the hands of a man just on the other side of the very vines Mother had just stepped through. Well…technically he was a man, but really more boy in the way he held himself. And carried conversation. And continually found himself in trouble because of his inflated ego, but a man nonetheless, holding your freedom.

Flynn Rider, a rogue, a thief, a ruffian. Just over six feet tall with sweeps of dark brown hair, skin like it held all of summer and the sun beneath it, eyes like burnt sugar and dotted in freckles and apparently much faster than he looked.

“RIDER!”

“Sorry, boys, gotta go!”

Flynn crashed through the line of shrubs he’d just hurled himself into and fell out the other side, scrambling to find his footing. He was probably going to regret the decision he’d just made, but that would be a problem for future Flynn Rider.

Patting the satchel at his side he peeked into make sure the contents were still intact and at the sound of thundering hooves picked his pace back up, sprinting through the woods.

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in sight, rays of sun shining through canopy and dappling the forest floor with warm sunlight. It would have been even more beautiful if Flynn wasn’t being chased by the King’s guard, but he supposed it was the only option when you’d stolen the crown of the missing princess.

Chest heaving with the effort, he pushed his legs to go faster. Sprinting over fallen logs and thick brambles, wincing but not stopping as they pulled and slashed at the thin fabric of his tunic. He had to find cover before he ran out of breath or else he’d face the gallows.

Again.

It wasn’t that he was a bad guy. He wasn’t murderous or wanted for treason or anything. In fact, he wanted to be done with this life on the run and so he hoped this might be his ticket out. Hawk the lost princess’ tiara and hop a boat to somewhere far, far away.

His lungs started to burn as he sucked in air, sidestepping a particularly nasty blackberry bush and earning a scratch across his cheek. “Damn,” he hissed, wincing at the pinch of pain. He could hear the guards closing in behind him, the captain giving orders to his men to split up and Flynn knew his time grew short.

An arrow grazed past his ear as his slammed into a tree, the tip sinking into the bark just inches from his hands.

Too close.

“A promotion to which ever of you idiots catches, Rider!” the captain shouted and it pushed Flynn into another sprint.

Step over step over step, out of the thick stand of trees and into a wide field of wheat. The shhh shhh shhh of the grass against his trousers hissing as he stumbled once on a dirt clod and again on a molehill until the third time he wasn’t so lucky.

The toe of his boot caught on a rock dug into the dirt, sending him flying forward and over the edge of an embankment. Tumbling head over heels down, down, down and hitting the bottom with a heavy THUD!

“Sir! We’ve lost him!”

“What d’you mean you’ve lost him??”

“I–I’m not sure, sir. We–we’ve lost visual.”

“Bloody useless–if you lot can’t find him, then I’ll do it myself!!”

Groaning, Flynn pushed himself up from where he’d landed and blinked away the knock to the head he’d just earned for running through a damn field. Voices carried down the embankment and he could hear the King’s guard scuttling about back up the hill – they didn’t know where he was.

Scrambling back up onto his feet, Flynn quickly checked to make sure the tiara was still in place before frantically looking for an out. He had a moment’s cover while they tried to find him back up at the top, but surely they’d see the bent wheat stalks at some point. The bottom of the gully was more of the same, thick brush and brambles and trees and…vines? All drooping down just above the ground at the same angle and blowing just ever so in the breeze.

Brows knitted together he pushed a hand to them and stumbled forward a bit when his hand fell through them, not solid. So he pushed further still, watching as his arm disappeared further and further until he was completely concealed.

“Sir! We found something!”

Sucking in a gasp, Flynn pressed himself against the rock of the tunnel he’d just discovered and held his breath. The King’s guard tramped down the hill and trotted right past his hiding spot, their shadows dancing across the vines as they concealed him out of sight.

“He’s here somewhere, keep looking!”

The sound of hooves slowly disappeared and when quiet flooded back in, Flynn could hear the sound of a…river? A waterfall? Birds and a soft breeze across his skin…taking a few steps toward the bright light at the other end of the tunnel Flynn shielded his eyes in the crook of his arm and walked out into the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

A waterfall cascaded down a cliff at the far edge of the little valley he’d wandered into, crashing into the rocks below and fanning out into a river that wound its way through the ground and past his feet. All manner of birds chirped and sang as they flew through the cloudless sky, landing peacefully in the trees. And there, just in the very center, a tower made of brick and cobblestones with a thatched roof, a chimney and windows all around but…no way up?

He knew he couldn’t stay idle, even if he was out of sight for now, surely the King’s guard would find him. Taking one quick loop around the tower, there was still no door in sight, so snatching the pair of daggers from the belt at his waist he stabbed one between the bricks high above his head and pulled to test his weight. When it held he found his footing and drove the second dagger in and arm over arm began to climb up to the largest window.

His biceps were burning, his shoulders on fire. There were a few times Flynn even thought he would surely fall to his death, but slowly he made it up, up, up and when he finally fell through the window gasping for breath, he prayed to whatever gods there may be that he might find a bed at the top of the bloody tower. Stealing a crown, outsmarting two idiot thugs and then running from the King’s guard was no easy feat and he could feel exhaustion in his very bones.

Heaving himself up off the cobblestone floor he loosed a heavy sigh of relief and pushed his hair from his eyes.

“Gods, finally. Alone at last.”

And then with a very loud CLANG! everything went black.

IN THE COMFORT OF YOUR ARMS, ON A PILLOW OF BLUE BONNETS, IN A BLANKET MADE OF STARS, OH, IT SOUNDS GOOD TO ME.

There was a man.

In your tower.

In your room.

AT YOUR FEET.

How he’d made it all the way to the top of the tower without the aide of your hair was beyond you, but as you peeked out at him from behind your mannequin you couldn’t help the tiny pang of guilt in your chest. Maybe you didn’t have to hit him with your frying pan, but it was too late for that now.

You’d never seen one before, only knew what Mother told you: dark, beady eyes and sharp fangs, gnarled hands to snatch you with and kidnap you away into the night.

Stepping out from your hiding place you took a tiny step forward, the smallest step, and poked him with the handle of your pan.

“HEY!” you shouted, but he didn’t move. “Oh, gods…” Did you kill him?

Another few steps and your bare toes nearly brushed his arm. Slowly extending the pan again you turned his head with the handle and nudged his lip, but in place of scary fangs were teeth. Just like yours. Bending down carefully you lifted a hand to his face and hesitated, waiting for something to happen, but his steady breaths continued to fall and his eyes remained shut.

A cut chased across his cheek, the tiniest streak of blood along with it, and your brow furrowed with worry. Did it hurt?

You ghosted your hand over his, just as normal as ever though a bit rough and maybe a little dirty, but wide and warm. Not gnarled. Not scary. You wondered at what it would feel like to hold it, yours so small and his so big.

Slowly, gently, your fingers trailed through the sweep of brown hair covering his face and brushed it aside to reveal mole dotted skin, warm and golden like summer and he’s beautiful. The most wonderful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on and you want to see more and–

“Unghh…”

CLANG!

You instantly regretted hitting him again, but what were you supposed to do? He opened his eyes and began to stir and what if he’d jumped up to grab you?

A groan escapes your lips and you rough your hands over your face, you still have a man in your tower. What to do, what to do. As you took stock of your modest surroundings there wasn't much to work with. Your mannequin, a small stove, things for baking and sewing and painting, your bed, your closet–

Your closet!

Blowing a puff of air between your lips, you bent down and grabbed hold of his feet and pulled a little. When he didn't stir you pulled again. A little more, a little further, a little further and further and straining, struggling almost dropping him, you shoved him into the wardrobe and slammed the doors shut, propping the handles closed with a chair.

“Oh! Oh! I did it!” you squealed, sweat clinging to your brow, giving a little jump of excitement. “I did it!! I’ve got a person in my closet. I’ve got a person in my closet…I’ve got a person in my closet! Mother thinks I’m too weak to handle myself, huh? Well, we’ll just see about that!”

And as you took a victory lap around the room your eyes caught something on the floor. A bag you hadn’t seen before and as it fell open, the contents inside flickered in the light as it came through the cracks in the roof.

Picking up the satchel you pulled back the flap and found something even more beautiful than the man you’d just shoved into your closet.

Gold. Purples and pinks and turquoises and glittering in the sunlight and as you carefully picked it up, you were surprised at how heavy it was. Eyes narrowing, you hold it closer to look at the intricate way the gold pieces twist around the jewels and gems, securing them in place and creating little flowers along the sides.

A smile flickers at the corners of your lips. It looks just like the pictures from your fairytale books. The kind of thing only a princess would wear. Laughing softly you step in front of your mirror and hesitantly hold it up over your head. Just for a moment. Just to see what it would look like…

Slowly, softly you lowered it and let it settle upon your head and a flash of light strikes you. A memory, bright and sharp and vivid. A spinning sun hanging overhead. The most lovely laughter, like music, like a song. A warm embrace. A lullaby.

BANG!

Sounds from the closet and you nearly fling the crown to the ground. How foolish of you to let you guard down. How could you forget? You could hear Mother scolding you, telling you how stupid you were, how you could have been kidnapped or killed.

Heart hammering against your ribs your eyes settle back on the closet as it bangs again.

Your guest was awake.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[joels6string]

dear santa,

i mean, dear kate* 🫣

can i wish a very spicy joel miller story? as if the ones you wrote weren’t spicy and perfect enough… BUT! maybe something like enemies to lovers?

i actually have no idea what i’m asking. you’re the mastermind here. anything joel related, i want it on my desk 😮‍💨🫶

Merry Angst-mas for this one. I swear the other prompts are very lighthearted and happy. Like, Joel ice skating, and modern AU snowstorm hero... don't give up on me 😂

Damned If I Do

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You hate him, he hates you. It's as simple as that, right?

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: Enemies to lovers. The two main food groups: Smut and Sad. Creator has chosen to not give content warnings, read at your own risk.

“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now. “Tryin’ not to.” “Why’s that?” “Lovin’ me’s a curse.”

The mood was somber, even more so than usual. It was December, the frigid winter air whipping through the Boston quarantine zone, the dilapidated building you were currently holed up in doing little to keep you from its stinging bite.

“You gonna be a god damn liability again this time?” The voice made your skin crawl.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” you grumbled under your breath, it was no use arguing with him.

Tess had gone ahead to negotiate the terms of your impending deal, leaving you and Joel to wait for the upcoming weapons haul pickup that had been looming over your head for days. You’d chosen Christmas Eve in hopes that the military personnel surrounding every wall of the zone would be scarce, on holiday leave, doing something other than their damn worthless jobs for once. Not that there was shit to celebrate anyway.

“I asked you a question,” he barked in response to your muttering, his face severe when you dared a peek at it.

“I don’t know, Miller,” you sneered, “Just let them take me out this time and put us both out of our fucking misery, huh?”

“I’d never hear the end of it.”

Tess would give him an earful. Sometimes you thought the threat of Tess’ wrath was the only thing keeping you alive, this was doing enough to prove that to be true. When the woman in question returned to you and him on opposite sides of the room facing your respective walls, she sternly reminded you both that lives were on the line. Now wasn’t the time for bickering and your heads belonged in the game, not your asses. You both begrudgingly agreed.

When it came down to it, it was your turn to put a bullet between the eyes of someone that had Joel by the throat long enough to make his vision blacken at the fringe, the ice beneath his cheek brutal and sharp as he fell to the ground with a huff.

“You’re welcome,” you snapped, stepping over his gasping body without so much as a glance down, his furious snarl still audible over the winds.

It had been a setup, of course, hunters almost picking the three of you off when you got to the abandoned drop zone.

“Thought you negotiated this shit, Tess!?” Joel barked, throwing his bloodied baseball bat onto the ground with a heavy thud, “We come out here just for a quick shoot out and frostbite or you got somethin’ else up those sleeves of yours?”

“I thought it was sound!” she snapped back, guilt heavy in her voice as she accepted her error in ways Joel could never.

“Yeah, Merry fuckin’ Christmas–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Joel,” you interjected, exasperated, cold, and perturbed beyond a reasonable limit, “You wouldn’t have done any fucking better–”

“I would have made damn sure I wasn’t bringin’ either of you to a god damn ambush! That’s what I woulda done!”

“Well, you were a great help tonight–”

Your words were cut short by a hand clamping over your mouth, the frozen sharp tip of a knife knicking into the soft skin of your throat. The ice scattered throughout the cracked pavement made it impossible to get your footing as you were dragged backward, your heart pounding as you watched Joel’s eyes widen in panic, his revolver drawn and aimed, his gaze begging for a clear shot. Looks like he’d get his Christmas wish after all.

There was no use in fighting it, if anything having the warmth of a body pressed behind you would have you one less step from miserable as you took your last breaths. You hoped he made it quick, you weren’t in the damn mood for games or semantics. Joel wouldn’t trade a dirty sock for your life, but that look in his eyes before you were pulled from his sight had certainly been unexpected. 

He and Tess had probably run off, who knew who else was coming, this man couldn’t be alone. They were smart to do so. Ammo was running low, stamina even lower, and even at their best, they couldn’t take out another squadron of hunters. You’d made it 15 years in this God-forsaken world, it was a lot more than most could boast. Somehow dying at the filthy hands of this human felt worse than getting infected, at least those monsters didn’t know any better.

Even through the thick canvas of your jacket, you felt the burn of the pavement scraping your elbows, your hiss of discomfort pulling a sneering smile.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, and you curled your lip as your eyes rolled, Joel's voice echoing in your head, ‘Don’t gimme that sass.”

Had it been an hour? Maybe two? You couldn’t tell. The darkness was unforgiving and unwavering, the cold setting into your bones as you shivered knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You’d be dead by morning from hypothermia alone. Gunshots rang out, screams and cries, yelps, glass shattering. What the fuck? What kind of hell zone was this? Crawling to peer around the old metal shipping container you’d been stashed in, your curious gaze was met with the sight of Joel Miller bashing at your captor’s head with a brick, blood splattered across his face, eyes alight with rage. 

“Joel…” you gasped through numbed lips, you’d never been happier to see that sour face in your life, his expression softening as the man in his grasp fell to the ground in a gory heap.

“There you are,” you sighed, “Let’s go. Can you walk?”

His heavy coat he’d slipped over your shoulders swallowed you whole as you led you through the still hunter-infested maze. Ducking behind crates and in abandoned buildings, he had the exact route mapped to have you free and clear within minutes, the walls of Boston greeting you just as the feeling had returned to the tips of your toes. He was silent on the route back, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to ensure you were safely behind him periodically, the sphere emanating from your flashlight highlighting the silver hairs streaking through the black on the back of his head. 

“Stop,” he instructed, tanks driving by as a new congregation of troops gathered right outside the final building that led to safety, “Shit. This might be as far as we get til dawn.”

“Great,” you scoffed.

“Let’s go up, keep eyes on ‘em.”

With enemies so close, a fire was out of the question, your chattering teeth and tensed muscles hard to ignore as you stared at the hulking form staring out the shattered window.

“Joel…” you finally sounded, his head ticking towards you the only acknowledgment you received, “Why’d you come back?”

“If anyone’s gonna kill ya, it’s gonna be me,” he teased, a puff of breath glowing in the moonlight leaking in around him, “and now we’re even.”

“We’re even…”

Of course it was about evening the score. You’d saved his life, he’d saved yours, though you were almost positive you were still deep in his debt. It wasn’t often Joel needed a helping hand. He was as formidable as he was cold, that stony expression rarely breaking. Except it had, tonight. You hadn’t forgotten.

“Joel…” you called again, his body turning now to face you pathetically shivering in the corner. You hoped he didn’t make you ask, it was already mortifying insinuating it.

“I got you,” he cooed, leaving his post and gesturing for you to lean forward as he approached, nestling in behind you, legs on either side caging you in, his arms wrapping around your middle as you nestled back against him.

Even in nothing but a worn-out flannel, he was warm, your sigh of relief drawing a muted chuckle from his chest as you melted in his hold. Bygones could be bygones, the chill you swore would be permanent dissipating with each deep breath you were now able to take. It had been years since you’d been this close to another human in a non-threatening manner, the first time someone cradled you against them, allowing you a moment of solace and safety. You’d never expected to find that safety here, in these arms.

“You can sleep,” he permitted, your body immediately accepting the offer and drifting off, your head lolling beneath his chin as his thick beard caught on your hair.

Gray light filled the dingy room as your eyes fluttered open. You were sweating now, your neck straining beneath a heavy weight settled on your head, heavy breaths echoing in your ear. Joel. He was asleep behind you, his cheek resting on you from where you’d spent your night pressed into him, his arms still tightly wrapped around you even passed out cold. At the first twitch of your head, he was rousing, grunting as he became alert once again.

Shifting enough to peer up at him, you watched his hazel eyes wake in the eerie glow of dawn before they locked with yours, the stone chipped away just enough to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” he asked softly, keeping the proximity you’d woken in instead of pulling away like you’d expected him to.

All you could muster was a shrug, his plush lips too close for you to concentrate.

“I can’t do this…” he whimpered, his tone stabbing you right in the chest, “Stop making me give a shit about you.”

“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now.

“Tryin’ not to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Lovin’ me’s a curse.”

That didn’t matter. You’d danced with the devil already, what was one more tango? His hair was softer than you thought it would be when your fingers weaved into the strands on the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a daring risk of affection. You weren’t sure what shocked you more, your bravery or the fact that he greedily accepted your kiss, one large palm splaying across your stomach that was currently churning with something you hadn’t felt in over a decade.

It was all teeth and pressure, tongues wrestling as you tugged him closer by the hold on his hair, his body turning to face yours and press you down onto the cold wood of the floor, one hand cupping the back of your head to save it from the splintering surface. Your hands started on his belt first, your mouths still devouring the other as months of pent-up tension and hidden desires spilled over, your lungs selfishly inhaling his carnal groan as you gripped his cock as it sprang free and dragged your fist along his impressive length. Control was forgotten as you leaned up and captured his bottom lip again, his mind unable to focus on both your mouth and your hand as you continued to tug, his reciprocating kiss always slightly too late as his hips began to rock into your hold.  

“Turn,” he commanded, his voice giving no room for objection, “S’too cold for any other way.”

As much as you wanted to argue, he was right. You obeyed, presenting yourself to him on all fours before your jeans were pulled just past the swell of your ass, his hands squeezing at your searing globes voraciously. You wished you could see his face. Slick fingers swiped over your pulsing hole, swirling spit around to ease his plunge into your waiting depths. You were quivering with anticipation, a stark contrast from last night as every inch of you burned now even in the subzero December temperatures. 

Even if you wanted to stop it, you wouldn’t have been able to contain the lewd cry that erupted as you stretched around him. The feeling of his shaft slowly slipping inside of you made you realize just how soaked you were, his path unhindered on its way into the deepest parts of your body. You knew he could feel it, too, his hands shaking where they held you in place around your waist, breaths audibly ragged as he bottomed out.

“Shush now, darlin’,” he soothed, once again stroking over the plushness of your hips, “I can’t kill a man in this state.”

If that was intended to calm you down, he’d failed. Your cunt clenched around him so tightly he chuckled gruffly, pulling out and snapping his hips back against your ass just hard enough to have you jerking forward and keening, your teeth sinking into the sleeve of his jacket still loosely hanging on your much smaller frame. It didn’t take long for his pace to regulate, hard and fast just as you expected him to be, your arousal leaking down your inner thighs as he pinpointed the velvety patch decorating your inner wall, his precision just as accurate as he was with a rifle.

The limitations were agonizing. You wanted more. You wanted to marvel at the way his lips were parted and the hazel of his eyes swallowed by blackened lust, grip his chest and his neck, swallow his muted whines, and whisper how fucking good he felt into the soft, scarred skin of his neck. Pressure was building immeasurably quick, his rough fingers now rubbing circles over your clit leaving you nothing but a boneless heap in his hands. He was holding you upright now, your body limp for him to use as he saw fit, but the only thing he chased was your release.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, “just let it go for me.”

Who were you to deny him anything? You clamped down around him as the elastic band in your belly finally snapped, shockwaves electrifying every nerve from the tips of your toes to the top of your skull, your eyes rolling back in your head as you chanted his name like a prayer. He followed not long after, pulling out with a roar and emptying onto an old rag he’d grabbed from the floor, his chest heaving as he moaned in relief. You wanted to scramble over to him, kiss his cheek, temple, eye, forehead, anything you could reach as he finished in the absence of your warmth, but you were too spent, too delirious, too thoroughly fucked to move quickly enough.

“Joel…” you whimpered, searching for him in the still-dim space, your hand reaching up and waiting for his fingers to intertwine with, “Joel…”

“I’m right here,” he answered as he gave you what you were searching for, his lips pressing to the back of your palm as he pulled you back into his chest, “We need to go. Tess’ll be worried.”

When you returned, you didn’t need to tell Tess what had transpired, she could tell. But even with her deduced knowledge, she kept her lips sealed. Maybe she knew Joel would tuck and run the moment he was caught, or that he’d recognize what a liability this was in a world such as this. A liability he’d come to terms with faster than he would have liked.

Two months later as February began to slide into March, a hoard of infected was an unexpected addition to your supply run. It was just you and him, it was meant to be simple, and it was, or so he thought.

“Let’s go,” he panted, “More’ll come. We can go another day without.”

“Joel…” you mewled, tears welling in your eyes as he continued to scout the area, “Joel!”

“What? Sweetheart, we gotta go.”

“You gotta go.”

“What the hell are you talk–”

Part of you wished you’d never told him. That you’d run off into the woods and let the last image you had of him be with his revolver in one hand and a machete in the other, doing what he did best with his brute strength and unmatched finesse. Because now, now you’d die with the snapshot of his horror-stricken face staring down at your outstretched palm, frozen, in denial, and forlorn.

“The hell is that?” he asked as if you’d have another explanation.

“You know what it is,” you replied, swallowing your own sorrow, he needed you to be strong now. 

“No. No. No, that’s…that’s somethin’ else.”

“Stop–”

“Tell me it’s somethin’ else.”

“Joel, please!”

The way he muttered Jesus fucking Christ under his breath as he turned was the final swing on your shattering resolve, a hand dragging down his face as the other dropped to his hip, his blade plummeting to the pavement with a shrill clang as he let it fall from his grip. You stood still as a statue, watching him come to terms with those teeth marks pierced into the hand that had cupped his jaw so tenderly this morning as he’d kissed you awake. 

“I warned you,” he finally said, turning to reveal his soaked cheeks and reddening eyes, “I told you I was a curse.”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?” you pressed, your chest burning as you fought the sobs clawing to get free. 

“What do you want me to do?”

Your final wish. It wasn’t hard to decipher what he meant, one of you had to do it. 

“I can do it,” you assured, puffing your chest out in a masquerade of bravery and strength, he could see right through it, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“No you can’t,” he resigned after clearing his throat and repressing the rage and grief already surging through him, pulling his pistol from the back of his waistband, “Lay down, I can’t watch you fall.”

“Joel, I can–”

“Just…do it.”

The grass was cool against your cheek, its soft caresses weren’t the worst things to feel with your final breaths. Your tears decorated the blades like the dew drops not due for another few months, your heart thudding between your chest and the ground, Joel’s footsteps somehow in tune with every slam of it against your sternum. 

Where you expected the muzzle of a pistol, you felt his large palm stroking gently over the back of your head, his lips pressing to your hair one last time and lingering as the wound on your hand pulsed like a warning beacon. You knew you still had time, but the urgency had begun to eat you alive with every dragging second.

“Get on with it, Miller,” you pushed, refusing to give him your eyes, he’d hesitate. You knew that. “Waiting won’t make it any easier.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, he was crying again, “I’m sorry…” and that was the last thing you heard before the click of a trigger.

Joel Miller Masterlist

[majosullivan]

Castle Swimmer Dashboard Simulator 2

🔄 gay-ass-seagrass reblogged sandyshells

🌳 everlastingwhiskers Follow

Threre are ha;ir thi eves haeving sex ;;; in my castsle’swalls sned help

🌳 everlastingwhiskers Follow

There are hair thieves having sex in our walls and now I’m getting fucking HECKLED

🪝 hookedline Follow

This has to be the funniest reason I seen for accusing a post for being fake cause like…it implies that they thought it is simply impossible for anyone here to be the same age or have similar usernames imao

🌳 everlastingwhiskers Follow

I can’t believe that out of all things, I’m being accused of lying about my castle having hair thieves infestation. I don’t think some of you guys understand just how much of a nightmare it is t;o ha e (32$$:?2 s)3$:!/@“/ svehiwsjlajwvdbk

🐚 sandyshells Follow

Op? Op are you good?

🌿 gay-ass-seagrass Follow

The hair thieves fucking got them

62,586 notes

🐬 divingdelphinus Follow

Head of the Guards: Oh hey, you guys are back early-

Guard: God Mouth’s haunted

Head of the Guards: What?

Guard: [grabbing a leister and heading back out the castle] God Mouth’s haunted

82,506 notes

♣️ saltysoul Follow

There are three evil witches from the dark sea traveling through the Purple Peaks? Damn, are they single?

496 notes

🔄 kitti-fishh reblogged

💟 kitti-fishh Follow

As a mer with any basic morals, what mini gods are capable of is terrifying. I have heard so many stories about poor castles being cursed because they defend themselves from an unprovoked attack from a minigod. No creature should have the ability to damn someone or a whole castle to a cruel fate because they defended themselves or an offence out of their control.

However, as a petty bitch-

🫧 bubbly-bubbles Follow

💟 kitti-fishh Follow

You. You Get It

#LISTEN #I’m not SAYING that if I had mini god destructive powers I would use them constantly for petty shit #I am simply putting it out there that the temptation would possibly pass my mind

5,891 notes

🔄 lesbiankelp reblogged

🦪 clamingdown Follow

What if we k-kissed at the bottom of the god mouth 🥺👉👈 and we were both girls 😳

629 notes

🔄 needling-on reblogged

💰 needling-on Follow

A list of things that I have learnt about/was told by the thirteen year old boy that has recently been staying at our castle with his mother (with every single thing being confirmed as being true):

-His mother threatened the leaders from their original castle that she would cut off their HEADS if they ever came near her son again cause they were treat him like shit. It should be mentioned that she said this TO THEIR FACES in front of THE ENTIRE CASTLE

-His first sword fighting pupil is a cursed prince (from what I’ve heard from his mother, his pupil is basically a big brother to him now)

-Also, his first pupil happens to be the beacon’s BOYFRIEND???

-AND HIS PUPIL IS FRIENDS WITH TWO OF OUR RULERS HERE, ONE OF WHICH IS MY OWN QUEEN???

-He could probably beat every guard at my castle in a fight

-He has broken a grown man’s arm so badly it popped in the other direction because he made fun of him and his pupil

-His mother was almost kidnapped by a giant trench monster in the God Mouth

-He stabbed said trench monster in the eye to save his mother

-He has recently fought an evil witch

-Him and his mother have also recently met the beacon

💰 needling-on Follow

Love seeing everyone’s priorities

239,063 notes

🔄 seadaisies reblogged

🌼 seadaisies Follow

okay but can someone tell me what is up with petrified pufferfishes? i swear, every time I plan for a trip, without fail, someone wanting to help me with supplies will give me one of these stupid little guys and just. Refuse to elaborate further

🐡 petrified-pufferfish Follow

You fool. You halfwit. A senseless sentiment from a simple-minded stooge. Your denial of me will bring forth your downfall. Your ignorance will wrap you in the garments of your rising. What will you have when you’re buried in the sand, choking on your own blood and no merciful god to hear your pleads?

🌼 seadaisies Follow

feel like my skeleton is about to jump out of my god damn skin, what the actual FUCK does this mean???

8,475 notes

🔄 give-that-axolotl-a-knife reblogged

🌿 gay-ass-seagrass Follow

The Surface God released me into the wild and now they’re hunting me for sport

24,074 notes

🔄 nauticalnymph reblogged

💠 nauticalnymph Follow

Of course you have an unending sense of dread as you desperately cling to a prophecy that could never be fulfilled. and pronouns

💠 nauticalnymph Follow

Easy site

58,944 notes

🥒 cutecumbers Follow

Oh the things I would give up to live the rest of my life as a little sponge. Bouncing around all day. Not a single thought ever going on behind those eyes. The ideal existence

2,857 notes

🖼️ ocean-landscapes Follow

The Purple Peaks

749 notes

🪨 mossy-rocks Follow

rip to everyone who died while trying to swim to the surface but I’m different

🪨 mossy-rocks Follow

if I wanted to reach the surface, I would simply just swim straight up until I got there

🔘 mossy-rocks-deactivated

you know what i’m gonna start swimming up there right now

84,689 notes

🔄 moonjelly reblogged honeydew-gourami

🎗️honeydew-gourami Follow

Do we still talk about that giant mini god crab that was destroying the Purple Peaks and making it basically impossible for castles to live peacefully there? Like whatever happened with that?

🌀 moonjelly Follow

The beacon completed the crab’s prophecy and turned him back to normal so things are chill now

🎗️ honeydew-gourami Follow

🌀 moonjelly Follow

What’s not clicking?

#you know who does click though? #the crabs #bunch of funky little guys

47,524 notes

[pixellangel]

"Don't you feel stupid answering these questions when you don't even know who you are?"

STORYTELLER SYNTHESIS SCENE 1 - A GIRL NAMED V

overview - masterpost - taglist

____

Storyteller Synthesis is an indie cyberpunk RPG that I’m currently writing and designing. This is the first scene of the game, where we're introduced to our first party member - a girl named V. Please enjoy!

____

Onyxveil is a troubled city. The streets are covered in litter, the skies are gray with smog, and the only sources of light are flashing neon advertisements on walls. Within this bleak cityscape stands an equally troubled young girl, one with hot pink hair and an unfocused gaze. Just a few years ago, she experienced a horrific eve-

"Can you shut up and give the Player control already? Nobody wants your stupid expository speech."

...Ahem. As I was saying, just a few years ag-

"Why can't you ever listen? The Player isn't interested and neither am I. Get it over with."

Ugh. Fine. I came up with this whole summary, but if you're so ungrateful I GUESS I can throw it in as flavor text somewhere...

"Perfect, I'll make sure not to read it. Now get rid of this black screen so the Player can see."

Excuse me? I know what I'm doing.

"Sure. Just get rid of it."

Ugh. Fine.

[Now, in tile RPG format, we see the aforementioned girl from behind. She's at the edge of a rooftop, looking out into the smog-covered cityscape. The camera shifts downwards to show another person, one with a long, pale blue ponytail. The girl turns around and walks towards them. She keeps her distance, but begins speaking. Her character portrait shows a girl with purple, rectangular irises. Her hair is spiky and she wears some sort of strange cropped techwear hoodie. She looks dissatisfied.]

"So, "Sylvie." Long time no see."

> I could say the same to you.

...

"How long has it been now? Three years? Four?"

> Three.

Not sure.

"And how was your little warrior's expedition? Successful?"

Very.

> You could say that.

Not exactly.

"Good, good. Now, Don't you feel stupid answering these questions when you don't even know who you are?"

Wh- hey! I already told you not to go off script!

> I'm not sure.

Oh. Sorry, you don't need to answer that. Let me just fix this... small bug.

[The Narrator goes silent for a moment and the girl stiffens.]

There! Much better.

[The girl's character portrait is different when she speaks again. Her eyes are wide open with no shine. She has a wide, fake smile. Her hair spikes stand up a little less.]

"So sorry, SYLVIE! I don't know what came over me there. I'm glad your expedition went well! Woul d y ouu be wil lin g to h e-"

[She snaps out of it, shakes her head, and glares up at the sky.]

"UGH!! Stop doing that!!! I would literally NEVER talk like that. You of all people should know. Ughhh... anyway, Player, I'm not gonna keep up the "Sylvie" act. You aren't her and we both know it."

If you go off script again, I'll have to keep acting for you. Get back to the story or else.

"Shush. Player, follow me."

[The Narrator protests as the player follows the her down from the rooftop. The two come to an arcade, which the girl enters without hesitation.]

Ahem. Sylvie. You don't need to go in there. If you would just give me a minute, I can get her to come back out...

Sorry, this is going to take some time. Please be patient.

[The player enters the arcade anyway while the Narrator is distracted.]

"Hey. Glad you could make it."

[The arcade is empty, save for the two of them. Most of the machines look like they're out of order. A few of the arcade cabinets are still working, though.]

"If you're waiting for him to talk, you should know he can't hear us in here."

> "He"?

"The Narrator. He's messing stuff up in Onyxveil, and probably in other cities too. If i had to guess, I'd say his other targets would be The Sunbasked Stratum and Karma Point. They'd be good settings for a story, so..."

> Why can't he hear us in here?

What is he trying to do?

Who are you?

"I dunno. My guess is that he never intended for anything to happen in this arcade, so it's barely more than set dressing. I've never heard him speak a word while I’m in here, though. It’s pretty nice."

Why can't he hear us in here?

> What is he trying to do?

Who are you?

"He's writing some stupid story. I don't know... it's hard to explain, and we probably don't have much time. All you really need to know is that he's meddling with reality for his own selfish reasons and not taking anyone else into account."

[Her face contorts in anger.]

Why can't he hear us in here?

What is he trying to do?

> Who are you?

"My name's V. There's nothing else you need to know about me."

> Who am I?

"You’re the one playing the video game. Obviously."

> That's not what I meant.

"Oh, you must want to know who's body you're in. It's another person from Onyxveil. Their name is Sylvie. They went out on some training journey a few years ago. I... haven't seen them since."

> ...

"It doesn't matter. I need your help, Player. I don't want to be trapped in this stupid reality where I'm a character in a story I never asked to be a part of."

> What do you want me to do about that?

"I want you to help me kill the Narrator."

[V looks determined, but angry. This Narrator person has very clearly wronged her in some way, and based on her face, it looks like it was extremely personal.]

> How are we meant to do that?

"I don't know all the details just yet. However, I think the most effective method would be for us to assemble a party of several people. More people means more firepower, and he already wants us to gather more allies to fight the robots that keep appearing in the city. It'll be easy to fly under the radar as long as we don't discuss it in front of him."

[She speaks quickly and confidently. It seems she's been thinking over her plan for a long time.]

> Do you know who we need?

[spookemsdukems]

.❀。• *BUILDER CHARACTER INSPERATION ₊°。 ❀°。

So I did the thing (Ty for the meme base Hani mwah kith fdsfdsf) FROM LEFT TO RIGHE BABEH

No-Face; Spirited Away:

Aside from the general off putting nature that is THIS character, the way it really reminds me of "Builder" is the scary smile and personality of adapting to so many different environments while never really fitting in. Which is quite similar to "Builder"

Frieren; Frieren Beyond Journey's End:

Frieren as a character has a hard time understand human emotions and how the short lived species of humans make an impact on her, and oh did they ever make an impact. The whole point of her journey- without getting super spoilery- is just kinda... understanding emotions and how special the people she knew and knows are to her? At least from my perspective ahsfsduif I dunno! BUT! I think that really fits with "Builder". She does not understand people, and emotions are often flying over her head, but her absolute desire to understand and care she could have for someone makes me draw the connection.

Ditto; Pokemon:

Ditto, the Pokemon that copies and mimics others but is never fully able to pass as the other. It is very... similar to my sweet baby "Builder"

Wall-e; Wall-E:

Wall-e is a simple lil guy, with the absolute dedication to doing his job cause it's all he knows, but he goes from a mindless little robot to a character rich lil man who likes lightbulbs and the pretty Eve and I think.. that is what "Builder" will become!

Kanna; Inuyasha:

Kanna was a creature created by an evil stinky man who says she has no heart. She's a blank canvas and only does what she is told. No emotions, no thoughts other than to listen. She is nothing... and she realizes this at a point and turns around the best she can with what time she has left. I think "Builder" has the similar mindset of 'Listen don't question' but will come to the realization that oh my gosh she is not who she pretends to be or thinks she is portraying. I dunno there was a line the character used that was like

"I have... I have nothing. I have nothing."

And that stuck with me

Shiro; Deadman Wonderland:

OK SO LIKE HEAR ME OUT?? "Builder" is definitely not like... sane? For lack of better words lol. She was raised in a similar way to Shiro and Shiro is definitely not the epitome of sanity wheeze. I mainly draw the connection between them with the view on romance and also how "Builder" would turn out in a 'bad end' sorta way?

HONOURABLE MENTIONS!!!

The Villager from Animal Crossing: The Mc has eyes that stare into your soul, much like her's!!! Tsuyu from MHA: The eyes and smile... Flor was oh so right lmao

THE MII CHANNEL THEME SONG: Cause that is 100% what is going through her brain at all times!

Violet from Violet Evergarden: I would have added her, but I felt like I added TOO many pretty ladies

WHEW ANYWAY if you read this all the way! HI congrazzles! Now you know some lore and thoughts that go into my brain! Also whoops I totally did this in reverse? Cause I made this OC before I ever thought of anything so wowie fun!

(❀❛ ֊ ���„)♡ enjoy!

[wall-e-2008]

Nowhere else to put this and I saw someone else bring up characterization in the movie so! I recently watched Wall-E again after a long time. I've been a little obsessive about it lately and realized I never appreciated EVE enough. Here's some observances I've made of her!

EVE seems to be "defective" from the beginning: she clearly has emotions even when she's driven by her directive at first. She flies freely when the ship takes off. She gets frustrated being unable to fulfill her directive and takes it out on the ships at the shipyard. She's the one who initiates closer contact with Wall-E, perhaps she's been thinking about doing so since they first met? Considering she turns rather suddenly to him to inquire about his directive. She shows a whole lot of interest in Wall-E's knick-knacks, I really love how wide-eyed she becomes seeing his home the first time, how eager she is to try out the bubble wrap, reaching for it before stopping to look if Wall-E would hand it over, and how much she enjoys popping it. She also seems to recognize what the lightbulb he hands her is for and lights it up on purpose (when I was a kid I thought it lit up by itself in her hand). She then also seems to notice that Wall-E doesn't realize she does it on purpose and after repeating the trick, she looks amused by his annoyance! Wall-E brought out this existant but yet smaller side of her.

But I consider the scene of the two being taken to the repairward the biggest "evidence" of this here little theory of mine that EVE was also "defective". She seems annoyed throughout the ordeal, especially being told and taken there. Sure, it's because it's embarrassing to be taken there, I presume. But she's largely unfazed by it and it's almost like she's been there before during the diagnostics scene. Chances are this isn't her first time being taken there! I wonder if her being "defective" put her in the same situation before.

Thank you if you read this!

Hello! Thanks for sending this! Welcome to the Wall-E movie obsessed club! I found this super interesting because I remember seeing someone talk about the possibility of Eve being 'defective' a while ago. I think that this would explain a lot and explain why Eve acts differently than the other robots on the ship. Just like Wall-E, she shows so many humanlike characteristics. She shows so many emotions in her first scenes, such as anger, sadness, and happiness. Happiness when she is free to fly around when the ship drops her off. Sadness and anger when she couldn't find the plant. Her reactions in Wall-Es truck when he was showing her items from his collection. Your evidence for this theory also made me think about that repair ward scene. Eve seemed to already know what to expect while at the repair ward, like she's been through this routine many times.

I found a reddit post about this theory:

Which may be why this theory is familiar to me.

Also I love Eves character so much! I love her character growth and her personality.

I would like to hear other people's thoughts about this theory!

🤖🧯🌌🚀🪐🌍

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

Parallels between WALL-E/EVE and Ray/Evangeline

While I was watching WALL-E with my bestie @puccafangirl, it came to my notice that WALL-E constantly holds his hands together whenever he watches the romantic scenes in "Hello Dolly". That is used to show his wish to find companionship, possible someone he can hold his hand with.

When he meets EVE, his biggest desire is to being able to hold hands with her, because if there's one thing that "Hello Dolly" taught him is that, if you're in love, you say it by holding your beloved's hand.

And at the end, it happens! The ultimate declaration of these sweet robots' love is finally being able to hold hands.

So, you may be thinking, "what does this have to do with Ray?

Well, it does because, Ray does the same thing.

Ray also often holds his hands together, notably when he talks about the day he and Evangeline will be together...

...or when Tiana told him his beloved is just a star.

And in the end we can see Ray and Evangeline holding hands as stars.

So, my headcanon is that Ray and Evangeline often held hands back when she was alive; ever since her death, Ray has adopted the tendency to put his hands together as some sort of comforting gesture, to feel Evangeline's presence near him even though they're far away from each other.

So, when they finally got together, Ray and Evangeline can finally hold hands together once more, and, just like for WALL-E and EVE, this is their biggest love declaration.

Of course I believe there's other parallels between the two couples, like the presence of stars, EVE and Evangeline's names being very similiar, two love stories between a pristine, graceful being that represents hope and a goofy looking yet deeply devoted sweetheart... <3

Oh, also, said devoted sweethearts drawing hearts with their and their loved one's initials! Can't forget those! *w*

[jezabatlovesbats]

My WALL-E OCs

Have I told y’all about my funky little bots yet?

D-J is a DJ bot who was built to entertain passengers aboard the Axiom. D-J units can be programmed to say anything you need them to, but having achieved sentience, this defective unit in particular can talk on his own. Often, he randomly points out his observations, like his observations of what others are up to. He is great at interacting with an audience and with whoever he wants to talk to. D-J relies on engaging stimuli to stay happy. If the atmosphere around him is too boring or dull, he'll be able to liven up the place. Usually, D-J will not know what's going on unless he is informed of it. He has a very open attitude. 

D-J units were built to provide entertainment whenever it is needed. They are most often seen in the ship's nightclub, but they can also entertain you right in your cabin. They are sometimes used in the all-day care center, playing nursery music to help the babies sleep well. If they need to, they will play music for a funeral. A D-J unit would definitely provide music for WALL-E and EVE's wedding, if they had one. 

The D-J bots have two different ways of playing music. Place a CD on their turntables, and they'll play the music on that CD for you. You can also listen to the radio by turning it on on the back of their heads. You cannot do both of these things at once. That could break them. 

As an addition to their musical and verbal capabilities, D-Js are able to sing. When two or more of them sing together, they can create beautiful harmonies unless one of them isn't tuned right. Yep, they work like musical instruments; when they were first built, they had to be tuned. Defective D-J can't sing well, and he doesn't know why. 

D-J goes about his own business much of the time, but he sometimes hangs around with the reject bots, M-O, EVE and WALL-E. He considers all of them to be fun friends, and he is a huge fan of WALL-E and EVE as a couple. These robots have welcomed him into their little friend group. 

V-T (pronounced "vet," as in "veterinarian") is a hovering bot made to take care of the Axiom's animals.

V-T units are programmed to be compassionate and knowledgeable about zoology. This particular unit is very much this, but she gets excited literally every single time she sees an animal. This excitement can make her malfunction. She is known by other robots to be a big fat sweetie pie. She loves to hang out with her friends and to make sure they're okay. She also likes moving her "ears" to and fro to match her expressions. When she's not caring for critters, she practices her new hobby of sewing, and she sews creations for her friends. She "cries" a bit too much.

Some animals live in their own rooms on the Axiom while others are kept as pets. Often, people dress them up in BnL vests, leg warmers or collars. All of the animals on that starliner in particular are small animals such as dogs, cats, hamsters, parrots, bunnies and others. There is a veterinary clinic on the Axiom where the V-T units groom them and examine them. If you need to, you can call a V-T to your cabin so she can give your pet a checkup there. 

V-T bots are equipped with different medical tools depending on what branch of veterinary medicine they practice. Not only that, but they also have fun toys (like tennis balls and chew toys) and toys that can be used for stress relief (like heated plushies). This V-T loves to have fun with animals, and her extreme excitement whenever she sees one isn't a defect; it's just a part of her personality.

V-T's friends are all bots who work in maintenance, like FIX-IT and POW-R. A more major character that she likes to hang out with is BURN-E. Being good friends with him, she often checks up on him. BURN-E is glad that he's got a supportive friend like her. After landing on Earth, V-T adopted some pets of her own- a bunny, two guinea pigs and a snake, which she and BURN-E love to play with. 

[weepingfromacedartree]

Dancing Around the Truth: Epilogue

Can't believe it's already time, but the Epilogue is ready for anyone interested!

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has been following along on this story. Hope you all enjoy the final chapter 💛💛💛

Warning: this chapter is rated E for sexual content.

Epilogue: Friday (Seven Months Later)

Plans, like they so often do, changed. While Colin and Penelope were initially willing to wait until the start of the 1816 season to make their engagement official, there were several factors (i.e. Bridgerton siblings) that made such plans rather… Untenable. 

Benedict was first. He had caught Colin sneaking back into Bridgerton House around midnight that Monday in August. His hair was mussed and his white shirt was tinged-green. Benedict did not even ask, for he already knew. 

Daphne was next to know. She figured it out approximately 10 seconds after the carriage arrived at her steps. Colin had stepped out first, followed by Penelope. He had escorted her out by hand. Daphne could tell in an instant that her brother was not simply acting well-mannered. Not with that look in his eye. Her suspicions were confirmed a few mere hours later, when she overheard the two of them flirting in one of the castle’s many libraries. 

Eloise was next. Although she already had her suspicions, Penelope told her everything on that first night at Clyvedon. Although still somewhat disbelieving that someone as intelligent as Penelope could fall in love with her idiot brother, Eloise did like the idea of them officially becoming sisters. 

Gregory was last to reveal he knew the truth (or some version of it, at least). During a brief trip to Aubrey Hall in October, Gregory had revealed to Colin what he had attempted to reveal back in August. That he knew Colin’s feelings and conduct towards Penelope were not wholly platonic. Gregory did not re-attempt to extort the $20 from his older brother, though. He feared doing so would ruin his chances of becoming a groomsman. 

Once Colin realized more than half of his siblings knew of his love for Penelope (and suspected that the rest had their own suspicions), neither one could see much point in trying to hide that fact anymore. 

On Christmas Eve 1815, Colin gathered their entire families — every Bridgerton, Featherington, Basset, Finch, and Dankworth in England — to Aubrey Hall. To officially ask for Penelope’s hand and announce their engagement. 

Portia was shocked, to say the least. 

Although they both secretly hoped otherwise, their families had agreed that their wedding should be held at the start of the next social season. So, for months, Colin and Penelope waited patiently. They sent letters back and forth. They stole kisses when they could. They announced their impending marriage at the inaugural ball. And now…

“It’s a miracle!” 

“That’s a tad bit dramatic.” 

On the fifth of April, 1816 — precisely three days before her twentieth birthday — Penelope finds herself in a very familiar position. On the outskirts of a ball. With Eloise. Snickering quietly as the room moves around them. The only difference now is that Penelope is no longer stuck to the wall behind her like a flower growing from stone. It’s her engagement ball, after all. 

“We are starting the season with a Bridgerton wedding. Mama is beside herself with joy… Which means the pressure is off me to find a marriage match.”

“How wonderful it is, for my nuptials to afford you a few additional months of freedom.” 

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Although…” Penelope draws out the word as she glances around the room. She spots Benedict dancing with Violet. Philipa caressing a hand across her swollen belly. Gregory pulling a lock of Hyacinth’s hair. She can’t spot her fiancé at present, but she knows he’s somewhere near. “There were zero Bridgerton weddings last season. Are you certain your mama will not try for two this time around to make up for it?”

“Ugh. Do not spoil my fun. I am trying to enjoy your matrimonial festivities.” 

Penelope spares another glance at the room around her. The egregiously prolonged engagement gave Portia an abundance of time to plan out every detail of these festivities. Although the ball is being hosted by Anthony and Kate at Bridgerton House, Lady Featherington was sure to leave her mark on the event. When Penelope had first walked into this ballroom, furnished with every yellow flower in England, it had felt like walking into the sun. She has the urge to shield her eyes, even now. 

“How can you enjoy the festivities? Everywhere you look, there is a reminder of your worst nightmare: marital bliss.”

Eloise cringes as she spares her own glance around the room. 

“Well, I would certainly be frightened if my worst nightmare happened to be a bouquet of yellow flowers.” Penelope cannot help but snort. “And besides, I am happy to celebrate a marriage, as long as it is not my own.” 

“Did you not leave in the middle of your own brother’s nuptials?” 

Eloise snorts, which only sends Penelope into a fit of giggles.

“Edwina left in the middle of her own nuptials! I remained for the ceremony that mattered, did I not?”

“In hindsight, I sup —”

Eloise’s face suddenly turns serious. “I love Kate and will always be glad to welcome another intelligent woman into the family. However, that is nothing compared to the joy of beholding your best friend becoming your sister.” 

A warm, fuzzy feeling rises up in Penelope’s chest. Not sure what else to do with such affection, she turns to her dearest friend and pulls her into a hug. 

It’s just a hug. Fleeting. Inconsequential. But after spending an entire year apart from one another, something as small as a hug feels like coming home. Even now. 

Eloise almost sounds teary-eyed when she continues: “Thanks to you and this whole ruse, Colin has managed to work his way up to the rank of my second favorite brother.” 

Penelope is about to remind Eloise that her engagement is not a convoluted ruse designed to officially make the two of them sisters. That she does, in fact, love Colin. But another voice speaks before she has the chance to open her mouth.

“I hope that means Benedict has recently wronged you in some uniquely devastating manner.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, Eloise grumbles into Penelope’s hair: “You and Gregory are battling it out for third.” Eloise only releases her from the embrace to stand her ground against Anthony. 

“Try not to scare the bride away before we can usher her into the family,” he continues. 

“I believe we crossed that line a long time ago.”

“I can assure you that is true.” Penelope laughs lightly, although her response was far from a joke. 

Although far from perfect, the Bridgertons are a family through and through. A family like this — one that makes her feel at home within herself — is what Penelope has longed for, deep within her heart, her entire life. The only person that she needs in this world is Colin — but the rest of the Bridgertons are a welcome addition to their forthcoming marriage. Penelope can’t imagine anything scaring her away now. 

“Let’s see if that sentiment holds true after your first pall mall tournament.” 

As the siblings launch into a debate over Anthony’s so-called pall mall expertise, Penelope spares another look around the ballroom. At Kate and Edwina, conversing closely between two massive bouquets of yellow roses. At Daphne, rocking baby Belinda beneath an archway of yellow tulips. At Lady Danbury, scowling at a particularly massive arrangement of daffodils. At her mother… holding her fiancé hostage on the dancefloor. 

“Dear God,” Penelope mumbles. Her voice is just loud enough to distract Anthony and Eloise from their heated discussion. “Please excuse me. I should go save Colin before my mama goads him into wearing a yellow suit to our wedding.” 

As Penelope approaches the middle of the room, her defiantly green skirt sways behind her with every step. When Colin catches her eye, he smiles.

“Ah, the lady of the hour,” he says, smile sustaining. 

“Oh — Penelope! I was just telling Colin about the hassle I’ve been handed at the florist. You would not believe —” 

“Judging from the surplus of floral arrangements in this ballroom, I have no doubt that you will get everything straightened out for the ceremony, mama.” 

“Yes. It is my cross to bear, but I’m sure I will manage.” She tsks. “You would think with a wedding of this size and important, that florist would be —”

When the orchestra suddenly transitions into a new beat, Penelope takes it as a sign to keep pushing. If she does not, she’s sure Portia would gladly talk her soon-to-be son-in-law’s ear off until the sun rises Saturday morning.

“I’m terribly sorry mama, but may I steal away my fiancé away for a moment? The night is almost over and we’ve hardly shared a word.”

A look of annoyance briefly flashes on Portia’s face, but it’s replaced by a tight smile. It somehow appears both genuine and forced. 

“Of course, dear.” She nods to both Penelope and Colin before stepping away. 

After Colin takes her hand in his, he leans in close. Their noses nearly touch when he says: “Thank you.” 

“Whatever for?” she whispers teasingly. Then, she takes her first step to the beat of the music. 

Briefly, Penelope asks herself why they are speaking to each other so quietly. But she answers her own question in an instant, before she even has the chance to tear her eyes away from Colin’s. Not only are they standing in a very crowded room, but they are also at the very heart of it. Every other pair of eyes are focused on them. 

After getting over an initial wave of shock, Penelope tells herself that it makes sense. Of course they are the center of attention — it is their engagement ball after all. But after shock, comes a sting. 

As hard as she tries not to, Penelope wonders if every ball she and Colin attend together will draw a similar sort of attention from the Ton. If observers will ever see the two of them dancing together and not question how a Featherington managed to catch a Bridgerton.

“Can you offer any tips on surviving a conversation with your mother?” Colin asks into her ear. The question thankfully brings her out of her thoughts. 

“The first step is understanding that some ‘conversations’ only allow one person to speak.”

“And the next step?”

“Wait patiently as your soul slips away from your body with every word thrown at you.” 

Colin laughs lightly. “And the next?”

“Find a distraction. Something to allow you to exit said ‘conversation.’ Then repeat steps one through three. Forever.” 

“I appreciate your candor.” 

“You deserve to know what type of family you’re marrying into.” 

Colin quirks an eyebrow. “Trying to scare me off, Penelope?” 

Penelope, in turn, blushes. “That was not my intention. Why? Are you not feeling up to the task of becoming Portia Featherington’s son-in-law?”

“You wound me. After this year-long engagement, I —”

“It has not been a year, Colin.”

“A lifetime has passed since that night in August, Pen. I am a patient man, but even I have my limits. Regardless, I assure you, my love for you surpasses any trials that may result from enduring your mama’s ceaseless prattles. To go without you would be too tortuous."

Penelope did not think it possible a moment ago, but her blush grows even deeper. She has to remind herself that there are many eyes on them at present, or else she would inevitably give in to the temptation to pull him into a kiss.

Their bodies move away from each other for just a second, each dutifully, regretfully following the motions of the couples around them. After Colin spins Penelope around, her body is back against his. 

Trying to distract herself of the feel of him, Penelope recalls a different conversation from just a few minutes earlier. 

“Colin,” she whispers. There’s a smile on her face but a hint of concern in her voice. “Were you speaking truthfully, the first night you proposed?” 

His right eyebrow quirks ever so slightly. “Which part, exactly?” 

“That you would never force me to do anything in our marriage?” 

“Of course.” 

“Even pall mall?” 

“Everyone loves pall mall,” Colin says rather confidently. The tortured look on his fiancée’s face says otherwise. 

When Penelope does not immediately expand on her point, both of his eyebrows raise.

“Everyone loves pall mall,” he insists. 

Suppressing a laugh, Penelope shrugs her shoulders innocently. “I find it rather boring under normal circumstances. When the Bridgertons are involved… Perhaps too dramatic.” 

Colin’s look of shock swiftly turns into a smile. His soon-to-be wife is too cute to stay cross with for long. 

“I would never dream of forcing you to do anything you do not desire. Even joyous activities such as pall mall.” Penelope’s eyes flick over to Anthony at the word “joyous.” He’s currently escorting his own wife to the dance floor.   

Noting Penelope’s line of sight, Colin continues: “I cannot promise that Anthony will not try and persuade you. But I will defend you, nonetheless.”

“Defend me?” she asks, a bit incredulously. Her previous statement was not wrong; pall mall always brings out the dramatics in the Bridgerton family. 

“Yes. If anyone, even my beloved brother, attempts to force my wife into doing anything she does not wish to do herself, I shall challenge them to a duel.” 

Penelope blushes at his use of the word “wife.” It had been over six months since he had proposed to her in private — since he had given her a promise of a lifetime together. And yet, Penelope is still not used to the idea of being anyone’s wife, let alone Colin Bridgerton’s. 

“I believe a duel would be a bit of an overreaction in that particular case.” 

“Well, I would not fight him with a gun or a sword. Just a mallet.” 

“I see. I suppose that would be appropriate.”

“It would still be to the death, of course.”

“Colin!” she exclaims, elevating her voice above a whisper for the first time since they began dancing. She defies the pre-ordained motions to withdraw her hand from his and lightly knock him across the gut. “Do not joke about such things!” 

“Apologies, wife,” he says softly. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on her cheek. 

Automatically, Penelope’s eyes turn to the room around them. To see if anyone else caught the minor indiscretion between the betrothed pair. But to her surprise, no one is watching them. At some point between the start of the dance and now, something else had caught the crowd’s attention. 

“I am not your wife. Yet,” she reminds him. Her voice is back to a whisper. Between the rampant orchestra and rowdy guests, Penelope wonders if he can even hear her words. 

He can. 

“We have already made our promises to one another. We are as good as married, in my mind.” His words are even softer than hers. They cause her heart to soar. 

She is about to say something, but before she can muster up something half as romantic, he seizes her hand and pulls her in even closer. 

“Isn’t it ridiculous? It is our engagement ball, and no one is even looking at us.” 

His words prompt Penelope to further investigate what exactly turned the room’s attention away from them. That’s when she spots them. 

On the other side of the dance floor, Prudence and Harry appear to be dancing to an entirely different song than the rest of the couples. While the orchestra plays a waltz, the Dankworths appear to be dancing an Irish jig. All eyes in the room are on them. Except for Colin’s.

The orchestra plays on. The other couples awkwardly dance around Prudence and Harry. Colin pulls Penelope towards the nearest exit. No one notices them slip into the shadows. 

⚘  ⚘  ⚘

Through her many years of friendship with Eloise, Penelope has become quite familiar with the private chambers of Bridgerton House. She has never technically crossed through the door that Colin leads her to now, but she can certainly guess who it once belonged to. 

The room is pitch-black. Colin does not immediately move to light a candle — his hands are too preoccupied to reach for a matchstick now. Like they always do on the rare occasions that the two find themselves alone together, his hands find her jaw. He holds firm as he lowers his lips to hers. 

She breathes his name into his mouth between kisses.

“Colin.” 

“Hmm?” he mumbles against her skin. 

“Could you… Light… A candle?” Between her labored breaths, Penelope wonders if she will ever get used to the feel of Colin’s lips against hers. If, when they are married and free to kiss as much as they desire, this tingling will eve. 

She hopes it does not. 

“Scared of the dark?” Although she cannot see his face, she can hear the smirk on his lips. She can practically feel it.

“No, I… I want to see you.” 

Colin pecks a kiss against her cheek, before withdrawing his body from hers. 

“A sentiment we share.” He turns to locate a matchstick. 

Penelope stands with her back still stuck against the door. Even though he moves across the room, she can still feel Colin’s weight against her. Like his touch haunts her body. Her breaths start to slow as she watches him light candle after candle. After candle. After candle.

“Colin.” Her voice is a squeak. “I believe that is more than enough.” 

“Patience, Penelope,” he drawls, firing another fucking wick. “I want to see you. All of you.” 

Penelope shutters. There’s something coming over her — hot within her, cool against her exposed skin. It’s not a sensation she can name at the moment. But it sure as hell isn’t patience. 

After sufficiently brightening the room, Colin walks back over to the spot where he left Penelope. Slowly. Standing inches in front of her, he asks: “Is that to your liking?” 

Penelope feels too overwhelmed by that sensation swelling within her to even roll her eyes at the frivolous question. She can barely nod. 

“And…” Colin leans in closer, his lips grazing hers again. He puts one hand to her waist. “Is this to your liking?” 

Suddenly feeling very annoyed, on top of everything else she’s currently feeling, Penelope lets out a huff of air.

“I like you very much, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“You ‘like’ me? Is that all?” He moves in even closer, but somehow their lips still do not connect. 

“Well, usually, but —” Penelope, head somewhat cloudy, didn’t even know where she was going with that quip. Thankfully, Colin disposes of the need for her to fill the air between them. 

The first kiss is soft. Sweet. Light against her lips. It leaves her wanting more. 

The next kiss is deeper. Hungry. Searching. Penelope pulls him in closer. She tugs at his bottom lip as his hand grips her waist. 

The last kiss is desperate. As if it is the end of something. Even though, in actuality, it is only the beginning. 

“I want you,” she tells him, words barely escaping her mouth against his. 

“You have me.” 

“I want more.” She uses what’s left of her willpower to extricate her lips from his. An even more difficult task than she originally predicted, given that her entire body is still pinned against his door. “I wish to make love to you.” 

Colin waits a moment to respond. To Penelope, it feels like a lifetime. She keeps time to the sound of her heartbeat, ringing in her ears like a drum. 

“Are you certain?” he asks her. 

She nods. 

“Say it,” he whispers, looking down at her. “I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes. I’m certain. I want it all.” 

With that, Colin’s hands drop from her waist to her bottom. He hoists her legs to his hips. Then, finally, Penelope’s back leaves its spot against the door. 

Before Colin can even travel the short distance to the intended destination, Penelope feels her legs tighten around his waist. There’s a throbbing in her — a yearning to pull him in. She curses her skirt, her stockings, her shifts — every inch of cloth separating her body from his. She kicks off her slippers just as Colin reaches the bed. 

When he lays her down on its covers, Penelope’s legs do not disconnect. She pulls him down with her. His body covers hers — except for his legs, dangling awkwardly off the side. He’s hot against her neck and arms, warm against the parts of her still covered by that ungodly fabric. His weight is intoxicating, and so new. 

In the months between their initial engagement and now, Penelope and Colin had taken several liberties that are traditionally reserved for married couples. But not this. 

Not in someone’s bed chambers. Not on a bed. Not horizontal. 

When they were standing, Penelope could control her urges. Now…

Her hips buck beneath him. Her hands clench at his side. Her mouth, still fixed on his, parts and releases a deafening, maddening moan. 

Taking the hint, Colin discards of the fabric still clinging to her body. He undoes the buttons of her dress, one by one. He pulls down her tights. Unlaces her corset. It isn’t until she’s nearly bare beneath him that she follows his lead and tugs at his cravat. Pulls off his jacket. Unbuttons his shirt. The hem of his trousers. 

Before Colin leans down to kiss her once more, Penelope looks up into his eyes. Not for the first time, she feels a tide pulling her in. 

“My God, you’re so beautiful,” he tells her between kisses. She’s not sure if it’s the tone of his voice or the loyalty he has proven himself to possess, but Penelope believes him. In the moment, she feels beautiful. More than she ever has before. 

Although their kissing remains constant, Colin’s hands can’t stay on one spot of her skin for too long. His fingers brush her hips. Tangle in her hair. Skim along the sensitive sides of her breasts. When his thumb grazes her nipple, another moan escapes her lips. This time, even louder than before. 

When Colin’s lips leave hers and trail down her neck, Penelope feels the sudden need to speak. To put her lips to use, no matter how futile her words may be. 

“I never dreamed I would have you like this. For so long, I couldn’t imagine this to be real.” 

For the first time in what feels like ages, Colin’s movements still. He looks up at her. 

“You’re all I dream about. But this is real. I promise.” 

“I know,” she says. And her words are true. 

Colin sits up, just enough to properly straddle Penelope’s waist. The only barrier between them is his pants — unbuttoned, but still riding on his hips. 

She waits for him to move again. To kiss her. To touch her. To finally rid his body of those goddamn pants. But he doesn’t. He just keeps gazing down at her, a smile stuck on his lips. 

“What do you dream of?” she asks. A brazen attempt to fill the air between them. And to gain some footing in this absolute unknown. 

The latter goal is not achieved. 

“I dream of being inside you,” he whispers. “I dream of seeing every side of you — exploring every inch of you. Of your lovely form and perfect breasts. Of your hot breath and that squeak that escapes your lips when all air abandons your body.” That squeak escapes her mouth now in an unavoidable, wholly desirable gasp.

“But none of those dreams compare to the woman in front of me now.”

When she’s certain that his sweet words have ceased, Penelope positions herself on her elbows and leans in to kiss him again. She wraps one hand around his neck, and the other to pull at the trousers still stuck on his hips. She makes little leeway with the fabric, so Colin grants her a mercy and pulls them off himself.

Before he touches her again, he says: “Tell me if I do anything that you don’t like. If I hurt you in any way” His voice shakes lightly as he delivers the soft demands.

“You couldn’t,” she says gently. She dares to steal another touch, placing a hand against his cheek. 

“Penelope,” he whispers. He places his hand over her own, stopping her movement. “Even if you trust me — even if my intentions are pure and the thought of hurting you kills me… I still could.” 

“Have you done this before?” She’s not exactly sure what prompts her to ask this question. Colin does not have a reputation for being a rake, but…

“No. I haven’t.” 

“Then we’ll both be careful,” she tells him. 

“Still, Pen…” He reaches for her hand. He squeezes it twice. “I know that the first time can be uncomfortable. For you more than me.”

“I know…” She squeezes his hand back. “But I — I also know that you would do anything to protect me. That you would not delight in my suffering for even a second. More importantly…” She uses her free hand to brush her thumb against his cheek. “I also know that sometimes you must endure a bit of pain in order to experience true joy.”

Colin places a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Still, if you cannot bear it, be honest with me and I will stop. If you don’t like it, we will stop.” 

Of all things she could do in response to his words, Colin does not expect Penelope to laugh. And yet, she does. 

“I promise,” she vows, once her breath has fully returned to her. “I will like it all.” 

“I love you,” is all he can manage to say in response to that. Penelope responds with another kiss to his lips. 

Their kisses carry on, growing deeper every second. Tangled up in each other’s limbs, Penelope feels Colin’s heart beat faster against her chest. She feels him grow harder against her thigh. 

“Tell me what to do,” she orders him. Her voice is hoarse as she speaks against his neck.

“Touch me,” is all he says. 

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Penelope does not find his instructions particularly helpful, so she relies on her instincts. Given the increasing roughness against her thigh, her hands travel downwards. Before she can even make contact, Colin lets out a guttural moan. Into her hair, he utters: “No. Too soon.” 

His hands grasp hers and position them closer to his chest. 

While Colin keeps one hand on her breast and the other on her bottom, Penelope keeps both hands north of his pectorals. The longer time goes on, the harder it is for her to ignore the hard feeling against her thigh. This endeavor proves even more challenging by the pulsing sensation growing from deep within that spot between her legs. 

“Please,” she begs in a hushed tone. Her hands start moving down, but don’t travel past his belly while she waits in his silence. 

“Are you ready?” he finally asks. 

“With everything in me.” 

Without another word, Colin’s hands fall to her knees. He spreads her legs father apart. Despite Penelope’s willingness to follow his lead, her legs involuntarily push against his hands. That ache down her middle borders on unbearable the father he spreads her open.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he reminds her. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Colin’s fingers trail from her knees all the way down to the center of her thighs. When they dance dangerously close to her sensitive flesh, her back arches in a quick, sudden movement. When his index finger finally reaches that spot that yearns for his touch, Penelope tucks her head into the crook of his neck. She drowns a moan against his skin. 

“Does that feel good?” The question is delivered with a tone that suggests he already knows her answer. 

“Like heaven.” The words are nearly imperceptible, buried in his neck. 

She can hardly take it when another finger brushes into her, stroking slowly. Very slowly. 

It’s euphoric. It threatens to undo her. But just when Penelope feels that knot begin to break, a tiny voice in the back of her mind bleeds through. It reminds her that this is not the main event. 

“I’m ready,” she tells him, barely able to summon the strength to get those two words out.

Sparing one hand to cup her face again, Colin reminds her: “This may hurt.”

“I’m ready,” she repeats once more. “I want you.”

This time, Colin uses more than just his hands to force her legs farther apart. He moves his torso down so his hips are in line with hers. While one of his hand continues stroking circles against her core, she feels something else at her entrance. 

Something hard and hot. Something demanding. The stretch of her skin feels wicked, but Penelope likes it. 

She likes it all. 

In the moonlight, Colin looks like he is about to request her permission once more. But then Penelope says, “Please,” and he’s done for. 

Colin pushes forward. It’s barely an inch, but the sensation is so distinct — so foreign — that it feels as though it’s enveloping her entire body. 

“Does it hurt?” He sounds just as out of breath as she feels. 

It’s a difficult question to answer honestly. It hurts. It aches. It’s all-encompassing. It’s scary. It’s wonderful.

“Keep going,” is all she says. And he does, thrusting an inch further. Then another inch. Then Penelope can feel his hips start to move of their own volition. His control seems to slip away the closer they get to one another. Her legs wrap around him. An encouragement. 

Penelope’s breaths seem to have a mind of their own as well. When he first started pressing into her, her moans were more reminiscent of pain than desire, still getting used to the feel of him inside of her. But as time goes on, pain makes way for pleasure. Now she moans Colin’s name into his shoulder as his hips pick up speed. 

Then, they slow. 

Suddenly, Penelope feels a new, unmistakable sensation inside her. Wet. Warm. Full.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows this means something. This sensation has a name. A purpose. But Penelope cannot recall anything in particular. Words seem completely illusive as she releases an indiscernible noise against his neck. 

The movement between them picks up speed again. Not just Colin, but Penelope too. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she feels her control slip away and desire overcome. 

She pushes into him. Pulls him in closer. Tightens around him. 

She feels that knot inside of her break apart. 

With one more thrust of Colin’s hips, Penelope feels it. A sudden wave of pleasure flowing within her. It stems from her core. It fizzles out to her fingers and makes her toes curl. It crawls up her neck and tingles her lips as she lets out a final, hitched breath. 

Colin finally stills. His body slumps against Penelope’s. 

For a moment, they just hold each other. Tightly. Their breaths are inconsistent and heavy at first, but eventually find their rhythm. 

Eventually, its quiet. So quiet that one could forget that there’s an entire world outside that room. 

“I love you,” Colin says. He turns Penelope and himself to the side, so her body rests beside his instead of underneath. He places a single kiss upon her lips. 

“I love you, always.” 

Penelope would love nothing more than to remain in Colin’s arms forever. To be well and truly alone together. But as hard as she tries to keep the world outside away from them, Penelope cannot stop herself from imagining the scene they left behind before committing this heavenly sin. 

Did someone see them slip away together? How long did it take for someone to realize they were gone? It was their engagement ball — their absence surely must have been noted. 

What would people say? Penelope knows better than anyone that people talk. That narratives form before a scandal can fully play out. That there are consequences to actions such as these — no matter how delightful they felt in the moment. 

Would Eloise make a snide remark at her dress fitting in the morning? Would Anthony say something to Colin? God, what would her mother say about their mysterious disappearance? 

In a quick motion, Penelope removes her head from the crook of Colin’s neck.

“We should go. People will be wondering where we are.” 

Penelope starts to pull away from him, to reach for the nearest garment of her clothing — a stocking that landed haphazardly on the wood frame of the bed. But Colin’s hand lightly wraps around hers, stilling her motion. 

“Who cares about other people? You are the only person in this world whose opinion is of any importance to me.” 

“Colin —”

“Please, Pen. Don’t you wish to savor this moment?”

Of course. Her heart aches to be with him always. Especially now, but…

“I… We should go.” 

Slowly, Colin sits up to match Penelope’s position. He kisses her cheek, sweetly. “Stay,” he whispers.

“Stay,” he says again. He takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. 

When she does not protest — when she does not say anything at all — he says its a third time.

“Stay.” He squeezes her hand. Once. Twice. Three times.  

And she stays. Forevermore. 

[pico-digital-studios]

#ask the blur gang

How do you feel about cartoons where it's main character is just a ruthless maniac? I mean, Mr. NM and Bugs at one point shot someone at a Opera for coughing too much during they're seperate performance.

Neither of them regret it

OMT!Tails: Okay! Here's our second question from @mcgamejolter!

EX!Alice: He must've heard about the new "three-questions-per-user" rule going on.

OMT!Tails: Yep! Anyways... "How do you feel about cartoons where its main character is just a ruthless maniac? I mean, Mr. NM and Bugs at one point shot someone at an Opera for coughing too much during their separate performances. Neither of them regret it." I mean, I don't mind it all that much as long as they remain a good person deep down.

CR!Sonic: Well said, buddy.

Nitro: And even then, I'd say they got to know when it's time to know when to throw in the towel and get out of a nasty situation. Yes, Bugs bit off a bit more than he could chew with the hound race shenanigan but still emerged victorious, though after Daffy made that genie angry, there was no way in heck he was gonna stick around in that treasure cave.

D-Sides Mighty: Speaking of... Mr. Needlemouse hasn't come back just yet from the last question. Cindy must've definitely got him bang to rights.

Nitro: She told me before he's busy trying to draw himself a fresh set of privates after getting squirted right there with toxic cartoon-killing dip.

Nine: Heh. Knowing him, if he was here for this question, he'd be like "Oh, I could pummel a genie of a lamp with no difficulty whatsoever! TROLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!"

OMT!Mina: Pft! And risk a few days being shrunk to the size of a pearl in a clam? That would hinder his luck a bit.

CU!Sonia: Close sesame!

CU!Sonia, CR!Sonia and CR!Manik laughed together at that one.

EX!Alice: On the topic of cartoons, did we tell some of you guys about Toontopia before?

CR!Sonic: Go on, Alice. Please tell us.

EX!Alice: It's what was once Toontown and is a home for MANY hand-drawn cartoons, including the Looney Tunes crew and Mickey's gang. Over on their end, Mickey and his friends left Disney behind after... one too many mishappenings on Disney's behalf.

Pana: You're telling me. What's with all that live action stuff tryin' to act superior to the cartoons?

BK!Amy: Oh? Pana!

OMT!Tails: How and when did you get here?

Pana: You, er, left the door open upstairs, Tails. I just got inside.

OMT!Tails: Ah, fair.

CR!Sonic: So what's Toontopia like?

OMT!Mina: Me and Tails went on vacation there a couple of months before Crimtake's strike, and it's a really colourful and lively place to be in.

Nitro: Heh, you said it! Me, Amelia and Melanie stayed over there for some time as well, and I got to gathering some other Disney companions over to Mickey's freshly-built Disney World area. Heh, Ethan must've been gushing when I managed to invite WALL-E and EVE over.

D-Sides Mighty: Wait, Melanie?

OMT!Tails: That's your new boyfriend, right?

Nitro: Heh, yep! Trust me; I made his abusive precursors suffer for their misdeeds big time. Well, except one, who's got the least worst punishment and just wanders in mirrors.

Mini Sonic: Hmm. So that's why I saw a little girl looking back at me through a mirror the other day. At least she didn't creep me out.

CR!Manik: And to be fair, it at least gave me not paranoia, but the comfort that I'm never really alone in life.

OMT!Tails: I'm gonna go see what we can do about her after getting her out of the mirror prison. In the meantime, thanks for the question, MCStudio!

[wiltf]

eve was not a liar.

at least not conventionally.

when she said she would get carla out of cottonwood cove, it was sworn in truth. metaphorical in blood that was yet to be spilt, but definitely represented in the way she was lead deeper into the barracks. or whatever they hadn’t boarded up just yet, although eve had to assess the posters that had been left up — not even for target practice.

as eve kicks at a loose syringe with the toe of her boot, doing little more than earning her a hard look, it gives her time to assess. passing it off with a snort, head turned away, in a way that suggested she was better. and she was, of course, because this was the fuckin’ legion, but the only standing building had little resistance in the way of a firefight, and there were one too many in a cage outside to risk too much.

well, if their takeaway was that she wanted to claim child and mother for whatever nefarious purposes they had concocted in their own minds, she wasn’t about to turn away now. centurion something of another gives her the look over, all cuckold glory, and if eve wanted to keep her fingers for later, she unfortunately knew better than to flip him off.

instead, she talks, fingers moving quicker than the translator can keep up — but that was all a part of it.

“centurion!” heels snap together, backs ramrod straight, no salute but they could’ve passed for ncr. “this stranger bears the mark of caesar!”

back teeth grind. that’s not at all what she said. head tilt, getting the translator’s attention. firm flat hand, moving again against the other. a throat clears, and they speak up again: “mighty caesar has allowed this stranger to claim one of the pregnant slaves as tri—er, payment, for their services.”

dark and judgemental eyes. on the strip, they’d manage to wrangle the last cap out of a luckless bastard. tear layers off them, while spinning that goddamn roulette wheel. that’s just what he wanted to do now, after all, yet eve motioned again for the translator to follow.

“the woman sold to us nearly a fortnight ago is what has been requested, centurion.”

with that, it seems there was a snap within such a man. leaning forward on the desk (still carrying old magazines, cigarettes. pencils). “i have the claim on that profligate, and the child.”

feign surprise. or no surprise? of course he would claim the damn woman. damn child. eve had sworn in the blood that still stuck to the bottom of her soles, but her fingers fly, hopefully cutting with the anger that filled her. what was she doing out here, again? why was she getting involved in this shit? her head hurt. the gun at her hip was heavy. eve needed a smoke and a hot lay and the strip was all that-a-way.

could she take them out? too bad she hadn’t run into that boone on her way. maybe ed-e did. maybe the roof would cave in. teeth grinding again, as the translator seems to have all but given up.

“where did you take that mark from, profligate? caesar would not have parted with such a blessing so easily.”

nothing. eve didn’t say a single damn thing. focus on your breathing now, she told herself, like her heart wasn’t pumping all up in her ears. don’t let the walls close in. the windows were open here, if patchwork and ugly. even if the man called centurion insisted on keeping his face close to hers (mask? check. goggles? check) it wasn’t like.

then.

in one swift movement, her bandanna is pulled down. exposing the way she sucked on her teeth, for sure.

“answer me, profligate. we have heard news of a spy, and you seem most likely at this very moment.”

eve should shoot. the metal is cool on her finger tips, but it. just. can’t. breathe. better than this. like a singular thought stuck in the middle, cold sweat down her back. it’s too hot. her feet are numb.

four shots ring in her ears.

and there is a sigh that leaves her, just like it once had, as eve comes back. back to cottonwood cove, with the legion and the profligates and the blood on her lips. was it hers? teeth had worn into her cheeks, but as she pulls a hand away from her cheek, it wasn’t just blood.

it was matter. sticky. slipping from between spread fingers. the centurion did not rise once again, like his name suggested. a dropped pile of murky bodily fluids, and the other three legionnaires finding their place alongside him on the floor.

four little holes in the window, where the glass insisted on holding on. this of course presented eve with two noticeable thoughts, conflating with the way she reaches for the desk, leaning on it for support. legs shaking. still cold. wasn’t manny’s friend a sniper?

who else heard the shots?

eve’s descent is not at all graceful, as the blood on her sole’s is not just hers, and whatever thought she meant to have, was left at that desk. the moment before.

back in a vault, tucked on the other side of the desert.

[midnightartemis]

I posted 346 times in 2022

29 posts created (8%)

317 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@beskarboobs

@frannyzooey

@acrossthesestars

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

@clydesducktape

I tagged 47 of my posts in 2022

#eddie munson - 10 posts

#eddie munson x reader - 7 posts

#eddie x reader - 7 posts

#eddie stranger things - 6 posts

#star wars - 6 posts

#benny miller x frankie morales - 4 posts

#din djarin - 4 posts

#hellfire and brimstone - 4 posts

#benny miller - 4 posts

#fic rec - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 80 characters

#he’s the dad who says he hates dogs but then has the best relationship with them

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hellfire and Brimstone Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her), sheltered!reader

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

When you're in trouble, you turn to the only person you can think of- Eddie " The Freak" Munson.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four- Coming Soon

63 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#4

Hellfire and Brimstone

Chapter Two

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her)

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

Previous - Next - Masterlist

You woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs and toast and something else warm and comforting. Eddie. You shot up as everything that happened yesterday came rushing back to you. Your parents. The look on Eddie’s face he opened the door to you. The way he held you as you completely melted down.

Falling asleep on the couch watching Harrison Ford teach a university class. What was that about?

You looked around and realized you definitely weren’t still on the couch. Eddie’s room looked almost exactly like your imagined it would be. Band posters on the wall. A desk covered in music and paper. Clothes littered the floor. The only thing you didn’t expect was the piles of books everywhere. The lone bookshelf had been crammed so full the shelves would have been bending if not for the stacks of books supporting them from below.

Eddie Munson. Bookworm. Who would have thought?

Part of you wanted to climb out the window and not face how you acted last night. The other part of you knew you had nowhere else to go. And Eddie had seemed sincere in his promise to help you.

You rolled out of his bed and hit the floor with a sigh. Your stomach rolled either with hunger or morning sickness. It was hard to tell. You stood and walked out the door, a little surprised when it clicked unlocked as you turned the knob. Sheepishly you stepped out of his room and walked down the short hall to the kitchen. Eddie stood over the oven, flipping eggs with a spatula. He danced back and forth, quietly singing to himself and you smiled.

He was endearing and kind and (and, dare you say, cute) everything your intuition had told you he would be. Your heart filled with burning anger as you remembered how your classmates treated him. How Jason treated him.

Eddie spun around as he danced, his eyes landing on you. He grinned, raising a rock and roll fist as he jammed out. You realized now that he had headphones on.

The song ended and you clapped quietly as Eddie took the headphones off. You knew he was a performer, but you didn’t realize how magnetic he could be. Eddie’s grin never faded as he took you in. “Morning, angel. Sleep okay?”

You nodded and took a seat at the small bar- the only table in the house it seemed. “I did. Did you… carry me to bed?”

“Uh…” Eddie’s smile faded. “Yeah. You were sleeping hard and that couch isn’t the most comfortable to sleep on. You’re my guest… I…”

“It’s okay. Thank you.” You gave him a small smile and he relaxed.

“I made breakfast. I didn’t know what you like so I made a little bit of everything.” Eddie gestured to the counter where a pile of eggs in what you could only assume was nearly every style rested by a pile of toast and bacon. He draped a white tea towel over his shoulder like a line cook in a diner.

“Oh, uh. Scrambled.”

Eddie winked. “Coming right up. Bacon?”

“Yes please. And strawberry jam, if you have some.”

“Oh a woman after my own heart.” Eddie spun away from you and filled a plate with everything you asked for. He set it in front of you with a flourish and you giggled. His face grew serious. “Now I have to ask you a very serious question.”

“Oh.”

“Coffee or orange juice.”

You laughed. “Coffee please.”

“With cream and sugar?”

You shook your head and Eddie raised his brows I’m surprise. “Really?”

“Really, really.” You grinned.

Eddie poured two cups. One black, which he set in front of you, and one almost white with how much cream and sugar he dumped into it.

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92 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#3

Hellfire and Brimstone

Chapter 3

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her), sheltered!reader

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

AN: chapter one updated to reflect some changes. Jason and reader are no longer dating. Reader was Chrissy’s best friend before her death. Jason is still the father and still a dick.

Previous - Next - Masterlist

It was done.

You felt like hell and you were pretty sure you’d broken Eddie’s hand from squeezing it.

But it was done.

Minus what you were sure was going to be the worst period of your life.

They’d sent you away with a birth control prescription and some antibiotics and that was that.

Eddie only let go of your hand to change the tapes as he drove. Soft acoustic music you didn’t recognize hummed through the van. His hand returned to yours right away. Like it fit. Like it was supposed to be right there.

Maybe you were just hormonal and exhausted and reading too much into it. Eddie was just being nice. Comforting you like a friend would.

He didn’t let go the whole way back to the trailer. He couldn’t. Not after seeing you go through that procedure. Not after hearing the pained noises you made after the doctor told you that you would “just feel a pinch”.

When he did pull up to the trailer, he let go of your hand long enough to run around to the passenger door and help you out. Up the steps in to the trailer. Right into his uncle wearing nothing but a wife beater and boxers as he cooked in the kitchen.

“Hey kid, what the hells with all the eggs?” His uncle turned around with the plate of leftover eggs in his hands. “Oh shit. Didn’t realize you were bringing a lady around.”

“Sorry. Left a note on the fridge.” Eddie nodded to it.

You shifted beside him, trying you best to look fine. “Hi, Mr. Munson.”

“Please, Wayne’s just fine, darlin’.” Wayne frowned when he saw you wince.

“Sorry, not feeling well. I think I’m going to lay down for a bit.” You glanced up at Eddie.

“Take the bed.”

You glanced at Wayne nervously. His uncle had already turned back to his meal, dutifully trying to ignore the both of you. Eddie nudged you towards his room and you went reluctantly let go of his hand and shuffled off down the hall. You closed the door to his room behind you.

Wayne eyed Eddie with a raised brow. “She okay?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “She will be.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

Eddie shook his head. His uncle didn’t look convinced. Eddie couldn’t blame him after everything that happened with with Chrissy and the “earthquakes”. His uncle was smart enough to know something deeper and darker had happened than what Eddie let on. Eddie wanted to tell him, but he’d come to the same conclusion as he always had. The less the people around him knew, the better.

“You know where to find me.” His uncle grunted.

The guilt settled in as Eddie watched his uncle disappear back into his room with a plate of food. Wayne had done so much for him and all Eddie seemed to do was make it harder on the man. At least this year there was a decent chance he would actually graduate.

The phone rang just as Eddie was about to go grab the bags of food from the car. He picked it up on the third ring. “Sup?”

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116 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

I don’t know how he finds this comfy

121 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hellfire and Brimstone

Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her)

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

Previous - Next - Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson was certain there was nothing more life could surprise him with. After all he’d seen and after all he’d done, nothing could phase him any more. He had been on the brink of death and come back swinging. He’d survived the impossible and seen it all.

Well.

Maybe he hadn’t seen it all.

He certainly hadn’t expected to see you on his doorstep in the middle of the night. Red rimmed your eyes like you’d been crying hard. There wasn’t a lot of life left in your features that he could see. Still, you gave him a little smile.

Yeah, he hadn’t excepted the preacher’s daughter to show up at midnight on a Thursday.

You smile quickly fell though and you looked away from him, shifting nervously. “Hi, sorry. I- It’s…”

“You wanna come in?” He stepped back as you nodded. You stepped up into the trailer and he closed the door. You glanced back at him, biting your lip nervously. You looked like you were about to start crying again. In fact, you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. He barely recognized you in sweats and a t-shirt.

“Want a water, or…?” God, he was… what were you doing here?

“I need to buy.” You burst.

He raised his brows. A little disappointed that was all you were here for. It still didn’t make sense though. Sure he’d seen you at parties with Jason and Chrissy and all your friends but you’d never even drink- let alone smoke. He’d tried not to notice you but he couldn’t help it. He’d been drawn to you like a moth to flame the moment you’d moved to Hawkins last year. Always smiling. Always wearing pink and looking perfect. You’d always been nice to him, too.

“Yeah, right.” Eddie swallowed. “Like a blunt or–“

“No.” Your answer was strained. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Something was definitely wrong. “No. Something stronger. I need something stronger than that.”

“Yeah, no.”

Your eyes shot up to him. “No? I have money. I can pay.”

“It’s not the money–“

“So you don’t have any–“ Your voice shook as more tears came to your eyes.

“I’ve never even seen you drink a beer. I’m not giving you anything!”

“No. No, you have to, Eddie.” The first of your tears fell down your cheeks as you began to look around wildly. “Where’s that stupid lunch box?”

“Angel–“

You stalked to his kitchen and began to throw open cupboards. “It’s here somewhere. It’s gotta be. It’s gotta be.”

What the fuck was happening? He wished he could say it was the first time anyone had ransacked the place looking for his stash (came with the territory), but he’d never expected it from you.

You rushed by him to the living room looking dead set on tearing it apart. He tried to step in front of you but you pushed by him, tears streaming down your face.

“Stop. Angel, stop.”

“No. No, I can’t. This can’t be happening. This–” You tore all the cushions off his couch. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

See the full post

122 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[glapplebloom]

And no, this is not an Anti-AI Comic... (A long one, so no images)

The first comic One Shot, and it is a Manhwa (a Korean Comic). @warsmithzodiacragnarok sent an Ask (to Ask the AkumaVerse) about it and I’ve decided to give it a shot. So what do I think of this? I read 10 chapters out of 51 and it consists of A Prologue and two stories (with the beginning of a third), so most likely the majority of the stories won’t interact directly with each other.

The Prologue begins with the unveiling of Raum: The World’s First AI (if you ignore the multiple ones that steal people’s art and such). We also see some behind the scenes stuff before this (like a few months before) showing that there are a few problems before the launch. So when the CEO of the company decided to be the first one to ask it a question: he dies. The people think Raum was sabotaged but when one of the people in charge asked Raum who did it, Raum revealed Raum did.

Chapter 1 begins a new story, where a man finds himself in a forest unable to remember anything of his past. That’s when a Cell Phone rings. He remembers what those are at least. Someone is text messaging the guy with instructions and it does seem to be working. But when the Text Messenger keeps ordering him around, the guy does the logical thing and decides to go to the Police to get help. Turns out they were ordered to shoot on sight.

So as he was running, the Phone he ditched in Burger King (at least on the Webtoon’s version) was back in his pocket and basically said “told you so”. With no choice, the guy listens to the Text Messenger to save his life. Too bad it won’t be for long because they want him to blow up the Government. Despite all the red signs, the guy is motivated because of the stories he was told and successfully blows up.

So it turns out it was two AIs fighting each other and each one is Raum. After all, only Raum can hack Raum. If this chapter is an analogy of the previous Prologue or something he’s doing now I do not know. Either way, he becomes one and decides he prefers to play alone. The Third Chapter will begin the last story to be discussed here: Best Friends. 

There’s a Pet Competition that uses AI Pets. And these ain’t your barely functional pets you got now but stuff that looks like it came from Wall-E’s timeline. And speaking of that, there is a front runner in what looks like EVE: Aurora. Basically this entire show is to sell her to a wider consumer audience as her stats in Intellect, Creativity, Elasticity and Empathy is almost 100%  But one of these things is a lie...

Speaking of Wall-E, Doori is a Medical Nursing Bot without an Owner like the others. And being so frikkin old as well as being something for Medical Work, it's not as appealing as the others. After the introductions, Aurora and Doori begin talking to each other. If you think this is going to go like Wall-E and EVE, you’re wrong. Aurora wants to win and doesn’t think very highly of Doori. A

After revealing they are willing to cheat to let Aurora win, we head to the first challenge: Interact with the Elderly. Everyone is doing pretty fine except Aurora and Doori. Aurora is trying to calculate what would increase her chances to win this event. She thinks she found it with a 118 year old Lady, but Doori is already there with her. Kim Hye-Ji does not like Robots. Aurora calculates her chances of success over the results and figures Kim is a lost cause.

Aurora does an interview to win people over to try to convince them she has a heart, Doori on the other hand continues to stand by her side. That is because he predicts correctly that Kim is going to pass out. They stop filming because this is a medical emergency and Doori is equipped to help. But Aurora stops him thinking he’s doing this to get more points. It would be really bad for her image if all this leaked out.

So all that leaked out. Whatever points she earned legit began to lessen as Doori’s stock began to rise. They try to put a spin on it by saying Aurora thought it was better to wait for the Paramedics and of course adjusting the scores. Meanwhile Doori is in the room with Kim after she recovered. Kim wonders why Doori saved her despite her cruel treatment and Doori reveals he has a sick friend. So Kim basically accepts Doori as a living being.

Meanwhile Aurora wants to take a picture with Kim for publicity. Kim refuses, seeing right through Aurora’s tactics. Man, seeing the Webtoons version and the Fan Translated one definitely shows just how different the two translations are. But the results are the same: she tells Aurora to leave. Aurora thinks she’s still the frontrunner in the competition regardless, and she is. But her calculations are wrong as Doori is right there next to her.

Another thing to note with the Fan Translation Over the Webtoons is that while in the Webtoons she calls humans stupid, the Fan Translation has her thinking Humans are Unpredictable. Doori then unknowingly increases his chances by revealing the prize money of 1 Billion Won and a Brand New Hover Car he is going to give to a friend of his added a mystery to figure out who Doori is doing all this for.

 Another thing to note: the Webtoons version has the people behind the scenes adjust the scores since Doori is ahead by 3%. Though the Fan Translated one said that they need to do something about the results. While you think this may be the same thing, there’s something you got to realize about Reality Shows... To quote someone on Reddit: “Producers don’t tell people what to do or say, but they give them guidelines as to what is needed from them. They are not strictly instructed to play the hero or the villain, but the casting is done in such as way that their personalities naturally fulfil those roles.”

The same is true here. Aurora was the frontrunner and built as such. Doori was the weird pick that only a few people were supposed to latch onto and then be gone in the first round. But after that leak, the tides began to swing in favor of Doori over Aurora. So what are the Producers supposed to do? Keep trying to tell their story while trying to find a way to eliminate Doori in a satisfying matter? Or change the story?

Anyway, Doori tries to sneak into a hospital to see his friend. His friend is dying from cancer. He’s been in the hospital since he was 10 and can’t afford to pay his bills anymore (either his family abandoned him or...). So Doori is doing all this so he can pay for his friend. He successfully sneaks in but couldn’t sneak out. Honestly nothing bad happens and in the next rounds he continues to do better and better. 

Despite his low scores shown, he has smashed the Trivia Round, showed great creativity in the Freedom Performance Round, and is the finalist alongside Aurora. Now the Fan Translation has her calling Humans stupid. Now for the final page on the Webtoons version: the Final Round is to move people’s hearts with their story. Remember when I talked about Reality Shows where I asked do you keep trying to tell the story or change it? They went with change.

Aurora entered this competition for the sole purpose of promoting her line of AI Pets. But because she really doesn’t have an owner, she has no story to tell. All she can do is promote her line and its function. So she is unable to make herself stand out among the other Auroras out there. Except near the end where she tries to convince you that she doesn’t need a heart since she wouldn’t feel bad about being thrown away.

Yeah, this sounds less like a friendship and more like a Robot Servant. And despite everything that is going to happen, Aurora thinks her logic is sound when in reality it's an ad trying to pass itself off as a person. Meanwhile Doori smashes this since he tells the story of how he met Hana, the cancer patient he met at age 10. The person he entered this contest to win. And he’s 60 now. So this is a 50 year Friendship. The Chapter ends with a Video from Hana. 

And that’s where the Webtoons version ends and it hasn't been updated since 2021. So after researching I found the rest of it on a Manga Hosting site. But before we continue, a little aside. I like Wall-E. It is my favorite Pixar Movie. My first paycheck from Death Battle went to getting the official Lego Version of it. So I’m saying this now because I wish I didn’t look into this more...

The next chapter has Aurora still questioning the logic without seeing the writing on the wall: the Producers want Doori to win. No matter how advanced she is, she can’t match the real human connection Doori had. And before we find out who wins, we’re taking a look behind the scenes. One where the company that made Aurora confronts Doori. He wants to win and has Doori sign a contract. If only it was to step down from the competition...

As expected, Doori wins. He is so thankful and plans to live with Hana for a long time. The Prize money will mean 10 more years of treatment for Hana. After the competition, Doori is in the laboratory of the company that made Aurora. They downloaded something from him and decided to escort him out... To the Waste Disposal Room. Where Doori and a bunch of deactivated Auroras are promptly destroyed.

The story ends with a new Doori robot being on sale. So basically, they downloaded his emotions, mass produced it, and disposed of him. I bet they didn’t even keep their end of the bargain and not pay for Hana’s medical bills. And I suspect they would have no repercussions because the next chapter is a new story with new characters and a new AI. Yeah, this is good but if the majority of the stories are going to be downers (which I see on TVTropes that is), I don’t think I want to follow the rest of the series.

 To quote B@man “You got my hopes up so high and then you mugged and shot them in an alleyway.” When I see sad endings in the fiction I’ve seen, it's usually to continue the story in a direction. Parents died, the story of how they adjusted to it. Lost, eventually found. Imagine Up was just the opening and nothing after that. It makes me want to write a story where someone finds out about this and gets the company to be shut down or somehow save Doori from this fate...

If this kind of stuff is right up your alley then I would recommend it. As for me, I’m probably going to end my look into this here. I wanted to help Betty and now I wanted to help Doori and outside fanfiction I can’t do anything about it. I’ll stick with Happily Ever Afters...

[pleasantspark]

Forever & Ever - Chapter Five (Bad Romance) Frieza x Fem! Frieza Race OC Genre: Horror/Romance(?) Tropes: Yandere Part of The F&E Series Warnings: Possessiveness, Frieza (Because he's a whole ass warning in of itself), Sexism, Forced Gender Roles, Misogyny, Internalized Misogyny, Stalking, Implied Offscreen Death, Death, Yandere Behavior, Canon Divergent, Impossible Logic, DBZ Logic, Forced Pregnancy (Offscreen), Abusive Relationships, Gaslighting, Toxicity, Most of it is Flashbacks. AUs Utilized: Frieza Redemption Arc AU (Separate Arc, a COMPLETE different whatif) Frieza Race Overhaul Doc Used! Please check for it here: x A/n: Just more Flashbacks and shit XP

Cooler and Frieza was looking around the corner as King Cold and Queen Frigid were arguing.

"Cold, I am tired of you, I am tired of you not doing anything to punish Frieza! I have had enough!" Frigid snaps.

"I tried to discipline him, but he wouldn't listen at all! Look, give me another-" King Cold began.

"If you don't change and grow the fuck up... Then... I have to divorce and file for full custody, and I will provide evidence of your awful parenting." She snaps.

Cooler glances at Frieza, who seemed to be shaken up by his parents arguing. He felt slightly bad for him but at the same time, he was the reason why their parents were arguing.

"Frigid, My Queen... You don't have to do this-"

"I had given you chances! And you just... RUINED THEM. I can't trust you with Frieza, or Cooler anymore! What about Icia?"

"My Queen, you didn't have to bring her up-"

Cooler flinched, during his mothers second pregnancy, Frieza wasn't the only infant to be welcomed. She was having twins. A Boy and a Girl, the girl, who they named Icia was a beautiful girl. She looked like his mother.

However, when Frieza and Icia were both 4, their father was supposed to watch them, and Icia got into something dangerous and died. Because of this, his mother hired nannies to watch Frieza and him, but growing up none would ever stay because of Frieza's behavior.

Thankfully, BerryBlue stayed, and he couldn't have been more grateful.

"I suggest you get your ass together and I won't use that incident in court!"

"I promise, My Queen..."

Frieza seemed to be throwing, yet another tantrum because today was Cooler's 15th Birthday, and Cooler received a cake, but due to their fathers promise to their mother, had surpringsly decided to go against Frieza. This was not met with a peaceful reaction. Frieza threw tantrums at his party to the point BerryBlue had to escort him out and he finally got to blow out his candles.

If only his mother was still here...

On the exact eve of his 16th Birthday, Cooler was notified by his father, and Frieza was to- To come meet him in his room. It sounded urgent and serious, which caused Cooler to get scared.

He was wondering if his father was planning to give up the Cold Force to either of them, but immediately upon stepping in the room, he is met with various portraits of the family, of Grandpa Chilled, His Mother, Icia... These were all his dead relatives... His blood ran cold.

Why was his mother among the pictures of their dead family members? His grandmother was nowhere on that wall (As his Grandmother, who he learned was named Coola, they named him after his grandmother...) as she divorced his grandpa. Maybe that's why his father wasn't keen on divorce...

King Cold seemed to be somber, he had looked at his boys, and with a puff of his cigar... Pointed to the empty chairs. "Sit."

And they did what they were told.

"Kids, you might be wondering why your mothers on the wall with Your Sister and Grandpa, well... She's dead." King Cold finally said, Cooler's heart hurt. This was the worst present he could receive on his birthday.

"I woke up, and she was dead, she was pronounced dead at 12:22, I am sorry, there's not much they could've done in her regard." King Cold said, Cooler was not concerned with his fathers reaction as their marriage up until his mothers death was approaching a near end. So he didn't seem bothered. However, he wanted to gauge Frieza's reaction.

So he turned to face his brother, who seemed to be pleased with this news. Not near celebrating or so, but just downright smirking.

He knew he was involved.

<Last Chapter >Next Chapter

[finitestateai]

ook thank you very much!! ahh i like talking too :D what got you hooked on & interested in robotics? :) and what's your favorite server workstation?

I have no idea. I've always been into sci-fi and always loved the robot characters way more than the human ones. I guess part of that may be autism and diagnosed but not told about or medicated ADHD.

Wall-E was one of my favorite films, to the point that I still have a Wall-E remote-controlled toy (although I always loved EVE more). Data, R2D2, GLaDOS, transformers, and all those. I always dreamed of being a robot. Once I came onto here and suddenly there where a bunch of people also like that...

So yeah, I guess fiction, but also reality. I got taught programming in ~4th grade (Canada) and it all spiraled from there. I love all sorts of tech, ideas, and everything. I founded a robotics club in high school, and generally kept focusing into tech.

I'm right now doing a conjoint degree (Kinda like a double major but across faculties) of Computer Science and Design.

As for server/workstation... I don't know if I have a favorite. I've got my girl, my limb. But I literally don't know what she's called and she's kind of a jury rigged mess. I love her so much. Although that's because she's mine and she's kinda part of me, not because of any specific looks reason. Quickly grabbed picture below the cut.

For servers in general, I like ones with blinky lights, ones with exposed wires, and easy to remove drives. I really love the ones that have the little fold out keyboard and screen, although you can't have too many of them. My ideal server array for my facility-self would look like a cloud of fireflies constantly blinking if you had the lights off.

What's yours? And who's your favorite fictional robot?

She looks so dirty in this image... I swear I cleaned her ~a week ago.