#Purpose Tour Merchandise

[justinbiebermerch1]

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[luveline]

hi jade!!! i was wondering if i could request a bassist!remus x roadie!reader fic in which they spend time together on their day off from touring? maybe reader is totally surprised that he even asked her?

hi gorgeous!! modern au, fem 1k

cw vague adult theme, mdni 

"There you are," Remus says, as though he's said it a hundred times before, and he'll say it a hundred times again. "I've been looking for you." 

As a roadie (merchandising, mostly), there's no reason for Remus to know who you are, nor care, but he seems to like you anyhow. And there's nowhere for you to hang out in your downtime beside hotel lobby's or your literal assigned seat in the minivan, so here you are, in your pyjamas, laying on a random lobby couch with a book smushed to your chest. 

"What?" you ask, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

"I've been looking for you. You weren't in your room." 

"I share my room with three other girls, one who has sleep apnea." The muscles in your back sing like plucked strings as you sit up. "It's quieter here… You're looking for me?" 

"Mm. Come on. We'll go get a late dinner." 

"I'm in my pyjamas." 

Remus gestures down at himself. "I thought you might be." 

He's dressed down too. Every roadie has their thing —it's hard, learning so many names at once, and eventually people begin to typecast one another as their most defining feature. Yours, to your indifference, seems to have become your more comfortable clothing choices. You're not gross, everything's clean, but is everything acceptable attire for going out into the world? 

"No one will even notice they're pyjamas," he assumes you, holding out his hand expectantly. "They look like jogging bottoms." 

"Remus, they're lavender." 

He pulls your hand toward his chest, encouraging you to stand. "They're nice." 

He ferries you out of the hotel, and you thank your lucky stars you wore your converse rather than the hotel slippers. He's clearly thought about this, offering you a hoodie (your size, clearly swiped from the merchandise van, 'marauders' written in jagged lettering across your shoulders like bat wings) as he explains the details of your trip. 

"First we'll get dinner. Then see a film in the cinema, if you want to? They have the new Exorcist." 

"I love horror." 

"I know." He nods to himself. "And then I have to buy you fresh donuts. James says they're the only way to eat them." 

"You don't have to buy me anything." 

"Sorry, I should say it differently. I'd love to buy you fresh donuts. If that's what you want to do." 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. "I would've stayed in the lobby if I didn't want to come out with you." 

"In that case," he murmurs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

This is worse than flirting. It feels like an initiation, or a turned tide. You smile at him from under his arm and he visibly pauses, falters, before his own smile hooks and he walks forward with a little more purpose. 

The day moves on as promised. You eat a quick dinner at a mid range restaurant before he takes you to the cinema, where he insists he doesn't want any popcorn but eats half of yours anyways. Then he takes you for donuts, and the entire time, you're thinking, what does he want from me? If Remus wanted sex he could fuck a groupie. Half the techs would crawl into bed with him if he asked. Maybe he's just gentlemanly? 

But why would he wanna fuck you? Ignoring any self-esteem issues, you're in cuffed bottoms and bare-faced, and he has no reason to believe you'd be any good in bed. 

He might want something slower, he decides. It's easier to believe when he asks if he can hold your hand on the walk home. 

"What?" you ask, sure you heard him wrong. 

"Can I?" he says, offering you his palm. 

It's different from his pulling earlier. You give him your hand and he squeezes his fingers between yours slowly, as though savouring the feeling.

You shake your head. "Was this…" 

Remus waits for you to finish. It's hard to ask under the weight of his gaze, happy but with that air of knowing you can't quite crack. He always seems so put together, even when he's asking for things, like any answer you give is one he's prepared for. 

"Was this a date?" you force out. 

"That depends. Did it go well?" 

"I would've said yes, if you asked me." 

Remus leans in like he's telling a secret, his voice hushed to match. "I know," he says gently, the tiniest hint of smugness threaded in the slight scratch of his voice. "That's mostly why I didn't ask." 

"Mostly?" 

"I couldn't face rejection. Not from you." His eyes light with an emotion you can't name. "But if you still want to reject me, I'll cope. It might be good for me, actually, it'll give me some material. Nothing makes for better music than losing a pretty girl." 

You fluster at his wording. "I would've worn something nice," you say apologetically. "If I'd known. I would've made an effort to look nice." 

"You always look nice. You think I'm put off by your pyjamas?" 

"Stop," you mumble, mortification creeping in. I can't believe I just went on a date with a rockstar in my pyjamas. 

"It's cute. You're cute, I love that you can fall asleep anywhere–" 

"Stop!" 

Remus laughs and pulls you that last inch into his side, elbow to elbow, hip to hip. "I can't. Teasing you is half the fun. It's why I haven't mentioned the powdered sugar on your lip." 

You sigh and turn your face away from him, wiping your lip with your sleeve. "You always do this." 

"Don't wipe it off, I'll get it. It'll taste sweet." 

You take your hand out of his. "Did you want this to be a date? I'll change my mind." 

He's kinder after that, and when he rubs your shoulder like he knows you need it, you almost pass out. 

[formulas-bitch]

Come back home 2 -

13K words

extra long one for you guys. let me know what you think, feedback or any suggestions are welcome

its been a few months since Emily left for her tour to Iraq, and the middle of the season of the formula 1 races for Charles.

As he was sitting in front of his computer, checking his emails, he found a familiar handwriting on the envelope. Excited, he opened the letter and began to read.

Emily's letter was full of news about her new life in Iraq. She described the desert landscape, the dusty roads, and the people she met. She told him about the challenges of her new job as first lieutenant, the long hours, and the intense training. But she also talked about the camaraderie she felt with her fellow soldiers, the sense of purpose and meaning she found in her work, and the incredible experiences she was having.

Charles was fascinated by her stories and couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and envy. He wished he could be there with her, sharing in her adventures, but he knew that he had his own path to follow. He was determined to make his sister and his family proud, even if it meant being far away from them.

As he read on, Emily mentioned that she had met some other soldiers who were also interested in motorsports. She wrote about how they would sometimes talk about the races together, swapping stories and sharing their enthusiasm. Even in the midst of a war zone, the love for speed and competition never died.

Charles was intrigued by this news. He wondered if perhaps he could somehow use his fame and connections in the racing world to support Emily and her fellow soldiers. He thought about sending care packages with racing gear or even arranging for a live feed of a race to be shown in their camp. But he also knew that he needed to tread carefully, as the last thing he wanted was to bring attention to her or her unit in a way that could potentially endanger them.

As he continued reading, Emily mentioned that she had heard about his recent successes on the track. She expressed admiration for his skill and dedication, and even joked about how she wished she could join him in the pits someday. This made Charles smile, knowing that even though they were separated by thousands of miles and a world of difference, they could still find common ground in their shared passion for motorsports.

Inspired by his sister's letter, Charles decided to take action. He reached out to his contacts in the racing community and arranged for a care package to be sent to Emily and her unit. The package was filled with official merchandise, autographed photos, and even a few pieces of racing gear. He included a personal note, expressing his love and support for her, and hoping that the package would bring a little bit of home to her while she was so far away.

A few weeks later, Charles received another letter from Emily. In it, she thanked him for the care package and told him how much it meant to her and her fellow soldiers. She described the joy they had shared when they opened it, imagining what it must have been like to be in the pits during a race or to meet their favorite drivers. She also mentioned that she had been thinking about his idea of finding a way to bring the races to them, and she was excited by the possibilities.

Charles was overjoyed to hear that his package had brought them so much happiness. He immediately began working on plans to make Emily's wish come true. He reached out to his contacts in the racing community again, explaining his sister's situation and the unique challenges they faced. To his surprise, several drivers and sponsors were eager to help, offering to donate their time and resources to make a live feed of a race possible.

After weeks of planning and coordination, they finally managed to set up a makeshift outdoor movie screen in Emily's camp. The soldiers gathered around, their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation. As the big day approached, Emily wrote to Charles, expressing her gratitude for his efforts and promising that they would make the most of the experience.

The day of the race finally arrived, and thanks to the generosity of the racing community, the soldiers were able to tune in to a live feed of the event. The sound of engines roaring filled the air as they watched their favorite drivers battle it out on the track. Despite the distance, Emily felt connected to the action, as if she were right there in the pit crew.

As the race progressed, the tension in the air was palpable. The soldiers cheered on their favorites, debated strategy, and shared stories of their own experiences in the racing world. Even the most seasoned soldiers seemed to be swept up in the excitement, forgetting, if only for a moment, the dangers that surrounded them.

Emily, unable to contain her enthusiasm, found herself constantly texting and calling her brother, sharing her thoughts and reactions to the race in real-time. Charles, equally enthused, responded with encouragement and shared anecdotes from his own racing career.

As the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race, the soldiers erupted in cheers. Even though they had been separated by thousands of miles, they had found a way to come together, if only for a brief moment, and share in the excitement of the sport they loved. Emily knew that the next day, they would be back to their duties, facing the dangers of their mission. But for now, they could forget about the world outside and simply enjoy the race.

She looked around at her fellow soldiers, their faces lit up with happiness, and felt a sense of pride and connection to them that she had never experienced before. She thought about her brother, Charles, and how his idea had brought them all together. Even though he was far away, she could feel his presence, his love and support for her and her fellow soldiers.

As they began to disperse, returning to their tents and duties, Emily couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. She knew that tomorrow they would be back to the grind of their mission, facing the dangers that came with it. But for now, she would cherish this brief moment of happiness, this reminder of the life they had left behind.

She made her way over to the makeshift movie screen, where the sound system was still blaring with commentary about the race. A few soldiers lingered, discussing their favorite drivers and strategies, their voices filled with excitement and enthusiasm. Emily leaned against the screen, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of this night.

It had been a long time since she had felt this alive, this connected to something beyond the confines of their camp. The sound of the engines, the thrill of the competition, it all reminded her of home, of the life she had left behind. And for just a moment, she could almost imagine herself back there, sitting in the stands, the warm sun on her face, her heart racing as the cars sped past.

A shadow fell across her, breaking her out of her reverie. She looked up to see one of the younger soldiers, his face flushed with excitement. "Hey, Emily, did you see that pass? That was insane!" He gestured animatedly, his words tumbling out in a rapid-fire mixture of awe and disbelief.

Emily nodded, her heart still racing from the race. "Yeah, that was something else. I can't believe he made that move." She paused, thinking about the drivers and their strategies, the way they battled for position around the track. "It's like they're a part of something bigger than themselves out there. They're pushing the limits of what's possible."

The young soldier, named Tom, smiled. "Yeah, you can feel it in the air, you know? It's like we're all a part of it too, just by being here, watching. Even though we're so far away, it's like we're still a part of the racing world."

Emily nodded in agreement, her gaze drifting back to the makeshift screen. "It's true. And I think that's what my brother was trying to do, you know? Create a connection, even if it was just for a little while."

The young soldier, Tom, looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess so. It's pretty cool that he thought of that. And even better that everyone else here seems to appreciate it." He gestured around at the camp, now beginning to quiet down as the soldiers returned to their duties.

Emily nodded, her gaze lingering on the makeshift screen. "It's just a shame we can't have more of this," she said wistfully. "I mean, it's nice that we can take a break and watch the races and all, but it's not the same as being there, you know? Being part of the action."

Tom shrugged. "I guess that's what we signed up for, right? Sacrifices and all that?" He paused, then added with a grin, "But hey, at least we get to watch the races!"

Emily laughed, feeling a little guilty for voicing her complaints. "Yeah, you're right. It's not all bad." She glanced back at the screen, the engines' roar still ringing in her ears. "Besides, it's not like we can just up and leave whenever we want. We've got a job to do."

The young soldier nodded solemnly. "That's for sure. But maybe one day, when this is all over, we'll get to go back and see the races in person. You know, like your brother always wanted."

Emily smiled at the thought, but it was tinged with sadness. She knew that for many of them, that day might never come. The war had already taken too much, and she feared it would continue to claim lives long after the final battle had been fought.

As they stood there, watching the race together, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if her brother's dream had been selfish. He had wanted so badly to bring a bit of joy and normalcy to their lives, but in doing so, had he failed to see the bigger picture? Had he underestimated the sacrifices that they, and countless others like them, would have to make?

Emily glanced over at Tom, his face lit up with excitement as a particularly daring move played out on the screen. She knew that he, like her, had left behind friends, family, and a life they could have only dreamed of. And for what? To fight a war that seemed to have no end in sight? To risk their lives for a cause that sometimes felt as distant and uncertain as the drivers on the screen?

But then again, maybe that was the point. Maybe it wasn't about the race or the glory or the cheering crowds. Maybe it was about finding something, anything, to hold onto when everything else felt so fleeting and fragile. It was about creating moments of normalcy and joy in the midst of the chaos, however brief they might be.

Emily looked at her friend, feeling a sudden surge of gratitude for his presence. They might not be at the track, but they were together, sharing this experience, however small it might seem. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The world around them seemed to fade away as the race continued, the sound of gunfire and explosions replaced by the roar of the engines. Soldiers ducked for cover, returning fire as they moved, their training taking over as they fought to protect one another. Emily's heart raced, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, but she forced herself to stay calm, to focus on the task at hand.

She glanced at her friend, Tom, crouched down beside her, his face etched with determination. She could see the fear in his eyes, but he refused to show it. They were a team, and they would fight together until the end. As they took cover behind a fallen tree, Emily caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. She signaled to Tom, and together they flanked their position, guns at the ready.

The enemy soldiers were advancing quickly, using the cover of smoke to their advantage. Emily felt her heart pounding in her chest as she took aim, steadying her breath. She knew that every shot had to count. Tom nodded at her, and they both opened fire. The sound of gunfire filled the air as the two sides battled for control of the territory.

Emily ducked down behind a rock, reloading her weapon as quickly as she could. She glanced over at Tom, who was crouched down beside her, his face etched with determination. They had to hold their ground; they couldn't afford to give an inch. As she reloaded, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and immediately knew that they were outnumbered.

"They're surrounding us!" she yelled to Tom. He nodded grimly, his eyes fixed on the advancing enemy soldiers. They couldn't stay here; they had to find a way to break through the encirclement. As they crawled away from their makeshift cover, bullets whizzed past them, throwing up clouds of dirt and debris.

Emily glanced around frantically, searching for any possible escape route. Ahead of them, she spotted a rusty old jeep parked beneath a cluster of trees. It was their only hope. "Tom, over there!" she shouted, pointing at the jeep. "We have to make a run for it!, tell the otto meet us there"

Tom nodded in agreement, his face etched with determination. They couldn't afford to waste any more time. With renewed strength, they sprinted toward the jeep, bullets whizzing past them. Emily felt the wind of a near-miss bullet on her cheek, but she didn't let it deter her. They had to make it.

As they neared the jeep, Emily glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see the enemy losing ground. But the soldiers were closing in fast, their numbers seemingly endless. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder, her lungs burning from the effort. Tom reached the jeep first, yanking open the door and gesturing for her to get in.

Emily climbed into the driver's seat just as Tom threw himself into the passenger seat beside her. She slammed the door shut and turned the key, the engine roaring to life. As she put the jeep in gear, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was the others. They were running toward the jeep, their own gunfire muffled by the sound of their own panicked breathing.

Emily gunned the engine, the jeep leaping forward with a jolt. As they raced toward their friend, bullets rained down on them from all sides. The jeep swerved violently, tires spinning in the dirt as they careened out of control. Emily fought to regain control, her knuckles white from the force she was exerting on the steering wheel.

"They're gaining on us!" Tom yelled, his voice tense and panicked. Emily felt her heart sink. They had to shake the enemy off somehow. She glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to find an escape route, but there was nothing but trees and more soldiers. They were trapped.

She slammed on the brakes, causing the jeep to fishtail. The enemy soldiers, caught off guard, scattered. Emily took the opportunity to do a U-turn, racing back toward the encampment they had left behind. Tom leaned out of the window, firing wildly at the soldiers in their way. "We have to reach the camp!" he shouted, his words whipping away in the wind. "We have to warn them!"

Emily nodded, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. The jeep swerved and careened through the trees, narrowly avoiding collisions with obstacles in their path. As they neared the camp, she could see the soldiers had already overrun it. Burning structures and the sounds of gunfire filled the air. "They're already here," she whispered, dread filling her voice.

The jeep came to a skidding halt near what was left of the camp entrance. Emily and Tom exchanged a grim look before they leapt out, weapons at the ready. Bullets whizzed past them as they sprinted toward the command center, their boots sinking into the soft earth with each step. "Where are they?" Emily shouted over the chaos, her eyes darting around wildly for any sign of their team.

"This way!" Tom shouted, pointing toward a nearby hut. They dashed toward it, weaving in and out of the hail of bullets As they approache the hut, they could hear muffled voices coming from within. Emily signaled for Tom to cover her as she threw herself against the door, bursting into the hut.

The small structure was cramped with soldiers, all of them scrambling for cover. Emily spotted her team huddled together in the corner, their weapons drawn. "Over here!" she shouted, waving them over. The soldiers turned their attention to her, opening fire. Emily felt the impact of several bullets against her body, sending her flying back into the dirt. She winced in pain, struggling to breathe.

"Emily!" Tom shouted, rushing toward her. He knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he tried to stanch the bleeding. "We have to get out of here," he whispered, his voice shaking. "We can't stay here."

Emily forced herself to take a deep breath, wincing as pain shot through her chest. "No," she wheezed. "We can't leave them." She glanced around at her team, their faces pale and streaked with dirt and tears. "We have to fight back."

"But they've already taken over the camp," Tom protested. "How are we supposed to do that?"

Emily closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, his hands trembling as he tried to keep her alive. "We can't just give up," she whispered. "Not like this."

Tom didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the soldiers surrounding them. There had to be a way out. They just had to find it. As their breaths came in ragged gasps, they glanced around the hut, searching for any sign of an escape route.

Emily's eyes fell on a crate in the corner, piled high with ammunition and weapons. She motioned for her team to follow her as she crept over to it. Carefully, she began to distribute the weapons among them, making sure each person had at least one. As they armed themselves, they also took whatever extra ammunition they could find.

"Okay," Emily whispered, her voice barely audible above the gunfire. "We're going to make a run for it. We'll use the crate as cover, and try to reach that jeep." She gestured toward the vehicle, barely visible through the haze of smoke and dust. "Once we're in, we'll make a break for it."

The soldiers surrounding them paused for a moment, seemingly surprised by the team's unexpected plan. Tom took advantage of the distraction and threw a grenade at the soldiers, hoping to buy them some time. The explosion rocked the hut, sending debris and dirt flying everywhere. Screams filled the air as the soldiers scattered in panic.

"Now!" Emily shouted, grabbing one end of the crate. Her team members followed suit, each taking hold of an end as they began to drag it toward the jeep. Bullets whizzed past them, thudding into the wooden crate and sending splinters flying. They moved as quickly as they dared, ducking behind what cover they could find.

As they reached the jeep, Emily glanced back at the hut, her heart racing. The soldiers had already begun to regroup, their numbers swelling as more and more of them emerged from the smoke and dust. There was no time to lose. She turned to her team, her voice tight with urgency. "Get in the jeep! I'll cover you."

Tom and the others climbed into the vehicle, their hands shaking as they fumbled with the doors and the ignition. Emily took a deep breath, steadying herself before turning to face the approaching soldiers. She lifted her weapon, aiming at the center of the group as they charged toward her. Bullets whizzed past her ears, sending dirt and debris flying, but she remained steady, firing round after round at the oncoming threat.

As Emily continued to fight, she glanced over at the jeep, watching as it lurched forward, gaining speed. She knew that she couldn't hold off the soldiers for much longer. With a final burst of adrenaline, she sprinted toward the vehicle, leaping into the back seat just as another wave of bullets struck the ground where she had been standing only moments before.

The jeep sped away from the hut, leaving a trail of smoke and dust in its wake. Emily slumped forward in her seat, gripping the edge of the door frame as she tried to catch her breath. Tom, his face pale and streaked with dirt, reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "We did it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're getting out of here."

But even as they drove, they couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed. Emily glanced in her rearview mirror, her heart racing as she saw a line of soldiers marching steadily behind them. "They're still after us," she said, her voice tense. "We need to lose them."

"I've got an idea," Tom replied, his hands tight on the dashboard. "Follow my lead." He reached for the jeep's radio and switched it on, then began to speak into the mic in their native language. "Hey, you! Yes, you, the soldiers back there. This is Alpha team, reporting in. We're fine, but we're being pursued by your boys. We could really use some backup."

Emily glanced at him, surprise etched on her face. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked. "We don't know who we can trust."

Tom shrugged, his expression grim. "We have to try something. If we can get them to think we're part of their team, maybe they'll back off."

Emily hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. She keyed the mic herself. "Roger that, team. We need you to provide cover fire and extract us from the area. Over."

The jeep raced through the jungle, its engine growling as they wove in and out of the trees, trying to lose their pursuers. After several tense minutes, Emily glanced in her mirror and saw a group of soldiers break off from the main group, taking up positions behind rocks and trees. They began to fire on the soldiers chasing after them, creating a distraction that allowed Emily to veer sharply to the left and lose sight of them.

A moment later, the radio crackled to life. "Alpha team, this is command. We've heard your call for backup. Stand by for extraction. Repeat, stand by for extraction." Emily let out a sigh of relief, grateful that their ruse had worked. "Roger that, command. We're standing by," she replied, glancing at Tom and then back at the road.

The jeep continued to race through the jungle, the soldiers' shouts and gunfire growing fainter in the distance. As they drove, Emily couldn't shake the feeling that they were still being followed. She couldn't help but wonder who they could trust among their own team.

"Hey, Tom," she said, her voice tight with tension. "You really think we can trust them, after all that?"

He glanced over at her, his expression grim. "I don't know, Em. But we don't really have a choice, do we? They've got us in their sights, and they know where we're going."

Emily nodded, her grip tight on the steering wheel. She wished she could trust anyone in this mess. But with each passing moment, it seemed as if they were further from allies and closer to becoming enemy targets. "Maybe they'll back off once they think we're safe," she said, more to convince herself than anything else.

The jeep careened through the jungle, branches scratching at the sides of the vehicle like claws. They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the engine's roar and the rustle of leaves. Emily glanced at Tom, wondering if he was feeling as lost and uncertain as she was. His face was set in a grim expression, his eyes darting from side to side, scanning the jungle around them.

As they continued to drive, she could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. The blood loss from her injury was starting to take its toll, and she was having a hard time focusing on the road. She reached over to her belt and pulled out a small vial of painkillers, popping two of them into her mouth and chasing them down with a swig of water. The medicine kicked in almost instantly, bringing a welcome wave of relief.

Emily glanced at Tom, who was staring out the window, his expression unreadable. "You okay?" she asked, her voice hoarse from fatigue. He nodded, but she could tell he was lying. "We'll make it to the rendezvous point, Tom. We just need to keep going."

As they continued down the winding jungle road, Emily felt her grip on consciousness slipping. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept, or if she'd even eaten anything since this whole mess started. The pain in her side throbbed with each bump in the road, making it difficult to focus on driving. She wished she could just close her eyes for a moment, but she knew she couldn't risk it.

Tom glanced over at her, concern etched into his features. "You doing okay, Em?" he asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She flinched at his touch, the pain in her side intensifying. "I can take over if you need to rest," he offered.

Emily forced a smile, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I'm fine, really. Just a little tired. But we can't stop now, not with them still after us." She paused, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Besides, you're not much of a driver anyway," she added with a weak laugh.

Tom laughed softly in response, his expression easing slightly. "Well, I'm not about to argue with that," he said, settling back into his seat. "Just let me know if you need anything."

Emily nodded, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. As they continued to drive deeper into the jungle, the air grew thick with humidity, and sweat began to bead on her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, wishing she could roll down the window, but knowing they couldn't risk attracting attention.

Her eyelids felt heavy, and she fought against the urge to close them even for a moment. The pain in her side was becoming unbearable, and she could feel herself starting to drift off, her grip on consciousness slipping. She knew she needed to rest, but she couldn't risk it. Not yet.

Emily glanced at Tom, his expression mirroring her own exhaustion. "I'm really sorry, Tom. I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tom reached over and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure something out. We're in this together, remember?" His words were calm, but his grip was tight, as if he were trying to hold onto something fragile.

Emily forced a smile, squeezing his hand back. "Yeah, I remember. Thanks, Tom." She glanced in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see the headlights of their pursuers closing in. But the road behind them was empty. For now.

"Hey, Tom," she said, her voice quiet. "Do you ever think about what we'd be doing if all this hadn't happened? You know, if we were just regular kids, not part of this whole mess?"

Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sometimes," he admitted. "But I think we'd still be here, doing something important. Maybe not with the OASIS, but with something else. We're both good people, Em. We'd find a way to make a difference."

Emily looked over at him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Tom. I hope you're right." She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Look, I know I'm not making this easy, but I need you to promise me something."

Tom's brow furrowed in concern. "What is it?"

Emily took a deep breath and forced a smile. "It's just… if something happens to me, if I don't make it out of here, I want you to make sure they know. My brothers, I mean. Tell them… tell them everything. About the OASIS, about Halliday, about what we found… and tell them that I love them, okay?" Her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Tell them that I'm so sorry for leaving them, and that I'll always be with them. And tell my mom… tell her thank you. Tell her that I appreciate everything she's ever done for me."

There was a long pause as the weight of her words hung heavily in the air. Finally, Tom reached over and squeezed her hand. "I promise, Em. I'll make sure they know. I'll make sure everyone knows." His voice was solemn, and Emily felt a surge of relief wash over her.

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Thanks, Tom. That means a lot to me." She glanced at Aech, who was still staring out the window, lost in thought. "Hey, Aech, how we doing so far?"

Aech turned back to her, his expression distant. "We're doing fine, Em. Just keep driving." He paused, then added with a small smile, "And try not to worry too much, okay?"

Emily nodded, her heart still racing. She focused on the road ahead, forcing herself to drive at a steady pace. The speedometer needle crept up as they raced past one exit sign after another. They were almost there.

"You guys okay back there?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder. Aech gave her a reassuring smile, while Tom continued to stare out the window, his jaw clenched tight. "Tom?" she prompted.

He took a deep breath and turned to face her. "Yeah, Em. I'm fine. Just thinking about what we're about to face." His voice was steady, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes. Emily felt a pang of guilt for involving him in all of this.

"Me too," she said, glancing back at Aech. "I know this is a lot to ask of you, Tom. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to turn back."

Tom's expression was grim, but he didn't hesitate. "Em, you know I'm not going to leave you. We're in this together, and I'm not about to abandon you now." There was a fierce determination in his voice, and Emily felt a surge of gratitude for his loyalty.

She nodded, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Thanks, Tom. I appreciate that. So… we just keep going?"

"Yeah," Aech said, finally breaking his silence. "Just a few more miles now." He glanced at Emily, then leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice. "But be ready, Em. This isn't going to be easy."

Emily nodded, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "I know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about what to say… what to expect. But no matter what happens, I want you guys to know that I couldn't have done any of this without you."

A silence fell over the car as they continued to race down the empty highway. The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the road ahead. Emily's heart felt like it was in her throat, but she forced herself to stay focused on the task at hand.

Finally, she couldn't bear the tension any longer. "Guys," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I just wanted to say… if something happens to me, if I don't make it out of here… please, please tell my brothers. Tell Enzo, Charles, and Aurthur that I love them more than anything, and that I'm sorry if I ever let them down. And tell my mom… tell her that I appreciate everything she's ever done for me. That I'm grateful for every moment we spent together, even when we fought. And tell her that I'm sorry for the arguments we had. That I was just trying to protect her."

Emily paused, wiping a tear from her cheek. "And if you could… could you give them all a big hug for me? Just tell them that I'll be thinking of them, and that I'll always be with them, no matter what."

Tom's voice was gruff as he spoke up. "Yeah, Em. We'll make sure they know, but your going to make it out of here yourself and can tell them yourself" He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, his grip reassuring.

Aech nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Emily, we believe in you. We know you can do this." His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty beneath it.

The highway stretched out before them, seemingly endless in the fading light. Emily could feel the weight of Aech's words pressing down on her, the gravity of the situation bearing down on her shoulders. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, and then began to slow the car down.

As they approached the tollbooth, she rolled down her window and handed the attendant a twenty-dollar bill. "It's for the road," she said with a weak smile, her voice barely audible over the rush of the wind. The attendant smiled back at her, nodding understandingly, and then waved them through.

Emily glanced in the rearview mirror as they drove past the booth, her reflection pale and haunted. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, before turning back to her friends. "Okay, so here we are," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm going to pull over up ahead and walk the rest of the way from here. You guys just stay in the car, okay?"

Aech nodded, his grip tightening on the wheel. "Yeah, we'll wait here. Just be careful, Em."

Emily pulled the car over to the side of the road and set the emergency brake. She took one last deep breath, then opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel shoulder. The air was cool against her face, and the sun had disappeared below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep shade of purple. She squinted at the horizon, searching for any signs of movement.

Turning back to the car, she waved at her friends through the open window. "I love you guys," she said, her voice barely audible above the sound of the wind. "Thank you for everything."

Aech leaned out of the window, his expression a mix of determination and fear. "You can do this, Em. We believe in you."

Emily nodded, trying to muster up some courage. "Thanks, Aech. I love you too." She turned back to Tom, her voice shaking. "And you, Tom. You've been such a great friend. Thank you for everything."

Tears were streaming down Emily's face as she spoke, but she forced herself to smile at them through her tears. "I'm going to do this," she said, more confidently than she felt. "I'm going to make it."

Aech nodded, his own eyes wet with tears. "You're right, Em. You can do this." He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, his grip reassuring. "And we'll be right here waiting for you. No matter what happens."

Emily took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She turned back to the car and opened the door, stepping out onto the gravel shoulder. The wind whipped her hair across her face as she looked out at the highway, the cars speeding past in both directions.

She glanced over at Aech and Tom, their faces etched with concern, their eyes filled with love and support. "I love you both so much," she said, her voice trembling. "And I want you to know that no matter what happens, I want you to keep living your lives to the fullest. Don't let anything hold you back, okay?"

Emily took a deep breath and then turned her attention back to the highway. The cars were speeding past in a blur, the headlights like tiny pinpricks of light in the darkness. "I'm going to run across the highway now," she said, her voice steady despite the fear that threatened to consume her. "Just stay here and wait for me, okay?"

Aech nodded, his grip tight on the seat. "We won't go anywhere, Em. We'll just wait right here for you."

Emily took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you both so much. And thank you… thank you for everything."

She turned her back to Aech and Tom, taking one final glance at their worried faces before facing the highway. The wind whipped her hair across her face as she looked out at the speeding cars, her heart pounding in her chest. In that moment, she knew that she was committing herself to the most terrifying and heroic act of her life.

Emily closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and then began to run. The hot asphalt scorched her feet as she sprinted across the highway, weaving in and out of the headlights. Her lungs burned and her legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to keep going. She couldn't let her brothers down, couldn't let her mom down. This was her last chance to make a difference.

Ahead of her, she could see the entrance to the interstate. It was so close, yet it seemed like an impossible distance away. She could hear Aech and Tom shouting her name, their voices distant and muffled by the rush of wind and the roar of the cars. She forced herself to ignore the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, focusing instead on the image of her brothers' faces, the way they'd smile when they thought no one was looking.

Emily's lungs burned, her legs ached, but she kept running, refusing to give up. With every step, she felt a new surge of determination, a new wave of courage. She wasn't going to let her brothers down. She wasn't going to let her mom down. She was going to make it across that highway, no matter what it took.

As she neared the entrance to the interstate, she could hear Aech and Tom shouting her name louder than ever before, their voices a beacon of hope in the darkness. They believed in her, and she was going to prove them right. She wasn't going to let anything stand in her way.

With one final burst of energy, Emily sprinted across the last few feet of the highway, the hot asphalt burning the soles of her feet. She leapt, pushing off with all her might, and landed safely on the shoulder of the interstate. Tears streamed down her face as she turned around to see Aech and Tom still standing at the other end of the highway, their hands raised in the air, their fists clenched in triumph.

"I made it!" she shouted, her voice barely audible over the roar of the cars. "I did it! I'm here!"

Aech and Tom exchanged glances, relief and pride washing over their faces. They knew that the next part of their plan was just as dangerous, if not more so. They had to find a way to get across the interstate and meet Emily at the other end.

"Alright, Em," Aech said, his voice steady despite the tremor of emotion. "We're gonna need you to keep an eye out for us. Look for the big red truck we've been using as our ride. When you see it, give us a wave, okay?"

Emily nodded, her eyes scanning the cars as they sped past her. She could see the interstate stretching out in front of her, a ribbon of light cutting through the darkness. "I see it!" she shouted, pointing to the right. "I see the truck!"

Aech and Tom exchanged glances, their faces tight with determination. They began to run, weaving their way through the cars, their eyes never leaving Emily as they made their way across the interstate. They knew that the distance between them was closing with each step, but the cars still seemed to move impossibly fast.

Emily kept her eyes fixed on them, her heart pounding in her chest. She waved frantically when she saw them begin to run, her relief and joy palpable. Despite the danger, she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in her team. They were running toward her, putting their lives on the line to save her, just as she would do for them.

As they drew closer, Aech and Tom broke into a sprint, weaving their way through the cars with a newfound sense of determination. They were almost there, their arms pumping, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Emily could see the desperation in their eyes, the determination to reach her no matter what it took.

She wanted nothing more than to be with them, to escape this hell together. But as she stood there, watching them run toward her, she couldn't help but think about the last thing she had said to them. About her brothers, and her mom.

Emily closed her eyes, trying to block out the images that flashed through her mind. Enzo, Charles, and Arthur. They were only kids, just like her. They didn't deserve this life. They didn't deserve to grow up in a world where people like Sorrento could exist. And her mom… Emily couldn't even begin to fathom the pain she must be going through right now. loosing their dad was hard but loosing her only daughter would be even harder.

She opened her eyes and looked at Aech and Tom, their faces contorted with determination and fear. "If I don't make it," she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of the cars, "tell them… tell them I love them. Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them…" Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to find the words. "Tell them everything. Tell them I'll always be with them."

Aech and Tom exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of understanding and determination. "We will, Em," Aech said, his voice steady. "We'll make sure they know."

Emily nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you," she managed to choke out. "Just… just get me out of here, okay?"

Aech and Tom exchanged another glance, their expressions grim. They were almost within reaching distance now, their arms outstretched as they lunged forward, their feet barely touching the ground as they sprinted toward her. "We're almost there, Em," Aech panted. "Just hold on a little longer."

Emily nodded, trying to steel her resolve as she felt the weight of their words. She knew that her brothers and mother were depending on them, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for putting them in this position. But she also knew that she couldn't give up. She had to keep fighting, for their sake as much as her own.

As Aech and Tom neared, she could see the determination in their eyes, the fire in their hearts. They were going to get her out of this hell, no matter the cost. And when they did, they were going to make sure that those responsible paid dearly.

Emily's breath came in ragged gasps as she watched them approach, their feet barely touching the ground as they sprinted toward her. They were almost there, just a few more steps, and she would be free from this nightmare. She forced herself to stand tall, to be strong, for her brothers and her mother.

"You can do this, Em," Aech panted, his hand reaching out to grab hers. "We're not leaving you behind."

Emily gripped his hand tightly, her fingers digging into his skin as they sprinted toward her. She could feel the weight of their words, the determination in their voices. They were going to get her out of this hell, no matter what it took.

As they neared, Aech and Tom exchanged one last glance, their faces etched with resolve. They had been through so much together, and they weren't about to let anything stop them now. With a final burst of speed, they reached Emily's side, their arms wrapping around her as they pulled her away from the oncoming traffic.

The impact of the car almost knocked them off their feet, but they held onto Emily tightly, refusing to let go. They stumbled backwards, away from the danger, their hearts racing and their lungs burning from the exertion. As they finally managed to put some distance between them and the cars, they lowered Emily to the ground, her limp body trembling from the adrenaline and fear.

Aech and Tom exchanged worried glances as they crouched beside her. They knew they needed to get her to safety, but first they had to make sure she was okay. "Em," Aech said, his voice shaking, "are you hurt?"

Emily let out a shuddering breath, her eyes closed tightly as tears streamed down her face. "I… I don't know," she managed to choke out. "I think… I think I'm okay."

Aech and Tom exchanged glances once more, their brows furrowed with concern. They knew that they needed to get her to safety, but they also wanted to make sure that she was really okay before they left.

Emily let out another shuddering breath, her shoulders shaking as she wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before speaking. "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out. "I just need… I need a minute."

Aech and Tom exchanged worried glances again. They knew that Emily was in shock, and they needed to keep her talking, to keep her mind off of what had just happened. "Of course, Em," Aech said, his voice gentle. "Take all the time you need."

Emily took another deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I just need… I need to be with them. To tell them myself."

Aech nodded, understanding. "Of course, Em. We'll make sure that happens." He glanced over at Tom, who nodded back. They knew they couldn't bring her home just yet; they had to get her to safety first. But they also knew how important it was for Emily to be with her family.

They carefully helped Emily to her feet, supporting her weight between them. Her knees were shaking, and she leaned heavily into them as they began to walk again. They didn't know where they were going, but they knew they had to keep moving.

As they walked, Aech kept glancing over at Emily, worried about how she was holding up. Her face was pale, and she seemed to be in shock. "Are you sure you're okay, Em?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Emily nodded, but her voice was shaky when she spoke. "I… I think so. I just need to see them, you know? I need to tell them." Her eyes filled with tears again, and she wiped them away roughly with the back of her hand.

Aech and Tom exchanged worried glances once more. They knew that getting Emily to safety was their priority, but they also understood how important it was for her to be with her family. They continued to walk, searching for a safe place where they could call for help or find someone to help them. they need to contact base camp or the police, but they didn't know how to do that from here.

As they walked, Emily leaned heavily on their shoulders, her body trembling from the adrenaline and fear. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and she couldn't seem to focus on anything but the urgent need to see her family. She knew that they would be waiting for her back home, worried sick about what had happened. The thought of facing them and telling them what she had just been through was almost unbearable.

Aech and Tom exchanged glances again, their expressions growing more concerned. They didn't know how much longer they could carry her weight, but they refused to leave her side. They needed to find a safe place where they could get help, and fast.

As they continued to walk, Emily's body grew heavier, her breathing more labored. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, her lips moving silently as if she were praying. Aech reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, debating whether they should call for help or try to find someone who could help them first., but it was broke and their radios weren't working either, so they were pretty much on their own.

"Em, I'm going to need you to hold on tight to me, okay?" he said, his voice gentle but firm. Emily nodded weakly, her fingers clutching at his jacket. They walked on, their footsteps echoing through the empty warehouse.

Aech glanced over at Tom, who shrugged. They both knew they couldn't carry Emily much farther. Her weight was becoming too much for them, and their own strength was starting to flag. They needed help, fast.

"Em, listen," Aech said, his voice firm but gentle. "We need to find someone to help us. Can you keep walking a little bit longer, okay?" Emily's eyes fluttered open, and she nodded weakly. A tear slipped down her cheek.

They continued to search through the empty warehouse, their footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. Every now and then, they would hear distant noises outside, but they couldn't tell if they were coming closer or moving farther away. The air was cold and damp, and Emily shivered violently as she tried to keep pace with Aech and Tom.

"Hang in there, Em," Aech said softly, his arm tight around her shoulders. "We'll find someone to help us soon." But even as he spoke, he knew that they were running out of time. Emily's weight was becoming more and more difficult to bear, and their own strength was beginning to wane. They had to find help quickly, before something worse happened.

They continued to wander through the endless corridors of the warehouse, their footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. The air was cold and damp, and Emily's body shivered violently as she tried to keep up with their pace. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her eyelids fluttered open and closed, as if she were struggling to stay conscious.

Aech and Tom exchanged worried glances, their faces pale in the dim light. They knew they couldn't carry Emily much farther, and they were running out of time. As they rounded a corner, they spotted a figure in the distance, huddled against the wall. It was a man, dressed in the uniform of a maintenance worker.

"Over here!" Aech called out, waving his arms frantically. The maintenance worker looked up, startled, and hurried over to them. "We need help," Aech said urgently. "Our lieutentent here has been hurt, and she's losing consciousness."

The maintenance worker's expression turned grave as he knelt beside Emily. "What happened?" he asked, feeling for a pulse at her neck. " shes been shot" said tom and aech together. The maintenance worker nodded, his face tight with concern. "Okay, let's get her to the infirmary as fast as we can."

He carefully scooped Emily up into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest. Aech and Tom followed close behind, their hearts pounding with worry. As they hurried through the maze of corridors, the maintenance worker gave them a quick update. "I'm sorry, but Emily has lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to the infirmary right away. If we don't, she could die."

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight as they continued their frantic race through the warehouse. They turned a corner and almost ran headlong into another group of of thier team, also searching for help. "Over here!" Aech called out, waving his arms to avoid a collision.

The group, consisting of four soldiers and their commanding officer, hurried over. "What's going on?" their CO demanded, his eyes darting between them. "Where's Emily?" Without a word, Aech and Tom pointed down the corridor they had just come from. The soldiers immediately took charge, two of them running ahead to scout the area while the others crouched down beside Emily and began administering first aid.

The maintenance worker, grateful for the extra help, stepped back to allow the soldiers to work their magic. He glanced at his watch, his brow furrowed. "We're not far from the infirmary," he said. "We can get her there quickly, but she's in bad shape."

Emily's breathing became shallower, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, her expression a mix of fear and confusion. "Wha-what happened?" she managed to croak. One of the soldiers, his voice steady and reassuring, replied, "Shhh, you're safe now. We're taking you to the infirmary where they'll fix you up."

The maintenance worker, who had been watching her closely, nodded in agreement. He glanced at his watch again, his brow furrowing as he realized they were taking longer than anticipated. "We shouldn't waste any more time," he muttered under his breath.

As they continued their frantic dash down the corridor, Emily's breath grew shallower and her skin paler. Her heart raced, and her head began to spin. "I-I'm n-not…," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

The maintenance worker, who was now carrying her, glanced back worriedly at the group following them. "We're almost there," he assured her, his voice shaking. "Just hold on a little longer."

Emily felt as if she were floating, her body growing heavier with each passing second. Her vision blurred, and she could no longer make out the faces of her teammates or the unfamiliar hallways they were hurrying through. She tried to focus on their voices, but they seemed to fade in and out like a distant radio signal.

As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she was vaguely aware of the maintenance worker carrying her, his strong arms supporting her weight as he raced through the warehouse. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear, and the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, that she would be fine, but her words wouldn't come out.

The corridor spun around her, a blur of white walls and red emergency lights. She caught glimpses of her teammates, their faces etched with worry and determination, their movements a blur as they hurried along beside them. The air around her felt thick and heavy, like she was swimming through water, and her limbs felt impossibly heavy.

Emily tried to focus on anything, but her vision was foggy and her thoughts were slow and sluggish. She wanted to tell them she was okay, that she would be fine, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, she let herself be carried by the rhythm of their steps, her head lolling against the maintenance worker's shoulder as he hurried down the hallway.

The air around her felt thick and hot, like she was wrapped in a blanket made of heavy wool. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy, and every movement was a struggle. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this tired, this weak.

The maintenance worker carrying her seemed to sense her distress, glancing over his shoulder at her with concern etched on his face. "Almost there," he assured her, his voice rough with emotion. "Just hold on a little longer."

Emily felt a pang of regret as she looked down at her jacket pocket, wondering what the small, glinting object was that had caused such a commotion. She knew it must be important, but her thoughts were growing fuzzy, and she couldn't seem to focus on anything but the exhaustion that was slowly creeping up on her.

The maintenance worker carrying her glanced back at her with concern, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he turned his attention back to the group following them. "Almost there," he murmured reassuringly, his breath warm against her ear.

Emily tried to focus on his voice, on the words he was saying, but her eyelids grew heavy and her head spun. The air around her seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive with each passing second, making it difficult to breathe. She felt as if she were drowning, her limbs growing heavier and more leaden with every struggle.

The maintenance worker carrying her glanced back at her with concern, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he turned his attention back to the group following them. "Almost there," he murmured reassuringly, his breath warm against her ear. "Just hold on a little longer."

Emily felt a surge of determination as she tried to focus on his voice, on the words he was saying. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, that she would be fine, but her words wouldn't come out. Instead, she tried to sit up straighter, to steel herself against the overwhelming fatigue that threatened to drag her down.

The maintenance worker, sensing her renewed strength, adjusted his grip on her, his arms supporting her weight more securely. He glanced over his shoulder at her with a reassuring smile, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he turned back to the group following them. "this way there are some doctors waiting for us ," he assured her, his voice strong and steady.

Emily forced herself to focus on his words, to take in the details of the corridor around her. The air felt cleaner now, less oppressive, and the red emergency lights seemed to dim ever so slightly. The walls were still a sterile white, but she could see signs of life now: posters advertising safety procedures, reminders to wash hands, and even a few bright flowers in a vase near the end of the hall.

As they rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of the doctors waiting for them. They looked serious, but their eyes were full of concern and compassion. The maintenance worker carrying her slowed his pace, careful not to jostle her too much, and finally came to a stop in front of a set of double doors. One of the doctors stepped forward, taking her weight from the maintenance worker's arms.

Emily felt a wave of relief wash over her as she was lowered gently onto a waiting gurney. The doctor who had taken her weight quickly checked her vitals, noting her heightened heart rate and rapid breathing. He glanced at the maintenance worker and the others who had accompanied her, their faces etched with worry.

"She's stable for now," the doctor murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. "We'll take her back to get her checked out and she may need surgery based on her injuries" He turned to the waiting nurses, issuing instructions as they wheeled her down the hall.

Emily lay on the gurney, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, the white walls and sterile floors bathed in the harsh red emergency lights. She could hear the distant beeping of machines and the muffled footsteps of medical staff as they hurried past.

The doctor who had taken her vital signs was now examining her closely, his face a mask of concern. "Emily," he began gently, "I'm afraid you've been shot multiple times. You're going to be okay, but we need to get you to surgery as soon as possible." He paused, meeting her eyes with a reassuring smile. "You're in good hands here. Just try to rest and focus on getting better."

Emily tried to nod, but the movement made her wince with pain. "Okay," she managed to croak out.

The doctor gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before stepping back. "We're almost there," he told her, his voice steady and calm. "The surgical team is waiting for you."

Emily closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the gurney began to roll forward once more. The sterile air of the hallway gave way to the familiar smell of antiseptic and the beeping of machines as they entered the surgical ward. Doctors and nurses in sterile white coats bustled around them, their efficient movements a testament to their expertise and training.

As they approached a set of double doors, a woman in a pale blue scrub suit rushed over to them. "Dr. Webber," she said, her voice tinged with urgency, "we're ready for you in Room 3. The anesthesiologist and the surgical team are waiting."

Dr. Webber, a tall man with kind eyes and a reassuring smile, nodded gratefully at the nurse. "Thank you, grey . How's she doing?"

"Her vitals are stable for now," the intern replied, glancing briefly at Emily before turning back to Dr. Webber. "But we're keeping a close eye on her. The anesthesiologist is ready to put her under as soon a we're in the OR."

Dr. Webber nodded, his expression grave but determined. "Thank you, . Let's get her in there and take care of her." He turned to Emily's teams, who ere waiting anxiously nearby. "gentlemen" he said gently, "we're going to take excellent care of your lieutenant We'll keep you updated every step of the way."

The team of surgeons filed into the operating room, led by Dr. Webber and the anesthesiologist. Emily's eyes fluttered open, panic rising in her chest as she realized she was about to be put under. "Wait," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible over the beeping of the machines, "tom and aech… they… they called my mom yet…?" Her heart felt like it was lodged in her throat, and she struggled to breathe.

Dr. Webber glanced over his shoulder at the nurse, who nodded understandingly. "Don't worry, Emily," he said gently, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "They're here with you. Your friends tom and aech called your mother earlier to let her know what was going on. They're both here in the waiting room, waiting for updates from us. We'll make sure she knows you're doing as well as you can be."

Emily's chest tightened, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. "Okay," she managed to whisper. "Okay."

Dr. Webber smiled gently at her and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I know it's scary, Emily, but we're here with you every step of the way. Your mom is going to be in good hands with tom and aech. They're both incredibly strong and resilient people, and they'll make sure she knows everything that's going on. You just focus on getting better, okay?"

Emily nodded weakly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Okay," she whispered.

Dr. Webber glanced at the anesthesiologist, who gave him a nod. "All right," he said gently, "let's get you prepped for surgery, Emily." The anesthesiologist placed a mask over Emily's face, and she felt the anesthesia begin to take effect. Her body went numb, and her surroundings grew fuzzy. She could hear distant voices, but they sounded as if they were underwater.

As she drifted in and out of consciousness, Emily's thoughts kept returning to tom and aech, and her mother and her siblings She wished she could be with them, to reassure them and to feel their love and support. She hoped they were all right, and that they knew she was going to be okay.

Meanwhile, back in the waiting room, tom and aech sat next to Emily's mother who was flown into immediately as she was called , holding her hands and rubbing her back. They had both called their own parents earlier to tell them what was going on and ask for their support. Tom had always been the strong one, but even he felt a lump in his throat as he tried to comfort Emily's mother.

"They're doing everything they can for her, Mrs. Leclerc ," tom said softly. "Dr. Webber is one of the best surgeons around. Emily is in good hands."

Aech nodded in agreement. "We've been texting each other updates from the waiting room. They've been telling us about every step of the process, and they sound so hopeful. They believe in her, just like we do."

" do the boys know what happened Pascale?" asked aech , his voice quivering slightly. Emily's mother shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Dr. Webber explained that Emily's windpipe had become compressed, making it difficult for her to breathe. They're operating now to relieve the pressure and hopefully restore her breathing, and that a bullet ot two have entered her chest cavity " she managed to choke out.

Tom squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Dr. Webber and his team are some of the best in the business, and they're going to do everything they can for her. They've got all the latest technology at their fingertips, and they're not going to stop until she's better."

Aech nodded in agreement. "And Emily's a fighter, Mrs. Leclerc. She's been through a lot in her life, but she's always come out stronger on the other side. I know she's going to pull through this."

Pascale looked up at them, her red eyes filled with hope and gratitude. "Thank you both so much for being here for her," she said, her voice shaking. "I can't tell you how much it means to me, and to our entire family. Your support is going to help Emily more than you'll ever know."

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, an surgical intern cleared his throat. "So, uh, we talked to the doctors, and they're doing some tests to see how much damage was done to her windpipe, and how many ribs were broken. We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."

Tom and Aech exchanged worried glances, then turned to Emily's mother who seemed in a dazed ans snapped her out of it. "They're running some tests, Pascale, but they're confident they can fix whatever's wrong. And, uh, they told us that Emily was very lucky. The bullet that hit her chest didn't damage any major organs, and it didn't even puncture her lung."

Pascale's eyes widened with hope. "Really?" she managed to choke out. "Then she has a good chance?"

Tom nodded solemnly. "That's right, Pascale. The doctors are very positive about her chances. They say that she's strong, and that she's fighting hard. We just have to keep the faith and be there for her."

' i should probably call Enzo and let him know what's happing and he can get here with Charles and Arthur as soon as they can' cried Pascale , already reaching for her purse. The two men exchanged a worried glance, but didn't say anything. They knew that Emily's family was close-knit, and that having her brothers there would mean the world to her.

"Here, let me do that," Aech said, gently taking her phone out of her hand. He dialed Emily's older brothers number and put it on speaker so Pascale could hear. There was a brief pause, and then a tired voice answered. "Hello?"

"Enzo, it's Aech. We're with Emily at the hospital. She was shot tonight, but the doctors are doing everything they can. They say she's strong and she's fighting hard," Aech said, his voice cracking slightly. "She's in good hands, but we could really use you and the rest of the family here with us."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Oh my God," Enzo finally whispered. "I'm on my way. Charles and Arthur too. We'll be there as soon as we can."

Pascale let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping in relief. "Thank you, Enzo. I can't tell you how much that means to us all. We love you and your brothers."

The room was filled with the sound of muffled sobs as the news began to sink in for Emily's family. Tom put his arm around Pascale, offering what little comfort he could. "We'll stay here with her, Pascale. You should go back to the hotel and get some rest. The doctors said there's nothing you can do right now, so try to get some sleep."

Pascale shook her head, wiping away tears. "I can't leave her," she whispered. "I can't, i can;t loose her too"

Tom squeezed her shoulder gently. "You need to take care of yourself, Pascale. Emily needs you to be strong for her. We'll stay right here with her, okay?"

Aech nodded in agreement. "And, listen, we'll keep you updated every step of the way. You're not going to hear anything through the news or social media that we don't tell you first, okay?"

Pascale nodded, sniffling. "Okay," she managed to say. "Thank you." She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands. "I just can't believe this is happening," she whispered. "Why would someone do this to her?"

Tom placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We don't know, Pascale. But we'll find out. The commanders are on it." He glanced over at Aech, who was pacing back and forth near the window. "In the meantime, let's make sure Emily knows that we're all here for her, okay?"

Pascale nodded, sniffling as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Okay," she managed to say. "Thank you." She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

after a few hours later Enzo, Charles, Aurthur and their girlfriends arrive at the hospital.

they all walk in and see tom and aech sitting in the waiting chairs half asleep on each others shoulders while the rest of the team are spread around the waiting room.

As Enzo, Charles, Arthur, and their girlfriends approach, they exchange hugs and words of encouragement with Emily's team. They all take seats around the waiting room, trying to stay positive and supportive. The room is tense, but there's also an undercurrent of determination and strength that comes from being together in this difficult time

"wheres our mother?" asked charles "she should be here"

" we sent her back to the hotel a few hours ago to rest: said aech

"shes too worried about emily to get any sleep here." He looked over at enzo, charles and arthur. "i'm glad you all are here now. It helps."

"of course we're here for her. we'll get through this together." Enzo said, squeezing Tom's shoulder. "Any updates from the commanders?"

Aech shook his head. "Not yet, but they're working on it. They're going through all the footage from the arena, and they're trying to track down anyone who might have seen something." He glanced over at Emily, her condition seeming to grow more grave with each passing moment. "They'll find whoever did this, I promise."

"what happened exacly?" asked aurthur .

"well, according to the doctors, Emily was hit by a poisoned dart and shot multiply times while she was trying to save a teammate during the attack . They're still trying to stabilize her, but it's been a bit of a rollercoaster ride so far," explained Tom. "It's horrible, just horrible."

" we were ambushed from all sides, we had nowwhere to go" explained tom "i was shot, aech was shot, emily was shot. we tried to fight back but they were too many. we hid in the bushes and waited for backup but it never came"

" and then emily found a abandoned truck and carried everyone who was injured to the truck and drove like hell" aech said , starting to cry again "she saved all of us but they shot her again, they shot her in the chest" he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing "she's strong, she's going to be okay, we just have to believe that"

The waiting room remained tense as they continued to exchange stories and tried to comfort each other. Aurthur, Enzo, and Charles looked at each other, knowing that they had to be strong for Emily and the rest of the team. They each took turns pacing, trying to burn off some of the nervous energy that was coursing through their veins.

Charlette and Alex , enzo and charles girlfriends had went and gotten coffee for everyone and brought it back to the waiting room. They tried to make small talk with everyone but it seemed like no one wanted to talk. Everyone was too worried about Emily. Tom and Aech were constantly checking their phones, waiting for any news from the commanders.

"You know, Emily would want us to be strong right now. She'd want us to fight for her," Enzo said, trying to encourage the group. "We need to stay positive and believe that she's going to pull through this."

"I agree, Enzo. She's a fighter, and she's not going to give up without a fight," said Aurthur. "We just have to keep telling ourselves that."

The waiting room fell silent again as they all focused on Emily, willing her to pull through. The doctors and nurses came in and out, giving updates on her condition, but there was little change. They were still working to stabilize her.

Aech finally broke the silence. "Guys, I can't just sit here. I need to do something. We all need to do something." He stood up, looking determined. "We need to find out who did this. We need to make them pay."

" just as aech was complaining, dr.webber walked out and with him was two other doctors.

dr.webber looked at the group and said "i have some good news and some bad news. the good news is, we were able to stabilize her. the bad news is, we had to put her into a medically induced coma. the poison is too strong and we need to give her body time to fight it off"

"what's going to happen to her while she's in the coma?" asked Tom, his voice shaking.

"Well, she'll be hooked up to a ventilator to help her breathe, and we'll continue to monitor her vitals. We'll also administer antitoxins to help combat the poison. But it's still too early to tell how she's going to respond. We're going to keep her in intensive care for now, and we'll update you on her condition as we learn more," explained DR.Shepard the neuro-surgeon one of the other doctors .

" what about the her chest" asked aech "is she going to be okay?" "well, the bullet didn't hit any vital organs, so her heart should be fine. however, the poison has caused some damage to her lungs. we'll have to monitor that closely as well. there's a chance she may need a lung transplant down the road, but that's something we'll cross when we come to it," explained Dr.Burke the cardo- surgeon .

"thank god the bullet didn't hit anything else," Tom said, visibly relieved.

"Listen, we're going to do everything we can for Emily," Dr.Shepard assured the group. "She's in good hands here. But we're also going to need your help. You all need to stay positive and supportive. Keep the visitors to a minimum so she can rest. And most importantly, trust in the medical staff to do our jobs."

"I will," Tom said, nodding. "I'll be here for her, no matter what." He wiped a tear from his eye.

"So will I," Aech added. "And we'll find whoever did this, and we'll make them pay." He shot a determined look at the doctors.

Dizziness overcame Enzo as he realized the gravity of the situation. He sat down heavily in a chair, his head in his hands. "This is all my fault," he whispered. "I should've been there. I should've protected her. I should have told her not to join the army and instead i encourage her to join''. His voice broke, and tears welled up in his eyes.

Aech put a reassuring hand on Enzo's shoulder. "Hey, man, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known this would happen. We're all in this together now, and we're going to find out who did this and make them pay."

Dr.Webber nodded. "Yes, and in the meantime, I want you all to focus on Emily. Stay positive and supportive. Keep her in your thoughts and prayers. We'll do everything we can here."

The doctors left the room, giving the friends a moment to process the information. Enzo leaned back in his chair, still unable to meet Aech's eyes. "I don't know how I'm going to handle this," he whispered. "I feel so guilty."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Aech said, his voice soft. "We all make mistakes. We just have to focus on getting Emily through this and finding whoever did this to her."

" hey enzo, you are the person emily looks up to since dad passed away" charles said "if anyone can help her get through this, it's you. Just be there for her, okay?"

Enzo took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll do my best," he said, his voice still shaky. "I promise."

"Good, good," Charles said, his voice reassuring. "Now, let's go visit Emily. I'm sure she'd love to see some friendly faces."

" we should propnaly call mom first" said aurthur "she's gonna need to hear about this as well" . charles nodded and dialed the number.

their mother answered the phone with a shaky voice, her words choked with tears. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom," Charles said gently. "It's me, Charles. Listen, emily is out of surgery and is in a medical coma"

Their mother let out a choked sob. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Is she going to be okay?"

Charles took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know, Mom. The doctors are doing everything they can. But we need to stay positive and supportive. Emily's going to need us now more than ever. do you want someone to come and get you?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Their mother was clearly struggling to keep it together. "Yes," she said finally. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"All right, Mom," Charles said. "Take your time. We'll keep you updated. And we'll need your support too. We're all in this together."

"Thank you, Charles," their mother said, sniffling. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She paused for a moment, then added, "I love you, sweetie."

"I love you too, Mom," Charles replied gently. "Now, why don't you take a deep breath and try to calm down before you get here. Emily can feel your emotions, and we need to stay strong for her."

As their mother finished the call, they all stood up and headed toward Emily's room. The hallway was crowded with worried family members, all exchanging hushed whispers and tearful glances. It was a somber procession as they made their way down the hall, their footsteps echoing against the sterile white walls.

Finally, they reached Emily's room. everyone paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before them. Emily lay motionless in the bed, her face pale and peaceful, surrounded by a tangle of wires and medical equipment. The beeping of the monitors filled the air, creating a rhythmic, yet unsettling background noise.

Enzo stepped forward, his heart racing. He took Emily's hand in his, feeling the coldness of her skin against his own. "Hey, Em," he whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "We're all here. We're not going anywhere. just know your big brother is here"

Aurthur sat down gently in a chair next to the bed, his eyes never leaving Emily's face. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his own racing thoughts. "Em, we love you so much," he said softly. "We're going to do everything we can to help you get through this. You're so strong, and we know you can fight this and i need my big sister to cover for me when i mess with enzo and charles"

Charles nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from Emily's forehead. "You're not alone, Em. We're all here for you, okay? And when you wake up, we're all going to have an amazing adventure together. Just you wait and see and i want you to meet your nephew Leo, whos a dog by the way"

As they sat with Emily, the hours seemed to drag on. The doctors and nurses came and went, each one bringing news both hopeful and dire. They tried to maintain a sense of normalcy, talking about school and work and their favorite movies, but the weight of Emily's condition hung over them like a dark cloud.

The room was bustling with activity, but for the seven of them, it might as well have been a lonely island. They were all so focused on Emily, their world had narrowed down to this tiny space. They shared glances, held hands, and whispered words of encouragement.

Time seemed to slow down as they waited, the beeping of the monitors filling the air. Every time a doctor or nurse came in, their hearts would leap into their throats, only to sink again when they heard the news was good.

Aurthur was the first to speak up. "Hey Em, do you remember that time we snuck out of the house and went to that amusement park?" He asked, trying to elicit a smile. "We had so much fun, and we got in so much trouble!"

Enzo nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "Yeah, I remember. It was like we were invincible. We could do anything, be anyone." He wiped away a tear, trying to maintain his composure. "We should've known that day we could conquer anything, because we did. We conquered our fears and we lived life to the fullest."

Aurthur smiled at his friend, then turned to Emily. "You know, Em, I think about that day a lot. It's funny how sometimes the smallest things in life can change us. I mean, that amusement park trip was just supposed to be a day off from summer school, but it ended up being so much more."

[no-saints-around-here]

I read Quiet Afternoon and I got to thinking, it says “tip his hand and break the sole unspoken rule he had held himself to for all these years to punish you.” Does this mean this is the first time Rindo has slept with bestie? If not, what was the first time/incident that caused Rindo to sleep with airhead best friend?

Masterlist | Quiet Afternoon

ahhh this became a lot longer then I anticipated - wrote a short fic at the bottom cause I thought it would explain what happened much better than just word vomit!

‎‎

To answer the question first: no. Its not Rindo's first time, not by a long shot.

That line is more so that Rindo is a delusional and unreliable narrator when it comes to his bestie: that is delusional and unreliable on a good day, and straight up in denial on having even held hands with you, let alone touched you, on a bad one. And this is also when this boy is at his most dangerous, willing to do anything to anyone, Ran included, to prove to himself that he was your best friend and nothing more, that you were still his sweet, naive, innocent airhead who he found especially annoying.

If you squint really hard at the implications of Rindo installing a soundproof door on his first day of moving into Bonten HQ, together with how well this boy already knows your body and your patterns by the time of the events of Quiet Afternoon, you may be able to infer that its definitely not your first tango, even if Rindo insists it is (no sweat if you didn't though, it was really very, very subtle on purpose).

And no one knows this fact better than Ran, given the older Haitani was the precise reason your purple-haired Bonten friend first broke rank against his better sense.

Rindo’s breaking point came sometime during your stardom period. All started going downhill when he reluctantly allowed you to continue to perform as an idol against his judgement on the basis of just how happy it made you - it had always been hard for this baby boy to deny you anything you wanted, and fresh out of another stint in jail, the delinquent-turn-yakuza was eager to make up for his time away from you. And this was on top of the weak spot he always had for your pouting, so no surprise that he caves as soon as you started to look the slightest bit down about having to leave your little gig so quickly after starting.

One of the caveats he does put in place in exchange for indulging you is that he is now personally in charge of your security, and that the rest of your bodyguards were from Bonten. No exceptions. Absolutely does not trust your ‘agency’ or whatever other maggots that you choose to surround yourself with, and so will take it upon himself to accompany you everywhere, to stand guard outside your changing room when he absolutely couldn’t be inside with you, fly with you everywhere you go. But of course this also means that he has to take time off work to do so, and that meant convincing Mikey to let him do so. Ran finds it amusing to what length his younger brother will go to keep you by his side (cough begging and grovelling in front of Mikey), promising that you could help to launder their money and what not. Mikey honestly couldn’t care even a lick, as long as Rindo takes the work in whatever country he ends up in.

Yet for all that he has done for you, the honeymoon period lasts only a good 6 months before everything fell apart. Rindo thought he had a good handle on things, but never has he been so under-prepared when it finally strikes your best friend just how massively popular you had become in such a short period. Everywhere you went, no matter where you toured, your concerts were all full, stuffed to the brim with fans. And oh how he detested that word.

Fans. Rabid, like mad dogs. Decked out in merchandise bearing your face and name, screaming at the stage hoping for even a smudge of your attention. even coming to the concert venue early hoping to get a glimpse of you.

Scum of the earth, how dare they ask for more than getting to breathe the same air as you?

How dare they demand more?!

The resentment of your adoring masses only built up more and more in Rindo, having to watch from the sidelines as you enthusiastically shook hands and thanked your fans for your support, dancing for them and winking at them. Like you were some sort of whore putting yourself on show for the world. Rindo would never stand for this, not for his best friend, yet he still gritted his teeth; for reasons beyond him, you were enjoying this, enjoying shaking your ass and chest at the unwashed insects.

And then all hell finally broke loose upon one of your returns to Japan after another of your tours.

‎‎

‎‎

All Downhill from Here

"Let. Me. Go," Rindo hissed as he was manhandled away from the still buzzing arrival hall by a rather amused Ran, his twisting and struggling to break free from the other’s grasp to no avail. "I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him, and then I'll kill you."

The older Haitani sighed as he continued to force his younger brother along the otherwise empty corridor. "And that is precisely why we are in this situation."

And as usual, to none of their surprise, you were at the center of it all, though your airheaded presence that Rindo’s world revolved around was nowhere in sight, having already been sent ahead to the meeting point without your best friend’s knowledge. The hallway echoed with the clicks of their shoes, joined occasionally by the buzz of machinery as they passed and the hum of air-conditioning overhead. If he had known what the day was going to bring, Ran mused, he would have proposed doing this from the start; after all, airport staff were easier to disperse and keep away compared to the hordes of fans that you attract everywhere you go, and these staff corridors were rather convenient, snaking throughout the airport and away from the public eye. 

Rindo’s cursing and swearing went in one ear and out the other as Ran continued to daydream, though the man couldn’t quite blame his unusually hot-tempered younger brother either. After all, it had been the continuous build up of months of stress, having to deal with you and your little idol gig that you insisted you wanted to keep, and this latest incident was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A huff as Rindo finally gave up on his failed escape, his shoulders relaxing in the armlock he had been held in for the past fifteen minutes.

Ran raised an eyebrow. “You done?”

”Yeah. Let me go.”

“You sure?”

”Fuck you, I’ll get that shitstain later.”

Which was exactly what the older of the brothers wanted to hear, Ran nodding as he released Rindo without another word. Shitstain was putting it lightly in his opinion, considering how much trouble he had caused in the span of a single minute - but it wasn’t his problem to solve. As long as Rindo wasn’t attempting to pull a gun in front of the police and the public to settle his little lover’s quarrel, Ran couldn’t quite care what happened to another nobody.

Ran jerked his chin down the corridor. “She’s two doors down to the right. Security escorted her there earlier.” The room was already demarcated as yours, what with two Bonten grunts flanking each side, but he thought it would be better to make it clear, given Rindo’s state of mind. 

His younger brother was already gone before he could finish his sentence, and all Ran received as a thank you for his hard work was the slam of the door.

Ah, siblings.

‎‎

‎‎

Rindo didn’t quite see it as lightly as Ran did. 

This past day had already been particularly hellish for him by any standard measurement. It all started with the last concert of your first tour two nights ago - he had been watching from backstage, as he always did, when your skirt had ripped during your second song. The sound of cloth tearing reached his ears even over the sound of the throbbing music. He had confirmed as much when you finally returned to him waiting for you in the dressing room during the intermission, which only sealed the suspicions that churned in his sinking gut: at just the right angle, you would have flashed the fans in the first few rows, his wretched older brother seated in the VIP box included. Even if he had made you put on a new, longer skirt, it was already too late. 

And then when he had tried to drill into you about the importance of keeping your distance from those lowlives least you catch something nasty, you hadn’t taken his concerns quite as seriously as he had hoped, laughing and beaming back at him, patting his hand reassuringly and trying to convince him that they were harmless. Strike 1.

He didn’t know what he expected, Rindo had to admit to himself; you had always been such an airhead, even since childhood when he first met you. You probably wouldn’t even have survived for so long if the younger Haitani hadn’t take you under his wing as his best friend, and the least you could do to pay him back was to listen to him. All he asked was for you to stay close to him and far away from everyone else, especially Ran.

Sure, there were times like this where Rindo would be forced to allow Ran to inhabit the same space as you - seeing as his older brother had attended your concert and similarly happened to be heading back to Bonten HQ, the three of you had to share the jet - but of all the people to turn up cheekly waving merchandise with your face and name plastered all over? Well, he did say that you were one of the best he’s seen in a while, but still. The man with the short purple hair did it on purpose, Rindo was certain, and definitely to trigger an outburst from him; if you hadn’t been present, he would have strangled Ran himself for bringing up how good you looked on stage (now he was certain Ran saw your panty flashing). Strike 2.

‎

It was without a doubt that your best friend was already rather on edge as the jet finally landed back in Tokyo. It was supposed to be a secret when you would arrive, which meant that there were fans behind barricades eagerly awaiting your appearance outside the airport. Sure, fine. You were famous, whatever, Rindo could hardly bother. But what broke his dam was a single unruly fan. One man, decked out from head to toe in merchandise spouting your name and face, who had decided for very clear, unacceptable reasons to jump the fence in an attempt to ambush you. And the vein that had been throbbing on Rindo’s forehead all day finally burst. Strike 3.

If Ran hadn’t been a second faster to grip and restrain his hand, Rindo would have shot him dead before security could grab the assailant. 

And the missed opportunity continued to haunt him despite thirty minutes having already passed and nothing having happened to you, the sheer anger he had felt in that moment surging through his veins once more as Rindo stalked down the corridor, leaving Ran to talk at his back. Sure, he was going to arrange to have that scum erased, yet the upcoming torture wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves. Because how dare he? How dare that unworthy insect you called a fan even think of laying a finger on you? 

And then the heartstopping fear that chilled him to his bones that followed - what about you?

Throwing open the door and seeing your back turned to him only reinforced his sudden onset of fear, the closing of the door behind him reverberating in his ears. You were too naive, too stupid to think beyond your next meal, but what if there was someone else in the picture? Could it be that you had laughed away his concerns earlier because someone else told you so? Could it be that you continued to indulge others because you were being influenced? Could it be?

It had to be, Rindo gulped, as you finally acknowledged him, standing from your small seat and waving eagerly. Someone must have gotten to you while he was locked away in prison, brainwashing you into abandoning him and running off with them. Or worse, with Ran.

He couldn’t hear any of the words you were speaking at him, trapped in the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind, his body numb as you tugged him over to the small comfy corner that the airport staff had set up for you. 

Nothing went in, Rindo staring blankly at you, though you seemed to have failed to notice your friend’s inaction until you tried to get his attention. 

”-n! Rin-rin!! Hello?”

The Bonten executive blinked, awakening to your curious face taking up his entire view. 

“Rin-rinnnnn.”

Rindo simply stood suddenly, forcing you to back away, though a beam quickly replaced your surprised expression. A quick glance around the room told him that it was empty of cameras, and he was certain enough that the grunts outside had ensured as much - they were, after all, the ones who would pay with their lives should the police ever become involved. “Bend over the table and pull down your skirt,” he ordered, though he didn’t wait for you to register his instruction, instead already moving to gently guide you.

He had to make sure that you knew who you belonged to, and no matter how much your best friend dreaded what he was going to do to you next, it was necessary. You couldn’t be trusted to know up from down, let alone keep yourself safe and away from those who wanted to do your harm. From those who wanted to see you separated from him.

“Okay!” You cheerfully agreed. “What are we doing?”

Needless to say, this fateful day was the start of the end of your career as an idol. You had a good run while it lasted.

[rivertigo]

i think mcr’s marketing practices for this tour are ghoulish btw sorry to be a hater but I’m not gonna throw all the blame onto ticketmaster when I know that bands can choose to opt out of dynamic pricing and fight to have lower ticket prices. especially after oasis’s very public dynamic pricing debacle for their uk + ireland tour leg and their opting out for the other legs’ sales. their purposeful mysteriousness creates a high demand for tickets because no one knows when their next tour will be/if they’ll visit other countries so they can price tickets however they want knowing their diehard fans will buy tickets at exorbitantly high prices when they haven’t shown if there will be a higher caliber of stage presentation compared to their last tour. sorry 4 being a cynic and implying that one of the most merchandised rock bands of the last 20 years is in it for the money first but whatever I’m just going into marketing whatever

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Security was the main essence of their plan from the very beginning. Hence the extreme nature of their war against the govt & RAVEC & they will act with increasing extremism and grifting and hoaxing in desperation now. The Royal Grift's brilliant video. by u/ElectricalAd9212

Security was the main essence of their plan from the very beginning. Hence the extreme nature of their war against the govt & RAVEC & they will act with increasing extremism and grifting and hoaxing in desperation now. The Royal Grift's brilliant video. The brilliant YouTuber The Royal Grift's latest video really gets to the nub of the matter.In essence, Markle and Harry's whole plan depended on having permanent tax payer funded security and this can be seen in their statement when they announced their plans.But most arrogantly and psychopathically, the statement was a typical Markle attempt to bounce the Queen and Palace into giving them everything they wanted.She thought that doing this would manifest it to happen, or force the hand by making the media and everyone else assume it was the case, and if they didn't agree, they could play the hate card of abuse and incitement, that the Palace was racist etc.Essentially, they tried to bully the Queen and Palace in the same way that Markle bullied her staff.from their website:Why do they carry out official overseas visits and who pays for it?The Duke and Duchess proudly carry out official overseas visits in support of Her Majesty The Queen at the request of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO), as is the case for all members of the Royal Family. The length and location of these tours are determined by the FCO and the Royal Visits Committee. All Official overseas visits are in support of Her Majesty’s Government’s objectives and paid for by The Sovereign Grant as well as contributions from the host country, when appropriate.Does their future financial autonomy extend to covering the costs of security?The provision of armed security by The Metropolitan Police is mandated by the Home Office, a ministerial department of Her Majesty’s Government, responsible for security and law & order. As stated on gov.uk, “No breakdown of security costs is available as disclosure of such information could compromise the integrity of these arrangements and affect the security of the individuals protected. It is long established policy not to comment upon the protective security arrangements and their related costs for members of the Royal Family or their residences.”​+++++++++​Why are they so desperate, to the extent of waging judicial and legal war on the govt and RAVEC?Because everything about their plans to make money and set up a rival Royal House in America with the sole purpose of making money from the royal name whilst pretending to be philanthropists depended on two things:(1) The British government and Foreign Office asking them to represent the UK overseas(2) The permanent funds from the British taxpayer to fund their lifestyle and allow them to travel as if they were Monarchs or the President of the USA and gain access to money making merchandising and commercial opportunities therein.The Royal Grift rightly points out a couple of things:(a) The New York car chase hoax and everything else -- including the Taliban comment -- was an attempt to force the govt to resume taxpayer funding for them and(b) They will not give up and will become even more desperate and extreme and commit more hoaxes and wage wars of deception and hoaxing in order to try and regain their fundingI agree with the Royal Grift. I expect to see strategic genius Markle and her husband indulge in ever more extreme and desperate attempts to regain working royal status, and funding. In short, they are going to become ever more extreme, lying, deceitful, hoaxing and fraudulent as they become more desperate.We ain't seen nothing yet from this pair of lying psycho grifters ​​ post link: https://ift.tt/QSidF16 author: ElectricalAd9212 submitted: March 02, 2024 at 04:54PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[aceri1485]

Fired

Xiumin x reader

key words: backstage, concert, stage hand, smut (18+, read at own risk — consensual, oral, penetration, some dom/sub, unprotected), fluff (does this count as fluff?), slow burn

authors note: (1) this is purely fiction, please don’t be delusional and no I don’t think this would ever happen irl (2) protagonist (ie. the reader) gender is ambiguous on purpose, I want anyone to be able to read this and enjoy (3) I wrote this at 3am please don’t judge me too harshly

————————-

After seeing them perform live for the 7th time in a row, you finally concluded that it would never get old. After the euphoria of the first concert, you had worried that it would get monotonous - watching the same songs, the flashing lights, the screaming fans, same videos, costumes, jokes, sentiments, and on and on… but it was magic every time.

Maybe it was because the concerts were spaced out and in different arenas, making the experience feel fresh with some time between and new scenery. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from touring for a month straight.

Or maybe it was because you had a different job at each concert, so you could enjoy it from different angles; your first night, you were on selling merch at a booth and got to watch the concert in the nosebleed section; the second night you were on water bottle duty and watched from literally right below the front of the stage, cracking open water bottles to hand up to the men between sections; the third night, you were helping in wardrobe, backstage with extra shoes, outfit changes and hairspray at the ready to hand to the stylists; the fourth and fifth night you were back on merchandise sales, but in different sections of the arena; the sixth night you assisted one of the photographers, handing them different lenses and running to get them water, sprinting around the entire arena and backstage the whole night; and finally, tonight - tonight, you are on water bottle duty but backstage, not out in front of the stage.

“Hey - are you alright?” Sam asks, touching your shoulder gently, “You spaced out there for a minute.”

“Oh,” you startle slightly, turning to Sam with a smile, feeling your cheeks and the ends of your ears get warm “Sorry! I guess I was lost in thought! Were you saying something?”

Sam covers the end of the mouthpiece to the headset that is so crucial to the role of stage manager and leans in close to your ear so you can hear over the music, “I said they’ll be coming off stage soon, can you go grab a new pack of water bottles from the fridge?”

“Yes, I’ll go!” you give Sam a thumbs up to indicate you heard and turn to dash down the hallway away from the stage.

“WAIT!” you hear and turn back to see Sam holding out a radio “Take this!”

You hesitate only a minute - usually only the senior staff members have a radio on them - but the song changes and you realize you don’t have much more time left. With a bright smile and another thumbs up, you grab the radio and run down the hall.

Sam had spoken to you that afternoon, saying that the team was impressed with your work ethic and clear excitement to be involved. You hadn’t thought about if you wanted this to be a permanent position past this tour. The short term contract for a stage hand had looked like a fun opportunity and good experience, but you hadn’t considered turning it into a career, leaving behind the corporate grind for a different kind - a more fulfilling kind - of stress.. until Sam’s compliments earlier today.

Now, you clip the radio to the waistband of your jeans, this small show of confidence from Sam making pride blossom in your chest and a smile form on your face in a way no compliment from your old boss ever had.

Good god, why is the green room so far away from the stage? you think, a little embarrassed by your shortness of breath and the sweat forming on your brow as you enter the communal waiting area, startling another staff member on break enjoying some coffee. You give them a smile and a little wave, beelining straight for the fridge.

Pack of water bottles now in hand, you hear the song change again and swear lightly under your breath.

“Need that water ASAP please!” Sam’s voice crackles over your radio.

Balancing the water on one arm, you radio back “On the way, boss!”

Other voices chime in, “wait, who’s voice was that?” “Oh hoo big shot now with a walkie?” “Ah they grow up so fast!” the team teases you. You laugh, but regret it as a stitch in your side forms from running back to the stage with the pack of water bottles.

That’s it, you think to yourself, No more skipping cardio day at the gym.. or skipping the gym altogether!

You make it back to Sam just as the song ends, setting the pack down on a little table and ripping it open. Laughing at your flushed face, Sam helps you open the pack and hands you the first bottle.

You smile even broader, mouthing THANK YOU at Sam - the screaming from the crowd now too loud to be heard over - and hold the cool bottle against the back of your neck. Turning your attention to the stage, you see the dancers bounding over to you, adrenaline mixed with joy and an almost manic energy reverberating off of them onto the rest of the staff backstage.

They each say a quick “thank you” as they take a water bottle from you before running off to their next positions or to wardrobe. You take care to smile at each of them, praise them and encourage them as you pass them a water bottle. You know they probably can’t hear you over the noise and their own buzz of excitement, but you do it anyway.

Once the last dancer has grabbed their water, you crack open your own water bottle and look to the stage to see them.

The 9 men you were all there to support. The 9 men that sold out this and the 6 venues you had been to before this. The 9 men whom were the recipients of all the screaming, all the love from strangers who filled the arena. The 9 men who set the standard for their industry and the example for their juniors. The 9 men who, while they’re dancers were off stage recovering, changing into new outfits and retying their shoelaces, were still on stage, talking to the captivated audience.

Immediately, though, your eyes are drawn to him.

Him, who’s name was screamed by thousands at every show, but always acted humbled and almost embarrassed by the attention. Him, who somehow managed to say everything he needed to in very few words, letting the other members talk as much as they wanted. Him, who was clearly respected and adored by his members, the staff and fans alike.

Him, who locked eyes with you on your second night as you handed a water bottle up to the stage and squinted curiously, his fingers brushing yours and sending an electric spark down your arm. Him, who saw you after your third show backstage and came over to say hi, saying he had been expecting you to hand him water that night, who said hello to you at your fifth show and introduced you to the other members, even remembering your name, and who, at your sixth show, blushed furiously for some reason when you complimented a pose he did for the photographer you assisted.

Him. Xiumin. Him, who you couldn’t get off your fucking mind.

Him, standing on stage now in suit pants and suit jacket with no shirt underneath, sweat running down his face and chest, holding a water bottle to the back of his neck just like you had done a few minutes prior, but much more warranted given the amount of work he had just done.

Almost as if he can sense your eyes drilling holes into him as you memorize every little detail, Xiumin turns to look backstage. You swear he looks right at you and smiles, but then you realize the members are thanking the stage crew - and anyways, it’s much too dark back here for him to have singled you out. It doesn’t stop you from smiling back, nor can you bring yourself to look away.

Instead, barely blinking, you take a big drink of water. On stage, you see Xiumin swallow hard and turn his attention back to the crowd.

Just then, someone over the radio asks for some towels - a water bottle was spilled by the makeup station and if it doesn’t get cleaned up quickly you’ll have an angry makeup artist and a disgruntled manager to deal with - and you radio back quickly, turning from the stage to run to the dressing rooms.

You run away, missing Xiumin’s not-so-covert glance backstage again, his brows furrowing as he squints into the darkness, not seeing what he is looking for while he moves to the next stage position and the next song starts.

—-

“Right, everyone, well done tonight!” Sam yells, waving at the stage crew to get everyone’s attention, “Well done, well done! Round of applause for yourselves and your hard work!”

The stage crew all clap, and some of the more rowdy lightning technicians start cheering. The good energy is contagious, despite how exaughsted everyone is.

You stifle a yawn that threatens to break your smile as you clap along with the team. It’s nearly 1am; the fans have all cleared out ages ago, but the stage crew has just finished resetting the stage for tomorrow night - No, later tonight you correct yourself drowsily.

This is the first time since you started that you didn’t need to pack up the stage completely to move to a new location.

“All technicians, you’re free to go! Go get some rest, because I expect you back here by 1pm!” Sam says once the applause dies out, “Stage hands and assistants, check in with your assigned leaders or managers before you go - there are still a few things that need to be wrapped up. Understood?”

A unified “yes boss!” is the response, much less energetic than the applause before.

The team breaks into their different departments and groups, and you head over to where Sam is waiting with a few other stage hands. Sam quickly gives the others their assignments, sending them to make sure various sections are reset and ready for the next day, checking inventory, tidying up, etcetera.

You wait patiently, watching the time creep past 1am, getting the sense that Sam is leaving you for last on purpose. You surprise yourself, being able to exercise patience when you’ve been awake for close to 18 hours straight.

Finally, the others have dispersed, and Sam turns to you. “Well done again tonight,” Sam smiles, “How are you feeling?”

You smile back, hoping your weariness isn’t showing too badly, “I feel great! I know there were some hiccups here and there, but it was really satisfying to know that nothing that happened backstage affected the quality of the show.”

Sam laughs “Oh god, how are you forming complete thoughts right now? I’m too tired for this!” Sam gives you a light shove, “hey, if you keep talking like that I might just have to properly promote you - are you coming after my job?”

Both of you laughing, Sam throws an arm over your shoulder and starts leading you down the hallway to the dressing rooms and the green room.

“How would you feel about a little more responsibility tomorrow night?” Sam asks while you walk.

“Hmm..” you pretend to think about it deeply, “it depends - would I still have to see you?”

“Hey” Sam says back in mock astonishment “am I really that ugly?” You’re both laughing as you pass the green room to stand outside the members dressing rooms.

“I was hoping to put you on the members main team, instead of general or standby” Sam continues, “meaning you’ll attend to the members specific needs or requests instead of random tasks.”

You hesitate, “Isn’t that usually the assistants or their managers job?”

“Yes, they help too!” Sam explains, “You would be joining that smaller team instead of being placed wherever we need extra hands for the night. Mainly, I need someone to be the go between from myself, the managers and the members.”

Seeing you still hesitating, Sam says “Why don’t we try it for right now, and if you’re uncomfortable we’ll go back to how it was?” Sam suggests, “The members are still here, getting their makeup removed and wardrobes reset for tomorrow night.”

You take a deep breath and think, your eyebrows scrunching together. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but you were genuinely considering trying to join the team permanently. This little change could be the ticket to doing so.. or, if you screwed up, could mean getting fired immidiately.

But it was worth the risk.

After another deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and look at Sam. “Let’s do it!”

Sam breaks into a smile, “Great! Let’s introduce you then!” and knocks on the door to the dressing room you are standing in front of.

A voice calls “Come in!” from inside, and you both step through the door to see two of the members, Chen and Sehun, just on the other side ready to leave. You and Sam quickly excuse yourselves and step out of the way. Sam briefly stops the manager accompanying them to introduce you, then you both wish them all a goodnight and send them off.

Just before they walk away, Chen’s face brightens and he asks if you are the staff member who Xiumin had introduced to them a couple shows ago. Flattered that he remembered you, you say yes.

Sehun, who was looking at his phone, looks up with interest suddenly, a boyish smile on his face. He nudged Chen, speaking to him while still looking at you, “hey, is Xiumin coming with us now?”

You and Sam say goodnight again, closing the door of the dressing room, and you don’t catch Chen’s answer.

Turning to see the rest of the room, you see the man in question, Xiumin, sitting in front of a makeup desk rubbing his face with a towel. A makeup artist beside him points to a bit of eye makeup that he missed, and Xiumin leans closer to the mirror to see better.

Sam is introducing you to another manager sitting on a couch in the room, so you don’t see Xiumin freeze as he catches sight of you in the mirror, but you do hear the makeup artist ask if he is okay.

“Oh,” Xiumin clears his throat, “yes, I’m okay”

While he finishes wiping away the bit of missed makeup, Sam introduces you to the makeup artist. You very purposefully do not look at Xiumin, feeling self conscious about your reflection being visible in the same mirror as his.

Sam goes to introduce the two of you, but Xiumin interrupts “how have you been?”

Sam’s eyes widen “Ahh you’ve met already?”

“Very briefly!” you explain, “We met in the hallway at one of the previous shows.”

You finally look at Xiumin to see him turned fully away from the mirror and looking straight at you.

“How are you?” You ask politely, trying to stop your heart from jumping out of your chest and looking anywhere but his eyes oh god his eyes why is he looking at you with those eyes?!

Xiumin smiles politely back, “I’m doing well! I’m glad you’ll be joining our team. Good luck - I hope you aren’t intimidated by us.” He then turns his attention back to the makeup artist, and they continue their conversation, discussing what skincare products he should use before going to bed.

Sam guides you out of the room and across the hall to the other dressing room, making more introductions as you pass various team members. You learn that Lay, Chanyeol, and D.O. left for the hotel already, but say hello to Suho, also removing his makeup. Kai is absorbed with something on his phone, sitting on the couch. You hear the private shower in the room running and the manager explains Baekhyun is in it.

“Oh gosh, we’ll step out then!” Sam says, “We could have waited outside!”

“Ah don’t worry!” the manager laughs “The bathroom door locks, he’s fine”

Just at that moment, the shower stops, and you hear the door open a crack.

A hand slips out the door, “hey” Baekhyun calls to the manager, “can you hand me a towel?”

“Doesn’t look like there are any here,” the manager says, checking the cupboard beside the bathroom door, “Are there none in there with you?”

You gasp, and everyone turns to look at you, and you feel your cheeks and ears warm again. You just remembered this was the room you took the towels from to clean up the spilled water from earlier, and you never found replacements.

“That’s my bad..” you say, briefly explaining that you had taken the towels earlier, “I will go grab one from the other room, give me just a minute!”

You dash across the hall, quickly noting that the shower in that room is now running as well, the makeup artist and manager now gone, and grab a spare towel from the cupboard outside the bathroom door. You feel the cupboard door catch on your jeans, but pull away without looking, quickly crossing the hall back to the other room.

You hand the towel to the manager, who knocks and hands it into the bathroom for Baekhyun, who has apparently discovered the shower has wonderful acoustic properties and is singing (shouting?) at the top of his lungs.

While Suho yells back at him to stop yelling to save his voice and also to hurry up, you and the manager chat a bit more.

“Did Sam get called away?” You ask, glancing around.

“Yes, didn’t you hear on your radio?” The manager replied “one of the other stage hands needed help.”

“No, I didn’t..” you reach for your radio clipped to your waistband to make sure the volume is turned up, your hands freezing as you realize the radio is not there.

The sensation of the cupboard door snagging on your jeans when you ran into the other dressing room comes back to you and you politely excuse yourself to go search for your radio.

Knocking softly, you enter the room after you hear someone yell back “Come in!”, and you turn to close the door softly behind you.

“I’m almost ready to go, I just need to get my-“ you hear from behind you, but the words drift off, the sentence incomplete.

Turning to face the room, you take in very little from your surroundings but two facts stick out to you.

1. the only other person in the room with you is Xiumin

2. Xiumin is only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist

“Oh fuck” you say, immediately clamping a hand over your eyes, the other hand reaching for the door handle behind you, “I’m SO sorry, I’ll just-“

“Wait” Xiumin says, almost a whisper.

You freeze, too in shock to realize how ridiculous you must look, one hand covering your eyes, your other arms stretch out behind you, tensed, your knees bent like you just landed a small jump.

You feel him approach more than you hear him, feel the heat coming off his body as he stops beside you. More aware of yourself, you straighten up, but keep your hand over your eyes. A soft click tells you the door has been locked behind you.

Oh I’m so so fucked. He’s probably so mad, you think to yourself, so much for this opportunity, I’m so fucking fired now!

For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak. You resist the urge to peak out from between your fingers, waiting for him to make the first move. The heat beside you doesn’t leave; he is still standing right beside you.

You feel him move, then, circling behind you and to your other side.

Finally, he speaks, under his breath so you barely catch it “you follow directions really well..”

Your breath hitches and you can’t stop goose bumps from breaking out all over your arms. You hear him laugh, but it’s deeper than you remember hearing him laugh on stage, comes from lower in his chest than normal, more of a chuckle than an outburst of joy.

You feel the heat from beside you subside as he takes a step back, hear his sharp intake of breath.

“I..” you hear him hesitate, and he pauses for a few seconds before continuing, “I don’t mean to keep you here. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. You can go if you like.”

You hear him move to the far side of the room, and a sudden boldness surges though you, maybe triggered by the goose bumps fading from your skin, maybe the relief of realizing you weren’t going to be fired, not right then anyways. Maybe you were going crazy from being awake for so long.

Or maybe.. maybe the memory of him on stage earlier, the sweat running down his chest, over his collarbone, his pants tight in all the right places, his face turned backstage.. maybe you had been thinking about that all night, damnit.

“And what if I want to stay?” you blurt out, hand still covering your eyes. Your other hand curls into a fist with anxiety as again you feel, rather than hear, him freeze on the other side of the room.

A whole minute passes - or at least 60 heartbeats pass, because all you can do while you stay rooted in place is count your heart beats and wait for him to say something - before you feel him move closer to you again.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice quiet and deep, and coming from much nearer to you than you realized, “I want.. I want you, I want this, but I can’t ask you to stay, it’s-“

“What if I want it to?” you say, your voice also low, his words fanning the spark that had already started in your stomach, emboldening you in a way you never knew possible.

He hesitates again before replying, “what if you regret it?”

“Will I regret it?” you ask, almost holding your breath to hear his reply.

“… No.”

Another pause.

“Lower your hand but keep your eyes closed.”

You do as he says, feeling him step even closer , the warmth from beside you now directly infront of you, closer than within arms reach. Your willpower and patience surprise you for the second time that night, in a startlingly different situation than the last time,

The crackle of your radio on the floor beside the cupboard makes you both nearly jump out of your skin. Your hand flies to your chest over your heart and you gasp, but somehow you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh shit-“ Xiumin says, and you hear him go retrieve the radio “-is someone looking for you?” You feel him gently take your hand from your chest and set the radio in it.

It crackles again, and you hear Sam say “Have a good night everyone! See you by 1pm!” Others sound off, “Have a good night!” “See you tomorrow!” and you chime in with a quick “Goodnight!” not trusting your voice to stay steady long enough to say more.

“That reminds me..” Xiumin mumbles, and you hear him rustling around for a few seconds.

“Right” he says, and you feel him coming closer to you again, “my manager has been texted, your supervisor has let you go for the night, everyone else is leaving or gone..”

He takes the radio from your hand gently, his fingers leaving a burning sensation on your skin. Your heartrate has slowed from the scare of the radio going off, but it immediately speeds back up at his touch.

He is close to you again, his warmth making you shiver, goose bumps reappearing. He chuckles again, soft and deep, and the fire in your stomach roars.

“Can I touch you?” he nearly whispers and you shiver even more.

“Yes.”

The word barely falls from your lips before his fingers brush up your arm to your shoulder and trace along your collar bone for a moment. Then his hand is on the side of your neck, his thumb turning your chin from one side to the other, gentle and light as though he was examining a piece of pottery. His thumb brushes over your lips and your eyelids flutter - you so desperately want to look, want to see his expression, finally look into his eyes.

His hand finally rests cupping your face and his other comes to match it on the other side. You feel him step even closer, the heat radiating off of him can’t be more than an inch away.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, and the air from his words lands straight onto your lips.

In reply, you lean forward and close the gap between you, eyes still closed, hands clenched at your sides.

The warmth is intoxicating, and the kiss deepens, his hands roaming from the back of your neck to twist into your hair and down to your waist, then finally to pull your arms around him, giving you permission to touch him too. You gasp at the feeling of his bare skin, so hot to the touch, as your hands roam his back, feeling his muscles tense and soften as you touch them.

Your hands finally settle on his waist, just above where the towel, so resolute and intrusive, still solidly wraps around him. Now it’s Xiumin who shivers, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. You both breathe deeply, drunkenly, the fire in your stomach spreading to the rest of your body and warming you to match his heat.

Your eyes are still closed.

Suddenly, Xiumin tenses, you feel his back straighten. His hands disentangle from your hair and he tugs at the bottom of your shirt.

“Off.” he almost grunts, the whispered plea from before replaced with a command.

You don’t hesitate and your shirt lands on the floor, tossed aside without a thought. His hands are back almost immediately, exploring the newly available terrain. You try to breathe steadily, but he becomes amused with the way your breath hitches when one of his fingers brush over your nipples and breathing suddenly becomes a task which requires concentration.

You trace your hands up his abs and chest until you find his face, then step closer to him and guide his lips back to yours. Now your hands tangle into his hair, still damp from the shower, and his trail down your back, resting on your waist above your jeans, pinky fingers cheekily dipping below your waist and every now and again.

It sends shivers up your spine, despite the fire engulfing your whole body, and you gasp into the kiss “please.. I want..” his hand fully slips into your jeans to cup your ass, and a low gutteral sound escapes him.

“What.. do you want?” He asks between kisses.

“I want.. I want to look at you.” You manage to break the kiss, again resting your foreheads together.

A full gasp escapes Xiumin, “You’ve kept your eyes closed this whole time?!” He pulls back from you, keeping his hands around your waist, and laughs.

You blink your eyes open slowly, the image of a god appearing before you. Dark hair touseled, lips pink and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and those can’t be your hands balancing delicately on those chiseled pecs, can they?

And his eyes. Stormy, hungry, and.. and looking at you, looking into your eyes, studying you the way your studying them.

“I thought you must have been peaking” Xiumin says, voice low again, “I - I didn’t realize how… obedient you were being, I’m sorry.”

His words make you blush, heat spreading across your cheeks and the tips of your ears, and you drop your gaze down. This doesn’t help with your blush, as now you’re looking at his lower abs, a trail of hair leading down to where your bodies are pressed together, the skin still hidden but heat - god, the heat - of you both building between you.

Xiumin’s hand comes up from your waist to tilt your chin up to look at him. You meet his eyes once again, still stormy but where there was hunger before now there is starvation. He takes a step back from you letting his hands fall.

Seeing you still rooted to the same spot, he smiles - no, smirks - and continues walking backwards, not breaking eye contact. There is no breeze, but his absence makes you shiver and once more goose bumps form, now over your whole exposed chest. He continues to backup until he hits the couch and he sits down slowly.

Xiumin’s eyes finally leave yours to travel down your body and back up, making you feel like someone had slipped an ice cube from your chin down one leg and back up the other side until his gaze locks with yours again. His smirk is gone, his expression now just full of need.

“Off.” Xiumin says, barely lifting a finger to gesture at your jeans. You don’t hesitate again, pulling off not only your jeans but the remainder of your clothes. You are feeling vulnerable but also like anything left on your body was subject to catch fire at any moment.

When you finish and look up again, you find Xiumin leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, towel unwrapped but still draped across his lap. The starving look in his eyes spreads to the rest of his face while he looks at you.

You want to go to him, want to touch him, want, god, you want him, but you wait, wait for him to tell you, to command you. Standing there, biting your lip, your patience and control again surpassing what you thought you could do.

Then he leans back, and the towel is not hiding anything any longer. You can’t help but swallow hard, saliva suddenly filling your mouth, and clench your fists.

“Oh fuck” Xiumin gasps, eyes dropping from yours to your neck when you swallow, “Come here. Now.”

You almost trip over yourself in your haste, in your want, moving to stand infront of him, between his legs, and you bend over him to kiss him, self control crumbling with every second. As the kiss deepens, he moves to pull you onto his lap, but instead your knees buckle and you slip down to kneel on the floor infront of him.

He is still leaning forward, not willing to break the kiss yet, when your hands trace down his chest to his cock. You both gasp as your hand closes around him; him in an involuntary need for air, you in surprise at how hard he already is.

You pump him a few times, then make the decision to break the kiss, your want to be obedient being beaten out by the want to know how he tastes and the want to see him crumble in your hands.

One hand still pumping, you use the other to push Xiumin’s chest back into the couch. His one hand grips the arm of the couch and his other goes to your hair. Then you lower your head and take his tip into your mouth, keeping eye contact as best you can.

You bob your head, swirling your tongue over his tip in rhythm. Xiumin’s hand grips the couch, his knuckles white, and his eyes are wide, still staring into yours, his lips falling open and his breathing suddenly much heavier.

Your name slips from his mouth, mixed with various swears as you continue, until -

“FUCK-“ his hips buck and you gag, stopping to take a deep breath in. Xiumin’s hand releases the couch arm, leaving little indents where his nails had dug in, and he cups your chin again, leaning forward to kiss you long and hard.

“Your turn” a new command, not a question or offer, and before you can react your places are swapped. Seeing him, rock hard, muscular shoulders tensed, barely in control of himself but kneeling so intently, so desperately and submissively infront of you is almost enough to make you come undone already.

It takes everything in you not to scream when he starts with his tongue. Now it’s your hand on the couch arm, the other tangled in his hair. His name and curses falling from your lips. He uses both his hands to press your hips down into the couch, and you squirm against him, into his touch and away from it at the same time.

“I.. I’m close” you breathe out, and Xiumin’s eyes flick up to meet your gaze. You almost come undone right there, but he pulls away from you, grabbing your hand to have you stand with him.

“Do you trust me?” Xiumin asks, not commanding, not a whisper. Just a sincere question, though in a voice so deep you swear you feel it rather than hear it.

His hand is holding yours still from having you stand, and the other is on your waist, stealing you. His cock, practically quivering between you two, is wet at the tip, a question of its own waiting for your reply. The heat, now shared between you both evenly, flickers across your bodies impatiently.

“Yes.” No more pauses, no more hesitation.

Xiumin pulls you flush against him, guiding your arms up and around his neck. Then he bends and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and walks a few feet until your back is against a wall.

You shake from anticipation now, no more goosebumps, and find yourself biting his perfect collar bone while he walks, sucking and nibbling. Your name falls from his mouth, a swear word of its own now.

Now braced against the wall, you look into his eyes as he lowers you down onto him. With every inch, the starvation dissapears but the storm rages harder. You clutch onto his shoulders, and arch your back towards the wall as he takes you, mouth open but unable to make a sound.

Until he moves.

The screams you held back before come out now, involuntarily, taking the shape of “Xiumin” over and over again.

You both hold on and ride the storm together, as he bounces you up and down, up and down, over and over, landing harder each time. You hear the sound of your skin against the wall, broken up by the sound of your skin on Xiumin’s skin and your names - the worst swear words known to man - tumbling out between you.

At some point you both slip down to the floor, but you don’t remember how it happened that you were on top of him now. You slow the pace, rollling your hips instead of bouncing, and watch as Xiumin’s eyes roll back, his eyelids closing.

On a whim, you cover his eyes with your hand. His breath catches in his throat with each roll of your hips. Goose bumps break out on his arms and chest.

You lean forward and whisper in his ear “Keep your eyes closed.”

He can only nod in reply, mouth clenched, a deep groan coming from his chest,

You remove your hand, smirking as you see he followed your order, and pick up the pace to return to your previous rhythm, fast and hard. Xiumin’s hands go to your hips, guiding you, helping you.

1, 2, 3 more times you land before you cum with no warning, with not a scream but a growl of “Xiumin”, clenching around his cock, back arched and eyes closed. You roll your hips, riding it out, eyes open again to see that he was peaking, looking at you in awe.

As soon as your eyes meet, he too comes completely undone, holding you still while he thrusts up. You brace yourself against his shoulders, collapsing down onto his chest as he cums inside you.

With a grunt, he pulls out of you and you roll onto your side on the floor beside him. It’s the first time you notice that the ground is cold, the heat from the two of you slowly, very slowly dispelling.

Xiumin pulls you toward him, pushing a leg between both of yours, hand on your waist and the other arm under your head. Neither of you willing to move yet, or to break the silence.

It isn’t until you shiver again, this time genuinely from the chill, which is creeping into you from the floor, that either of you stir. As you emerge from your drunken bliss, the first thing you realize is that you’re still.. sticky. And the second is that you are going to be very.. very sore in a few hours time.

Well.. another reason to go to the gym more, you think to yourself, sure that your stamina tonight was all adrenaline.

Xiumin gets up and grabs the towel, abandoned near the couch, kneeling down to wrap it around your shoulders. Without saying a word, he kisses you on the forehead, then gets up and turns on the shower.

When you see steam escaping the bathroom, you struggle to your feet and walk in to see Xiumin waiting for you.

“You go first” he says, offering a hand to help you step into the shower. Another command, but not as forceful as before.

You accept his hand and step into the shower, but when he turns to go and give you some privacy, you grip his hand even tighter.

“Stay..” you say, and pull him into the shower with you. His eyes meet yours again, and it’s like he is in a trance, pulled in by some strange gravity that now connects you two.

You help each other wash, gently, somehow shy with each other despite what you just did. You watch a bead of water trace down Xiumin’s neck and chest, thinking again of him on stage, sweat running down his collarbone..

His collarbone, which now has an odd bruise? You brush you finger across it and he winces, then you both look at it together, suddenly realizing what it is.

His eyes widen in surprise, “I didn’t think you had actually left a mark!”

“Oh god I’m so sorry!” You bring your hands up cover your face, mortified, “I had no idea I had done that either!”

But when Xiumin starts laughing, you can’t help it this time but to peak out between your fingers to see his face. He looks completely relaxed, his laugh making him look impossibly even younger than he already looks.

Confused, you lower your hands, “won’t you.. get in trouble?” You ask, “what if someone sees it on stage?”

Seeing that you are genuinely concerned, he suppresses his laughter to reply “Do you think we’ve never had to ask the makeup team to cover anything like this up before?” His eyes sparkle, “Though, it will be my first time asking… but the others have all had to at some point.”

You laugh tentatively, and seeing his smile grow at the sound, laugh again, releasing the little bit of worry you had built up.

“We’re human, after all” Xiumin says, pulling you closer so you are both under the water, resting his head on your shoulder and hugging you close, “we… I need love, connection.”

You wrap your arms around him and squeeze in response.

After a minute or so of holding him close, you go to pull away, ready to step out of the shower, when he freezes and pulls you back to him.

“What’s..” the question dies on your lips as you feel exactly what is wrong, thick and strong, and somehow hard again, between you two.

“Just.. um.. give me a minute” Xiumin mumbles into your shoulder, and you see that the tips of his ears are pink.

I guess even when you quench a fire.. the coals can be reignited pretty easily you think, smiling to yourself as the now familiar, tantalizing warmth grows between you two again.

END

(… unless? PART TWO HERE)

[vizthedatum]

IDK if it’s because I’m hormonal (it is), but my friend sent me a Hex Girls gif (and like, yeah, it’s not like this hasn’t happened before - it's a common gif, and I have had a huge crush on them since who knows when) but I have completely melted. Like 🫠

—

Me: I want to be their pet, doing tasks for them. They reward me with kisses and affection. They call me a good boy. I do more tasks. They take me on tours. I do their makeup. They tell me they love me. Each one has a cute nickname for me.

(Dusk calls me her sweet darkness, and we’re mostly QPPs; Luna straight up degrades me verbally while being physically affectionate and gentle; Thorn calls me by my name because of how our names match… and she can’t keep her hands off of me)

I design the band’s graphics, make merchandise, and manage their website.

We are in a seriously committed polycule - them with me, that is, they’re mostly just friends with each other.

Years pass, and we settle down in a patch of fertile land and have a hand-tying ceremony. They jokingly call me the man of the house. I blush.

Every full moon, they do rituals and drip hot wax on me. The purpose is to make our crops grow well. By this time, they are allowed to do anything to me.

We garden, play music, and occasionally go on tours, but not as much as before (a lot of their work is digital now)…. They prefer a quiet life in nature. And so do I.

They encourage my dreams, and I churn out several books. They come to every book signing and event I do. Sometimes, they must be incognito - they don't want to interfere since they're so popular.

One time at a book signing, I told them it would be okay if they could just be themselves. I want people to know I'm theirs.

And people were okay with it!!!

But my literary rival was also in town, and whole cases of both of our new books vanished. We blamed each other, of course. But it was a more sinister plot, and my wives called the gang to help us out because I couldn't see past my nose, and neither could my rival.

After the gang had unmasked the true culprit, my rival and I were finally able to come to a truce, but we swore to remain rivals until the bitter end because we believed that our work would be better for it.

Thorn thinks I should ask her out, though.

[copperbadge]

hey sam! i was just ruminating that it's a fantastic time for authors to do dvd commentaries, and other 'ask the author' memes. it's additional material and feedback all in one package! (after we explain what a dvd extra is)

I suppose I'm of two minds about it. My immediate thought was that authors have always done Q&As, but it's true that they used to be less accessible both to readers and to the authors if they weren't big names, because they required travel (and in the reader's case, knowing the author would be traveling, plus having to go out to wherever they were doing the reading). Authors still do book tours and signings for that kind of purpose, but being able to do that kind of thing online as well now makes it easier and cheaper. Although I wonder whether there's less sense of connection because it's not face-to-face. But yeah, I would imagine it's pretty great for gauging what the overall readership is interested in. Certainly in dialogue with readers when I put my books up for review, I always learn a lot.

The idea of a DVD commentary is kind of interesting because I was like "How would that work with a book, though?" and I guess you could annotate an ebook -- like, offer a version with little widgets where if you clicked them you'd get the author adding notes about the book. I've never been a fan of actual DVD commentaries -- I don't like filmed interviews because they take so fucking long to actually say anything, and with a DVD commentary you've now got the addition of "talking over the story". But I could see how if you loved a book you might like having a version where you've got extra notes.

I struggle with the idea of "additional material" somewhat. I suppose that's ironic given how much I discuss outside-of-book on this blog, but that's just....I don't know, it's answering questions, it's not like "building the canon outside of the canon", and if I think something is good enough, it always goes into the books. The whole "They speak English with a Welsh accent" thing was amusing, but then I was like "Yeah let's actually put that in the text, why should it live on Tumblr alone?"

There's so much media now where it feels like if you aren't spending every waking moment interacting with every aspect of it, you just don't get to...be a fan, in an active sense. There are podcasts I follow where if you want to do anything other than listen to the episodes, even if you just want to attend a live show or buy merchandise, you have to dedicate significant time weekly to following them on all the social media and actively read their Patreon. And I just can't. I really like that creators can put that kind of thing out there, I think overall that's to the good, but it feels like something I'm blocked from participating in.

So, I keep all my shit here. I've had it suggested that I'd benefit as a writer from having a newsletter, which I actually agree with, and it seems like it could be entertaining to do. But I get caught up in this dichotomy of "Well, won't people be mad that they have to go subscribe to this thing instead of just reading my tumblr?" and/or "Won't subscribers be aware they can just find all this on my tumblr?" and I get real in my head about it. Because I'd struggle with having to go two separate places for stuff like that.

Uh, to circle back to your actual ask, however, because all that was just like...IDK, weird anxiety digression, I do think it's a great era for extra-canonical material, and while it does mean creators have to be much better at boundary-setting than they used to be, I like that they can adjust their level of interaction as they see fit.

Oh and uh. It's felt awkward to actually talk about it, but if you guys do want more material I do have a sideblog, @shivadh, which is where I stash everything I want to make note of for the books -- research, imagery, stuff I've talked about here that hasn't got a place to go in googledocs yet, that kind of thing. It's not extra material per se, it's just me shoving shit into a filing cabinet, and I don't do image IDs like I do here because it's more for me, plus I do delete posts once I've made use of them. But folks are welcome to follow if they want to.

[dawnwithablog]

About the Disney College Program (DCP)

Unless you're a Disney super fan or a Florida resident looking for an interesting job, I doubt you've even heard about the Disney College Program. At least, I know that I hadn't, but ever since I began my program in early June, I've made it my mission to find answers to the questions that so many people are asking. Here are 5 of the most common questions about the DCP with answers.

What is the program?

The Disney College Program is a paid internship in which current university/college students or recent graduates can have the opportunity to work in the parks.

2. Do you have to do classes while in the program?

No, you do not have to be actively taking classes during your program. I would say that most participants choose to take the semester off of school in order to focus on their program. However, in order to apply, you must be actively enrolled and taking classes at an accredited institution, OR you must have graduated within the last 24 months of the application date.

3. Can I choose what job (usually referred to as your 'role') I end up getting?

The short answer is no, roles are assigned based on operational needs and usually have little to do with your resume or preferences. The long answer is that SOME work experience almost guarantees you certain roles. For example, if you applied with Starbucks experience, you will almost certainly be placed at a Starbucks location within the parks. Another thing to keep in mind is that the DCP's main purpose is to fill the undesirable roles within the parks. This means that roles such as Custodial, Quick Service Food & Beverage, Houseperson, and Merchandise are extremely common. Roles such as Character Performer, Character Actor, and Attractions are both very highly sought after and very rare for DCP participants to get.

4. Where would I live?

Both DCP participants and full time/part time cast members have the option to live at Flamingo Crossing Village, an apartment complex near Walt Disney World. While the apartments themselves are not owned by nor operated by Disney, they are very well maintained, and feature both single and double rooms, new appliances, complimentary furniture, a pool, a community center, and a nearby plaza with retail and dining options. If you're interested in seeing an apartment tour, feel free to check out my apartment tour which is posted to my TikTok and my Instagram.

5. Do you get to get in to the parks for free?

Yes! Once you have completed your first round of training you will receive your self admissions pass, which allows you to enter any of the parks as many times as you want for free! Not only can you enter yourself, you also receive Chip and Dale passes, which allow you to bring friends and family into the park with you. You don't get unlimited Chip and Dale passes however, so be mindful of how and when you choose to use these passes.

Thank you for reading my post! Feel free to submit any other questions you may have about the program, working at Disney, or questions about my life in general. Also, leave a comment if you'd like to hear more about the DCP interview process.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 807: The Rolling Stones Hackney Diamonds

This marks the end of my Stones posts. And given their age, this album may come to mark the end of The Stones as a recording entity. And as far as I'm concerned, we're going out on a high note.

Even the diehards will admit that The Rolling Stones peaked decades ago. And the diehards will also probably agree that by the time the '80s were in full swing, The Stones were a legacy act with little new to offer. No one is gonna canonize Undercover or Dirty Work. There were still hints of their magic sprinkled throughout their work through the '90s and into the first half of the '00s, but really, people held onto their love for The Stones based on their earlier classics and their continuing reputation for putting on a solid live show.

Maybe there was some sort of creative rut for the Stones. Some loss of purpose. Some struggle to hold onto their original sound while moving forward. I've been playing music long enough to know the tricky balance of pleasing the old fans while keeping things fresh and exciting. The Stones had become a nostalgia brand, and that brand generated a lot of money. Were they putting out new albums to keep the merchandising and ticket-selling machine in the public eye? Or was there some genuine creative joy embedded in those later records that just wasn't translating? Everyone knows Mick and Keith's friendship deteriorated over the years. Was that rift behind the waning quality of their albums?

And then there's the big question: did the world need a new Stones album in 2023? It'd been eighteen years since their last batch of new material. While there were defenders of A Bigger Bang (2005), it didn't convince anyone that the band was back in top form.

I was skeptical. But on a long solo drive across Eastern Oregon last fall, I decided to give Hackney Diamonds a listen. I'd already listened to Exile on the drive, followed it up with Tattoo You, and figured this might actually be my last chance to listen to a brand new Rolling Stones album while they were still active. I put on Hackney Diamonds as I drove across the high desert and, to my surprise, it sounded fucking great.

No Stones album has ever hit me on first listen until Hackney Diamonds. The band doesn't try to do anything new. The production is big and shiny, but it still sounds like a real band. Jagger doesn't address our tumultuous world like he might have back in the '60s, and maybe the album's odes to turbulent relationships are a little simplistic. But maybe there's actually more there than we hear on that first listen. Are "Angry" and "Bite My Head Off" just your typical songs about having a spat with a lover? Or is it about battling the public's expectations? Is "Depending On You" another forlorn love song? Or is it actually a plea to Richards?

Curiosity also drove me to read the Pitchfork review for Hackney Diamonds, who unsurprisingly shat on the band for "acting their image rather than their age." The remaining paragraphs go on to rail against a wealthy band wringing more money out of middle aged men. I'd counter that people as rich as Jagger and Richards don't really need to take the time to write another album and take another year off from their private lives to go on tour just to be a little bit richer in their eighties. And pandering to middle aged men seems no less noble than pandering to the twenty-something youth market that Pitchfork depends on for advertising revenue (and hate to break it to ya, Pitchfork, but your initial fanbase is middle aged now).

Is it shameful to grow old? Is it shameful for Mick and Keith to keep doing the thing they've done for 60 years? Is it shameful to love what you do and to try to hold onto it for as long as possible? Sure, maybe at some point the magic ebbed away, but the band always had their highs and lows. And if Mick and Keith drifted apart, perhaps the passing of Charlie Watts reminded them that their days were numbered, and they could either pack it in and become mired in the rusty stasis of old age, or they could go out in a blaze of glory.

I refuse to think art and music are creative pursuits that only belong to the young. Sure, I wanna hear music made by excited young people, but I also wanna hear music made by people my age. And I also want to hear music made by people with decades of experience who know exactly what they want, exactly how to do it, and how to have a fucking blast in process.

And that's exactly what Hackney Diamonds sounds like. If the story ends here, then it provides a satisfying narrative arc to the history of The Stones. Excellent work, Glimmer Twins.

[corazoncitocreative]

Week 2 - Original Content Writing #2

share an image of 'data' - how and why is this 'data' (be specific with audience, context, and purpose) 

I chose a global Spotify Artist image to represent data. This image provides insights into listener and follower engagement, which can help artists grow their popularity. It also allows the audience to see which songs are the most popular. In this particular case, the focus is solely on the artist. Additionally, this data helps the artist determine potential tour locations and opportunities for selling merchandise. Here are a few artists who are at the top of the list this year. Overall, it's fascinating to see how this data can impact an artist’s career.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Info for Faith In The Future World Tour ATLANTA, GA - JUL 15 2023

With special guests THE SNUTS & ANDREW CUSHIN!

Important Times:

6:00 PM - Doors Open

7:00 PM - Andrew Cushin

8:00 PM - The Snuts

9:00 PM - Louis Tomlinson

Times are all approximate and subject to change.

General admission (lawn tickets):

The venue does not allow camping or overnight parking of any kind.

The lawn is always first come, first served.

Guests may notice a row or seat number on their lawn ticket, but that is only used for tracking purposes.

There are no assigned seats on the lawn.

Blankets are permitted, but for your safety chairs are not allowed.

Subject to updates. Check the venue’s socials for updates!

🔆⚠️HIGH TEMPERATURE ADVISORY ⚠️🔆

HIGH TEMPERATURES expected in Atlanta!

Temperatures will reach above 90ºF/ 32ºC

YOU MUST Hydrate before the show, while waiting in line and during the show

Thunderstorms expected ⛈. Prepare accordingly.

Wear sunscreen!

The whole venue is OUTDOORS. Event is rain or shine!

💧⚠️ HYDRATION ADVISORY ⚠️💧

YOU MUST Hydrate before the show, while waiting in line and during the show

For optimal hydration drink something with electrolytes such as Gatorade or LiquidIV

Eat well!

Here are important things to know:

Ticket screenshots will NOT be accepted. We strongly recommend downloading your tickets BEFORE you arrive at the venue so you do not have any trouble getting into the show.

The venue is cashless! Pay with card and mobile pay!

Multiple ATMs on site located on both plazas near Gate 1 & Gate 4.

Restrooms are located in both plazas, near Gate 1 and near Gate 4.

Parking: Parking is sold on the night of show for $30 plus tax. Handicap Parking is located near Gate 1 on Elliot Galloway Way NE. Please note accessible parking is first come, first served, so if you don't absolutely need it, please park elsewhere.

Taxis & Rideshare: The easiest place to meet a taxi is at the top of the hill by Gate 2 or you can walk to Horseradish Grill. Uber pickup and dropoff is at 4469 Stella Drive NW, Atlanta GA 30342

ADA info here

Cameras: non-professional only, no detachable lenses. Disposable cameras and small digital cameras ok. Any camera that has a detachable lens will not be allowed in. If the camera lens zooms out more than 1 in it will not be allowed in.

Average sized blankets or beach towels ALLOWED

Umbrellas - personal sized only, no sharp points. ALLOWED

Water: 1 factory sealed bottle up to 1 liter/33.8oz per person. Empty Aluminum bottles, refillable plastic water bottles are permitted.

NO Glass containers or cans

NO Alcohol

NO Coolers

NO Animals (except service animals with paperwork)

NO Illegal drugs

NO smoking

NO Lawn chairs

NO Balloons

NO Fireworks or sparklers

NO knives, firearms, Brass knuckles, Tasers & mace/pepper spray or weapons of any kind

NO Wallet chains or Long Chains/Sharp Spikes

NO Recording devices, iPads/laptops

NO Selfie sticks, drones

NO Laser Pointers/flashlights

NO Scooters/Skateboards or Hoverboards

NO Whistles, horns or other noisemakers

NO Strollers or Wagons

There is NO RE-ENTRY!

Lost & Found info here

VIEW VENUE MAP 

VIEW SEAT MAP 

*This list is not exhaustive. Items not appearing on the list may still be prohibited at the discretion of Security.

For more details click here and here

Bag Policy:

Clear plastic, vinyl or PVC tote bags no larger than 12” x 6” x 12” and/or

small clutch bags (6”x 9”), don't have to be clear

NO Large bags or backpacks

Banners, signs and flag policy:

Signs larger than 8.5" x 11" are not allowed. This size is a standard sheet of paper.

All signs must be appropriate in nature and not be a distraction to the artist.

Merch:

Merch will be available for all concerts at our Concert Gear booths located near Gate 1 and near Gate 4.

Please make sure you check that you have the correct size and there are no defects in the shirt before you walk away from the stand.

The venue cannot assist with replacing or refunding any merchandise after the event has ended.

Contact:

For additional questions please call the venue at 404-233-2227. You can also access their website. Check their Twitter and IG for updates. Address: 4469 Stella Dr NW, Atlanta, GA 30342. Venue: Cadence Bank Amphitheatre at Chastain Park

[tremendousmothergoat]

roll d20

try and not be mesmerized by MTT. maybe those live tickets for a massive show being on sale was on purpose... and being broadcasted live. Lot of new hypnotized slaves..

She walks out of the show with a big, dopey smile on her face, and absolutely decked out in MTT merchandise. She's already bought tickets to the rest of his tour. She'll be tweeting and gushing about him just like some fangirl for the next few weeks, at least. Oh yesssssss!

But hey, at least she didn't end up as one of his personal groupies.... Yet.

(Roll: 8)

[lesbianmikenesmith]

BTS

More info below:

Most commonly known in short as BTS but the full name is Bangtan Sonyeondan 'Bulletproof Boy Scouts'

Longevity: 2010-present, multiple members are currently serving/enlisted and have signed contracts to reunite in 2025.

Audition Process: Big Hit Entertainment CEO Bang Si-hyuk wanted to form a hip hop group around RM (Kim Nam-joon) who was a well-known yet underground rapper at the time. Bang, seeing more potential in an idol group decided to hold auditions to fill out the group with unique personalities. Those made it past auditions, then went on to live together, practicing up to 15 hours a day, and performing for the first time together before a small crowd of industry insiders in 2013.

TV Show: Beginning in 2013, BTS Rookie King: Channel Bangtan (신인왕 방탄소년단-채널방탄) is the variety television series by boy group BTS. The variety show features the members of BTS parodying different television programs and commercials.

Music: Initially more hip hop based due to band members RM and Suga's background as underground rappers. BTS has also expanded to experiment with R&B, rock, jazz hip hop, EDM, tropical house, future bass, Latin pop, slow-dance ballads, emo rap, Afro pop, funk, trap, pop rock, and hip pop and disco.

Management: Manager Bang Si-hyuk has received many accolades for his role in turning K-pop into a global pop music culture. An interesting anecdote I found on his wiki: "Bang expressed that in the West, there exists a fantasy where good music comes only from rock stars who act true to their individuality. An artist in the West usually works under the radar for many years before getting picked up by a major label. In Korea, more time is spent as a trainee, and good performances can appeal to an audience as well as original music can. It cannot be said for certain which system is better.

Public Perception: Do i even need to say? Everyone is aware of this band rn.

Boy Bands/Idols in the modern era: BTS have made some references to The Beatles and their global impact has been compared many times to Beatlemania. However, BTS's unique rise was facilitated by a great increase in music video programming and consumption on YouTube and the coming of an idol empire, including merchandising of nonmusical products, games, and fantasy fiction, as well as an expansion of online music fandom. This surely can't be compared back to The Monkees and the use of music video programming, marketing, fabrication of image for purposes of merchandising non-musical products, right?

Anyways to end this off, here's a 25 min video from their youtube channel from 5 years ago before they were about to go on their first world tour if this in any way helps you to vote on the poll:

[monozip]

JUST SOME THOUGHTS 💭 : the nine circles of loona hell.

After the very straining and soul-sucking battle that is BBC (although its not totally over! court-hearings are still due on August, it is still relieving knowing all 12 are out of BBC) new doors are opening up for the girls: as an odd eye circle comeback is right around the corner, a new wave of thrill and excitement is brewing up but, akin to the feeling of getting kicked on the stomach and as you stand up getting kicked again....orbits not only relive the feeling of euphoria to a new comeback, they'll also feel the same dread and annoyance at the piss poor management.

Modhaus choose to stray away from the usual path a company would do for promoting their artist, that being with NFTS and the benefit of voting for certain things due to said NFT. And it seems to be working for other group under Modhaus. I understand the need/or want for a uniform marketing scheme, but I wonder if Modhaus ever wondered or taken into consideration if the majority of OEC/Artms demographic and fans actually...gives a shit.

Although being a hot topic during 2021 (and years prior to that), it slowly started dwindling back in the shadows as other waves of trends came crashing in.But even then it seems as if NFT is just a rich mans toy that also happened to pack a punch at mother earth: the whole novelty about NFTs are the cha-ching linked to it, you'd just oggle and laugh at the cartoonishly high prices celebrities pay for ugly drawings of monkeys or even participate in it just for a quick buck.

Yet I don't see why it's necessary to even have NFTS in Artm's case considering how environmentally degrading it is. If they wanted to earn a quick buck out of these fans they could've just simply locked those photos on a paywall, there are many avenues and paths that can lead them to the same place. Also factor in the fact that majority or at least a good chunk of the fandom either don't care or vehemently hate it, so it just stirs a lot of negativity in forums or platforms where positivity is a better option— and yet Modhaus or any company really, never listens to the fandom's wishes/thoughts/feedback which is a big blunder due to the fact that fans are what feeds these companies, without an audience there is no place for their music to thrive.

But what about the albums? They're environmentally degrading too!

See, this is where my main gripe about NFTS actually formulate. I'm very much aware that everything I consume in my life can and will damage the environment one way or another, but there's actually a purpose behind those things. NFTS on the other hand...not so much. They are soulless pieces of merchandise, thats soul purpose starts and ends with it being a selfie whilst damaging the environment. Albums is a great garden to grow and see even a tiny speck of art. The inclusions are also another factor, it's a medium for art to flourish and has some real life uses to it (cd's).

Aside from the drift between fans and NFTS. Scheduling, lack of 'hype' is a big sore in the comeback, considering how the members themselves spoke about how they wish for a win. Why couldn't they manage their calendars correctly? Why aren't they hiring employees that can cater for a better outcome? Why are there dead zones of silence in between teasers? There's also overpricing of tour tickets (the announcement being before we even got the video teaser, me-thinks it would've worked out much better if they announced it in the middle of promotions as the hype may still be around).

Promoting Loona had always been a pleasure for orbits especially in their hayday before the great Armageddon, but now as the tides are shifting: there is now a realization that orbits antics may just backfire: Promoting the group is always the companies job, it's merely an option for the fans. And it's not as if Modhaus is a company majorly lacking in resources, so why can't they do it themselves? And the bare minimum is not to ghost fans leading up to the release date, there are ways to bring in hype and extra content without even straining or overworking the girls themselves. Posting hints about the comeback, interesting tidbits and trivia about it, even posting a little screencap of the mv is a decent way to generate curiosity regarding the comeback.

I do appreciate those little shortcuts video they post, content better than nothing at least.

It's just tiring seeing oec/artms re-living the same old issues under the hand of the same old man.

But that aside, I do genuinely look forward for this comeback (or re-debut maybe?). I dig the concept and especially the first few set of photo teasers as it was very interesting and alluring. It's wonderful that they choose to recall previous details for the sub-unit's comeback/re-debut as it really gives a rush to old fans and can create interest to the new ones. Tiny thing, but I really like the details they placed on the eyepatches like the laces and stuff. Love the thick bangs on Choerry too. The video teasers were also an amazing watch, just hearing OEC's old songs now as they are in a new chapter in their career, new company, new everything, is just thrilling and sweet. I wonder (delusions) if Haseul or Heejin will be a featured artists in their b-sides! That'll be fun for sure.