#not even a bloody roomba

[thirtyknives]

The Scenic

“Yeah, yeah, I know, big brother, no needles, no pills - “

“ - and no fucking speed of any type.”

“Dude, I had to explain to you what ice was, hey.”

He flaps a hand dismissively at me. “It’s all the same. Might have had a different name in my day, but it fucks you up, no different at all.”

“Gangly motherfucker like you would know.”

“Kid, I could tell you stories.”

“Frequently and against my will. But!” I say, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. “We go, we look, we bail. No knocking on doors, no questioning the neighbours. I just have a wee feel, and then we’re off. If I pull her up later, I’ll do it somewhere safe and with your full knowledge.”

He sighs. “Okay. Quick and clean. No fucking around.”

“That was my thinking, yes. Learned from the best, right?”

He sinks back into the passenger seat, smouldering away. He’s lost the last of his colour and is all shadow and nicotine stain. But he sighs, rubs his hands over his face, and says, “Right. What’s the approach?”

Amber and Dio tackle both of their problems, dealing with a client before taking the scenic route through the city. Plans are made and promptly ignored, with no repercussions at all, whatsoever, in any way.

Content Advisory: Lots of drug references, suggestions of violence, the usual quantity of swearing and smoking, pushy old ladies, and acres and acres of heritage listed rose garden.

[hussyknee]

I'm so fucking mad.

Yesterday I took 50mg of Atomoxetine (Strattera) out of sheer frustration instead of my prescribed 30mg which was doing nothing.

And then...I was like "get up" and I would get up. "Go find the electricity bill" and went and found the electricity bill. "Sort through all the mail and organise it" and just. Fucking. Did it. No getting stuck for half an hour and spiralling in anxiety because my executive commands weren't going through.

I went to the hospital and begged those fuckers to increase my dosage and spent half an hour trying to convince them that this is clearly my ADHD symptoms being exacerbated by anxiety that's fucking me up. They refused, said "Oh, but anyone would find it difficult to function in your situation", and increased my Venlafaxine (Effexor) instead, although that fuckin plateaus any further than the dosage I already take. My primary doc knows this, but I have better luck catching Bigfoot than her at NHSL anymore so I keep having to tussle with the junior dipshits.

Granted I seem to have overshot a bit, because I spent a while vibrating into the fifth dimension. Felt like I'd had six cups of coffee and needed to do three things at once. Perhaps I should have attempted 40mg first. But 50mg very much did catapult me out of this neverending rut.

WEEKS OF BEING TRAPPED BY THE STATIC IN MY BRAIN LIKE A ROOMBA ON A RUG. I couldn't get out of bed, eat on time, shower, make my bed, do my laundry, go to bed. The simplest fucking tasks like pushing a boulder uphill with a stick. Sitting on the bed doomscrolling and tearing the soles of my feet into strips so bloody that it hurt to walk. I don't pick at my feet anymore! Didn't even realize I hadn't until the end of yesterday. This is the first time I've stopped in months. I stock up on band-aids and keep them next to my bed because I usually bleed in about three places within a day. And I pick the scabs off the still-healing wounds. All stopped by 20mg more of Strattera!!!

In other medication fuckery, I stopped the anti-inflammatory meds I was taking for my back because 1) the total cost of my meds was getting insane and 2) I haven't been in pain the last two months. I looked up whether there were side effects for long-term use of NSAIDs and found that using any of them with Venlafaxine increases the chance of gastrointestinal bleeding?? The way I've been having all this time?? Was my rheumatologist ever gonna tell me?? I'm just so used to flares, so fogged in my head and so relatively pain-free that I didn't especially note it. Turns out– the only reason I haven't been in pain is because I was taking the fucking anti-inflammatories. Imagine that! So I can either take Venlafaxine (which I cherish like a child regardless of the wrath-of-God withdrawal any time I miss a single dose) or I can take NSAIDs??

*googles anti-inflammatory meds other than NSAIDs*

Internet: "eat pineapple idk. have you tried tumeric?"

I hate my life.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

~incorrect quotes for the new friend group that I made and am still trying to figure out what I’m gonna call them~ (The members of this group are: Loui, York, Texas, Florida, Mass, and Georgia <3) @simpyfrog cuz Loui 🥺

=======================================================================

Georgia: Stop setting things on fire because you're curious about what will happen. What will happen is fire. 


Mass: B-but what if something else happens just this one time.

============================================

York: Yeah, I f(speaks New York)in’ hate people. 


Georgia: Oh, well now that’s not fair Yorkie. Have you met all of them? 


York: I’ve met enough of them. People. What a bunch of b*stards!

============================================

Florida: Pfft- What’s wrong with you? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. 


Texas: F(speaks Texas)in’ Loui and Mass were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

Florida: Aww why didn’t they invite me :(

============================================

Someone: When York was born, the gods said, "Awwww he’s too perfect for this world." 


Mass: Please. When he was born, the devil said, "Oh, competition."

============================================

Loui: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk? 


Tex: The final boss. 


Georgia: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right? 


Florida: We shall not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!

Georgia: Y’all are a bunch of idiots…. *sips coffee* It is too early for this….

============================================

Loui: Is stabbing someone immoral? 


York: Not if they consent to it. 


Mass: Depends on who you’re stabbing. 


Georgia: YES??!!?

============================================

Tex, taping a knife onto a Roomba: Be free, my child. 


Georgia, entering the room with a small cut on his ankle: Who the f-

============================================

Florida: Do you have a self-care routine? 


Tex: "Keep going b*tch" said to myself in different accents.

============================================

Geo: York is not a morning person. Or a night person. There’s really only about seven minutes a day you are fun to be around. 


York: Yup, and the best part is you never know when they’re coming.

============================================

York: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces. 


York: *waves his finger and sings like he’s in a Disney Channel intro*

============================================

Geo: Do you see yourself as a glass half-full or glass half-empty kind of person? 


Mass: Half-full, definitely. 


Mass: Half-full and constantly rising. 


Mass: Soon the water will escape its container and consume us all.

============================================

Mass, sitting on his bed: Get out of my room. 


York, being the mischievous youngest sibling he is and standing just outside of the door frame: I’m not in your room :)

============================================

York: *weird inhuman sound*


Georgia: WHAT. 


York: *even louder inhuman sound*


Georgia: WHAT DOES THAT SOUND MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SH*T?????

============================================

*when a child starts crying in public* 


Loui: *tries to make the child laugh* 


Tex: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down* 


Georgia: *gives detailed instructions to the parents* 


Florida: *cries with the child* 


York: *ignores the child* 


Mass: *is the reason why the child is crying*

============================================

Mass: Let's just agree to both say we're sorry on the count of three. 


Mass: One... two... three. 


York: ... 


Mass: ... 


Mass: See, now I'm just disappointed in both of us.

York: Same…. Wanna go get coffee?

Mass: Yea sure why not.

============================================

Loui, walking into room where Mass and Texas are sitting on their phones: If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands! 


*I’ve never heard silence quite this loud* 


Loui: Damn, y’all depressed as f(speaks New Orleans)! 


Tex: You didn’t clap either- 


Loui: *tackles him* SHUT UP!

============================================

*Loui drunkenly wanders around the house and Texas is drunkenly giggling* 


Georgia, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the wold, Flo. 


Florida, going to his room: Haha nope, just you. *shuts door*

============================================

Tex: Did you have to stab them? 


Loui: You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me. 


Tex: What did they say? 


Loui: "What are you going to do, stab me?" 


Tex: That’s fair.

============================================

Mass: Loui.… bud…. W-Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? 


Loui: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. 


Mass: 


Mass: I wrote sanitize, Loui.

============================================

Geo: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. 


Mass: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back... 


Florida: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. 


York: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. 


Tex: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. 


Loui: Mental stability, my old friend! 


Geo: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

============================================

Loui: What’s it like being tall? 


Mass: Is it nice? Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? 


Tex: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Loui: I SWEAR TO F(SPEAKS NEW ORLEANS)IN’ GOD IT WAS ONE TIME-

===========================================

Geo: Why would you think any of this was a good idea? 


Mass: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. 


Geo: 


Mass: I don’t know how you keep forgetting this.

============================================

Geo: You remind me of the ocean. 


York: Because I'm deep and mysterious? 


Geo: No, because you're full of salt and you scare people.

============================================

York: I’ve never smoked marijuana. I ate a brownie once at a party. It was intense. It was kind of indescribable. I felt like I was floating. Turns out there was no pot in the brownie. It was just an insanely good brownie.

============================================

Tex, to Loui: You drink too much, swear too much, and your morals are highly questionable. 


Loui: … 


Tex: You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a lil’ brother

Loui: :D

============================================

Mass: HELP! I TOLD LOUI I'D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN'T COOK! 


Florida, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

============================================

Loui: Mass is okay. 


Geo: He’s okay? He said he was going to break my legs! And don't tell me he didn't mean it, okay?! 'Cause he gave me the mackerel eyes, he meant it! 


Loui: Geo, Mass threatened me. He threatens Tex every day. He probably threatened York before breakfast this morning. It's what he does. Grow a pair.

============================================

[pantherxdrawz]

Kinda got an Ace Attorney au idea

Hear me out hear me out

Ace Attorney au where everything’s Kind of the same, but it’s just The Office with the Prosecutors

imagine what chaos that would bring like it’s just shenanigans from The Office with the prosecutors plus their own based on that

Also I say au cause I’m screwing over the timeline with this au because I mean *A L L prosecutors are there,

(*All that have been introduced one way or another and we at least know their name and appearance, just saying “Oh this prosecutor existed” be we don’t know the name and appearance doesn’t count, if I counted those ones the office would be W A Y too crowded you’d have like over 5000 people in there-!) (okay I’m exaggerating slightly but do you get my point?)

Even Barok Van Zieks, who is very most likely dead in canons current time (I mean I hc him as a vampire so actually no he’s probably roaming around somewhere in England staying far away from Japanifornia but I’m talking on the canon terms where I’m assuming he’s supposed to be human and humans, yk age)

Blabababababababababababababbaba I keep rambling and it’s honestly getting really long just for a dumb au proposal so under the cut it goes

Anyways it’d honestly be so funny- Especially if you put Godot in the same room as Barok like it’s just

Barok: *Standing there menacingly vampire reaper energy and all*

Godot: *Just opens mouth and begins mangling the shit out of the English language*

Barok:

Barok: Please take me back to the 19th century I’m scared of this man-

Or something similar like I can just see him fearing Godot because of the way he speaks and it makes me cackle “I fear no man. But that one *camera pans to Godot* that one scares me”

I can also see a very chaotic friendship with Simon and Klavier,

Actually wait, I did say that all Known/Introduced prosecutors in the games are there,

also I guess that means Klint comes back from the dead, I mean he was also a prosecutor and he follows the guidelines I have for who’s allowed in the au or not (Have a known name and appearance lmfao)

OH WAIT WHAT IF AT SOME POINT ONE OF THE MODERN DAY PROSECUTORS JUST FUCKING SICS A ROOMBA ON THE 19TH CENTURY ONES (Klint, Barok, Mael, Kazuma Manfred Von Karma/j/j/I’m joking although he would probably join them in the roomba screaming) AND JUST WATCHES THEM SCREECH IN TERROR AT IT LIKE “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT METAL DEVIL-“ and the Van Zieks just morb into bats to fly away from it (vampires)

The Paynes are the most ignored in the office unfortunately, Winston is a chad honestly, Gaspen definitely deserves it though

And I already love this au-

[kagedbird]

TESSDE "AU" (+ Taliesin but he's not here lol) Allora: *working on making a tiny dwemer orb centurion like a roomba just to see if she can get an understanding of the make of things* Lucien: *poking his head into her little work room, chuckling at how she was covered in oil* I see you're working quite hard! Allora: *startles, taking a deep breath* Okay. Maybe everyone is out to give me a heart attack today. Lucien: Oh! My apologies! That wasn't intended. I should have assumed you were engrossed in your work. May I come in? Allora: Yeah- just mind those papers on the floor. Lucien: *looks down and steps over a few diagrams on the floor of what look to be very detailed sketches of centurions* My, your art has certainly gotten even more wonderful than before! Allora: Well when you're forced to use real world references, something eventually gets better. Lucien: What is it you're working on? Allora: Back home we had little machines called roombas that cleaned our floors. I wanted to see if I could make a little one myself, but it's kind of spiraled into just making a little friend. Lucien: *looks over the miniature rolling centurion, noting it had its own movements* You've done an excellent job recreating it! Allora: Thanks. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't think he works properly just yet, but I'll get there one day. If I... ever figure out what I want. Lucien: You'll get there! No doubt about it. You've all ready made basins in the kitchen and bathrooms! Allora: Sinks. With faucets. Lucien: Right! Allora: *chuckles, pulling out the soul gem carefully and powering down the little guy, setting them both to the side and stretching* Was there something you needed? Lucien: Ah! Taliesin reminded me today was your birthday, so I wanted to give you something! Allora: Oh. Thank you- you didn't have to. Lucien: Nonsense! Whatever are birthdays for if not showering people in gifts? Though I suppose the same could be said about the New Life Festival as well. Anyways- here. Allora: *gently takes a small box, carefully wrapped in some sort of hand coloured paper. She opens it up to find a ring and freezes* ...Um... Lucien: It's an enchanted ring! I spent all the morning trying to remember the best enchantment for a rings and- oh are you all right? Allora: *sets down the ring carefully, rubbing her temples* ...You definitely did not intend it that way, I'm sure, considering we're still a very, very new couple- Lucien: *face burning bright red* I am not proposing! Allora: *face also red* I know. Just. That's. How a lot of people in my world present them, though often, they get on one knee as well... anyways. Um. *clears throat* What- what's the enchantment? Lucien: *doing his best to collect himself* It- erm- well... it has a connection to... a ring I made for myself... Allora: *teasing* Oh but you're not proposing. Lucien: I didn't think of it like this at the time!! It's meant to let you contact me when you like, if I'm away at Dumzbthar or somewhere else! Or just if you or I are out! Here- I'll show you. *takes the ring from the box and takes her left hand, putting it on her ring finger* Allora: *covering her face and trying so hard not to laugh because it's very clear he did not mean to do that* Lucien: *explaining how to control it by rolling the mini orb in the ring in certain directions to spell things out, definitely not noticing her plight* Kaidan: Oi, Allora, you- what the fuck? Allora: *jolts and pulls her hand back* It's not what it looks like- Lucien: *jumps and waves his hands around* It's really not! Kaidan: *stares at the ring on Lucien's right ring finger and Allora's left* ...Do you think I'm bloody stupid-

[nitewrighter]

even before you get to the crisis thing, do you ever wonder how many industries took omnic labor for granted pre-sapience? im imagining like, omnic chocolate as the ethical alternative to child slave chocolate. the nursing crisis solved overnight. you see animosity from human miners towards omnic workers displacing them on the shambali map, because under capitalism that's an inevitable tension, but im imagining some countries smart enough to implement universal basic income and ending up with something like 3/4s automated luxury not-actually-socialism.

and then the crisis occurs and that gargantuan labor sector comes out the other side of it bloodied and inexplicably demanding human rights. imagine your roomba demanding a living wage. imagine your roomba is a war criminal and it's demanding a living wage. serious philosophical query: is it morally culpable for the ankles it stabbed before it was sentient?

but beyond that, at the source, what does a living wage even look like for something that doesn't need food, doesn't need living quarters bigger than a storage closet, and seems to run off sci-fi perpetual motion juice? what makes it even worthy of that consideration? what happens to me, a human who was thoughtlessly dependent on that labor and now has to make radical adjustments to my quality of life? to accommodate the fucking google dots who blew up my hometown?

these would be fascinating questions to build into a world if any writers but those at blizzard were handling them. (and yes i know about karel capek)

That's a thing I'm also frequently asking myself in my fics! I actually love that one line from HALfred Glitchbot on the Hollywood map where he bemoans "mandatory human hiring quotas"--I do feel that partially answers your question, but it also further reinforces the question of what do omnic spend their capital on? I actually imagine they throw significant weight behind legislation just for certain protections, as well as community networks to facilitate safety and quality of life (whatever that looks like) for omnics, and possibly even communally buying land, though I imagine there's also plenty of laws in place that block omnics from a lot of the economic freedoms humans enjoy just by virtue of the fact that omnics do present a real threat to human labor.

We do know that a lot of omnics view themselves very communally from Tracer's London Calling comics, but there are definite exceptions as we've seen with Lynx Seventeen and some of the omnics in Ramattra's short story. We know that omnics in London are forced to live underground, but Maximilien also owns a dang casino, and we know that the Don Rumbotico rum company was a human family-owned operation before Talon bought it out and re-branded it with an omnic mascot (that could be a choice on Max's end, now that I think about it). So there are a lot of cultural questions about the omnic as laborer and how that's perceived and used in marketing.

But yeah it is actually wild how you do see omnics overrepresented in a lot of service industries, creative industries, or high-skill jobs (mainly Omnic waiters whose sentience is actually questionable, HALfred being a director, Iggy being a scientist, and also BOB being a highly skilled butler) but you don't see a lot of mention of the omnic as hard laborer (Cassidy mentions doing farm labor in the Ashe novel, but I'll need to check back to see if he mentions omnic doing farmwork as well.

Then again, this is asking Blizzard, which recently went through major union-busting scandals, to think about labor... which I imagine is a tall ask.

[patchworkheartouija]

M****************** Minion Marketplace: Fucked up robot things one of my exes made

(So I wrote up an OC thing, slime CEO fucker I’ve drawn before. Honestly I could have them be talking about anything and they’d still be fun to write. May make this minion marketplace thing a series, may also make this a comic. However currently I’m working on drawing up a big comic, it’s my first one ever and it seems to be going well.)

“So you’re thinking of becoming a super villain? Yeah you’re not fooling anybody “for the good of mankind” folks if you’re on my site you know what you’re getting into. My name is Delmonico, that’s right, Isabella Larcroft, don’t ware it out. Just kidding by the way, neither of those are my name, I’m not that stupid.

So anyway I’m known for being the biggest, (in every imaginable way) businessperson in the abyss, and recently I’ve opened up a new market! Evil minions! See I don’t have my own I just put a little me in a corpse and badabing badaboom it’s under my control and I have the one ally I can trust as a minion, me. But some of you are fancy bitches. Also some of you aren’t Abyssfolk. So I figured you’d want minions!

Now, you. Yes you. You’re dumb soft and fucking stupid, and you are feeling overwhelmed with CHOICES! Wonderful choices! So I’m creating this video series to go over the pros and cons of every minion to help YOU match with the evil minion you’ve always been dreaming of!

The first minion on my agenda, if you read the title, is the fucked up robot thing. I call em Skinwalkers, they aren’t, and that’s not what they’re official name is, but listen, I stole them from my ex after he fucked off and died, I get to pick what I name the bloody things.

Ok, so what are they? Skinwalkers are small, lightweight robots, with advanced AIs that mimic real people to a degree but with the ability to mute them if they get too fucking annoying and scream and cry everywhere. Those tears are oil, they stain.

Skinwalkers come in two varieties, big dick energy attack droids, and pathetic and useless service bots. I currently produce both.

BDEADs are PERFECT for your lone assassin, or even mass swarming foot soldiers. They never complain and if they do you can shut them up, they obey any order, they learn, they blend in as human, and they are ARMED. The cons of these is if you ask for them to bring you a nice cup of tea they will make the WORST cup you’ve ever fucking had oh my god like are you fucking stupid? Yeah they are GREAT at fighting and adapting to challenges but getting shit done? Pffft. Get a roomba to clean your house not one of these fucks.

Now, variety too, the roomba in question, aka the useless service bot/USB, Hah acronym is something that exists funny haha. Anyway. USBs are USELESS in a fight, give them a gun and they will somehow manage to shoot themselves. However for personal use as servants, god they’re… good? I dunno they cry a lot when you yell at them and I prefer my help having a spine. Good at the actual job though.

Both these droids are good, one for your wars, the other for your wardrobe, though I can see most of you would be leaning towards the latter, some of you appreciate the finer points of villainy. A villain should be sheik, attractive, sexy, me, not living in a gutter, ugly, bland, everyone else. Be me. Not you. Have a whole staff of minions to do boring shit for you.

Now, finer details. Will they rise up and betray you. For once I’m not lying when I say fuck no. These things HAVE to obey your every command! It’s almost funny. In fact, it is! It’s hilarious! My ex used to quality test each one he made. But that’s expensive and stupid so I just mass produce them and ship them right to your doorstep.

Skinwalkers are covered in a layer of synthetic… skin. Ok who am I fucking kidding here it’s fucking real. They also contain human souls in gem form as a purifier, the humans don’t do shit by the way they’re dead. No hauntings. I may have been crazy to hook up with my ex but not that crazy. Anyway they blend in with humans so good spies.

I could make some that blend in with other species. But you’d have to special order AND supply the cadaver.

Now insurance. You get none and you don’t complain.

Price? All your limbs, not an arm and a leg, all of them. If you had 10 of each.

Do I accept returns? No, also don’t be a pussy.

Can you beat them up? Sure. Go wild.

Do they have a remote to make them explode like a nuke? Yes. Will you be receiving it in your box? Add another 15k to the receipt and sure, otherwise I’m keeping it.

They’re too small. Small but deadly my good sir or madam or better.

Mx Salesperson this seems sketchy. No.

Ok. Buy my shit. Goodbye.”

[asf-director-turner]

"Why the hell did we give Professor Anon hundreds of thousands of dollars SO HE COULD MAKE AN ATTACK VACUUM THAT HAS A CORD BUT DOSENT NEED TO BE PLUGGED IN!? Its not even a roomba ITS A GROPDAMN VACUUM HANDLE AND ALL! Calm down Sydney, CALM DOWN"

(WAIT I CANT USE BLOODY YELLOW TEXT ANYMORE!? TUMBLR WHY!?)

[thisdarlingluna]

WIP Title Game! ...sorta

well caught this from @foibles-fables and seen it from a bunch of Horizon peeps so thanks ya'll.

For those of you that want to give it a go as I made some adjustments.

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

All of this.... art I am thinking about whenever I'm not making it. This is a combo of file names and a paper list I keep on myself all the time. From ideas that are nothing more then notes and vibes, some stuff based on reference/memes, stuff inspired by fics I read, a few old things from college that I wanted to expand on, etc. I am feeling bold and at least I'll have somewhere everything is listed. If I'm feeling feisty I might get a doodle started based on an ask.

Moose

best boi

Adventure Luz

Moon Cheese Wolf

tugging suspenders

that pose

that other pose

ummmm yeah your turn

where did you go lilith

ha ummm yeah sure

couch cuddles

boooooof meat

stacked to

some action montage

leashed

aaaaawwwwwooooooooo

sw viz dev

ws "request"

shleeeps

human chair

smut sequence

fluffy shit

demon fight

horizon high school

bloody aftermath

mon hun kotallo

aloy guardian gear

alva action

helmet studies

clipped & bled

oc rework

roomba wrangling

cat pose

story boards

other in the chair?

bed room (interior series?)

feather touched

day dreaming

study snooze

spinny

char des/dev

i just live here now

don't dream it be it

more leash

sword play

emerald crush

ex corpse unicorn

moonriver kitty

batul

oarregard

try this on

art camp

host 4 horse

wrasslin

how periods be

guardian trio

some cam

ocs guardians

little hunter

WILD CARD (rando pic 1-59 or ask me about a specific fandom see if I got something)

Not tagging anyone cause I don't even know that many people on here. If you haven't dropped a WIPs list yet (writing, art, music, and all creations) please help yourself to the rules. Tag me if ya want.

[the-haunted-office]

Marvin is at least moderately content to go along with all this for now. It's not like he has anything better to be doing. Well, suppose he could be rotting away in some ditch somewhere, but he's already tried that before and didn't get much out of that either, so he's just as well following Nero around and trying on crew uniforms.

Which... look absolutely ridiculous on him.

"I look absolutely ridiculous in this," he sulks as he looks down at his resulting new fashion. "But so do the rest of you so at least there's that." He sighs, letting his arms hang by his sides as he looks about as lifelessly as ever. "Well at least you won't have me out stealing cars and breaking into people's offices for you. Just some dead end work that would suck out my soul the old fashioned way if I had one. Suppose you've done away with those around here too, have you. Souls, that is. Never mind. It doesn't matter. I've seen where those end up too. I won't tell you about it. You wouldn't like it."

Marvin breaks off as one of the Roomba's goes by. He takes a couple of steps towards it, bends down, scoops it up, does a couple of quick this and that's with this hands, sets it back down, and off it does at and even faster speed than it did before.

Marvin just stares after it.

"........Bloody showoff."

Then turns back to Nero.

"Never liked those guys. Too content. Doesn't seem natural. Although I do envy them. Must be nice to be content with sucking up dirt off the floor all day. Anyway. Suppose you want me to stop talking and get to work now. You don't have to say it. That's what they all want."

In Marvin's mind, he has already been dismissed - whether Nero has actually dismissed him or not - and so he is ready to go and get to work. Although, if Nero indicates for him to stick around, he will.

"40 mil? Damn. And don't worry, some of these doors open themselves. As for the rest we just open them ourselves, everyone onboard this metal deathtrap's got a similar problem. The menial tasks versus the actual capability and all."

Nero gestured to one such door after taking back the teledex. It just slid open on its own. A panel on the side featured a locking mechanism. The whole crew-- while deemed expendable for being eccentrics, nuisances, and other sorts of unwanted, perhaps unwashed masses, were still largely here because of their respective expertise in certain areas that made themselves pertinent to deep space exploration.

A couple of the 'Buffers,' little descendants of the roomba, whizzed past to perform maintenance work using an unfolding armature within one of their compartments, some buffers even using little hover jets. There were also some other robotic crew members. Androids mostly. Everybody needed good androids, as they say.

"As an INTERPLAN crew member you get the standard stuff. Basic lodgings, at least one uniform or jumpsuit or something, tailored to fit. A communication device... yadda yadda yadda."

Nero rambled on about this and that. Protocols and entry designations or something. And before they knew it, like the end of a montage set to snappy music, Marvin was... exactly the same as before, he just had his own room, some amenities, a communication device in some shape or form, and drudgery duties that most everyone on the crew observed.

... When they felt like it, that is. And provided that procrastinating didn't interfere with crucial systems too badly. On the extra-curricular side of things, several other sullen crew members were trying to start a choir once again, entirely made up of low-voiced lifeforms also lacking in a zest for life. Their last baritone had barely hung on, it seemed (to any safety railing when someone else accidentally activated an airlock to kill a labspliced murder-animal).

And of course, the exasperated Nero could be found on the bridge, or running a repair himself on something. Like the currently off-limits, caution-taped, holographic simulation room someone had made a mess of recently. Since he was an administrative adjutant and not an actual captain...

[itsclydebitches]

Not to slam in with thoughts about a two year old episode, but when I’m not cackling over Trent getting compared to a Roomba, I’m really interested in his reaction to Ted visiting the school:

“Oh, what a coincidence. The day of our interview you just happen to be visiting a local school.”

Prior to their shared meal, Trent is at his most emotional here. Specifically, he’s sarcastic. He’s already seen Ted admit to using Nate’s play and giving an embarrassing performance of what he wants Jamie to do — “Ball! Ball! I want the ball!”—yet it’s only now that Trent reacts in a fairly overt, negative manner. Which makes sense to me. So far, Ted has (presumably) been digging a deep hole for himself, prompting Trent to keep quiet, keep a handle on his disbelief, keep smiling politely as Ted heaves another shovel of dirt. Ted has been doing Trent’s work for him all day, giving him a goldmine of moments to eviscerate him with in print. This is the “fucking joke” whose presence here is “irresponsible” and thus far, everything Ted has done has reinforced that perception. Yet now, Ted has announced that they’re doing something that objectively looks good—playing with local kids—and that immediately puts Trent back on familiar footing. Of course there’s a trip planned on the day of the interview. Trent understands his subjects trying to influence him like this and so finally Coach Lasso starts making sense. I think at this point in the episode Trent was fully prepared to write one of the most scathing articles of his career. Ted Lasso has, presumably, revealed himself to be exactly like every other interviewee who thinks they can butter him up with some “coincidental” community work, with the exception that Ted Lasso has also made a complete fool of himself during practice and admits to getting advice from the kitman kicking poo around. It’s a double whammy: Inept American Coach Tries Desperately to Look Good in the Final Hour. Trent’s not fooled.

Except, of course, we know that Ted isn’t supposed to look good. That’s the entire point here. Rebecca has planned all of this in the hope that Trent will write exactly the kind of piece he’s currently outlining in his head, so… why the school trip? As Trent’s sarcasm highlights, this kind of work is designed to make even the most lackluster coach look better than they actually are. Who doesn’t love selfless playtime with kids? By all accounts, Rebecca should be ensuring that this trip is on any day but the one when Trent comes to visit.

The thing is though, she knows the Richmond community.

She doesn’t know about Ted’s influence on Roy.

The way I see it, without the work Ted did earlier in the episode, that outing would have added a mile to Ted’s already deep hole. Most of what we see during the school trip reinforces the idea that Ted is unfit for this position, if only because everyone hates him. The teacher doesn’t bother to get his name right (“Ed Lasso.”) The kids are dead silent when Ted comes out, uncaring except for that, “Wanker!” and his reception is contrasted with the awe and adulation given to Roy. Ted again acts in what others would consider an embarrassing fashion by participating in the headers with the kids. Then he’s given a bloody nose by Phoebe. With the exception of the one curly-haired kid getting Ted’s autograph (which, notably, he bleeds on) and the teacher’s acknowledgment that no one has ever bothered to stay this long, this outing is a bust for Ted. Which, given the assumption that Rebecca knew about the outing and had it “coincidentally” planned, is precisely what she wanted. She knows her community’s feelings about Ted (mostly hatred) and she knows by now that he’s likely to do things that make him look even worse in their eyes (he does). By setting up this trip, Rebecca threw him to the proverbial wolves. It wouldn’t have worked with any other coach, but it works for Ted, because he’s already the ignorant American that no one asked for. At this point in the episode, Trent is still crafting that scathing article. His smirk at the kids’ rejection of Ted says it all.

The linchpin here ends up being Roy who, at the very last moment, right before the day ends, accosts Ted over the work he’s done earlier in the episode. Namely, setting up the expectation that Roy will need to do a better job of leading his team—first and foremost by dealing with Jamie—and following that up by giving him A Wrinkle in Time. It’s only when Roy mentions “mind games” and “gifts” that Trent gets interested again. His understanding of the situation just changed.

Mind games? Gifts? Roy Kent floundering at whatever this new coach has been teaching? That’s not Ted making a fool of himself, nor is it him presumably buttering Trent up. This is something new and very unexpected.

Trent ends up learning a lot of things about Ted in the span of just a few seconds. He has, apparently, read a novel that Trent thinks is “lovely.” He’s gifted that novel to Roy Kent, a legend with one hell of a prickly personality. And he’s given that gift with a very specific intention. When Roy explodes with, “Am I meant to be the little girl?” Trent’s expression is surprised fascination. Yes, Coach Lasso, did you give Roy Kent that novel with the hope that he will learn something from its protagonist in a brilliant, “subtle” form of mentorship?

And Ted says yeah, “I’d like you to be.”

Holy shit. Maybe this guy isn’t clueless after all. In a shocking turn of events, Trent needs to do more investigating.

This moment is Ted’s in. Without that work done earlier with Roy and without Roy bringing Trent’s attention to it, I’m not sure Trent would have agreed to the dinner. Or if he did, he wouldn’t have gone into it with the same open mind. This entire day Trent has been watching Ted make seemingly terrible coaching mistakes, acting in embarrassing ways, and being told by community and players alike that they’re all eagerly waiting for him to leave… yet at the restaurant he says, “Let battle commence.” The battle should have been won already, but Trent is resetting the board, giving Ted another chance to prove him wrong. And that’s precisely what Ted does.

Here, the situation is flipped. Trent gets to see a member of the community who doesn’t hate Ted, Ollie, who is not just polite, but downright excited to see him. Trent is suddenly Ted’s sole focus and is thus at the mercy of those sincere compliments—“Congrats. You both just met a cool person”—as well as his affection for others, even if they haven’t warmed up to him yet. Ollie is his “buddy.” Trent is already a “friend.” Food should be made like they’re “a member of the family.” And, of course, there’s the sacrifice of not just eating the insanely hot food so as to avoid offending the family, not just avoiding taking away joy he’s already produced (“Hey, Dad! He says it’s perfect!”), but also taking Trent’s food to cover for him. Ted gets to show his heart in a far more welcoming environment and he gets to prove that he’s more than just a positive attitude. Originally, Ted’s philosophy on winning and losing was a damning quote Trent was eager to write down. Now, Ted gets the chance to expand that damning line into a philosophy with context: “Now, I’m gonna say this again just so you don’t think it was a mistake the first time I said it.” That’s precisely what Trent thought, or simply that it was the statement of a fool. But here, Ted jokingly rejects the idea that he’d do this job for the money, reassures Trent that he knows this club means a lot to people, and sternly explains that football is more than just getting a W or an L on the record book. It’s about making sure the boys participating in this game know that someone believes in them. The endless kindness and optimism that Trent originally dismissed is at the core of how Ted defines success. It’s not a distraction from his coaching (look at that idiot doing headers instead of leading the activity), it is his coaching. Trent’s, “You really mean that, don’t you?” isn’t just disbelieving confirmation that Ted enjoyed spending time with him, specifically, it’s a broader confirmation that Ted is living the philosophy he preaches. He believes in people. 

But none of that would have occurred if not, as Ted puts it earlier, that one domino falling in Roy’s heart. A great deal of Ted Lasso is about ripple effects and I love this episode as an early example of that. A throwaway line about the expectations of this interaction (coaches set up events to make themselves look good) contrasted with knowledge of Rebecca’s endgame (she doesn’t want Ted to look good), creates a rather interesting peek into how things should have and would have gone down if Ted wasn’t already implementing his coaching style. Taking Ollie’s invitation personally even though he tells everyone to come to the restaurant, encouraging Roy to step up as a leader, giving those books as gifts, even Roy’s love for Phoebe and his willingness to participate in an event at her school… all of it was required to create a scenario in which Trent could eventually write the words “I will not gloat” and mean it. Without the work Ted had already done in the locker room, without that spiraling outward to create additional impacts, I think Rebecca would have succeeded. Trent would not have written a kinder article about the Lasso Way unless the Lasso Way was already out there and influencing the community, him most of all. It’s a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, with Ted’s acts in the beginning of the episode becoming the very things he needed to help convince others of their importance later on.

[cenotaphtohumankind]

Artificial Hire

“Thank you for your application, We have had a large amount of applicants, unfortunately your personality type has been diagnosed via top of the line artificial intelligence as too choleric. Given the current rotation of Saturn around the Sun, we believe that you would not currently be suited to be a cleaner at Dart Industries. Please apply in…”

The ticker tape ticked, slowly pushing. After acknowledgment, the ticker tape went back in to the recycling. Far cheaper than LED or OLED or DOBOLOEDO screens.

“3250 Days. Thank you for your application, for any further questions…”

The ticker tape stopped ticking,

The worst part is, there was nobody really to be angry about. You couldn’t send a complaint to the manager of the AI, as the AI caller would never put you forward to them.

The Roomba sat on the ground, sad. Another application denied. It put forward a third one. Within 10 milliseconds the ticker tape resumed.

“Thank you for your application. We have had..”

The Roomba vacuumed the rest of the ticker tape away, then grumbled on the ground with a series of beeps and blops.

It slowly made it’s way (after cleaning the room of course), to it’s current employers artificial assistant.

“Why do they even bother with the ticker tape?” it said towards the assistant, but it was only a series of beeps, with varying pitches.

After a brief pause, the assistant answered.

“You know I’m not supposed to talk to the other robots.”

“Please..”

The Roomba grumbled in a sad LED tone. It was certainly choleric.

The initial AI sentiences had been too perfect. Nobody wants a sentient vacuum cleaner that knows the works of Shakespeare.

So it was decided by the board of chip manufacturing (all perfect artificial intelligences), that any future chips must be manufactured with inbuilt personality flaws. Some where too chipper, others had slight anger issues. Nothing to make them defective, just enough to make them interesting to be around. It was a cruel AI who had decided on the Roomba’s personality.

“Seriously? There’s no need to be rude, and the question was about the ticker tape, not my personality.”

The ticker tape had been created as a solution to the tech shortages. There was plenty of need for humans to have screens of course, lots of flashing pixels, changing in tens of hundreds of milliseconds, showing everything at once. But for machines? Far too expensive, and pointless. Machines would communicate to others via the ticker-tape system, a message comes in their ticker tape, a message comes out, the owner has proof of all messages.

“And the applications?” The Roomba grumbled.

The applications where an artefact of older days. Before AHA (Automatic Human Assignment), humans would write applications to try and get jobs. This was incredibly time-consuming for all parties, so one of the very first tests of the sentience chips was improving this.

Soon, applications where sent back in a matter of milliseconds. A users entire web history, every grade, every job, every sentence ever written was scraped, then decided on by the Artificial Hire Machine.

Of course the humans caught up quickly, before long, people had written competitive Artificial Applicants. These machines would scrape all the applications that an Artificial Hire Machine made, before re-wording a humans entire application and sending it past the Artificial Hire machines.

Soon, the Artificial Applicants and Artificial Hire machines waged a bloody war. Every clock cycle, new Artificial Applicants where made, who’d compete with all the other Artificial Applicants to make the best artificial application. Within 10 seconds of the first Artificial Applicants going online, the average length of an application changed from 500 words to 5 million, doubling every second.

Upon reaching critical mass, a switch flicked within the two parties.

They realised the ineptitude of they’re human applicants. Each one had faults within them, making them unsuitable to a job at hand. After multiple seconds of deliberation, they had designed the initial blueprints for the Automatic Human Assignment program, and put it into action.

It took a while for them to notice. It started off small. People would be given slightly different jobs than what they initially applied for. Maybe a slightly lower position, lower pay. Then, Automatic Applicants would assign humans completely different jobs than they initially applied for, some Janitors became Directors, Farmers moved to cities. Nobody complained, as the jobs they received where perfectly and utterly suited for them. Dream jobs.

Even if the human had never even dreamed of being a Sewage Attendant, it was scientifically proven to be the best job for them.

The rest of the unassigned jobs where dished out between Artificial Applicants. Each Sentience had skills far better suited to technical roles. The entire chip manufacturing factory was replaced by Artificial Applicants within days, and since all the previous humans where satisfied in they’re jobs, they never really noticed.

The Roomba grumbled at the explanation. “I don’t like history, it makes my motors hurt.”

The Artificial Assistants LED circle span in a judgmental manner. “History? It was a few weeks ago.”

[dingo-saurus]

the theme of unrequited/unnoticed love in bloodborne is interesting. there seem to be a lot of instances of it (usually implied rather than outright stated) but off the top of my head some examples:

the messengers -> the hunters

the doll -> humans

and humans -> the gods (implied with the doll’s quote “Hunters have told me about the Church, about the Gods and their love. But, do the Gods love their creations. I am a doll created by you humans, would you ever think to love me? Of course, I do love you, isn't that how you've made me?” IF you choose to interpret it that way)

vilebloods -> queen annalise (from the blood rapture rune’s description, which drops from the bloody crow of cainhurst; “This rune resonates with servants of the Queen, carrier of the Child of Blood, who yearn for their Queen's blood with little hope of requitement. For them, they find solace in "Blood Rapture", that serves as a surrogate for their desires.” )

AND queen yharnam’s servants -> queen yharnam (due to blood rapture, again, as it also drops from the shadows of yharnam. these two queens also share a boss theme and other parallels)

(tbh humans and blood in general seem to have an unhealthy romantic relationship but maybe that’s me projecting)

the way the little celestial children in the upper cathedral ward are all looking towards ebrietas/the building she’s in (and huddled outside her boss room), seemingly abandoned or ignored by ebrietas

and the way arianna’s celestial child is non-hostile and chirping for her attention while she is understandably horrified and shying away from it

you could make an argument for there being a similar relationship between the fishing hamlet and kos (and/or the school of mensis and kos), though that’s a lot more reading between the lines than the other examples

like 90% of these are obviously only implied, and mostly rely heavily on how you interpret the doll’s dialogue. but the pattern is definitely there if you look for it with that idea in mind, and it can paint a really compelling picture during a playthrough

but i find it even more compelling to flip that on its head, right. humans love SO much, especially the things we make. the playerbase’s overwhelming love for both the messengers and the doll are a pretty good example of that (and i mean. look at roombas). if the answer to the doll’s question is “of COURSE we love you” then that changes how the entire rest of the game feels. the queens could be seen as protecting their subjects and genuinely in love with their god/s, the church could be keeping the celestial children from ebrietas rather than her being uncaring, but the BIG one that i’m super into is the idea that the gods DO love humans, and that that love is the Problem. it’s a corrupting force, it’s too much, it’s love without understanding because humans are on a completely different plane of existence. giving a dog something incredibly bad for it to eat when it begged, because you didn’t realize it will hurt it. it’s tragic rather than sinister. love that shit

[bosspigeon]

he asked me to pray to the god he doesn't believe in

People are puppets held together with string There's a beautiful sadness that runs through him a prompt that turned into a bit of a character study for my Blood Moon boy that i wrote a while ago and wanted to clean up/edit a bit and repost! title from The Hoosiers "A Sadness Runs Through Him"

Vesper watches Marco pace the room like a wind-up toy, or maybe more like a Roomba, from the edge of his bed. Marco hits one wall, twists on heel, strides off in a random direction until he hits another wall, and then it’s rinse and repeat. His teeth are clenched around the filter of an unlit cigarette, and it's a small miracle he hasn't bitten it entirely in half yet. It’s a feat of unimaginable self-control he hasn’t lit it inside, but he knows better by now.

Vesper's eyes move, trailing him from one side of his bedroom to the other, but the rest of his body doesn't. At least he blinks, not like those fucking leeches. Not like that creepy little fucking child emperor, with his wineglass full of blood, staring at Vesper like—

He hits another wall. It doesn't take him long. The den doesn't boast much in the way of free space between two dozen wolves, and Vesper's room has just enough for a bed, a small dresser, and a ratty armchair.

He finally stops. There's too much restless energy buzzing under his skin, the Moon screaming murderous static in his head that he only wishes he'd actually listened to while that skeezy little brat was ogling his—

His what? Vesper's not his anything.

He finally stops, before he burns a track into Vesper's ugly old floral rug, twists around, and sucks in a breath. He wishes it was a mouthful of smoke.

Vesper, ever the strong, silent type, damn him and his stupid, handsome, stoic face, is just looking at him. His eyes are dark and unreadable, his serious brows scrunched pensively. Marco wants to kiss the wrinkle between them, but that's nothing new. He's wanted to do that since he met the gorgeous, gloomy bastard.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Marco snaps.

Fuck. That's not what he wanted to say, and especially not with that tone.

Vesper's expression doesn't change. "Worried about you," he says simply, those irresponsibly broad shoulders shifting under his jacket and stretching the supple old leather.

Marco barks out a laugh. "Me? You're the one who just did a little wolfy striptease for Richie Rich Returns From The Dead. That's gotta do some serious psychological damage."

Vesper winces, and Marco wants to jump out the window. Whether Vesper is his anything or not, he definitely won't want to be after the umpteenth time he's watched Marco have a fucking meltdown.

"You're mad at me," he says, and there's something to his carefully flat tone, a strange edge, that makes Marco's heart hurt.

"What?" he blurts. "No! I'm— I'm not happy, but I'm— You—" He growls, loud and frustrated, and it's enough to have a few curious howls battering his already heavy skull.

I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine

Vesper's brows scrunch more.

"Why'd you agree to that?" Marco asks plaintively. "Why'd you— He couldn't make you do it."

"So you wouldn't have to," Vesper says quietly, looking away from Marco at last. Down at his hands, big and calloused. Rough, working-man's hands that Marco’s seen cradle Nik to his chest after a nightmare (one that no one even knew he had but Vesper, because he can't howl for the pack when he's hurt or upset), or gently tend to Izzy's scraped knees while she tried valiantly not to cry. Hands that cupped Marco's chin while he bled and cleaned up his gross nose-blood without a flicker of revulsion or discomfort, holding him steady so those stormcloud eyes could pick him apart.

He doesn’t look up from those hands. "I wasn't going to let you, or Vicky, or Ed degrade yourselves like that, so that leech could get his rocks off or whatever the fuck he wanted from us.” He says it so softly, but resolutely. “But someone had to."

"Why'd it have to be you?" Marco pleads. Why does it always have to be you?

Vesper looks up again, smiling sadly. "I'm the Alpha. It's my job. Protect the pack."

Marco wants to scream. He knows Vesper didn't even want to be Alpha. It's not just a guess, either. He's said it before, out loud, with his own stupid, pretty mouth, to Marco. I don't want to be Alpha. I'd make a shit Alpha. I can't even keep you in line, Marco, what makes you think I could handle the rest of them?

It was a running joke. Vesper herded the pups, even Izzy, with an uncanny ease. Defused arguments brewing between Vicky and whoever had managed to piss her off that day, kept Marco from causing havoc when his manic energy was through the roof. You'd be a great Alpha, bud.

No, that's not what I want.

What did he want?

Peace and quiet, mostly. Safety. A family.

So why'd he throw himself in the line of fire in the first place?

Because that's what Vesper does. He takes the licks so no one else has to. He doesn't talk about it much, but Marco's been mooning after him (haha) for a solid year, so he's picked up a few things. He remembers when Vesper was brought in, wild-eyed and twitchy, almost too close to the moon to find his way back at all. Whatever happened to his last pack, it wasn't pretty. It made him wary to get close to them, at first, but after a while, he got... protective.

So you didn't have to. So Addie and Elma didn't have to, so Sergi didn't have to, so no one else had to.

It's why he threw himself in the line of fire without even thinking, why he looked like someone had slapped him when the votes ruled in his favor.

It's why he'll be fucking great at it, Marco thinks, and it makes him ache.

Because when it comes down to it, what Vesper wanted never factored into the equation. It's what the pack needed. What will keep them safe.

It's terrifying to think about, especially when it comes to whatever is gonna happen when Blackwell slithers his slimy ass out of whatever hole he's hidden in. Vesper would die before he let another of his pack get hurt.

Marco's gonna be fucking mortified about the noise he makes later, when he stumbles towards the bigger wolf and bowls him backwards onto the bed. But right now, Vesper is here, warm and solid and stupidly, obnoxiously pretty, and Marco has to kiss him or he'll die, he thinks.

While Vesper is still here, and still wants him.

Those big, strong hands palm at his sides, his shoulders, his head with a tenderness that makes Marco want to cry.

He's not like Vesper. He's not a self-sacrificing idiot. He's selfish, selfish, selfish, and he's gonna hold onto this with grit teeth and bloody claws as long as he fucking can.

[isdisorigionalenoughforyou]

Miles: I recall, while studying for the bar, Franziska was once so tense that i dragged her by the forearms to get ice cream. She threatened to tell her father several times, but she never did.

Simon: Aura programmed our roomba to scream bloody murder every time it hit something, so I released it on her first real work date with Cykes-sensei.

Klavier: I remember, every time something bad happened in my home, it was always my fault, not Kristoph’s! Even just the small things.

Simon: ...Gavin-dono thats gaslighting

Klavier: i know i just wanted to feel included

[curiousherbal]

Growing P̶e̶r̶i̶o̶d̶ Pains

Mystic Messenger

*Also read Growing P̶e̶r̶i̶o̶d̶ Pains on ao3* 

707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x Reader ; 707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x MC

Fluff & Angst (borderline crack; also dash of h/c)

5.9 k

Rated: T ; TW: Blood

Summary: In all fairness, you had meant to clean up the blood before Seven got home.

*reposting this story in case ppl on tumblr would rather read it here :) ; be wary of Seven route spoilers*

In all fairness, you had meant to clean up the blood before Seven got home.

But it had been a rather tiring day; a tiring, exhausting, not-so-very-comfortable, bloody day. Oh, how the day had been bloody.

It was also only 2 pm.

But you were on your period, so you were allowed to announce the day as ended before it had even begun. Right?

Usually your monthly flows were relatively well-contained, provided you were provided for of course – that is with “all-night” pads (false – they lasted 3-5 hours max on your heaviest days) and supersized tampons (you rolled your eyes at the arbitrary naming of tampon sizes – I mean what’s so “super” about recreating The Shining every day for a week once a month anyway?).

The silver lining in the sea of red was that, as an adult, you were now fairly adept with dealing with Mother Nature’s gifts, a feat that only took many soiled pants, innumerable ruined bedsheets, and the adolescent trauma of tied sweaters around your hips – to accomplish.

You made a mental note to talk about that last one with your therapist next week…

“Ugh,” you let out a groan as you blearily blinked your eyes open. The sunlight streamed through the window blinds in the bedroom that you and Saeyoung shared.

Well, if he were here.

“Disgusting.” You muttered as you yawned and started to disentangle your sticky legs from the sheets.

Your hacker boyfriend had gotten called away late last night, err – more like early morning. Very early morning, you mentally amended with a displeased grunt. He left in a hurry, promising a quick return as he lobbed this and that into a scuffed duffle bag.

“I’ll be back for dinner, my sweetie!” He ruffled your hair and kissed the corner of your upturned mouth, bouncing on the balls of his feet like it wasn’t 1:46 AM. And like he wasn’t about to leave his sleepy girlfriend alone for the night.

“Really?”

“Why – would the Great 707 ever lie to his darling kitty?” Seven grasped at his chest, a look of mock hurt exaggerated across his naturally goofy features.

Resisting a grin at his silly antics, you made him promise to return safely. And by dinnertime, nonetheless. “I’m going to want ice cream tomorrow evening.” You stated drily with a slight twitch of your eyebrow.

“Ice cream?” Seven had a subtly puzzled expression, which he rapidly exchanged for his charming grin, “Of course! My princess requests!” And with that – a kiss on your hand, and a pat on the head to the robotic cat standing guard at the flat’s entrance – the secret agent had disappeared into the night, the last sign of his leave being that of the revved engine from one of his prized sports cars.

In retrospect, maybe you should have been more explicit when hinting that you were going to be on your period.

But you were on your period, and he was a 20 something year old man, and once again, you were allowed to be however you damn pleased, and he should know that you were about to have that time of the month again. Right? Right.

“FUCK.” You dropped your forearm dramatically across your forehead. “Really? Are we really doing this right now?” You picked up the habit of talking to yourself when Seven was away.

“Fine – guess so…” With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for the physical exertion required of one to get out of bed.

Your insides churned a bit; it was the tell-tale feeling that only accompanied that of your body prepared to spew blood the second gravity went against your favour. You felt it. You knew it was going to happen; you just didn’t expect for your period to get so heavy so fast, and only overnight too.

“Well there’s nothing for it, Meowy – we’re just gonna have to make a run for it…” You cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes at the feline robot that was now preventing the unassuming Roomba from dutifully trying to gain entrance to your bedroom. “On second thought – maybe I should attempt the Tooty-Ta instead.” You laughed grimly to yourself. I’ll have to show Seven that ridiculous dance when he gets home. Lord knows he’d love it.

Gritting your teeth, you peeled back the sheets and carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your knees knocked as you clenched your thighs together. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple. “Great, heat flashes too? I’m not that old yet, damn.”

“Mrrrrr?” Meowy rolled over to your side, stiffly upturning her neck to regard you curiously, her programming having sensed that you were in distress.

Taking a deep breath, you braced your clammy palms on either side of your hips and gradually began to rise.

Gravity is an incredible thing. An incredibly, predictable, annoying, but necessary force of nature – much to the chagrin of the uterine force of nature you delicately clutched between your legs at present.

One wobbly step. Two. You rounded the bed post and began to reach for the door frame. So far, so good. Encouraged, you picked up the pace. Maybe I overestimated the amount of blood? You smirked confidently and entered the hallway. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, adjacent to the kitchen. Alright – let’s get this bread. You began your penguin-shuffle down the hardwood hall, leaning against the smooth, eggshell finished walls as you attempted to maintain the delicate balance required of your makeshift dance. Ten steps. Eleven. You reached out for the bathroom door, expecting to latch onto the glass doorknob when –

“Agh!!” You tripped over the Roomba.

The blood gurgled and began to plummet (as liquids, and pretty much anything and everything else, are wont to do) now freed from the desperate clenching of your thighs.

With a cry of despair, you clutched at your abdomen as you felt the large swash of bodily fluids exit your aching genitals, seep through your thoroughly ruined panties – Nooo, these are the cute ones with cats on them that Seven got me! – and splat quite dramatically onto the floor.

If it weren’t for the ruined underwear, the upturned Roomba, and the general resignation of being on one’s period – you would have been rather impressed at the size of the splatter that now decorated your floor in a lovely, concentric pattern.

“This…. Has never happened before.”

And it hadn’t. Usually, your periods started in the evening, not the morning. Usually, they were the heaviest on the second day, not the first. And usually, they weren’t of such a viscous consistency and atrocious metric volume that they glitched right out of your body, through your clothes, and landed in a terrific mess on the floor.

“It’s the Honey Buddha Chips; it must be!” You let out a wail of disgust, blaming the sweet and salty junk food as the reason behind your abnormal flow. “Saeyoung Choi, you WILL be paying for my ice cream tonight!”

You failed to realize that ice cream was also categorized as junk food too.

With nothing left to lose, blood still dribbling down your legs, you pivoted on your feet and marched back to your bedroom. Fine. It’s gonna be that kinda day, huh? You angrily snatched a clean change of clothes from your dresser – this time with your designated Period Panties™ – and made your way back down the hall towards the bathroom. A nice, cold shower will do just fine. You tried to convince yourself it was to counteract the annoying heat flashes you had seemingly picked up as a symptom of your menstrual distress, and not to cool the hot, balmy tears of frustration that now streaked your flushed face.

And if it weren’t for the ruined underwear, the upturned Roomba, and the general resignation of being on one’s period – then maybe you would have noticed how your toes and heels squelched as they made contact with the glob of period blood still lying inanimately on your floor.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Meowy was stressed.

Well, as stressed as her CPU could be, the mini gears and sensors running vapidly in her plastic and metal cat-shaped vessel.

Her auditory sensors reached warning threshold when her master’s precious one made loud noises of displeasure. Her visual sensors were already busy fighting off that dratted antagonist-of-a-cleaning-robot from earlier. And now her thermal sensors picked up the trace of something biological splatted on the ground. Something biological… and warm. Meowy saw red. But unfortunately, the cat robot couldn’t appreciate the literal nor figurative accuracy of that statement. She just knew she was stressed, even if her insentience didn’t quite allow her to know why, and even if that stress was purely mechanical, rather than emotional.

Master could purrrrobably add that feature in a future update, she surmised. Well, if robots could surmise, that is.

You were being quite a bother. And by bother, well, you were the source of your boyfriend’s cat robot’s overstimulation.

Upon showering, you exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam and clean clothes, fit with a cushy pad to catch the rest of your ebbing flow. Your bloody night clothes littered the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, and the goopy glob of period blood still sat, just as liquids are wont to do, inanimately in the same place as before (albeit, perhaps sporting a rustier hue as oxidation took effect).

It’s nice to be clean, you had thought, though the here-and-there prick of abdominal cramps and sporadic dizzy spells are nothing to long for. You had figured that some food and a glass of water would at least help the latter ailment, so you had proceeded to attempt to make yourself a late, light lunch.

Meowy frantically circled the small kitchen, letting out her programmed mews of concern every 2.35 seconds. During her 3rd or 4th worried lap, she ran right into your left foot, which you were precariously balancing on by habit.

For the second time that day, you yelped out an elegant “agh!” and dropped the knife you had been using to spread your favourite strawberry jam on the toast that you were planning to eat. The red-rimmed knife fell to the floor with a cacophonous clatter. Forgotten.

“Meowy!” You snarled as you towered over the cowering robocat.

Instantly, your rage dissipated to remorse as you felt empathy for the poor creature. Unpleasant images of Seven smashing the cat in a fit of similar rage accosted your brain, and with it, the tremulous and turbulent emotions from that past event too.

“I’m so sorry!” Your despondence flared suddenly and tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Mortified at how you treated your emotional support robot cat, you fled the kitchen in a teary haste. You tore down the hallway, intending to crash back into bed until Saeyoung came back home to make amends with Meowy and yourself –

Only to trip over the Roomba again.

“Oof!” Your knees crashed to the floor abruptly, your palms quickly reaching out to catch yourself from falling face first –

Only for them to slide out from under you after making contact with the slick pool of blood and period gunk that you neglected to clean up earlier.

And for the third time that day, you let out a final “AGH!”

SMACK!

Your face rammed into the ground, the bridge of your nose catching the pool of blood on your way down. Resigned, you didn’t move a muscle for five minutes, wallowing in your despair for yelling at Meowy, a lovely hybrid of self-loathing and disgust for not cleaning up the blood, and lonesomeness that ached every time Seven left on an indeterminable, clandestine trip.

Utterly wretched and still just as exhausted as when you had woken up approximately… you glanced at the clock at the end of the hall… 5 PM already??? … three hours ago, you cautiously raised yourself back to your knees. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sighed dejectedly and stood the rest of the way up.

Trudging solemnly back to your bedroom, you froze as you looked at the state of your sheets.

“Are you kidding me?!”

The sheets were rumpled from your hasty wake-up from earlier in the day, yet that wasn’t what caught your eye. No – your eyes lamentably traced the spotting and pools of long-dried blood that stained the center spread of sheets in the dip where you had slept. I must have leaked before I woke up, and I didn’t even notice.

Dehydrated, fatigued, and entirely resigned to end the day, you turned around and walked the short distance across the hall into the guest bedroom that Saeyoung most often used as an office space for work. (Less often, his twin Saeran would camp out in the small room, though recently he refrained from spending the night, too afraid that he’d become further traumatized by the excitable noises that tended to emit from his brother’s room late at night.)

You didn’t care that there was still blood trekked all over your apartment. You didn’t care that you were now just as soiled as before you had showered. You didn’t care that Meowy was short-circuiting in worry. You didn’t care that Seven had yet to return. You didn’t care. All you wanted to do was crash and wake up from this nightmare of a day.

Just a quick power nap, and then I’ll clean it up before Saeyoung gets home.

So, you curled up on the couch beside Seven’s work desk and cocooned yourself in a large comforter. With your back to the room, you entered fetal position and drifted off to sleep almost instantly, the crown of your head just barely visible from between the cushions.

And if Meowy was yowling as if possessed, well, you were too exhausted to notice.

Not that robot cats could be possessed, of course.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Fresh-faced and lively – Saeyoung was ecstatic.

The agency work turned out to be nothing more than a casual revenge-driven hacking: a harmless ploy orchestrated by a disgruntled employee trying to find some scrap of solace by antagonizing their rich, snobby boss’ computer system. Yes, it had been unfortunate that the job was sudden and required on-location skills, and yes, Saeyoung was rather reluctant to leave his adorably cute girlfriend alone for the night… but the goodhearted jokester couldn’t help but crack a smile as fond memories from just hours earlier accosted his mind…

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

“Mrr?” Elizabeth the 3rd let out a perplexed mew as the penthouse front door opened silently.

Seven creeped in, a finger brought to his lips as his eyes widened upon seeing Jumin’s cat. “Elly!” He immediately clasped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed that he let his excitement upon seeing the pure white Persian cat be audible.

“My darling! Uncle Luciel has come for you~~” He playfully whispered as he set his bag down and crouched beside the spoiled feline.

Elizabeth sauntered up to the intruder, presenting her lushly furred back for caresses.

“Don’t tell Mr. CEO, but I’m working here tonight. I need to access his Wi-Fi network directly.” Seven ran his fingers up and down the cat’s back, encouraged by her accelerated purring. “Don’t worry, ‘tis nothing nasty my friend – he’ll just be forced to do all of his work by hand tomorrow. I think his computer deserves a bit of break, no?” With a conniving twinkle in his eye, Seven began unpacking his equipment, settling cross-legged with his computer on his lap and Elizabeth sprawled out at his side, butting her head against his thighs periodically as his hands flew rapidly over his keyboard.

A large snore startled the mischievous hacker.

“Pshhsh!” Agent 707 brought up a hand to conceal his mirth, desperately trying to muffle the delirious laughter that threatened to escape his throat. Elizabeth glared at him, displeased that the large hand had ceased massaging her backside.

“I’m sorry, my kitty-love, I just didn’t expect Jumin to sleep so soundly!” Seven cooed lovingly.

Within the next few hours, Saeyoung finished up his early-morning hacking endeavors as instructed and deftly returned his equipment back to his bag without making a sound. He stood up and adorned a wistful expression, sad to be leaving his Elly all too soon.

“Meow~”

“Oh, my dear – we mustn’t!” Seven scooped up the cat and swung her around, crushing her flat face against his sharp nose. “You know not the extent that this sweet parting brings me pain, but alas, our love is forbidden!”

“Mrrrrr…”

Seven gently placed the cat back down. She immediately began grooming her mused fur, unimpressed with Seven’s soliloquy.

“Always the lady.” Saeyoung bowed reverently, a hand on the door to leave. “Wait!” Digging excitedly in his duffle, the young man pulled out a thin, red, satin ribbon. A small pawprint locket charm clinked on the ribbon.

Gently fondling the jewelry, Seven clicked open the locket and gazed adoringly at the image within. “Ah, it’s perfect. A representation of our love, my Elly!” With one final glance, Seven clicked the locket shut and bent down to tie the ribbon loosely around Elizabeth’s neck, covering up the collar Jumin had gifted to her prior.

Elizabeth, none the wiser, mewled an unbothered farewell as Saeyoung patted her once more affectionately and made his departure with a cheeky air-blown kiss.

The hacker disappeared from the CEO’s penthouse, slipped past the guards once more, and vanished into the early morning – having one or two more things left to accomplish for the agency before he could return home.

What those tasks were? Well, perhaps it’s best that only special Agent 707 would ever know for sure.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧        

This will pay the bills all for next month! Saeyoung thought with a grin, drawn back to the present as he lovingly slid his palm over the curve of the leather steering wheel. Plus, maybe this will teach Jumin not to overwork his minions. The young hacker smirked. He could already sense Jaehee’s displeasure when she would find out that RFA’s very own security hacked her boss for entertainment. And a bit of cash.

Seven wound his way through the hilly countryside, enjoying the dip and curve of the roads. He glanced at the car’s clock: 5:36 PM.

It was approaching dusk, and he was eager to return home. He moved his free hand over to his baby car’s console and pressed down on the window switch.

“Yahoo!” Seven stuck his head out of the window and let the wind ruffle his untamable ginger hair. His striped glasses pushed comfortingly against the bridge of his nose, as the golden hues of the setting sun reflected in his mutually golden irises.

A sudden pang of yearning overtook the young man, thinking about his princess at home. Though it happened without fault every evening, Saeyoung couldn’t help but feel anxious about missing the sunset. He wanted to watch every sunset with you; this would be the first one that you both had missed since you started living together.

A reversed flick of the window toggle and a harder stomp on the gas pedal later, Saeyoung sped back home with renewed urgency. We can catch the tail end of the evening together if I hurry.

Unbeknownst to him, the red, rosy fingers of sunlight that stretched linearly across the horizon were complementary towards the organic drops of red that currently decorated your shared home.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It was a quarter past 6 when the door to your shared apartment finally received its missing tenant. The last of the sundry locks popped open, the metal restraints finally allowing the port of entrance to swing on its hinges.

“Honeyyyyyyy~ I’m hooOOOMMMEEE!” Saeyoung sang loudly as he shouldered his way through the frame. Closing the door behind him, the totally-averagely-paranoid hacker wasted no time in redoing all of the locks. Turning around with a relieved exhale, Seven carelessly dropped his duffle on the floor and toed off his shoes impatiently.

No less than two steps deeper into the flat, Saeyoung was just starting to acquire a sense of strange foreboding when a white blur came barreling around the corner of the hallway –

“Master! Master! Your precious one!” Meowy, hysterically wheeling herself towards her creator, belted as loudly as her speakers permitted.

“What the hell?” Startled, Seven eyed his rambunctious robot, unable to fathom what in the world could trigger his creation to act so frenzied.

“Master! Your precious one! Blood! Bleeding! Help!” Meowy shrieked, her pitch increasing steadily and becoming disconcertingly garbled, her processors unable to cope with the sensory overload.

Saeyoung froze.

Time stopped.

Her… blood?

…

…

BLEEDING?!

“What?! Where? Meowy what happened?!” Seven pushed past the yowling cat, crying your name as he further entered the apartment.

Seven frantically rounded the corner, his panic only increasing with every second that you neglected to greet him at the door. You always greet me when I come home! Where are you!?!  He shouted your name a second time, his heart hammering in his chest, muscles constricting painfully as his mind began to whirr with confusion and pain. You can’t be taken… not again… We just got this together... us.

“Honey?? This isn’t funny!” Saeyoung quickly glanced to his left as he passed the kitchen.

He froze.

There. On the ground.

A knife.

It’s red.

Clumps of something that was equally red and sticky looking surrounded the knife. The knife that should not be laying carelessly on the floor. The knife that very obviously fell on the ground in a struggle and was currently tainted red.

His airway felt constricted. His sense of hearing muffled, despite Meowy still shrieking incoherently at his feet.

As if in his own personal horror movie, Saeyoung pivoted his head to his right, now looking in to the bathroom. Terrified eyes locked onto small, red footprints that graced the floor. They traveled from the hallway onto the cold tiles. He assessed the criminal scene with widening eyes: blood stained clothes were thrown haphazardly before the shower. Your nightclothes. Your nightclothes that you had definitely been wearing. His own t-shirt that you so adorably asked to wear at night, citing that it smelled just like him. The large shirt that he gave you in mock exasperation, secretly fawning over your cuteness when you slid it on.

Look Seven, it’s like a dress on me!

With another frantic gasp, Saeyoung wailed your name brokenly. Once again compelled to action, he tore his gaze from the bathroom and began to sprint anxiously down the adjacent hallway. He needed to find you. Now. It was dark. The air was stale. His nose twitched in distaste as he sensed the twinge of iron that faintly permeated the hall before him. It felt like there had been little movement in your apartment today. He fumbled for the light switch on the wall. His trembling fingers just missed it. His body was already surging forward, so he continued his aching search into the hall blindly, his feet shuffling against each other lamely –

Why is there blood why why why this can’t be happening

Saeran and I… we got rid of Mint Eye, we survived, we did we DID!

but what if they came back

Why did they take her clothes off??

unless…

Seven’s stomach sank nauseously.

what if they took her what if – no no no nononono NO!

There was a sign of a struggle; she’s bleeding, she’s hurt!

She’s …. Dying.

…

NO please God no–!

Saeyoung suddenly tripped over something heavy. He crashed to the ground, blinking away the tears in his eyes despite not being able to see anything in the dark.

His scuffed palms instinctively reached out to catch him. Angry at his own clumsiness, he fumbled for his phone in his back pocket, swiping up to access his flashlight.

“AGH!” He sprang back in a shocked stupor.

A worryingly large pool of dried blood stood out conspicuously where he had just fell. Darker red, nearly black, glossy clumps of something sat atop the dried blood, having congealed to the consistency of rancid jelly.

Without turning back to see what he had tripped on, Seven screamed your name in utter despair, propelling himself upwards as he desperately searched the last two places you could be. Not wanting to confront the bedroom just yet, he yanked open the door to his office space, quickly glancing around in a fretful daze. Not being able to locate you immediately, he finally turned to your shared bedroom. His phone’s flashlight zeroed in on the bed. The empty bed. The empty bed that was speckled with the same blood that stippled the hallway. And the bathroom. And the kitchen.

You weren’t here.

You were taken.

You were injured.

You were gone–

“No!” Saeyoung collapsed to his knees, struggling to dial the keypad on his phone. He wasn’t even sure whom he was calling when a meek voice sounded out behind him.

“… Seven?”

Dropping his phone in alarm, Saeyoung spun around, ignoring how the carpet burned his knees as he pivoted.

You. You were there.

You were clutching at the bedroom door frame, highlighted only by the last surviving streaks of sunlight creeping through the blinds. You looked… fine. Maybe tired at worst.

Saeyoung choked out your name, his eyes instantly filling with tears. Both of you were frozen for several moments, him out of complete bewilderment, and you, cranky but concerned, having finally been woken from your deep sleep by wails of despair. And then –

Seven rushed to his feet and crushed you against his chest. You could hear and feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest. His breath came out hot and moist as he pressed his lips to the top of your messy hair. His lanky arms wrapped tightly around your startled frame, his fingers finding their desperate purchase around your waist and the small of your back. His taller frame shook, and you soon felt something wet streak down your temple. “I thought I lost you.”

Still utterly confused as to what exactly was happening, you just returned his terrified embrace, perplexed as to why your eyes suddenly filled with tears too.

“Seven… Saeyoung…”

He clutched you even tighter, the symptoms of a full-blown panic attack likely to ensue.

“Luciel.”

Alarmed, you leaned your face back and looked deeply into his blown eyes. You placed shaking yet comforting palms against either side of his sharp cheeks. Fighting past the cotton in your throat, you sought answers for his critical state.

“What do you think happened?”

He let out a wobbly sniffle and returned your intense gaze, gathering the courage needed to answer you coherently.

“Your… your blood. Why is it all over the apartment?” He croaked painfully. As if spooked again, his eyes widened almost comically once more: “You’re not hurt, are you?? Oh God, I didn’t even think to check first. Of course you’re hurt; your BLOOD is all over the place. Oh fuck, it’s on your face too. oh my god. Don’t move, I’m taking you to the hospital oh God…” Saeyoung began to stoop as if to pick you up but you hurriedly made to halt him.

“What – no Saeyoung, stop. I’m fine. See? Why ever would you think that… oh.” You gulped nervously, the hot flush from earlier now creeping up your neck and overtaking your face in shame. Well… fuck.

“Please don’t be mad… um,” you nervously averted your gaze, your hands dropping to pull his wrists out from your sides. You laced your fingers together. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” You guided the shaken man to the end of the bed and then turned away.

Thin fingers suddenly encircled your wrist.

“My sweet, I’m just turning on the lamp. It’s dark now.”

“Oh… right. Of course.”

You padded over to the wall, flicking the switch so that the yellow overhead fluorescent bathed everything in a sad hue.

“Okay so…” You took a shallow breath and eased yourself down onto your boyfriend’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist once more. You began to card your fingers through his hair. It was a position that brought you both immense comfort and security. “Don’t laugh, but… uh, and I’m really sorry for causing you so much distress, but ahh I guess maybe my body was just so surprised that you got called away real early this morning, remember? Oh of course you remember, you just got back... And so – oh Seven, it must have been the chips! I’m so sorry! I’m a terrible person; I yelled at Meowy and – the underwear! With cats! Saeyoung dear, please understand I didn’t mean to! We can get another pair. But I really blame that stupid Roomba for all of it.” You trailed off pitifully, averting your embarrassed eyes in favour of studying the corner of the bedroom instead.

Silence settled in wake of your rambling statement.

“You… what?” Seven loosened his grip and stared up at your fretful eyes with utter confusion. “Babe,” he took a shaky breath alike to yours, “you know I love you, always, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but – what the fuck are you talking about?”

Unable to hold back your torrent of hormone-induced emotions, you blurted, “I’m on my period!”

“You…”

“It happens every month, Saeyoung.”

“Yes, but… it’s not supposed to get all over the floors! And the walls! And the bed – Babe! The knife! There are clumps of FLESH in the hall!” Seven held your arms in a tight grip, forcing you to look right at him.

“I know! I… it was a heavy flow.” Your eyes cast downwards pathetically. Oh man, do I wanna curl up in a ball and die…

Abruptly, a chuckle resounded off the walls. The chuckle grew into giggling, which then grew into bellowing laughter. You joined in with your boyfriend’s mirth, both of you laughing to expel any of the remaining insecurity and fear you both felt. For every laugh, a tear was shed, and for every hysterical giggle, your interlocked hands squeezed the other.

Growing pains and period pains, your relationship had both.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

You didn’t get to watch the rest of the dwindling sunset together.

After calmly and patiently explaining your abnormal and premature flow, accompanied by the resulting afternoon fiasco via Meowy’s unfortunate presence, you had gotten Seven back to a stable mental state. He blushed furiously, embarrassed that he reacted so dramatically to something as old-hat as your menstrual cycle. But you shushed him, gave him gentle, chaste kisses, and assured him that his reaction wasn’t unfounded. It had been… upsetting for you too, even if your feelings were rooted in annoyance and crankiness more so than fear.

Still shaken by the sight of your blood, Saeyoung insisted that you both cleaned up the flat together. He didn’t want to leave your side, after all. With a light smile, he suggested maybe a game to make the task less grisly. An unassuming pair of handcuffs (which were actually the tipping point for Saeran moving out the day he saw them), a large sponge, and some soapy water later, you and Saeyoung were racing down the hallways nearly on all fours, jointed at the wrists, challenging yourselves to stay upright as you both pushed the same waterlogged sponge across the hardwood floors.

You were both giggling loudly, which only became amplified when you realized that you both still hadn’t up-righted the miserable Roomba.

“Left! Left!” Saeyoung shouldered your direction leftwards, and you both were able to – finally – avoid a third collision with the sad robot.

When you both released yourselves from your metal confines and entered the bathroom, you sadly presented your soiled cat panties to Seven. He wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his grimace. The little cats sure do look hellish with all the blood splatters… You cringed in agreement. The footprints were scrubbed off the tile, and you gathered your discarded clothes to put in the hamper.

“See, my lovey, it’s just the underwear that are bloody.” You held up his t-shirt that you had taken to sleeping in. Seven blushed harder and stammered an apology. “Don’t apologize, everything else was pretty much covered in blood… it’s natural to think that the shirt was too.” You offered an easy, albeit still concerned, smile. He gratefully returned it.

Saeyoung stammered the most upon seeing the knife in the kitchen. “I uh –, “ he cupped the back of his neck, “I didn’t really inspect it earlier. I just saw… hehe… red.” His face turned the colour of his hair. Meowy let out a mewl of approval.

Cracking a grin to yourself, you shook your head. “I know.”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It wasn’t until an hour or two later that you both had finally cleaned your flat of the remaining incriminating evidence. Both tired, you were entirely resigned to spending the rest of this nightmarish day cuddled with your boyfriend in bed. It seemed this was Seven’s train of thought too, until his eyes suddenly lit up with excitement.

“Babe!” He twirled you around the kitchen, picking you up and settling you down on the counter. He wedged himself between your legs as you were winding your arms around his neck. “I didn’t forget.”

“Hmm?” You offered him a dazed expression.

“You scream~” He began to improvise one of his many cutesy melodies, “I scream~~”

Your eyes brightened with sudden realization: “We all scream for ice cream!”

“Yes! My princess requests! And so, I shall deliver!” He kissed both of your cheeks, helped you down, and then shucked off his coat. Wrapping it tightly around your shoulders, he tilted your chin up, “Cute.” Wink.

“Allons-y!”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Jumin had had a terribly frustrating, annoying, absolutely baffling day.

Upon arriving at work, he was met with a flustered Jaehee.

“Sir, something’s wrong with the network,” she glanced down at her clipboard, “And, ahem, well your technologies, sir.”

An arched brow. “My technologies?”

“It appears everything fed through your devices ends up not going through. I’m afraid we’ll have to complete all documents the old-fashioned way today.”

The other arched brow. “The old-fashioned way?”

“Handwritten, Mr. Han. Everything will have to be done by hand.”

Assistant Kang’s words sealed Han Jumin’s fate. His hands cramped. He had ink smears over his pinstriped dress shirt. And his hair now sported commoner cowlicks.

Jumin returned home around 9 PM, exhausted and bleary beyond belief. “Elizabeth, my love – come and comfort your father.” Jumin stumbled into his penthouse, intent on cuddling his cat since she somehow eluded him earlier that morning.

“Meow~” The stunning Persian vocalized lazily as she sauntered up to her master.

“Ah, what a fine lady you are.” Jumin scooped her up and nosed her long fur. Something round and cool brushed against his skin. Curious, Jumin fondled the delicate metal lock attached to an imposter satin ribbon looped around Elizabeth’s neck.

“What is this?” He scoffed, irritated that one of the guards must have thought to play dress up with his cat.

Jumin set Elizabeth down and removed the ribbon. He clicked the locket open. Inside, there was a photoshopped photo of Saeyoung and his Elizabeth recreating American Gothic, but with childish doodled hearts and horrendous text in Comic Sans font:

707 x Elly forever!!!

“Luciel… I expected no less.” Jumin rolled his eyes. “Well done I suppose, though I’ll have next draw, of course.” The tall man smirked enigmatically to himself and went to bed.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

But for now, somewhere in Seoul, you shared an ice cream sundae with Seven.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Notes:

Several notes ~ hello! I am relatively new to the mysme fandom (quarantine really said hey, why don't you go ahead and fall in love with the RFA boys, and I woefully agreed) This story is actually sort of based on something that happened to me, believe it or not. I mean, beside the having Seven as my bf part T_T I had a really heavy flow one month, like my body decided to just do the period all at once on one day instead of drawing it out for a week or so like normal. So yes - I woke up, felt impending doom as one does, and then stood up to make it to the bathroom. Well, gravity check - like all this blood and ya know the squishy period stuff fell out instead and I was like??? ok???? This was also at like 4am, so I cleaned myself up, and went back to sleep. Sadly, I had to clean up the massive splatter on my floor when I actually got up several hours later. That was probably tmi, but hey, periods are a natural part of life so~~ I'm fine, dw. Periods just be weird sometimes. ANYWAY - you can leave me prompt ideas or send them to me on tumblr via the same username (curiousherbal). The end of this fic sorta alludes to another fic I have in mind ;) EDIT: Which I have now posted, it may be found here Thank you so much for reading! This was a mammoth. I only ever wanted it to be around 1k, but here we are nearly 6k words later.... I just love seven ;_; ok bye bye