#so he would know if red didn't have a code to open the thing anyway
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confuzing · 2 months ago
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"We're rebooting the multiverse?" the new hire asked, sounding like he didn't believe her.
Mei nodded. "Well, part of it. It's actually not that big of a deal? It happens a lot- especially the PIDW subsystem. I blame the Prime."
"You're talking about Luo Binghe right? One of the other guys was saying he ripped something?"
"The coding of the multiverse- hence the restart," she said. "And there's lots of Luo Binghes." To prove her point she stopped at the observation window for Room 668G.
The new guy blinked in shock at all the Luo Binghes inside, mostly disciple Binghes, though there were a smattering of fluffy puppies in the room too.
"Are those?"
"Bingpups yeah- look the multiverse is vast - this isn't anywhere near the weirdest thing I've seen."
"How do you know who the Prime is if there's so many?"
A good question. "It varies by section but the PIDW section goes with the guy living the original novel. You read it right?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Mei continued down the long hall. "Anyway we figured out which one he was because he doesn't seem to have a husband?"
"A what??"
"Let me explain," Mei said. "So it's kinda weird but in literally every iteration after the Prime, Luo Binghe has a husband- it's all the same guy too- and all the Luo Binghes are desperately in love with their husbands and vice versa. But the Prime just... doesn't have one. Like you'd think having a bunch of overpowered demons around would be more of an issue but the little ones are very polite and the rest of them chill out tremendously when you pair them up with their husband."
"But Prime doesn't have one." the new guy frowned.
Mei shook her head. "Not that we've found anyway. Believe me the research team is looking. It wasn't a big deal for a while but then there was an... incident. Prime spent ...18 hours I think? In a universe where there was a husband and he got extremely jealous that he didn't have one. So he's been looking for his own ever sense.
"Which causes problems when he's running around in everyone else's world trying to steal and/or bride-nap their husbands," Mei concluded. "He usually does that when he's here too but I haven't heard any alarms today... Here let's peek..."
She deflected the new guy down a side hall, taking him through a series of twisting turns until they stopped outside another holding cell. This one had only one Binghe in it, this one in full Demon Emperor regalia. He was kneeling on the floor with his eyes shut- meditating probably?
"Wow," the new guy said softly.
In the holding cell Luo Binghe Prime's blood red eyes snapped open.
Time to leave! Mei began gently shoving her new coworker away from the window.
"...Can he see us?" the guy asked.
"Oh yeah," Mei said. "Hear us too. Two way mirrors do jack shit for Heavenly Demons. Come on, the boss is waiting for us."
That got the guy to start moving. As they left Mei remembered something.
"Hey, I don't think anyone actually told me your name?"
"Oh they didn't!" New Guy said. "I'm Shen Yuan."
Behind them the alarms on Luo Binghe Prime's cell started beeping rapidly. Thank fuck that wasn't her problem. She just had to get Shen Yuan to part two of his orientation in one piece. Still, wouldn't hurt to just ... She linked their arms and started walking faster.
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eggfriedricedwasian · 7 months ago
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Give me psychopathic killer Tim Drake in which Gotham and several other super hero infested cities all gain a new serial killer they have dubbed as "Smiler".
Why? Simple, when the killer leaves the crime scene, the body is totally and entirely mutilated, skin grafts made and missing, organs and bones missing here and there and it's no specifically chosen ones either, the rest of the organs and bones are strung up in the place of murder. But the reason for the name Smiler is because the head is decapitated and left in perfect condition other than a smile cut along the face in a Joker-Jeff-The-Killer-esque way that leaves even the unscared scared.
Why would Tim do this? For fun. He's very morally gray, kids are where he cuts the line, but everyone else for no reason at all? It's fun to him. So maybe he was hit a few times in the head too many with electrocution(This can be from regular crime fighting or Joker Jr or League of Assassins you decide), he finds it fun to do all of this methodically and leave people in shambles trying to figure it out.
But how is he able to do this? He, without anyone's knowledge and for fun, got a Ph.D and Doctorates in med school to be a licensed surgeon and what not. He still regularly performs surgery, he works as a surgeon 4 days of the week and no one knows because they think he's working at WE but really it's basically all Tam, he's just there to be the face and to provide good info. He's already reformed the board so he can do whatever.
Would the hero community ever find out? Up to you. Here's how I would picture them finding out;
Some girl gets cornered the bats, then starts rambling for whatever reason about them when they're trying to help her.
"If I want understanding I'd go to Batman.
If I want empathy I'd go to Nightwing.
If I wanted a presence I'd go to Robin.
If I wanted emotional stability I'd go to Red Hood.
If I wanted support I'd go to Spoiler.
If I wanted the truth I'd go to Black Bat.
But if I wanted someone murdered, I'd go to Red Robin."
And the pieces don't make sense, because who is this woman and how does she know or why does she think Red Robin, Batman's literal in-every sense-but-blood mini-me, is a murderer? He follows Batman's moral code like a god.
But then they start looking further into his life. As CEO, they find he's not working there often, only 3 days a week, specifically for meetings. They dig deeper and find that somewhere between now and his quest for Bruce he lost his spleen and got a Ph.D and Doctorates. When confronted he said it'd be good especially for on the field when there's no one to step in and help. Experience and trust in the field is a good thing, like Harley Quinn.
Knowing that, Bruce being paranoid starts learning a bit more about surgery, and then something brings up the Smiler killings. Bruce looks at the things about the Smiler's way of killing and compares it to a surgeon. The way of opening the body, removing skin, removing the organs, no inexperienced person without a surgical background would be able to do this. They would have destroyed the organs. Or at least damaged them in someway.
Bruce starts watching Tim closely, because the time he got the license in surgery is around the time the Smiler started killing.
It was inly confirmed when one slip up gave him away. A threat.
"I will surgically remove your organs and make it seem like an organ donation."
He said that to a Justice League member after getting into a dispute with them.
That started the questions. The first one was a trick question, it was supposed to only scare Tim into confessing. But Tim wasn't scared, he knew they didn't know and he knew this was a scare tactic, he knows interrogation. Yet he still confessed. He was happy to. Smiling like a psycho and everything.
"It started as a joke. Joke? Well, practice. A small time thug, a human sex trafficker. Red Hood was gonna kill him anyways, so I thought, "why not do it myself?", you know? I had the license, the experience, I needed more of the latter though. So I just started opening him up. Removing things little by little. It was fun. The decapitation and the smile was my little thing though. The missing organs, donated to science and to people who need them. So can you really say I'm doing something completely wrong?"
The detail Tim went into caused a few to lose their stomachs.
Tim, the psycho, was enjoying this.
(This could definitely play a part in Tim becomes Damian's Joker to his Batman. I saw a post about it somewhere.)
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orlaunderrated · 8 days ago
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The Edges of Us: Chapter 23
First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader
Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.
Word Count: 5.2k+
Note: HELLO!!! this took me a million hours to write, literally dont know why.
the next chapter (24) is 8k words long??? so i might make it a 2 parter / cull it the fuck down?? anyway lmk if my chapters are getting too long!!! would love the feedback.
xxx
George and I are playing house.
My flat smells faintly of bergamot and laundry, the nice kind, the grown-up kind. He’s flopped across my bed like it’s his. Like I’m his.
I’m at my desk, catching up on a work backlog I’ve been avoiding for two days. Code stares back at me, logic threaded in fragile loops, but all I can hear is George breathing behind me, scrolling with occasional annoyed thumbs.
Then, he stands. Pads across the room. I feel him before I hear him.
He slides my headphones off without a word, careful fingers brushing my cheek. I blink at the sudden quiet.
He sits at the edge of my bed, leaving two feet between us like we���re flatmates again, and not the blurred line of whatever-the-hell-we-are.
“Hey,” he says, voice casual. “Can I run something by you?”
I swivel in my chair, tugging my hoodie down over my bare legs. “Sure.”
He taps his phone against his palm. “So, I’ve got this red carpet thing on Thursday. And I get a plus one.”
I blink. “Okay.”
He doesn’t even look up. “And I was thinking — who do you reckon I should bring? Like, out of the lads? Chris, Arthur, maybe Will?”
My mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.
“Sorry—what?” I ask, slowly.
George finally looks at me. “I mean, Chris has the jawline, but he’s also the one who’ll trash-talk you just for fun. Arthur’s good with people — easy to chat with, always knows what to say. And Will’s—well, he’s Will. A bit unpredictable, but he gets on with most people, and he’s tall, but if you'd rather I didn't—”
“George.”
He stops.
I stare at him, something cold blooming in my chest. “You’re asking me who you should take to a red carpet. As your plus one.”
He squints. “Yeah?”
“Instead of me?”
He straightens slightly. “Well… you don’t usually come to these things.”
My laugh is sharp. “They’re always at 2pm on a weekday, George. I have a job. Like, a real one. Not being paid to talk about my favourite snacks on Instagram.”
His mouth opens, possibly in protest, but I barrel on.
“Why would you not even consider taking your girlfriend?”
He pauses. Blinks.
“Girlfriend?”
The word is out there now, heavy and loud and echoing.
My heart goes tight in my chest.
He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away. “I'm not trying to be a dick. I just thought... I don’t know. It’s only been twelve days.”
I blink. “Okay, so we’ve known each other for what, eight years? Is that the part that counts?”
He shifts, opening his mouth, then closing it again.
“I mean,” I go on, “you’ve basically lived here for the last week and a half. You know how I like my tea. I know how you get all quiet in the mornings when your brain hasn’t switched on yet."
He raises an eyebrow. “you didn’t even like the tea I made you this morning.”
“Don’t deflect,” I snap. “Why is the idea of me going with you so absurd?”
“It’s not absurd,” he says quickly. “It’s just... complicated.”
I stare. What on God's green earth could be complicated about it?
He fidgets. “If you come, I have to post about it, like, contractually. Tag you. You’ll be in press photos. People will ask. People will know. You’ll get ten, fifteen thousand followers overnight. Probably more.”
“And?”
“And... that’s a lot. For someone who doesn’t want that life.”
I stare. Not because I don’t understand—because I do, painfully well. But because the words hang between us, thick and heavy, filling the quiet room with a tension I can’t shake. My mind races, trying to untangle what he means. Complicated. Contractually obligated. The spotlight that follows him like a shadow. And suddenly, me, by association.
I blink, trying to steady the swirl of disappointment and disbelief. How does something that should feel simple, being with someone, turn into a business deal? A performance? A public spectacle?
His fingers twitch nervously, breaking the silence, but I’m still caught in that moment. Waiting for the part where he says, But I want you there.
“Don’t pretend you’re doing this for me,” I say, voice quieter now, sharper. “You just don’t want people to know.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is asking me to stay behind while you parade one of your mates around instead.”
George sighs, running both hands through his hair. “I didn’t think it would matter this much.”
“Well, it does.”
Silence folds in around us, tighter than before. The kind that leaves no room to pretend this isn’t a mess.
After a long pause, he says, “Alright. If you want to come, come. But I need to warn you—it’s not going to be cute. People will speculate. They’ll assume. You’ll be ‘George Clarkey’s girlfriend’ before we even get back to the car.”
I swallow, the lump thick in my throat. It’s not just the words — it’s the weight behind them, the unspoken lines they draw between us.
“And what would you say I am?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper, suddenly too aware of the space between us. The way he’s still sitting two feet away, like that distance somehow means everything and nothing all at once.
He doesn’t look at me right away. Instead, his eyes drop, tracing some invisible pattern on the carpet.
“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “I don’t want to worry about that just yet.”
The honesty stings. Sharp and real, like a blade I didn’t expect.
For a moment, the room feels too big, too cold. And I’m left holding onto the silence between us, trying to find a place where I belong in his world, whatever that might be.
That hurts more than I care to admit.
Even to myself.
Like I’m just some girl who makes him dinner and sucks his dick when he wants it.
There when it's convenient. Invisible when it’s not.
We stare at each other, and I can feel the edges of something sharp pressing into the middle of the room between us.
Pride? Hurt?
I can’t tell anymore. I just know it’s cutting.
He exhales, a little softer this time. “Look, I want you there, I really do. But I need to be honest with you. It’s going to be insane. You’ll get tagged everywhere, people will be watching, and it’ll feel like you’re suddenly in the spotlight too.”
He takes a shaky breath, the kind that sounds like it’s holding back more than just nerves. His eyes dart away, avoiding mine like he’s searching for a way to say the things he can’t quite find the words for. For a beat, the room feels heavier, charged with everything unsaid hanging between us.
“But if you’re up for it, if you want to come, then come. I’ll tell them you’re my plus one.”
“Great,” I say flatly. “Sounds like a blast.”
He watches me for a second. Something unreadable flickers across his face — a thought he’s too scared or too selfish to say out loud.
“Alright,” he says. “I’ll let them know.”
And then he leaves.
Just stands up and walks out of the room like we’ve scheduled a dentist appointment.
Not torn open the unspoken, bleeding middle of whatever the hell this is.
xxx
Later, after the quiet has settled and the flat has forgotten we ever raised our voices, he slips into bed beside me without a word.
It’s dark. The kind of darkness that makes everything feel softer, blurrier, easier to pretend in. I hear the mattress sigh beneath his weight, the faint rustle of cotton as he finds his place beside me — not touching, not yet, but close enough that I feel the warmth of him bleeding through the sheets.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just lies there, breathing, like he’s waiting for the silence to forgive him.
Then, slowly, he reaches for me. One hand, then another, careful like I might flinch. I don’t. I melt. Embarrassingly, willingly, into the place where his body meets mine.
And that’s when he starts.
He apologises in shaky breaths against my skin, like he’s scared I’ll disappear before he gets it all out. The words tumble from him — “I’m sorry,” “I didn’t mean to,” “I’ll be better,” — soft and unsteady, like a prayer, like if he says it enough, it’ll become real.
Each one lands warm against the hollow of my collarbone. Reverent. Rehearsed. But tender.
His hands roam like he’s trying to memorise me. Fingertips ghosting along my waist, my ribs, the small of my back. Like I might vanish if he lets go. There’s something desperate in the way he touches me tonight, like he’s trying to stitch something back together with just skin and closeness and mouth.
And I let him.
God, I let him.
Because I want to believe this is what it looks like when someone chooses you. I want to believe that apologies can be silent, that redemption can come in the shape of a warm palm and a familiar weight in my bed. That love doesn’t always need a label if it feels like this, brreathless and golden and almost holy.
We don’t talk about the thing that cracked us open earlier.
The what are we?
The where is this going?
The why did you hesitate?
All of that is left untouched, suspended somewhere above us like fog that hasn’t settled yet. Like a song paused mid-note.
But under the covers, tangled in limbs and half-whispered nothings, it doesn’t feel like it matters.
Not right now.
Right now, he’s here. With me. Wrapped around me like gravity. Saying my name in that hushed, guilty way — like I’m something precious he didn’t mean to drop. Like he’s sorry for the bruise, but not the holding.
And I believe him.
Even though I shouldn’t.
Even though there’s a small, quiet part of me that knows this isn't a fix, just a soft pause between the cracks.
Even though we still haven't named what this is.
But we breathe in tandem, and for a moment, the world feels still. The lights from outside cast long lines across the ceiling, and his thumb is tracing circles at my hip, and I think — maybe this is enough.
Maybe this is the answer.
Maybe love doesn’t arrive in declarations. Maybe it looks like this:
Muffled apologies in the dark.
A hand slipping under fabric.
A kiss that lingers longer than it needs to.
Maybe love is just choosing to stay.
And he’s still here.
So I do what I’ve always done with George. I close my eyes, and I let myself believe in the best version of him. The one I’ve known since Exeter. The one who knows how I take my tea and what song calms me down and how to hold me like the world isn’t ending outside this room.
I let him kiss the silence into something softer.
And I decide, foolishly and hopefully, that this means something.
Even if he won’t say the words.
Even if I’m the only one brave enough to believe in them.
xxx
The night before the event, Ruth and I are spread out on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by a jumble of clothes that looks like a small tornado swept through. Plates from dinner sit forgotten on the bedside table, half-eaten and cooling.
Ruth holds up a dress against her body and then tosses it aside. “Too much. Too much sparkle.”
I laugh, pulling a  midnight-blue dress with subtle sequins from the pile. “How about this one? Classic, disco-ball vibes.”
She shakes her head, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like it’s a bit much for this event, your invite says casually chic, whatever the fuck that means".
I roll my eyes but smile. “ I just don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, fuck it I'm going to wear my work clothes and make a statement.”
Ruth crosses her arms, leaning back on her hands. “That’s mental. You’re already here, YN. Nobody’s expecting you to walk on water. Just be you.”
I bite my lip, eyes drifting to the rows of dresses hanging in my wardrobe — none of them feeling quite right. “It’s just… this whole thing feels bigger than me, you know? Like I’m stepping into someone else’s world.”
She nods, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But maybe this is your world now, too. And you get to decide what that looks like.”
We both grin, and Ruth digs through the pile before pulling out a sleek black satin dress. It’s the one I’ve worn more times than I can count. It's effortless, with that perfect edge of casual chic that somehow always makes me feel like myself, even when I’m not sure who that is anymore.
She holds it up, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You know this one’s your secret weapon. But hey, maybe it’s secretly hideous and we’ve been fooling ourselves all along.”
I laugh, feeling a flutter of nerves and excitement swirl together. Taking the dress from her hands, I wonder can something so familiar suddenly feel new?
I slip into the bathroom and change into the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, I study myself — the smooth, sleek fabric falling effortlessly around me, the way it catches the light just enough to feel special without shouting. For a moment, I just silently love it.
Then, heart a little lighter, I step back out and find Ruth waiting, eyes curious.
I do a little twirl.
Her face lights up the moment I step out. “That’s the one. No contest.” She grins, then leans back on the floor, mock-relieved. “Secretly not hideous after all!”
We both burst out laughing, the sound filling the room and making my cheeks burn with warmth. I’m already thinking of what I should choose for my earrings, I'm thinking silver. Simple, and just enough to catch the light without stealing the show.
I join her on the floor, lying flat on our backs, still in the dress. The ceiling above feels impossibly vast and quiet compared to the whirlwind of my thoughts.
“I should probably change before I spill something on it,” I mutter, half-laughing, but secretly hoping the night holds on just a little longer like this.
Ruth hums softly beside me. Then she nudges me playfully. “So... does this mean you and George are, like, serious? Like, really serious? Because, wow—that’s… fast.”
I shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Honestly, I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about what this is yet.”
Ruth’s eyes narrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “But he’s taking you to a red carpet event?”
I grin sheepishly. “Yeah, but… I kinda forced him to invite me.”
Ruth raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “Wait, what do you mean, forced? You strong-armed him into it?”
I flop back on the floor, the satin of the dress folding around me. “He asked who he should take — out of the lads. Like, casually ran through Chris, Arthur, and even Will. And I just… sat there like an idiot until I basically had to say, Why not me?”
Her face twists. “Oof.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “And then we had this weird half-fight where I said, like, shouldn’t it be obvious? And he said it was complicated, and I don’t know, eventually he said I could come. He's just trying to protect me from the internet and his audience, But it didn’t feel like… I don’t know. Like he really wants me there.”
Ruth sits up and looks at me properly. “Okay, first of all: you look incredible. This dress deserves a red carpet. You deserve a red carpet. But babe…” She pauses, thoughtful. “Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean he gets a free pass. Not on stuff that hurts.”
I nod, throat tight.
“I know you love him,” Ruth says softly, her voice edged with that best-friend clarity that sees straight through me. “But love doesn’t mean you have to twist yourself up to fit into his world.”
I smile, crooked and small. “I’m just trying to be part of it.”
“I know,” she says, squeezing my hand. “But make sure he’s trying to be part of yours, too. It has to go both ways.”
I stare at the ceiling for a beat. “He’s made it clear since that he’s really excited for me to go.” My voice tilts hopeful, almost convincing.
Ruth hums. “Well… that’s nice.”
The way she says it — light, careful, deliberately neutral — says everything else.
I glance over at her. “What?”
She shrugs, not looking at me. “Just. There’s excited, and then there’s making-you-feel-like-the-first-person-he-thought-of. That’s all.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, silent.
After a pause, she nudges me with her foot. “But that’s not important!. You’re going. You’re gonna look fit. And you’re gonna own that carpet like it owes you rent.
I laugh, just enough to shake the ache loose in my chest. “God, I love you.”
“I know,” she says. “That’s why I’m allowed to be annoying and right.”
xxx
It’s a movie I have no interest in — some big-budget, explosions-and-emotions thing with a starlet I’ve seen in three perfume ads and a meme. George tries to explain the plot in the Uber, some vague synopsis about space trauma and a rogue AI, but I’m not really listening.
I’m too busy smoothing down my dress with sweaty palms, checking the gloss on my lips for the fifth time in the reflection of his phone screen.
Still, something about it makes me laugh — quietly, to myself.
I glance over at him. “Why are you even invited to movie premieres?”
He snorts. “Dunno. My manager thinks I’m charming.”
I raise an eyebrow.
He shrugs, eyes still on the road ahead. “Sometimes I do those junket interviews. You know, the ones with the sofa and the awkward chairs and you’ve got six minutes to make someone with three Oscars talk about cereal.”
“You’ve never posted one.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause they’re never good enough to make the cut.” He rolls his eyes. “The production companies usually film them, but they only post the clips that are, like, quote-worthy. Or viral enough. Most of mine don’t get past the group chat.”
“But you still go.”
“Free food. Free stuff. And my manager books them. He's the one who actually RSVPs and organises the brand stuff. Half the time I don’t even know I’m on the list until she sends me the address.”
I blink at him. “So what — he just... does everything?”
“Basically.” He leans his head against the window. “He's got my Instagram login. He’ll probably post the carpet photos before we’re even out of the theatre.”
“That’s terrifying.”
He grins. “It’s efficient.”
I watch him for a second. The way his fingers tap absently against his knee. The fit — sharp, effortlessly chic— fits him too well for someone who swears he’s winging it. Everything about him tonight is a little too polished, a little too nonchalant, like he’s mastered the art of looking like he doesn’t care — when of course, he does.
I shake my head. “You live in a completely different universe.”
He just smirks, like he knows it.
He looks good — irritatingly so. Jaw set, hair falling just right, smelling like that expensive cologne he only uses when the cameras are guaranteed. And for a second, I feel like I’ve stepped sideways into someone else’s life. One with velvet ropes and tailored suits and a boy who’s halfway famous and somehow mine.
My heart swells with it. Stupidly, helplessly full.
Like I’ve won something.
Like I’m finally his.
“Hey, did you make your Instagram public? And take your job out of your bio?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah… figured I should, right?”
He snorts. “Apparently. My manager just texted to check. She's got a post drafted already.”
I blink. “Already? We haven’t even taken the photos yet.”
“Yeah, I know.” He shakes his head, half-laughing. “It’s mad. He’s got it scheduled and everything — caption, tags, time slot. I have no idea how this is a real job"
I snort. “it isn't.”
He gives me a look. “har har.”
Then, more gently, “You might wanna turn your notifications off, by the way.”
But the car slows, and the flashbulbs begin before we’ve even opened the door.
It’s surreal. The world explodes into light and noise, but not quite the roar I expected. A handful of camera shutters pop here and there, flashes firing mostly at other faces, not George’s. A few voices call his name — Clarkey! George! Over here, mate! — but it’s quieter than I imagined, like he’s a small fish in a bigger pond.
Then someone leans in and asks, “Who’s this?” I blink, dazed and giddy, clutching the little purse I borrowed from Ruth’s friend because it looked expensive enough to pass.
George slips his hand into mine like a reflex. Like habit.
We step out together.
And just for a moment, I forget everything.
Because the red carpet is real. It’s red. Actually red. The lights are brighter than I imagined. And someone (maybe one of the PR people) calls out to me, telling me to turn slightly for the photos and I laugh. I actually laugh. Because this? This is ridiculous and glittering and unreal and kind of amazing.
George stands beside me for the photos. His arm rests loosely around my waist, his face curling into that practiced smile he saves for cameras — not quite warm, not quite present. Just the bare minimum required.  
But I don’t care. I smile so hard my cheeks ache. I feel radiant.
Like I’ve stepped into a version of myself that finally gets to belong.
People ask who I am. Not rudely, but curiously, and George mumbles my name, says, “She’s with me.” And for a second, I swear my heart sings.
With me.
We’re ushered off the carpet, herded through a maze of press and PR staff like cows made of glitter and half-spoken promises. Eventually, we reach some strange waiting area — tall bar towers crowd the space, bathed in wild, shifting overhead lights.
Someone hands George a cocktail in a flimsy plastic flute. Another person presses a branded tote into my hands, which I’ll pretend to like. White arrows glow softly on signs, guiding us forward, but the air feels heavy with too much perfume and a buzz that’s quieter than I expected.
Still, I hold on to the moment, the light, the absurd magic of it all.
Because maybe this is enough.
Maybe this is enough for now.
George is quiet.
I decide to not notice it right away, because I’m too busy being dazzled. But as we’re led into the foyer, past velvet ropes and gleaming marble, I catch the edge of his jaw — tight. His eyes flicking over the crowd, over the cameras, not landing on me once.
He hasn’t said a full sentence since the car.
But maybe he’s just overwhelmed. Maybe he’s thinking about the photos. Or his next video. Or whatever influencers think about when they’re not busy being photographed.
So I keep smiling. Keep laughing softly at things he doesn’t say. Keep pretending I’m not just a plus one — that I’m something more than borrowed glitter.
And when he finally glances down at me — camera lights catching in the edge of his lashes — I beam at him.
Because I’m happy.
I’m so happy.
And I decide, right then, not to let anything ruin this. Not even the way his fingers have stopped curling around mine.
George’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and before I can blink, he’s already excusing himself with a quick, “Got to do this one,” nodding toward a cluster of cameras and microphones just beyond the velvet rope.
I watch him walk away, smooth and practiced, slipping into interview mode like it’s second nature. His movements are fluid, confident—the kind of effortless that makes it look like he’s done this a hundred times before, even if he probably hasn’t.
The chatter around me blurs into white noise. I can only just catch snippets of his voice, faint and distant, like he’s speaking underwater. The bright Channel 4.0 logo flashes on a nearby screen, casting a cool glow over his face.
His lips move steadily, words coming easy, but my ears struggle to keep up. Still, I don’t need to hear him clearly to know he’s in control — calm, witty, sliding through the questions with the practiced grace of someone who’s learned how to own a room without breaking a sweat.
My eyes stay fixed on him, drinking in the way his jaw sets, the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiles. Effortless. Always effortless.
“So, George! Big night, huh? What’s it like walking the red carpet?”
George shrugs, his face a picture of ease, like he's been asked this a hundred times before.
“Honestly? It’s a bit surreal. I’m not used to all this yet. The spotlight’s a little... unfamiliar. But yeah, I’ll take it.”
The interviewer laughs, leaning in with curiosity. “Fair enough. So, did you bring anyone special with you tonight?”
I freeze. My heart stutters in my chest, the question suddenly too sharp, too personal. It’s been coming, I knew it, but it still lands like a punch in the gut.
George, ever the charmer, flashes a grin, his tone light, his words calculated but harmless. “Yeah, my best mate. She’s over there somewhere.”
Best mate.
Not girlfriend. Not even a hint of anything more.
Best. Fucking. Mate.
And the ache I’ve been pretending doesn’t exist hits me like a wave.
I should have known. We had that fight just last night. We talked about it, didn’t we? George had been hesitant, so hesitant, to even bring me tonight. Like some part of him was unsure—afraid that it would complicate things. “We don’t need to label this, YN,” he’d said, eyes avoiding mine. “Let’s just keep it simple, yeah? No expectations.”
And yet, here I am, on a red carpet, his “best mate,” while everyone else in the room seems to be locked into their neat little labels of "partners" and "couples."
The interviewer doesn’t seem to notice the shift, rambling on about movie premieres and upcoming projects, but all I hear is the distant buzz of the crowd, the flashes of cameras that feel like they’re blinding me. The world shrinks around me, and I’m left standing in the centre of it, small, insignificant.
Best mate.
I knew it was coming, didn’t I?
But they’re not wrong, are they? We agreed—no labels, no pressure, no expectations. That’s what George wanted, right? He made it clear. He didn’t want to call this something that wasn’t ready to be named.
But here’s the thing—I feel it. I feel what we are, even if it’s not spoken. We’re something.
We’re two people who’ve spent years in each other’s orbit. Who’ve shared countless hours laughing, arguing, existing side by side. We’re two people who’ve kissed, who’ve held each other through bad days, who’ve trusted each other with things we’ve never told anyone else. We’re not nothing. Not by a long shot.
I try to force my face into something resembling composure, but my smile feels like it’s made of glass. It cracks before it even has time to settle, and I turn away, hoping George won’t notice the way my heart is sinking with every step.
The interviewer moves on to some fluff about the movie premiere, and I can’t hear a word. I’m stuck on the way George said “best mate”—so casual, so comfortable. Like that’s all I’ll ever be.
I sit there, watching him dazzle the crowd, his smile bright, effortless, like he was born for this. He laughs at some joke the interviewer cracks, the sound smooth and easy, his charm radiating outward. I watch as the cameras flash, the way the world seems to revolve around him in these moments.
I know this is for the best.
We’re new, right? Fresh in whatever this is. He has his fangirls, the ones who see him as the perfect George, the one in front of the camera. He’s their dream, their crush. I get it.
My brain knows. This is just part of the deal. This is what comes with being around someone like him. That’s why it’s so stupid how upset I am.
But my heart? My heart doesn’t care about logic. It just beats faster every time I see him, every time he smiles like that, every time the world falls silent and he’s in the centre of it all.
My heart wants him to tell the world.
To claim me. To stop calling me "best mate" and let everyone else see what we are, what we’ve been for years.
But he won’t. He won’t, because it’s easier this way. It’s safer for him. For us. It’s less complicated.
And I’m sitting here, an idiot, pretending I don’t care, when all I want is for him to turn around and pull me close and say, “You’re more than just my best mate. You’re mine.”
God, I’m a fucking idiot.
He steps away from the interviewer, his voice lowering as he approaches me. "You good?" There’s an edge of concern in his tone, but I can hear the hesitation there, too, like he’s unsure if he should even ask.
I give him a tight-lipped smile, one that doesn't reach my eyes. “Yeah. Just... a lot, you know?”
George gives me a sympathetic nod, but it feels like he’s saying it for both our sakes. There’s an unspoken distance between us now, a gap that wasn’t there before the argument. Before I told him, half out of frustration and half out of hurt, that I didn’t know how to keep playing this game anymore. That I wasn’t sure how much longer I could be just his best mate.
He hadn’t wanted to hear that. He’d pulled away, and we’d ended up here.
He doesn’t push. He never pushes when it comes to this. Instead, he laughs awkwardly, clapping me on the back like we’re still the easy going friends we used to be. But I feel the tension, the heavy silence in the spaces between us, the way the air feels just a little too thick.
“C’mon, we should get going,” he says, voice lighter now, almost too light.
I nod, and we start walking together toward the movie theatre. I hear the cameras flash, someone important has clearly just show up, but all I can hear is the echo of George’s words from last night, the genuine confusion in his voice when he said girlfriend?
We agreed it would be simpler this way. Better. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re both drowning in the space that ‘simple’ created.
I force my smile, pushing the sharp ache deep down, even as my chest tightens. This is what we decided, right? No labels just yet. Just... this.
But standing there, next to him, hearing the weight of those two words—“best mate”—I’m not so sure anymore.
It hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
And suddenly, this glittering, unreal night feels a little more like a dream I’m still not quite awake from.
xxx
TagList: @meglouise00 @migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz @luvnarthur @capnjosh
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uneducated-author · 3 months ago
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How I Would Write The Well If The BBC Trusted Me To Play With Their Toys
Immediately, I'd scrap the idea of a squadron team. It means too much competence and contingency, we know that these people are prepared or trained for dangerous situations. Have the Doctor & Belinda step out or crash into a mining pod or scavengers group who are trying to see if there's anything valuable on the surface of a long dead planet. Have it that the 'galvanic radiation' is mucking with the vindicator so they're stuck on the planet for an hour or so, so they join up.
Have it be a smaller team, about two or three people, all friendly and familiar with each other. Familiar crew, all making the best of what they can, travellers in the universe. They stumble across the mining operation and same setup, every body they find is dead, only by laser fire.
They find Aliss, same as the episode, having just attacked her friend, but her friend wasn't killed, just sealed in a freezer. Aliss shares 'only I have the code to open it, they don't want to risk soldiers stealing food'. Aliss shares that she had a gun, but couldn't shoot, unauthorised personnel, Doctor jokes that fridges are more useful anyway and traditional 'no guns' lil moment. There's no noise, and no footage, but sonic screwdriver says that life signs inside are steady.
Side note, I'd like to play off of Oxygen with the whole 'paying to breathe' thing, except it's paying to speak. Aliss has a pair of gloves that verbalise sign for her, but she has to pay to charge it. Doctor hacks it with Sonic Screwdriver of course, but it could be a real world parallel of how it's expensive to be disabled, how you have to pay to access the treatment and accessibility aids that permit an individual lifestyle.
Aliss says 'it came from the sky' and the Doctor is like 'what is it' and Aliss says 'a ghost'.
Immediate sort of Red Herring where Aliss shared that the commander of the base investigated the Well, standard mechanical/maintenance checks, and then all of a sudden went up to the highest point of the plant. When they went to get him he was speaking in tongues, like there were a hundred voices within him, all saying different things. Buy occasionally he would break through, with no collection of what 'the ghost' was saying. He tried to remove the safety field, which would expose them all to Galvanic Radiation' and was shot by second in command.
But then the second in command started being haunted, but not by the tongues, by the commander. It was his words, his mannerisms, even his language. This time they asked what the thing was and where it came from, and it responds 'Sky'.
Aliss shares that people panicked and destroyed each other. That she didn't want to hurt her friend but she was scared. And rescue missions are too expensive for one cook (future stage capitalism for the win). Doctor asks what species' were on board, Aliss rattles off about ten or so, none of them human, which Belinda and the Doctor thinks is odd.
Scavengers of course want to leave, offer to take Aliss, but the Doctor points out that she might be controlled by the ghost. The scavengers are all like 'don't be a dick' but the Doctor points out that the issue with two survivors is that you can't tell which survived the other. Have it be a moment where he's clearly apologetic, but he can't be certain. Have Aliss agree, make some joke about 'I'm a cook, I know how deadly a contagious infection can be.' Have her also say that she doesn't want to give up on her friend, that as long as there's life, there's hope. Immediately sets up that these are good people, all who live normal lives, but don't want to hurt people, even if it means saving themselves.
Classic Investigation of the environment, checking the well as per episode, finding footage of people murdering each other, Belinda horrified, Doctor says fear and desperation are the biggest causes of death in the universe. 'It makes you fight. Creeps into your head. And whispers.'
Aliss has a moment with the doctor where she says that she pulled the trigger. That the shot didn't fire, because she was unauthorised, but she's haunted by the fact that she chose to kill. 'Is that what I amount to? Murder?'. Doctor says that she didn't choose to kill her friend. She could have removed all the air from the freezer, or messed with the controls. 'You chose to fire, you were scared. But you didn't choose to kill'. Doctor also says 'it feels familiar' with Belinda saying 'more than a thousand years travelling the universe, everything should be familiar to you'.
Doctor shrugs it off, decides to go to the observation point where the commander was infected, tries to see any breaches in the ceiling. Scavengers offer for Aliss to join them when she despairs about what happens next, Belinda points that out to the Doctor. Tells him 'you're wrong. Because fear and desperation can do that, too. Travelling with you, I've never been more scared in my life. But I never thought I'd see something like that. Just listen.'
Something clicks, and the Doctor clearly freezes. Looks up and says 'Sky' and then says 'I've said that before.' Belinda's all like 'what?' and the Doctor goes 'what did I say, by the pit, by the well? I've said that before, when did I say that?' Flashback to Doctor going 'It makes you fight. Creeps into your head. And whispers' intercut with the same dialogue being said by the tenth Doctor during 'Midnight' while being possessed by the entity. Doctor has the same sort of breakdown as he does in the episode, asking Aliss 'what was the grey star, before, what was the old name of the planet' etc. Unravelling the mystery.
Running back down to the sealed fridge while he explains
Doctor: 'You asked her two questions, who she was and where she came from. She came from the Well, clawed her way up until she found warm meat and didn't stop climbing until she reached the observation deck and she realised she'd made it.'
Belinda: 'Then why did she say Sky?'
Doctor: 'Because that was Mrs Silvestry's name. And she remembers.'
Scavengers and Aliss clearly confused, and the Doctor brings up footage of the Captain 'speaking in tongues'. Isolates the voices and it's all from the episode 'Midnight', from the Doctor to Jethro to DeeDee, and cumulating with the Doctor saying 'all right Sky? Turn around'. They all turn around, and Aliss is there.
The Doctor: 'Is that what you amount to? Murder?'
Aliss: 'I said that.'
The Doctor: 'So did I. 400,000 years ago.'
Uncertainty whether Aliss is 'possessed' or not, as the Doctor admits it would be hard to tell. 'When we left, it was already close to a perfect copy. And it's had months to tear this base apart. It could be any of us.' Same monologue as the episode 'a different life, no face, no name, no self'.
Doctor: 'It tried to throw me out into the radiation of an Xtonic star once, I don't think it would think twice about trapping the last survivor in a freezer.'
Scavenger: "Would it think twice about murdering her? If it is the same entity, would it tell us everything?'
Doctor: 'That's the thing, I don't know who's talking. The scavenger who travels the universe, just to see what's been left behind? Or Mrs Silvestry, who dug her way out 400,000 years later, and murdered an entire base, just to stay warm.'
Belinda, sharp: 'Shut up.'
Doctor: 'Why. Because it sounds familiar?'
Belinda: 'Because you sound scared and desperate.'
Doctor, pausing, evaluating: 'You're not fighting. You're not... Screaming and turning on each other and trying to throw each other out to save yourself. Why?'
Aliss: 'I chose to kill someone to save myself. Not just someone, my friend. And she's alive, but I still made that choice. And I know that that's not something I can live with. I like to believe I'm better than that.'
Scavengers: 'You live like we do, travel like we do, you see the universe different. It can be scary, the people you meet on dead planets, the things you have to do. I'm sure you've seen a lot of scary things, Doctor, so have we. But we've never met something that gets better by behaving worse.'
Belinda: 'The Human Race is gone. If the world ends in 2025, that means, I'm the last of my kind. And I can't let them down.'
Doctor, after a long pause: 'Trust me?'
Belinda: '... Yes.'
Doctor: 'Still?'
Belinda: 'You don't sound scared anymore.'
Doctor opens the freezer, and the remaining survivor steps out, alive, and relieved to see Aliss. Aliss apologises, but the other (I'm calling her Mo) says it wasn't her fault. Says she woke up in the freezer, like a really tight helmet had been removed. Doctor says he felt the same way. Mo asks 'who are you' and the Doctor said 'if you really are Mo, I'm the only other person in the universe who has survived whatever destroyed this base.' Seals the freezer shut behind her and asks for everyone to listen.
Doctor says that is the entity is with them now, he's addressing it directly. Admits he's scared, that very little in the universe has scared him, but that day, he was scared. Lists the passengers of the flight, starting with Mrs Silvestry, and ending with the flight attendant (showing that he learned her name since then). 'We were all scared.'
Everyone looking at each other, clearly wondering what he's trying to do.
Doctor continues, saying that they were scared, and desperate, and that was probably a pretty bad introduction of humanity. Asks how long it had been waiting, out in the cold, with the diamonds, because 'i saw time in your mind. It keeps me awake, how long you waited in the cold'.
A bang rings out, and it could be a coincidence.
The Doctor says 'you were new, and unexpected, and didn't know what it was to feel and you met us at our worst. And then when you got a chance to find us again, we kept shooting you. Every time you tried to find a voice, every time you tried to talk. Because you make us scared, you make us desperate, because you never knew we could be anything else. A bit like me. I didn't know how not to be scared of you, so I scared everyone else.'
Doctor looks around, careful, like he can see something. Looks straight at Belinda.
Says that today was a good day. That today, he'd remembered that fear, desperation, it can make people kind. He hopes that 'whoever you are, you learned that as well'.
He stands, and Mo stops him. Asks if he's mental, if he thinks talking to the creature will stop it? Doctor says that he hopes for that every day, and it usually works out. Mo says that she can't leave, and the Doctor asks if she was listening, because she has all the information she needs. Mo, of course, is confused. Doctor lists off the species that were on board the plant, and mentions that out of all of them, Mo was the only one who was cold blooded. Which didn't mean anything, until she was left in a freezer to grow cold. Says that once, long ago this planet was cold as well, and a monster slept surrounded by diamonds. Says that, if they're very lucky, maybe the cold has drawn it back to sleep.
Aliss is clearly overjoyed, as is Mo, but Mo still asks, what if they're not lucky? The Doctor admits that he doesn't know. That he can't control the universe, it's never ended well when he's tried. But he can try and show something new, something that might be the first of it's kind, might be the last, who knows, he can try and show her some kindness. Maybe she'll learn something.
Sends the scavengers, Aliss and Mo away and him and Belinda sit in the Tardis. She asks if he really thinks that 'whatever it is' is in hibernation and he says he doesn't know. Brings up a map of the universe as it is now. Points out that 'over there, a war is going to break out, wipes out whole swathes of the sector. Like all wars, started over nothing but fear and a whisper in someone's ear. Over here, twenty stars implode, a galactic mystery, nobody will ever figure out why. There, the first recorded sighting of a man eating shadow, piranhas in dust motes. Then again, four hundred thousand years, maybe people have learned, and maybe she did too. Maybe she's just, listening, following, haunting. Everywhere has ghosts. And here-' big swipe to nothing, empty space, Doctor falters. 'Point is, there's plenty of monsters in the universe. Let's just hope that we left ours in a freezer on a forgotten planet, not the middle of the universe'
Belinda (looking at the empty space): middle of the universe.
Doctor violently flinches at the repetition, callback to Midnight and going 'don't-just' and Belinda hugging him (potentially first hug in the season? Not certain?)
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fbfh · 2 years ago
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Thinking about how Miguel O'hara's brain is just a fruity lil margarita of breeding, possession, housewife, size, primal, and strength kinks with a whole bottle of pleasure dom juice. Hm.
Especially when you're ovulating. God help both of you. He can smell it from a mile away and always swears that this time will be different, he can control himself, he won't end up a slobbering feral mess that has you in a mating press all week, and every single month he finds himself in that exact position. Literally. You just smell so... sweet, and musky, and creamy, like milk and cookies. It's not his fault that you're so damn addictive. He genuinely doesn't think you can possibly get more attractive until he's actually inside you. It started innocently enough, with him asking you to sit in his lap. He lasted about 2 minutes this time before ripping off your clothes with his claws so you could cockwarm him. His cock is so big and meaty, definitely not for the faint of heart. You're genuinely surprised he manages to fit most of it inside you, it's that big. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slowly turning you into a bit of a size queen. You're too scared to measure him properly, plus no one would believe whatever the number is anyway. But every time he works his veiny, meaty, throbbing cock inside you, every time the dizzying uncut tip catches on your pussy, slicking you up as it practically pisses precum out of the feverish, deep red slit, you SWEAR it feels like a professional baseball player's bicep is being worked inside your cunt. The imprint of his cock reaches up to your ribs, you would wonder how it's possible if you weren't already forgetting your name. And god, miguel loves that. He loves how small you are in his massive grip, how he can hold your legs open with his big meaty thighs, leaving you all exposed like that. He loves how you smell. God, the way you smell... he bends forward, using a fraction of his strength to collapse into you and arch your back as he nuzzles into your neck, rooting around until he finally finds the spot. THE spot. The sweet juicy tender spot where your addictive, delicious pheromones are coming from, and he does the only thing he can to satisfy this hunger. He bites down. He sucks that tender patch of skin into his mouth, fangs grazing and making your cunt convulse. And goddammit, you taste better than you smell. He sucks and sucks and licks at your skin with his big wet long tongue. You feel something wet dripping down your neck and realize he's salivating. This man is literally DROOLING for you. You try to squirm and wiggle completely unsuccessfully, this man has you LOCKED DOWN. Big mistake. His grip tightens, and he moves you even closer to him so you have less to work with in terms of attempts to break free. As if that didn't have your clit twitching so hard you would think she's moaning in morse code, he starts growling. It's a deep, bassy, chittering sound that vibrates through your whole body. He doesn't even know he's doing it. Whenever you move he just gets more possessive and manhandly, like trying to take away an untrained dog's favorite toy. Everything he does makes you dizzier, it makes your pussy drip until there's a puddle on the floor. If you were capable of coherent thought, it would probably be something along the lines of "wow holy fuck thank god miguel has such a good sense of smell or ovulating would be really boring"
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tyudearyous · 1 year ago
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ephemeral - c.jh
Tumblr media
pairing : jongho x reader
themes : established relationship where reader is chronically sick
genre : HEAVY ANGST with small bits of fluff ig
warnings : depictions of medicines and needles, major character death! proceed with caution
wc : 2.9k
🎵 star - heize, one of these nights - red velvet, be with you - ateez, o - leehi ft code kunst, little bit - devita ft code kunst
masterlist
...
"miss it is time for you to take your medicines, alright?" the nurse enters your hospital room with several medical equipment and syringes filled with your medicine. it has been months since your condition took for the worse. you were born with a weak heart, it was a given. despite that, you didn't expect things to escalate this fast. you were grateful still, at the very least your short lifespan was filled with more than enough happy moments.
"thank you" you replied to the nurse before she took your arm to inject your medicine and do some physical check ups. needles don't hurt for you at this point. you're just so used to being injected and reinjected with fluids that would help with your health (but you know it's all meaningless, you'd die anyway).
when you were getting your meds, the door opened to a breathless jongho running after work. you immediately laughed at that sight of him. "miss, please stay still" the nurse warned you softly. you muttered apologies before giving jongho a frown to jab on him. he smiled at your antics and began to wind down at the couch next to your bed.
"nurse, is this the last one?" jongho asked the nurse tending to you right now. the nurse nodded. "hopefully this would be the last dose for this week. tomorrow miss y/n will have a full check up again with dr. seo. remember that okay miss?" she explained before she left the room, giving you and jongho some space.
"how was today?" you asked jongho. he sat at the empty chair next to your bed before tucking your stray hair to your ears. "shitty but it's better now, cause you're here" he smiled and you slapped his shoulders. "ouch, i was being honest" before flashing his adorable gummy smile. you felt content and happy that he was here with you. despite all, jongho still stayed with you and you're happy with that.
"hey" you cupped his cheeks. jongho tilted his head. your eyes that were filled with happiness turned into something somber. this didn't go unnoticed by him. "what's wrong?" he started to get worried and took your hands in his. he started rubbing your knuckles before kissing it to hopefully calm you down.
"it hurts" tears started to fall down your cheeks, you couldn't hold it in. "hey, what hurts? what's wrong? i'll call dr. seo wait" you held his hands, stopping him. "i don't need dr. seo. it just hurts jjong, i don't know whether can i keep this up" you explained. it has been months since you were admitted to special care and you aren't even showing any signs of recovery. it just stayed stagnant, the exact same when you were first admitted. breathing honestly feels hard for you, if not for the machine helping you. walking feels tough and everything just felt hard for you.
"y/n, look at me" he cupped your cheeks. "it's going to be okay. you'll get through this. you'll recover, okay? we'll go on dates like we used to. we'll go to paris just like you wanted, come on. don't be like this okay?" he reassured you. you stayed silent before shaking your head.
"jjong, i- i can't" you broke down to tears. he tried so hard to hold back his tears but eventually his poured out as well. "i told you right? it's a given. don't dream too big about this" you pushed through your tears. "y/n. i told you to not be like this" his tone was higher but you understood it. "i don't want you to end up heartbroken, jjong" you put your right hand to wipe his tears.
"you should be ready, anytime. i feel like i can't continue living like this. all of this would only give me perhaps 2? 3? i don't know. months jongho. let's be realistic here. i'm tired" you collapsed to him, crying.
"y/n, i can't let you go like this. we can go through this together, i'm here. i'm here" he stood you up again before making you cup his cheeks but you shook your head. it was all too hard for you.
"i don't like it here. i know if i leave i won't be able to survive but jjong, i'm tired" you explained to him. "let's get some fresh air tomorrow, okay?" he calmed you down.
that night, he stayed in the hospital with you. he slept on your bed, in hopes that you'd stay strong regardless of everything. but honestly? you didn't want to. you wished to just drop everything. the only reason you're still headstrong about the treatment was jongho. you couldn't leave him, not when he's still like this.
...
the next day came and you found yourself on the beach, enjoying the smell of sea with your lover next to you. everything that happened last night became something both of you avoided. if you brought it up, you know it would devastate jongho even more, so you didn't. he was holding back his emotions even today. you could see in his eyes, how puffy they are and how they hold countless unsaid words. the trip that was supposed to be joyful became somber.
"you remember our first time going to the sea?" you broke the silence. "oh? yeah. when you first got your driving license" he laughed. it was a random weekend when you decided to bring jongho to the nearest beach to celebrate you getting your license. you even drove there but the entire drive gave jongho a heart attack, mainly because of your un-adapt-ness to the road. the way back home, he insisted on driving so he drove you back home. nonetheless, it was a memorable yet funny moment.
"i still remember you nagging me through the road" you sulked. "oh come on, you suck at driving y/n. just admit it" he laughed at you which made you sulk even more. "oh come on don't sulk, at least you have me. your professional driver" jongho cupped your cheeks before planting a kiss on your forehead.
"i want to go on more drives honestly" you admitted, eyes on the sea, avoiding his. "when you recover, i'll bring you to many drives okay? we'll explore the world together, just like what you wanted" he said while holding your hands. "hopefully yeah?" you gave him a smile.
"but" you said, creating a silence between the two of you. "if i'm gone, remember. i want you to move on. you deserve happiness, jjong. just remember me, that's all i need from you" you teared up slightly. "y/n let's no-" "no, i have to say that. you have to accept the reality. i can't stay here forever, you know that. i wish i could've held on to for like 2 or 3 years so we could get married but i can't. dr. seo told me, i only had approximately 2 months left and that is also if my body is strong enough but my body isn't, jjong. it's weak, it's a blessing that i still can be here with you today. if not now, when will i say that to you?" you cut him off, tears falling down your eyes.
"i love you, i really do. if i had the time i'd do anything for you, genuinely. but right now, let's face the reality, okay?" you held his hands, circling around his knuckles. he stood up to walk away slightly and you let him be. it was hard for the both of you and you understood it perfectly.
you prayed to the universe for more time. just maybe. just maybe.
...
ring ring
3 missed calls from ???
jongho wondered, what's with the sudden calls from an unknown number. he excused himself from his office to go to the rooftop area to call the number back.
"hello?" he opened the call. "yes, is this mr. choi jongho?" a panicked voice asked him through the call. "yes? what is wrong?" he asked.
"miss y/n's condition worsened and is now in queue for surgery, do you consent to the surgery? we tried calling her family but-" he cut off the call and immediately left work to go to the hospital. he drove past through traffic lights and just drove as fast as he could to get to you.
when he arrived to the hospital, he immediately looked for you. ultimately failing because you weren't in your room. thankfully, the nurse who tended to you were there waiting for him.
"oh thank goodness, miss y/n is currently in surgery. please pray for the best" she told him. he felt as if all air was taken out of his lungs that exact moment. he immediately collapsed in the waiting room. all he could do was stare at the ceiling, praying and hoping that the surgery would go well.
that he would be given the chance to see you once again.
...
the surgery room was hectic. the doctors tried to resuscitate you after your heart rate dropped. countless machines were used to get your heart rate up but nothing did the job. the doctors had to perform surgery to you because of this.
you felt nothing. well, you were near death at this point. only your brain was conscious and all you could think was just how you wished you had more time. sure, your short life was a great one. you couldn't have asked for a better one but still, that didn't mean you didn't have regrets.
just as the doctors tried to give your heart mechanical palpitations, your heart stopped working. it was final, you couldn't be saved.
...
"dr.seo! how is she?" jongho immediately ran to him when he saw his figure out of the surgery room. "i apologize, mr. choi. we couldn't save her." dr. seo apologized to jongho.
all he felt at that moment was pain. he scoffed before sitting down and bawled. why. why did it have to be you who suffered. why was the world so cruel to him. he was angry but he knew, can he really blame anyone? he had no one to blame. dr. seo and his team did his best and you did your best to put up with everything.
all he could do was cry and cry and cry and cry.
...
it has been 2 years since your passing. jongho has been a mess throughout those 2 years. he couldn't even handle seeing your grave during the first year of your death. he tried to cope by everything. drinking, isolating, everything. he tried to distract himself with everything. he didn't even bother removing the pictures he had of you in his apartment and cellphone. he didn't want to let you go. his friends tried to help him but it was all useless. he truly couldn't let you go. he couldn't handle seeing this world without you by his side.
but that was all during the first year. this year, he decided to pick his life back up. he couldn't continue living like this right? so he started by cleaning his apartment first. seonghwa helped him to clean his apartment that was filled with trash from his grief. jongho was grateful his friends didn't judge, he was grateful that he still had them. slowly, little by little, he picked his life back up and he's finally ready to see you again. he's ready to visit your grave.
it was the 2nd anniversary of your death. before going, he bought a bouquet of your favorite flowers. tulips, asters and several forget-me-nots with some baby breath adorning it. he was even wearing the scarf you bought him for his 20th birthday.
when he arrived to your gravesite, he saw your mother sitting in front of the grave. he stood there, waiting for her to finish. when she finished, he greeted her.
"good afternoon, mother" he greeted her. "oh, jongho-ya! how have you been?" your mother asked him. "i've been well, how are you mother?" he continued. "i've been alright, it's been hard for you, right?" she tapped jongho's shoulders. "alright, go to her. i'm sure you missed her." he bowed to your mother and left for your grave. "oh wait!" your mother called, making him stop on his tracks. "here, i'm sure y/n wanted you to see this" she handed him a flashdisk before leaving. jongho was confused but he shrugged it off, for later. he wanted to talk to you first.
when he finally stood in front of your grave, the emotions he suppressed for the past 2 years all fell out. just the sight of your grave made him cry but he tried to hold back. he didn't spend a whole year being depressed to stay like this. he placed the bouquet in front of your gravestone and he sat in front of your grave.
"hey, it's been a while huh?" he started to talk to you. "i've been a mess since you left. i'm sorry, i can't fulfill my promises to you. i don't think i can move on you know but i'll try to not mop around being sad because i know you won't like that" he laughed. "sorry for not being here last year, i just couldn't accept it. why did you have to leave me that fast? but i know. you're happier there. you're no longer in pain, you're no longer stressed. i'm fine with that. well, i'll try to be fine with that" he teared up again.
"anyway, i love you, y/n. i wish you're still here with me but i'll handle it. i love you, seriously. no one is going to replace your place." he stated before continuing to talk to you about his days. he stayed there for hours and hours before going home because it was getting dark. by the end of it, his eyes were puffy but his heart was light. he was happy he took the time to talk to you.
...
y/n's tape for jongho.
hi jjong, haha wait i'm really not used to recording these okay wait. creates hand gestures to regain composure. okay, hi. if you get this cd then i'm dead already probably, sadly looks down and throws head back to not cry. anyway, i'm glad to have met you this life time. i'm glad i had you, and i don't regret giving my all to you. i regret nothing when it comes to us. i love you, i hope you know that.
i'm sorry for being blunt sometimes, i'm sorry for hurting you, i'm sorry for being selfish, i'm sorry for leaving you. gosh, if i could i would've married you and had kids. ah why am i tearing up, sorry. yeah, i wish we had more time. i wish i could've seen a mini us, i wish we were a normal couple. i'm sorry for bringing you through this pain, i'm sorry jjong.
i don't want you to mop around after i leave. i hope you find someone that loves you as much as i do, or if you can't handle that, at least be happy for me please. i don't want you to be depressed, i hate seeing you cry you know. i hate it when you're sad. so please, be happy for me. okay, jjongie?
i remember when we first spent the night together. we made a promise didn't we that night? that we'd travel around the world and i asked you to propose to me in paris? hahaha i wish we could make that real but we can't sadly. instead, go there for me. take lots of photos, make lots of memories, be happy for me. i'd always look out for you. i'd always be with you even when you don't realize it, jjong. so don't be sad okay? wipes tears ahhhhh. i can't do this.
anyways, just be happy for me. don't cry too much. don't be sad. i love you forever and always, jjongbear. if you miss me, just visit my grave. i'm up 24/7 you know, so just find me there or talk to the sprout teddy i made for you last year. i wish you well and i love you. i'm sorry for everything i put you through. i love you truly.
video ends.
sniffles could be heard through the entire apartment. there was a boy crying over his dead lover, in the sweatshirt she loved to wear and holding the teddy bear she crocheted for him. the boy couldn't hold his tears and just let it flow. unbeknownst to him, a small blue butterfly was sitting next to the couch. when he noticed this, he was confused. he remembered not opening any windows so how did the small creature get inside? but then he remembered.
she too loved butterflies
"y/n, really" he scoffed before tearing up again but this time with the butterfly on his shoulders.
i love you truly, choi jongho
the end.
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superums · 2 years ago
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rock-star! hobie x super-star! reader headcannons
ooc!hobie (maybe). gn!reader. mentions of girlfriend one time but that it. black coded!reader but its not heavy or anything. reader was supposed to be a rapper but i like the idea of a super star instead. i wanted to make the reader like sexyy red that didn't happen. theres a suggestive part. idk how to write his accent
color coded text: hobie , you
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you guys are more alike than you think. touring, getting into fights, sometimes your music topics intersect beating people down, stealing peoples partners, rebelling against the system in some way, shape or form.
but where you're different is how you market yourselfs. hobies band is more about being loud about the hate for conforming and the system. they're vocal about political issues, they almost get banned from tv multiple times for broadcasting ideas that the man doesn't like.
you on the other hand, are seen as the super star of your generation. you rap, sing dance—you're the real deal. your music is very diverse depending on what you want to go for; you could sing the most heart wrenching songs about one sided love and the next track you could be rapping about getting white girl wasted and getting ████ed in the ████ in the car before an award show (which may or may not have happened).
anyways! you two keep your relationship as private as you can. you don't really talk about each other in interviews, you have a couple songs about each other but it's not really a common thing.
theres a lot of paparazzi pics of you two together though. theres pics of you and hobie walking out of after parties together, hanging with his friends, coming back from the grocery store and many, many photos of you two hugging and kissing.
hobie has like this sixth sense that makes him always find the camera so sometimes theres pictures of him grabbing as much of your ass as he can while smirking at the camera man thats walking behind you (which you didn't know whats there btw)
and every single times he dose that theres always a second picture of you hitting the back of his head or grabbing his ear.
*click* *click* *click* "stop doing that!" your face was getting hotter from embarrassment as you turned the corner faster trying to get away from the camera man. hobie could only smirk as he caught up to you easily, putting his hand on your shoulders before pulling you closer.
bringing one of his hands to your waist as the other snaked from your shoulder to your chest. "c'mon luv, you know i can't resist..." his breath hitting your ear as he leaned in to smell your neck before being cut off by a hit to his chest. you could practically hear his smirk as he pushed your hips back into his.
your stomach started to naught as you felt it on your behind. you closed your eyes almost forgetting the situation. *click* *clock* *click* your eyes snapped open as your hear the camera man behind you.
"oh hush you just think you're funny." hobie couldn't even hold back his laugh as he watched you walk in front of him with your arms crossed. "well it is! n' don't act like you don't like it."
if you're shy & bashful he would love to embarrass you but not in a ddg/halle bailey way but in a "omgggg stop guys🙈" kind of way like why is he parading around in a 'i 🩷 my gf' shirt and making out with you on national television
hobie dose not think it's right to be controlling over his partners nor dose he believe that you should be subservient to him—now with that being said he feels sick to his stomach when you collaborate with certain artists.
you had a song about partying in the club and your male feature was talking about fucking on you he couldn't even bring himself to post the song on a ig story. he actually fell to his knees !!!
speaking of feeling sick! if you ever twerk on someone just for a performance or have to grind on someone during a dance he doesn't get super angry or whatever but in the inside he's like 'im abt to kms'. he's very dramatic!!
he hates when people try to put you in the role of just being his partner and nothing else—he will literally sit there and argue with someone if they ever try to sit there and say you're nothing but a pretty face.
he feels a certain way if you ever get uber rich. he knows thats most if not all artist want to live comfortably and he understands that you aren't the corrupt system that exploits others, hell you're getting exploited in some way.
BUT if you ever have a million dollars his would would feel a little VERY unsettled. he'd probably break up with you lol he wouldn't want to sound like a hater but he'd try to be like "heyyy how about we donate some money to a shelter or something🙈🫶🏿💗❓"
but if you're dating him he won't have to worry about that because you have to be at least a little political (and he'd have to agree with your views)
you might not be an anarchist, you don't even have to classify yourself with one political party but you have to at least be anti-capitalist, anti-establishment and pro-black.
speaking of politics he gets arrested all the time for protesting and you'll have to get used to that. like every few weeks you will have to pic him up from jail because he was arrested for conspiracy to riot or something on the lines of that.
IF you two ever collab you'll have to find a middle ground because he cannot sing (that is cannon!) and you should never try to get him too unless you want your engineer to be slaving away trying to get him to sound listenable.
he's lowkey your arm candy and he doesn't mind it at all. like if you get invited to the grammies or something he'll always come with you (his group will most likely never get nominated bc of the topics they like to talk about.) but he's never wearing a suit he just likes to dress like this:
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in return you'll probably have to dress in a lot of black id you want to match or don't... he'll be like your statement piece for the night
if he's with you when you get your first award he'll literally pic you up and jump up and down with you for a few seconds before letting you go
if you normally win at award shows he just kisses you for a few seconds before letting go up to accept it
either way doesn't like to go up on stage with you hen you accept awards because he feels like he takes away from your moment but he dose walk you off and on stage. the only way he'll ho up on stage with you is if you're like crying really heavy then.
his band mates probably thought you were gonna be the hit it & quit it type because usually punks and non-punks don't last long but they were a little surprised when 1) you two lasted long and 2) you agreed with their views despite being industry.
sum sum sum idk how to end this
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randomized-sims24 · 11 months ago
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A Familiar Safe Space (Twisted Brotherhood AU ft. Nexus and Solar)
"Will it stop? If I go with you?" The celestial animatronic asked, his voice low and tired as he looked up at the taller, Lunar animatronic, his black and orange eyes meeting purple and red. Well maybe "lunar" wasn't the right word anymore. He looked more like a mad scientist, complete with goggles hanging around his neck, the same pair Solar owned before he died. Nexus shrugged then nodded a little.
"Sort of? The voices and hallucinations won't ever really stop but there's enough to distract from those things, for a while anyway."
For the last few months Solar had been hearing and seeing things, but any time anyone asked himhe'd say he was fine. He couldn't even bring himself to tell Earth everything. But this...while he didn't doubt her ability to handle heavy stuff, he didn't want to worry Earth with ALL of his problems.
A light chuckle left his lips as he realized how Ironic this was. From what he'd heard of Nexus doing Solar was doing the same things he did- hiding or lying about how he felt, bottling up emotions or even forcing himself to work on projects until he was well under 50% charge, and Jack or Earth would drag him to bed to rest. All of this certainly wasn't helped by the part of his own code that was made and intertwined with Eclipses', a familiar yet strange itch to constantly prove himself itching under his skin, insecurity and inferiority buzzing through his circuits.
He glanced up, and for a moment he stared behind Nexus, seeing Sun. But not this dimensions Sun, no.
Sunny. His own original Sun.
Sunny stood behind Nexus, silently shaking his head as if he knew what Solar was thinking. Maybe he did, even in death Sunny always seemed to know no matter what.
Then he heard a voice, raspy and familiar near his ear.
His Moon, Moonbeam.
Moonbeam was whispering to him over his shoulder.
'You should do it.'
'Go with him, Eclipse.'
'You've already lied to your family, hidden things. The same things he experienced and they think he's crazy. What will they think of you?'
'Why not say fuck it, be an Eclipse. Sooner or later you all fall to madness no matter what. And you'd be with your best friend again, too. You know I'm right.'
Again, he saw Sunny shaking his head and even mouthed 'please, don't do it Eclipse...'
Solar shook his head and covered his ears, fingers moving up to grab and lightly pull his rays, only for a moment before he felt hands gently grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his head. His eyes rose to meet purple and red, something like concern etched on his face.
"Solar? You with me?"
Solar took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes, and nodded.
"Yeah, I...I'm solid, Moon."
Nexus smiled a bit. Solar was the only one he'd ever allow to call him 'Moon' again. No one else had that privilege.
"Good. So, Solar? Do you have an answer?"
The Eclipse looked at him, then away, then closed his eyes and took a breath.
"Yes."
Moon looked at him, a wider grin forming on his face and a hint of eagerness and excitement in his voice. "Really? Even though you'd be leaving Earth? Jack?"
A twinge of guilt settled in his core at that thought, feeling a bit bad since they went through so much to have him back, but if Moon couldn't be here, neither could he.
"I'm sure."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sunny shake and lower his head and vanish, Moonbeam taking his place with a sharp grin, but he said nothing.
"I'll meet you outside then, if you need to take anything." Nexus said as he stood and handed him a small box before he teleported away.
Solar took the box and teleported to Moon's lab. At a counter he felt for a switch underneath, pressing when he found it, which opened an adjacent panel. Inside were five purple crystals crackling with energy. Putting them in the box he went home to get ready.
Solar sighed as he returned home, tucking the box and his blueprints and notebooks into a bag. He left his toolbox and clothes behind. He'd get new ones in his new home later. He left a note on the bed.
'Sun.
I'm sorry but I left. I don't think I can stay here without Moon. I'm alive but I just can't stay without him. Please tell Earth, Jack, the others that I'm sorry. Sorry for leaving, sorry for lying and hiding everything, sorry I didn't say goodbye this time. Please, don't look for me this time. I love you guys, all of you.
-Solar'
With that, he shut off the lights, closed the door, and made his way outside, joining Nexus at a portal. With one look back, he entered through with him.
Yeah, it hurt to leave his family again. But he'd rather have just Moon and no one else than everyone but Moon. After all, Moon was something extra special to him. Moon was safety, warmth. His own little safe space.
-end-
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scribeofskyrim · 5 months ago
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Middas, 13th of Frostfall, 4E 201
Tonight I sleep in Tiber Septim's bed!
Well, that's what Eydis the innkeeper says, anyway.
We're at the Old Hroldan Inn, somewhere in The Reach, and I'm thankful my fingers still work. I nearly froze to death getting here!
We left the fort this morning, and the weather hadn't improved any. Still, we kept on, and followed the road as it followed the river's edge.
This whole place has such a close feel to it. There's cliffs all over, with only the barest openings from the road to the peaks surrounding us.
We got to Karthwasten with no trouble, and walked right into an argument.
The man who owns Karthwasten, Ainethach, was arguing with a heavily-armed mercenary named Atar. The mercenaries had taken up residence in one of the two mines there, and were refusing to leave until Ainethach sold his mine to the sellsword's boss, Thonar Silver-Blood. Apparently, they were here because the Forsworn had been causing Karthwasten some trouble, and the Silver-Bloods had "generously" sent over Atar and his men to help clear them out.
According to Ainethach, the Silver-Bloods have been on him for years to sell the place to them. They already own most of The Reach, and have the Jarl in their pocket, but that's not enough for them. They want the whole thing!
Greedy bastards.
I said I'd see what I could do, then went to talk with the others. I was sure we'd have a fight on our hands as soon as we went into the mine, so I suggested a plan. We go to Markarth, sell what we'd picked up so far, and then come back to help. Obviously, we'd pick up more goods to sell dealing with the mercenaries, and we could always go back to Markarth, or just keep on our way, depending.
Even Lydia agreed that wasn't a bad idea.
I said we'd be back, and we went back down the hill, and joined the road towards Markarth.
On the way we came to a crossroads with a bridge to the left and a little house to the right. There were three Forsworn hiding out there, and they rushed us!
We defeated them, then checked the house. There was no sign of anyone, and in fact it didn't look like anything bad had happened inside, so we left everything as we found it. Hopefully whoever owns the place was out, and the Forsworn hadn't killed them.
And then it felt like we got the first bit of good luck all day.
We found Ri'saad and his caravan! I'd much rather deal with him than that grumpy lady at Arnleif and Sons. I did some trading, bought a few ingredients I didn't know much about - Erandur started to lecture me, then just sighed and cautioned me to try them one at a time. "Just pretend it's Orcish Forgewater and pace yourself."
I promised to be good, then we headed back towards Karthwasten. It hadn't taken very long at all, thankfully, but we did have extra trouble on the way back to Ainethach.
We walked past three Thalmor, leading a barefoot, captive man down the road.
By the Nine, I saw red.
I marched right up to them. Lydia and I had explained what happened at Northwatch Keep after we'd come across the Thalmor Embassy, so the other two knew (and shared) my opinion of them. They all quickened their pace to catch up with me.
The lead lady, a mage, sneered when I got her attention and asked if I was actually a mage, or did I just steal my robes? I didn't dignify that question with an answer, and instead asked her what they were doing with that man?
She said that he knew the location of a cult of Talos, and that they were going to interrogate him until he talked, or kill him for being a heretic.
Having seen first-hand that "Interrogation" was Thalmor code for "Torture," I couldn't let what happened to Thorald happen to him.
I asked her what was so bad about worshiping Talos, and she said it was immoral to worship a man, not to mention illegal. A good Imperial would know that, she said, and asked if I had anything to confess?
Behind me, I heard the others draw themselves up, and their feet shift. The two Thalmor fighters behind the prisoner whispered to each other, smirking. I didn't catch the whole thing and I won't write what I did, but just know it was something about Dunmer that would probably get you killed if you said it in a cornerclub.
I stared at the Justiciar for a second, then looked past her shoulder at the bound man.
We made eye contact, and I expected to see - I don't know. Fear, I think? Anger? Desperation?
Not Hope. But it was there; quiet, stubborn and ready to fight.
I gave the head lady a big smile and said, loudly, "Well, you got me! I believe in Talos!"
And then all Oblivion broke loose!
Luckily so did the man. He bolted behind us, so we were able to concentrate on the Thalmor.
I don't know how Lydia did it, but she rushed past them like a whirlwind and we had them surrounded. I was focused on the mage, but I think the other fighters were using magic, too?
As before, the mage was useless against an axe, and she couldn't keep her wards up enough to deflect that AND Flames. I'm almost surprised at how quickly she went down.
While I dealt with her, the others handled the fighters. Once we were finished, the man came back down the hill so we could free his hands. He thanked us, then ran back towards Markarth.
I happily looted all they had, which included some very nice Elven armor that'll fetch a good price. As we were rearranging our packs yet again, Valdimar quietly asked me if I really did believe in Talos.
I do.
The three looked at each other, then back at me. Lydia pointed out that I didn't, before. Erandur asked, "Why the change of heart?"
It wasn't a "change of heart", like he thought. I wanted there to be some sort of grand reason, like a vision just for the Dragonborn or something, but as I put my pack back on I told them the simple truth: His shrines work.
This got a big laugh out of Valdimar, and soon we were all laughing as we turned up the mountain towards Karthwasten. But it really is that simple! I had gotten a blessing from Talos back at the Weynon Stones, when we were first going to Windhelm, and it worked as everyone said it should. Sure, you can make false shrines that just Heal people - I've seen that con before in the Capital - but the Divines do more for you than that.
Erandur nodded. A blessing from Mara makes Healing magic work better, he said, and a blessing from Talos is said to help your voice recover more quickly between Shouts. Of course, this blessing is only really useful for Tongues, like me. "The rest of us have to operate on faith."
Then we got to Karthwasten, and went into the mine to talk to Atar. He plainly admitted that he and his men were supposed to wait out Ainethach until he agreed to sell the mine to the Silver-Bloods. I managed to convince him to leave because no one wanted them there, and honestly, the miners were getting angry.
Pickaxes-and-torches kind of angry.
Atar didn't want to face an angry mob. No amount of money was worth that, so he took his men and left.
Ainethach was glad that I managed to convince him to leave, and rewarded us with 800 gold for our trouble.
Not bad!
So, went back down the hill to keep hunting for Red Eagle's sword.
It started to pour rain. We were all wet, miserable, and I started to freeze. I saw what looked like an encampment, but it was CRAWLING with Forsworn. As in, I think I could see six of them, and I couldn't even see the whole place.
I'd be safer with a hungry saber cat. I turned us around and we went back to the main road and kept going. It was getting dire. Thank the Nine for Bask and Wolfskin, but I had to stop using Wolfskin because I got too cold and just… Couldn't find the magic, you know?
Erandur offered his flame ability, but it was raining so hard all it could do was keep me from getting any colder for a solid minute.
Still, that minute was enough.
We spotted a building (this place) across the river, just a bit up the hillside, and soon, through the fog, a bridge! There was a shrine to Dibella on the roadside, across from where the bridge butted up to the road.
We crossed the bridge as fast as we could, but I was almost staggering by then. Erandur wasn't much better off. Lydia grabbed me and Valdimar took Erandur, and they managed to half-drag us inside before either of us collapsed.
Once we warmed up, I asked Eydis about getting beds for the night. She offered me Tiber Septim's! She said that Tiber Septim himself had slept right here at the Old Hroldan Inn after winning his first battle to claim Skyrim. And they still had the very bed he used!
Why not? Closest I'll ever get to an Emperor's bed (she'd clearly heard that one before) so I booked that one for myself and the rest for the others. It's not that late, but it's too late to go anywhere, especially in this weather. Right now we're just having some mead and talking before we get some sleep. There's a boy here, her son Skuli, and he thinks it's funny that the dog is named Septim.
Even though it's a bit early for me, I'm eager to see if old Tiber Septim slept well while he was here.
We'll find the sword tomorrow.
---
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zevdev · 11 months ago
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Wonderend Rambles
So Wonderend 0 finally came out!!! I haven't played much of it because I'm not exactly a horror game person so the jump scares kinda get to me for now, but I can say I started to play it. [I don't think there's any spoilers because I think you would have had to play the game to recognize if it was a spoiler]
I will say the only thing I can think when I play it is that with the camera thing it's like fnaf a bit. I've never personally have played any of the fnaf games but I watched my cousin play one of them and he was on the cameras a lot so that's probably why. Game play for Wonderend has been taking over my yt though and honestly it pains me how bad some people are. I'm going to get a bit rant-y but come on people if there's a exclamation point on the spot where the camera's are you should probably check it or maybe actually read the computer so you don't constantly go to the electrical room when it says go to the music room. It also tells you to keep the red locker sealed so granted I didn't know the stickers would literally fall off but I think after the first time it opens I would probably remember to check it every now and again. Anyways rant over sorry about that. It's nice to see all the pieces come together now finally knowing 000's name, learning how harsh people were towards him, knowing he now has a canon design and no longer going off of gacha club's and concepts. I also like how you don't start at a title screen you just jump straight into the game along with the title screen being more of a place you put codes into than an actual title screen. I did one of the codes so far but I had to restart the night due to leaving it. I have two more since I accidently messed up my screenshot and closed out of one of the photos. With that all said I think it's a decent game so far I like that the style is a mix of gacha and actual drawing [compare both 000s you can see during dialogue and you'll get what I mean] Anyways because I still have gacha club I'm trying to get the 000 battle unit to see if the wonderend glitch thing is still there so wish me luck! [Late update it doesn't and gacha club is stupid buggy now so I don't suggest using that app anymore]
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eod-agent-13-12 · 5 months ago
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A Complicated Color Code Day
No one knows who started the new tradition in the agency. One of the field agents introduced it and it spread to the others, until it became a new "game".
Unfortunately for a certain handler, he didn't get the memo until his agent decided to ask him to wear a certain color.
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"You don't want to wear anything that looks too much like the agency uniform we wear during formal events, Handler Sir." Agent Phoenix mumbled as they turned to their handler with a less than impressed expression.
"Agent, may I ask what's going on right now?" Reginald Crane looked at his agent, before looking at the new tweed jacket they got him. "It seems you had this planned for a while."
"Oh hush. Just wear it." They grinned, wearing a red jacket in contrast to their usual black. "... I look nice, right?"
"You do look nice, Agent." He replied, taking a quick glance at them as they waited for him outside. "You didn't have to stop by my actual house to hand this over to me."
"Nope. You're wearing that. It'll be fun. We field agents conspired our best to get our respective handlers to participate."
"And that is?"
"A shirt color code thing." They tried to hold back a laugh as they stood outside his door to allow him to change. "It'll be fun, promise."
"I wasn't aware the agency even had this tradition." He mumbled, closing the door to properly change. "And jackets are not shirts, Agent. They're different items of clothing."
"I know who started it but I'm not snitching. It's only a recent developement anyway. A lot of people wear red on Valentine's Day already. We managed to keep it under the radar but we got bored. So, we conspired and expanded the whole thing. Also, I don't really care about the difference."
"... Maybe we should've kept you at the Babadag base, Agent. Your lack of sensitivity to my beloved tweed jackets wound me."
"You're the one who insisted I get back to headquarters." They held back a chuckle as he examined the material and checked if it would fit him.
"After you decided to put sticky notes all over your office 'out of boredom'. Clearly, I can't trust you to be alone for a few hours."
"... It was actually a dare."
"By who?"
"I'm not snitching." Their tone signalled their less than impressed expression despite being blocked by the door. "Which agent even knows I was alive back then?"
"And here I thought he was the more responsible of the two of you."
Muffled laughter phased through the door. "Nah. He'd been worse of a troublemaker than I ever was. Then again, we'd been each other's co-conspirators for a reason."
"And what did you two conspire to do this time?" He raised a brow, soon opening the door as he went for a more casual (but still office friendly) look.
"It's color codes. Basically, every color has a meaning and well, it's just a little thing. Just to add a little flavor. Not everyone wants or has a date today."
"And what does white mean?"
"Not interested. Why?"
Reginald just sighed as he led them out of his house. "I see." He tossed them his keys as they approached closer. "I suppose I can deal with that for a couple of hours. This jacket feels nice to wear."
"Glad to hear that. This counts as a favor, by the way."
"What kind of favor?"
"Anything within reason. No record of it."
"I can hold onto it until it's important, yes?"
"Of course. I'll put it in writing too."
"No record but you put it in writing. At least be a bit more consistent, Agent."
"I'm an embodiment of chaos, Reg. Deal with it."
Phoenix laughed before starting the engine and driving to headquarters. Reginald swears they picked the sad sounding love songs on purpose, even if he didn't understand the lyrics. On the plus side, they were humming.
"But... If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to pretend. Just tell me."
"I do not pretend that often, Agent. I do like this one. It feels nice."
"... Reggie. I know the look of someone trying to remain calm while the other shoe drops so please don't try to trick me if it gets too much." Phoenix mumbles, unbuckling themself as soon as they parked. "Seen that look way too often."
The pair arrived inside, the office looking a few colors more lively than yesterday. Although a sight made Phoenix cackle a bit.
"... I didn't want this." Agent Typhoon mumbled, wearing a white long sleeved button down shirt, black pants and shoes. His agency identification hanging from a lanyard. "But apparently, my handler can be convincing if she wants to be."
"Don't lie. You also wanted to. Hah. You're wearing something similar to your old high school uniform. I suppose you get a pass since you're basically the baby of the division."
"Just because I'm yet to graduate from college doesn't mean-"
Reginald chuckled, taking time to slip past to look for Agent Typhoon's Handler in the Handler Breakroom.
"They handily gave us a list to know which colors mean what. We're running several missions, we don't have time for this." One of the other handlers sighed, crossing arms as the words cut off Reginald's words before he can even greet them.
"Take it easy, you killjoy. At least we're not getting pranks this time. It helps provide enrichment. And for others to get used to bluffing." Ellie huffed, wearing a purple shirt. "It's fun to at least know some boundaries between coworkers too. Purple means you're willing to flirt but nothing more."
"I keep seeing a lot of white and black when I looked around the office. Good morning, everyone." Reginald approached, taking steps to brew himself a cup of tea as soon as he clocked in.
"They mean the same thing, Mason. I'm surprised. I thought your agent would wear white or black." Ellie took a sip of her coffee as she leaned on the counter. "And good morning to you as well."
"They often surprise me. And everyone else. It's not that different this time." He took in the smell of tea as he relaxed. "Although I feel like this is more of a cover for something else."
"Someone put in chocolate in every agent's desk. Not them but someone. I don't know who though."
"I know my agent is behind that. I can feel it."
"But they have an alibi."
"As much as I'd like to ponder that, I believe we have work to do. I shall see you all during our lunch break." Reginald waved, bringing with him the tea as he settled in his office. "Agent, are you there?" He opened his microphone before turning on the camera feed to see them pouring over a stack of documents.
"These chain cases are terrible. Not to mention, I have an archive to look through. The last person who was employed in there didn't categorize anything other than date." Phoenix mumbled. "I'm settling it fine but I can sense a sleepless night brewing already." They leaned back on their chair as they looked through another page.
The knock on the door interrupted their conversation, only for Phoenix to laugh with tears. "... He's definitely a different breed."
"Instant noodles, Agent. I will not comment other than it's an unorthodox gift."
"I gave him roasted garlic."
The brief pause gave Reginald time to process. "... Of course you did. Are you behind the chocolates?"
"Yeah. But let's focus more on work now."
"This isn't how I imagined Valentine's day to go at all."
"Before you ask, we are going out after work later. Smitten and I."
"I hope you have fun, Agent."
"I will. Invite Dr. P out today, okay?"
"Florian."
Agent Phoenix laughed as they continued their work.
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merwynpersonalhub · 1 year ago
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Marco angst fic thing- Reminder im not a writer im shit at writing but im trying to get better with it ^^ color codes bc i color code my shit- marco Kevin streber radford
It was supposed to be the day Marco, Kevin, Rick, Streber, and Radford to go out and hang out!! It was rare when they all could hang out together. Hell Marco was so excited and was so hyped for the day as well! Probably the most excited compared to everyone else But.. Marco wasn't feeling right today. There was no reason for it either!! Her boss didn't yell at her, there weren't a lot of deliveries today and hell she got to be dolled up for once!! Wearing a pretty teal and white dress with some fake diamond earrings with some dark red lipstick. She didn't understand why she was feeling like this. She was sitting on her couch with her black, brown, and white puppy in her lap as she looked at the clock. Her grip on her dress tightened a bit. They should be here any minute.. She couldn't go she knew she would break down in public but god her heart was racing. She never told them no before. I mean she has but this was different. She was dating all of them now. It shouldn't be that big of a deal though! She should be able to tell them no! I mean yeah Jaz never took no but they should.. ..Right?.. What if she was forced to go like how Jaz would make her. What if they try to tell her "its not that bad get up we are going" or what if- Click "Hey Marco?? Are you here?" The door opened and three men came in. Kevin who was in a white hoodie with some baggy blue jeans. His hair was actually brushed instead of the usually messy hair he had going. Radford who wore a green buttoned up shirt with a brown jacket. He had normal glasses which was surprising and some black pants. And Streber who wore some fancy black blouse you would see actors on plays wear and some dark fancy pants. They all stared at her for a few seconds which caused marco to look away and they all snapped out of it. "W..wheres rick?"
"Hes driving us."
"Oh.."
God her tone was so off.. She was so scared to tell them she couldn't go god just get the hint please don't make her say it-
"Are you ok? Do you need a minute?"
God damn it they noticed she was off. It took a minute as she felt like she was going to throw up. "I-...im fine.. Um.. would you mind if i don't go? I mean i know yall were excited but i just.."
She looked down at biscuits as she patted her. She already was ready to take back what she said. she didn't want to get yelled at anyways- "Nah its fine dude!! We can have a guys night! Besides we never really hung out with Streber!"
Wait...what? They weren't even questioning why? "Yeah we don't mind! Besides you been working a lot anyways"
"Y..you sure?.."
"Yeah!!"
Marco looked up at them and before she could say anything they took turns kissing her forehead.
"Just call us if you need anything ok hun?.."
Marco just froze.. That was something Jaz usually said when he was mad but she couldn't speak or move except nodded her head. Trying her best to look fine.. Radford went out the door since he didn't notice anything but Streber went over and hugged her. "You sure your fine?.." "Mhm.."
Streber and Kevin knew how stubborn she could be so they just gave their goodbyes and reminded her to call if they need anything before leaving and her being left alone.. she teared up a bit. They..werent going to do anything bad right.. They weren't mad at her saying no right?... She moved the pooch off her lap before getting up and checking the window to see the car was gone... They weren't upset right?.. They shouldn't be. But Jaz was sweet for a few months before being awful.. What if they were like that. What if they were waiting for her guard down to hurt her or even- ... Her mind was racing with these thoughts now she fucked up she messed up now something bad is going to happen and its all her damn fault. She went to her room and locked the door before hugging herself and crying into her knees while trying to cover herself up the most she could...
----------------
have this lmao
no good ending or nada @mayisgoingnuts (idk who else wanna see my writing vfhbvdhj
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pipermca · 2 years ago
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K-9: Part 4
Start at the beginning here.
Enjoy.
No content warnings. Relationships: Barricade & Prowl, Bluestreak & Prowl, Prowl & OC
***************************************
Brainstorm gave Prowl a funny look as he poured a few nuggets of energon into his hand. "Of course not. We just cloned a wirehound spark, like I said. The frame is custom." He wiggled his wings as the drone ate the fuel from his hand. "We made a few changes to it when we heard the Watch was interested in testing it, like the lightbars and the paint job. If you don't like them, we can take them off again."
"No. They are fine," Prowl said faintly, still staring at the drone. "I must admit I was expecting something much smaller, though."
"Well, you know the military: why make a weapon when you can make a huge weapon!" Brainstorm sounded almost gleeful. Then he stopped himself. "But like I said, it's not a weapon. And don't worry about its size. It has a travel form you can order it into. It compacts up pretty well. You should be able to fit it in your cargo space."
As Brainstorm opened the cage and let the drone out, Prowl tried to imagine what his neighbours were going to think of the drone. Specifically, the grumpy old minibot who lived across the hallway. He wondered whether the drone's travel form was small enough for him to carry it in his hands.
As they walked back to the front of the storage room, the drone followed along behind Brainstorm. It seemed sluggish, as if it wanted to stay back in its storage crate, and it almost looked like it was slouching as it walked. Prowl noticed that the finials on either side of its head were pressed down against the top of its dome, and a small red antenna on its rear did not seem to be properly deployed. Instead, the antenna was tucked down between its rear legs.
"We're just going to take it over to the main lab real quick so we can do a memory wipe and get you set up as the new user," Brainstorm said. "A-6, follow." He gestured at the drone, waiting for it to follow him into the hallway. "It always acts like this when we take it out of storage. We found giving it a fresh wipe sets it back to its default behaviours. Mostly."
The lab was just a few doors down, and the memory wipe only took a few minutes. While the drone was rebooting, Brainstorm rummaged through his subspace and the drawers on the lab table. "Here's the failsafe," Brainstorm said, handing Prowl a rectangular device. "Keep this in your subspace at all times. It’s an emergency stop if something goes really wrong with the drone. Pressing the big red button will kill the spark/processor connection, and stop it dead in its tracks."
"Is that a serious danger?" Prowl asked, looking at the controller.
"Nah. But Percy is always insisting on safety and backups, so there you are." Brainstorm gave Prowl another datapad. "This is a list of all the basic commands the unit's hard coded with. It's pretty self-explanatory: sit, down, follow, stay, stop, and so on. Anything else you want to train it to do, you'll have to do on your own." He paused. "The dossier the Watch sent over said you have experience in training mechanimals?"
"No, but before coming to Iacon, I owned a flyt that I trained myself," Prowl explained. "I assume the principles for training a mechanimal are similar?"
"Yeah, it's the same, near as I can understand. Worst comes to worst, we can send over one of the sergeants who worked with the unit before to give you a crash course," Brainstorm said. "Anyway, the troops were able to train it to do things like retrieve objects, follow a target, and attack." His wings twitched again. "Err, I know that's probably not something the Watch would want to train it for, but just letting you know what it's capable of. There's probably more the guys didn't think of, so just try stuff. Be creative."
"Understood," Prowl said. He thought of his special unit's mandate to analyze the drone's capabilities and immediately started making a mental list of things to try. "Is there a reason you cannot just upload the desired commands like with a regular drone?"
"We tried, of course. But after the initial load of those first commands, the firmware started rejecting everything else we tried to give it." Brainstorm shrugged. "It was only after one of the soldiers assigned to the drone tried teaching it some tricks that we realized that standard mechanimal training would work."
Prowl nodded. "Thank you for the clarification."
Brainstorm was checking on the progress of the drone's reboot when he snapped his fingers. "Oh! And one more thing. You'll need some equipment." Brainstorm pulled open another cabinet and started pulling out items. "It needs a recharge mat, the solid energon kibble it uses, coolant, a few chamois to wipe its visor down, bowls for the kibble and coolant, its chew rods-"
"Chew rods?"
"Yeah. It likes to chew on things, strangely enough. We think that's due to the source spark. Giving it a carbonsteel stick to gnaw on will keep it from chewing on things it shouldn't, like your furniture." Brainstorm went back to the desk and pulled out a smaller container. "Oh, and it loves rust nuggets. The troops used these as treats for training, and they worked really well as a motivator."
Prowl looked at the pile of things that Brainstorm had assembled. "Is all of this really necessary? I will not be able to fit all of this in my cargo space, especially with the drone already in there."
"Don't worry about it, I've already called for a courier to take it to your place," Brainstorm said with a casual wave of his hand. He looked at a monitor on the workstation. "All right, it's coming back online now."
The drone's flat black visor sparked with a dim light. A moment later, the light brightened to a solid red and the drone raised its head. Its finials lifted high, and the lightbars, which had been pressed tightly against its back, flicked up into the air. It swiveled its head and immediately locked onto Prowl.
"Good, A-6 identified you as its new user," Brainstorm said. "Use some of those commands I gave you and see if it'll follow them."
"A-6?" Prowl nodded, and pointed at the ground in front of him. "Come here."
The drone scrabbled to its pedes and crossed the distance between them in one bound. Now that the unit was not slouching, Prowl could see that he was right. It could almost look him directly in the optics. It was a little intimidating.
"Uh," Prowl said. "Sit."
The drone just stared at him.
"You have to preface the command with its designation," Brainstorm said. "That's to let it know you're actually talking to it."
"A-6, sit."
The drone's haunches collapsed to the ground as it sat.
"A-6, stay." Prowl turned his back on the drone and crossed to the other side of the lab. When he turned back around, he saw that the drone remained focused on him, seemingly ignoring Brainstorm completely. "A-6, come."
Once again, the drone launched itself towards him. Prowl very nearly took a step backwards away from the drone, but it skidded to a stop just in front of him. It looked at him expectantly. Behind it, the tiny antenna on its aft flicked back and forth.
"Perfect!" Brainstorm said. His optics glowed brightly as Prowl walked back to the workstation, the drone at his heels. "I can't wait to see what you do with it."
 Prowl looked at the drone appraisingly. "I am looking forward to finding out its capabilities also," he said.
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archiveofmiksown · 2 years ago
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CHAPTER 2. I CAN'T STAND YOU HANGING ROUND LATELY I CAN'T STAND YOU TRYING TO SAVE ME
previous / next
              Consciousness festers like a wound; slow, red, and painful. Bubby groans as a droning buzz nips at his ears. It takes all that he is to sit there with a hand on his aching head, a low grumble leaving his lips. Memories remain fragmented, floating through the abyss of a migraine-afflicted mind.
              He had been in a room. That room. He's certain of that much. But now he feels that he isn't; there's no steel flooring beneath his fingertips or blisteringly blind lights breaking through the curtain of his eyelids. There's only him and his unfinished thoughts licking against him like flames.
              Where is he? What happened? His eyes are open but he can barely register what's in front of him. The images feel years away; like the worn surface of a fading photograph. He could almost call it dreamlike, but he doesn't dream. He shouldn't, at least.
              "...Oh my fucking god, you're actually still alive."
              The voice rises from above the haze. It is sharp and bitter and all too familiar. Bubby seizes up. He knows whose this is. He remembers. The realization is enough to jolt him from his stupor. 
              Like clouds parting, his vision clears. There he stands, slowly coming to focus, a foot tapping against the dusty, rubble-riddled floor of some non-descript Black Mesa hallway; Gordon Freeman in all his pissed-as-hell glory.
              "G-Gordon!" Bubby exclaims. He scrambles to get up. The effort kicks up the dust by his feet. His heart races. There's a surge of emotion that passes over him; the flashes of feeling unnameable save for one. Relief. Shameless of him to feel such a thing, considering everything he's done. And strange, considering his design. But he's coded to revel in security. The instinct for self-sustainment makes it so. Gordon may not be a friend, but he is familiar. A sharp contrast to the fog of half-buried memory.
              Gordon sighs that same, deep-chested sigh that he always lets out around them. "So you're awake now." he laughs, the sound hollow and disbelieving, "God, I can't believe this is real. I can't believe I'm here with you."
              Bubby flinches at the venom. He should say sorry; he wants to. But his defenses find themselves flaring up, and the hiss leaves his lips before he can stop it. "Oh, I know that tone! Go fuck yourself and die, Gordon. Do you think I wanted you to be here with you, too?"
              He kind of did. It was better than being alone. But Bubby would sooner crawl back inside his tube before admitting that.
              Gordon rolls his eyes. "Don't tell me to fuck off, man. Not when you fucking… you know—" he gestures wildly, "—chopped my hand off."
              "What? I didn't do that!" Bubby protests, "I didn't even tell them to do anything like that!"
              Gordon points an accusing finger. "Well whatever it is you told them to do, it doesn't matter. I don't have my fucking hand, and now I'm fucking alone here with you!"
              Silence falls. The last sentence echoes through the room, lingering in the air like smoke from a gun. Bubby's anger pauses as his thoughts hover around one word and one word only— alone. He frowns.
              "Wait… what do you mean alone? Where… where are the others? What happened?"
              "Huh?" Gordon blinks. Bubby's sudden turn to docility seems to have caught him off-guard. "You seriously forgot?" he hums, a thoughtfulness softening his edge. For a moment, there's a semblance of peace between the two men.
              "Well, you were out pretty cold. I was kinda hoping you'd died, but you kept screaming." Gordon's voice lowers to a murmur, "Not that I think people like you could die, anyways."
              Bubby tilts his head, blissfully ignorant of the latter part. "So I was asleep?"
              He puts a hand to his aching head. So that was all a dream. That's weird. He doesn't dream. He's not supposed to. Gordon shifts his weight from one foot to another. The aggression that steeped in the air mellows beneath the lull of their shared perplexion.
              "Yeah, man, why d'you think I kept yelling at you? I was trying to wake you up. Ugh, anyways."
              Gordon sighs, putting his hands (hand…) on his hips, "The short of it is: you begged us to let you out of your tube thing—"
              Bubby's eyes widen. Things are beginning to sound familiar. His memories, previously discarded, now surface with a renewed clarity; like a sharp intake of breath after breaching water. 
              "Oh." says he.
              "You told us to press the button—"
              Memories return. He can see it: Hands on glass, fractures on the surface, a face wrought in painful supplication. On the other side of his tube, the others in the Science Team. Staring and staring as he pleads to be freed. Their faces. The blurs. The unfinished memories. Had this really been why? 
              "...Oh."
              "—then everything kinda fucking blew up."
              Then the rapture. A white-hot, blinding return to chaos. Entropy folding unto itself and manifesting in broken glass and smoke. And a dream— one as fractured as the mind which conjured it.
              "Oh."
              "Yeah." Gordon throws his arms up, defeated, "And now I'm trapped in this side of the hall. With you."
              Bubby frowns. "You could always just leave me behind if you hate me that much."
              "God, wouldn't that be amazing?" his tone seethes with sarcasm, "But I can't. I literally fucking can't! I don't have my right hand, man, I can't fucking shoot anything with this thing! Can barely open a fucking door." he waves the aforementioned stump-remains of his hand, "You're gonna have to do it all for me."
              Realization hits him in waves, though that's not to say it's any easier for him to digest. Bubby's face transforms into a wide-mouthed look of horror.
              "...Oh god. You really are stuck with me."
              "Yeah. Yeah. You get it now? God." Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing, "Can't believe I have my fucking life in your stupid traitor hands."
              "Hey, I said I was sorry, wasn't I? I'll be better!" says Bubby.
              "You really think I'm gonna believe that?" Gordon shoots back.
              Bubby opens his mouth to respond, but can't make up the words. Guilt rises in his throat. Silence is the only answer one can give if the other party was right. At this, Gordon sighs.
              "Ugh, whatever. Let's just go. We don't have much time. And I feel myself bleeding the fuck out."
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alittlefrenchtree · 2 years ago
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Ok I'm sending you some of your own RWRB questions: Number 1,2, 5, 7, 10, 13,14, and 19 (i had to stop myself from sending the whole list lol)
Thank you so much! Maybe I'll end up answering every question on my own anyway but it's nice starting with your selection 🥰
#1 What was your introduction to Red, White and Royal Blue? How did you become aware of it, what was your first impression of it?
I didn't know anything about it until @petitmimosa started rambling about it a few weeks/couple of months(?) ago. I think she saw the trailer on prime, read the book then watch the movie? I was only half listening (she rambles a lot about a lot of stuff) because I was pretty sure I wouldn't be interested at all (romcoms aren't really my thing).
Then FREAKING TUMBLR decided that RWRB would be the only thing I'll be seeing on my dash for days and days. So I'd say to myself, if I'm going to be forced to look at pics and gifs of these two guys AGAIN and AGAIN, may as well know what this is all about. So I've watched the movie and surprisingly had a good time. And since Internet (and algorithms) keeps showering with rwrb content (nothing else is happening in the cinema industry anyway), I've decided to roll with it and enjoy the said content. I read the book quickly after and even if it was fun, I think I like the movie better.
#2 Team Alex or Team Henry? (I know you love them both equally but choose anyway. OR choose depending of the circumstances. Like, "I’d go shopping with Alex but I’d marry Henry. Or I’d hug Alex but I’d go karaoke with Henry. I don’t know. Try something.)
Even if I like Henry and find him very precious, I think I'm Team Alex. I like how refreshing he is. You can't really be sad watching him and not only because he looks cute af. But all love to both, obviously.
#5 Choose one scene from the book to add to the movie.
I'm not sure because I don't know the book that well but I know how I felt reading this
“Dear Thisbe, I wish there weren’t a wall. Love, Pyramus”
and I wish they'd found a way to include it in the movie. Maybe not in the way of the book, because that might have not worked as best as it should but in some way. I don't know.
#7 Tell us something you like better in the movie than in the book.
Oh man, so many things. One of the main thing, I like that Alex is more freaked out by being into Henry that being into guys in general in the movie. There are important scenes following, about owning the term bisexual in front of other people but being into guys feels less a big (and long) deal than in the book for him. Which is good. I feel like the "i'm bi, so what?" is a good mood to put out there in 2023.
I know the point has been quite a debate here and there so I hope I put the right words to express my view on this.
And tell us something you like better in the book than in the movie. 
A couple of things :
I would have liked for Bea to have a bit more substance as a character in the movie.
and, and that could have been an answer to the "share an unpopular opinion", I'm not the biggest fan of the parisian night scene. Not by Taylor and Nick's fault because the shots of their faces and how they acted are very delicate but I'm very not into the directing, the blocking and the editing of this scene. If felt too heavily romcom coded for my taste (and for my french person leaving near Paris' eyes), when one of the strength of the movie (for me) is being fresh and fun with the romcom codes.
10- You’re in a difficult situation where you have only one call to get help (or to save your life), who are you calling? Amy, Zahra or Ellen?
Zahra, every day, everywhere. I wouldn't trust anyone more than someone who reminds me that much of Sam Marquez in the tvshow Las Vegas.
13- A detail you feel like it’s not enough discussed. Whether it’s a scene, a quote, a frame, a piece of acting, a decor…) Time to ramble about it!
Oh I have two actually! The first good thing I have said about the movie is how much I like the opening credits. The music is good, the visuals are good, I like it a lot.
The second has probably been discussed over and over (and my recording sucks) but
I need daily screaming about the softest, smoothest, most determined "no." I ever heard in my entire life.
14- Favorites outfit(s) in the movie? (You can pick as many as you want, from as many characters as you want. But if you reply with a screenshot of a naked person, I’m going to put you in horny jail).
I wrote the question with one outfit in mind
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My only regret is that he's not wearing matching pants (there must be matching pants, right?) cause I feel like AGCD wouldn't have shy away from them. And that would have been epic.
Honorable mention for the denim look 💙 that was wasted on Miguel.
#19 is going to take me forever to answer so I'll add something later :)
Thank you again for playing with me 💜💜
All the questions here !
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fanficloafer · 15 days ago
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K1-B0 x Kokichi - go on a small date - One shot
(I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THIS OTHER THAN THE LABOR OF WRITING)
-- 3rd POV --
K1-B0 and Kokichi had planned on hanging out with each other trying not to think about this in a date like sense. though if anything it only made both of their nerves worse when the date for the date-not-date had arrived.
"It's already here? do I have anything good to wear? I'm sure this will be fine. but what if he doesn't like it? how would i know he likes it? what if he says he likes it but actually hates it, and he ends up hating me?" K1-B0 exclaimed as he tried not to fry his computer chips as he picked out an outfit.
on the other hand Kokichi was Lazily looking around a shop, what he was looking for was a mystery to the rest of the store. But whatever it was, he was looking for a perfect thing for someone.
When it was a minute to K1-B0 heard a knock on his door. As he opened it some things where thrust into his hands and arms. Such as the latest Machine parts catalogue, An Autumn colored scarf and a thing of Jelly balls.
"We were getting each other things? uh, i didnt.. uh... what do... you... my preference...." K1-B0 stumbled and stuttered through his words trying to make up for not knowing that they were gifting each other.
"I just wanted to do something nice for you, don't freakout Kee-boy. Jeeze" Kokichi said as he sighed secretly enjoying making him flustered. "Lets go before the movie starts." He starts to walk away from the still stuttering K1-B0
"I uh WAIT FOR ME!" He yelled as he rushed to put everything away quickly before rushing to Kokichi's side. "You sure it's okay I didn't get you anything?"
"Yea i dont care." He shrugged, slightly sad inside.
K1-B0 couldn't decide if he was lying or if he truly didnt care. He started tapping his fingers on his leg as they both didn't know what to say as they walked to the movie theater.
"Two tickets for M3gan 2 please." Kokichi asked as he pulled out money to pay for the tickets.
"I got this!" K1-B0 said as he gave her enough money for both tickets and a bucket of popcorn. "I'm repaying you." He said as he walked away after grabbing the tickets, trying to hide his red face from Kokichi.
Stunned that K1-B0 walked away he grabbed the popcorn and hurried to follow him into where the screening was taking place.
--After Movie--
"Unless someone didn't know how to properly design and code a robot M3gan would realistically never come to pass, unless someone who didnt like-" K1-B0 explained.
Kokichi didn't listen to most of the explaining but he was glad that K1-B0 seemed to enjoy the movie. Though he didn't want the night to end he knew that whatever happened, he was greatful that he got to spend time with K1 B0.
As the night ended, they said their goodbyes and headed to their rooms. They both enjoyed this little slice of a normal life that they got even if it was just for a night.
(Sorry if it was short, I didnt really know how to end it well. I also have never heard of these characters until now. so I am sorry if this is bad but I hope ya'll enjoyed it anyways. )
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