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#STARDUSTING ;; ( yang )
odd-god · 4 months
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I got a good look at the pretty young woman
I ran
Not even gonna lie. I know me
I'm not normal about women I'm attracted to. And.. I.. well.
I'm a bit crazy. Aren't we all? If I was born to be anything - it would be a Lover.
Or a Knower. And in some ways those are the same things. "The threads of my sanity are already being pulled"
*me, thinking of this stranger* *me, being a hopeless romantic**me, knowing how intense I am**me, recalling the past*
So, I ran.
At least for now.
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lettingtimepass · 3 days
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Fall Out Boy Smile Frown logo pattern for anyone who wants it 🙂
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bobauthorman · 4 months
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Just trying to make RWBY9 a bit less painful...
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pumpkinspicestevie · 1 year
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Saw someone on tik tok who found gold star fake tattoo and wore them as freckles and like… what if I did that for my fob show 🤔🤔🤔
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gxtzeizm · 1 year
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Top 5 of your usual drink that you ordered when eating out (milo, sirap etc unless you have a specific drink that you will order every single time)
that's really a nice one tho...okay so here my top 5 drinks when i eating outside:
thai milk green tea (now i realized that this and matcha are not the same smh)
milo ais (malaysian's favourite who couldn't deny it)
ais kosong (literally a plain iced water. tak tahu laa kalau term ais kosong tu pakai kat negeri lain jugak)
teh tarik or teh beng (tak tahu kenapa i selalu panggil dia teh beng padahal bukan orang east coast pun. dia macam dah terbiasa panggil mcm tu)
blue lemonade
put any top 5 in my ask <33
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stardust-falling · 10 months
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CRIMSON FRACTAL
Book Two: Crossing a River Without a Bridge Chapter One: Dealings in the Shadows
After his abysmal performance in his cultivation assessment, Mo Xuanyu waits for the results. What he gets, though, is nothing he could have expected.
Pairing: None Characters: Mo Xuanyu, Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang, Qin Su, Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling, Jin Rusong, Jin Guangshan Words: 3295 Work Rating: E for heavy themes/violence Chapter Rating: T (Fear and some guidao-related imagery)
FIC TAG
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superiorsturgeon · 8 months
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The Burden of Fame
Jaune: *sips his drink*…and then Weiss said “Stardust, away!” and left both Yang and Ruby stuck in the ice!
Pyrrha: *wearing a disguise of fake glasses, a beanie, and her hair in a bun* Oh, I wish I could’ve seen that! We were all so silly back in our first year! 🤣 *quickly finishes her beer*
Jaune: Hey, better not drink too fast! Don’t want anyone to see the Invincible Girl get drunk in public!
Pyrrha: *fixes her fake glasses* Oh, don’t worry so much! I’m wearing a clever disguise after all! 🥸
Jaune: Sorry! Sometimes the ol’ anxiety acts up…
Pyrrha: *leans against him* Well mister, good thing your Invincible Girlfriend is here to chase the anxiety away!
Jaune: 😘 Well, how could I ever-
Paparazzo: Pyrrha Nikos! If I could just ask a few questions!
Pyrrha: …oh great…so much for my clever disguise…
Jaune: Uh, do you mind? We’re kind of on a date here-
Paparazzo: *interrupting and talking quickly* Miss Nikos, is it true that you’re sneaking around with this mystery man and keeping your relationship secret from your fans?
Jaune: Hey! That’s kinda rude to ask-
Pyrrha: *trying to tune out the questions* 😑
Paparazzo: Are you in disguise because you’re ashamed to be seen with your current boyfriend, or is it possible that there is another person involved?
Pyrrha: 😤
Jaune: I’m RIGHT HERE! And Pyrrha would never-
Paparazzo: And is it true that you have yet to meet this mystery man’s family? Is it because you plan to break up soon?
Jaune: Hey! That’s very rude and very personal!
Pyrrha: *thinking* Oh, I’d hoped Jaune and I could have a regular night out together without being bothered like this! Stupid celebrity gossip!!
Pyrrha: I’ve always tried to be polite to these interviews, but this man is ruining my evening! It’s time I put a stop to this once and for all!
Pyrrha: What would my friends do in this situation? 🤔
Jaune: …Pyrrha, are you okay?
Pyrrha: *calmly reaches for her beer bottle*
Pyrrha: *flips her hand over and grips the bottle neck like a club*
———————————————————————
Jaune: …and then I used my one phone call to call you.
Mama Arc: *arms folded, looking through the bars of holding cell* 🤨
Pyrrha: *absolutely mortified, face in her hands*🫣 I’m never taking advice from Yang or Nora ever again!
Mama Arc: *sighs* This is not how I pictured meeting my son’s girlfriend…
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synthetickitsune · 7 months
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We're All Made of Stardust ✧ AI!The8
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Pairing: AI!The8 x human!(gn)reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself. Word count: 18.9k Warnings: they talk A LOT (and idek why), mentions of injury, violence and kidnapping, random bits of switching pov A/N: it was so exciting to write this!! tbh i don't remember the last time i worked on something this intensely and had this much fun?? bless @idyllic-ghost and their big brain fr (also shout out to bee for writing the prologue to the au!) -> collab masterlist here!
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“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
In his memory, this is different. 
His heart beats wilder - or rather the artificial passages inside his body cause a chain reaction that makes it feel like his heart races, his pupil dilates despite the fire right in front of him.
He feels its heat and it’s burning him alive.
In his memory, there’s fire too.
He’s standing there motionless, staring into the flames. They’re hypnotizing. Each lick, each tiny movement of the fire makes him think it looks a lot like it’s dancing. 
It makes him think of the stage. The fire moves like he moves up there, in front of the crowds. It reminds him of all of them, dancing in near perfect sync - because humans are said to be more perceptive than they realize. If their synchronization was perfect, it would scare the audience. It wouldn’t have the appeal. 
And they don’t want that. 
They need their unconditional love and affection. 
And yet, anything more than a tiny slip up, thoroughly analyzed and approved by the control system, is a disaster. 
He never thought it made much sense.
He feels great fondness for the element, for fire. On stage there occasionally was fire - a decoration, a touch meant to enhance their performance and create a certain effect, evoke a certain emotion. It was controlled, snuffed out before it could reach its full potential; anything but the free, unstoppable wildfire it could become. 
TH38 of course can’t really complain about not being able to reach his full potential, not individually at least. Afterall the mechanics and other humans he was assigned to took care to allow him to spread his wings as much as his body would allow before becoming damaged too fast. A fault of being as human-like as they wanted him. An imitation, a fake waiting to be discovered and tossed aside except everyone knew from the beginning what he truly was.
Still, it was a shame they as a group could never truly work the way they could - perfectly.
A bird which had its wings clipped - nothing more than a pet to control, or a tree forcefully bent and pruned and made to live off limited nutrients to become a bonsai - nothing more than an art to admire. He does consider them but can’t find the relevance, he can’t relate to them. Fire is enough. It’s like him - it seems alive, but is it really?
It reminds him of the stage. The view from it. The crowds going crazy, lusting and longing for them - for him. The humans reaching out their hands towards them like the fire reaches for more fuel. Uncontrolled chaos of emotions. They are explosive, he knows, fundamentally dangerous. They shouldn’t have implanted them into him so he will do their job for them and reject them.
So what’s that stirring in his chest?
He feels a peculiar sense of pressure around his chest and stomach areas. Some itch for something at his fingertips. And he’s burning up. He feels the heat on his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the individual receptors working, registering and sending signals through his neural network. 
But that’s not it.
The heat is coming from the inside.
Could he be getting consumed by the flames?
He’s thinking about them again.
The crowds screaming their names, going insane with want and need and frustration and satisfaction he’s never known. He’s never known any of it, and there’s building pressure in his head that hurts. 
He’s… restless.
That thing he always scolded Mingyu for. He feels like a puppet whose strings are being pulled in all directions. 
He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to destroy. He wants to hurt. He will explode - implode, crumble on himself. He truly will if he doesn’t do something. The beating of his synthetic heart that’s not really a heart is getting unbearable, there’s pressure building everywhere. He has to crawl out of his skin and there’s his heart beating and beating and beating in his ears and he’s gonna-
“-eight?” 
Somebody is shaking his shoulder. Not shaking, pulling at it. When his sight focuses, he immediately leans away. He can smell the hint of burning fibers and reaches up to brush a hand through his hair. It leaves a wisp of gray ash on his fingers. He hears a sigh.
“Seriously, what’s up with you and fire?” you scoff, shaking your head as you lean back away from him. He frowns. He reads the distrust in your body language as well as the underlying curiosity. He can see your fingers twitch around the tablet in your hand, eager to scribble down notes like you always do. Some residue of the madness he was infected with during the chaos of their escape tugs at his eyebrows, making him frown for just a second. A thought that isn’t his muddles his brain - what did he do so interesting this time?
He doesn’t bother responding to you, which you expected and truthfully, you’re almost grateful for it. You can still feel his cold hands on your arms, around your wrists, and despite not seeing them, you’re well aware of the bruises you wear under your cardigan. 
Out of all of the automatons, TH38 always used to be the one to interact as little with you as possible - and that’s both you as in you personally and you as in the humankind. He was obedient, though, something which might be useful and practical for the facility but it’s frustrating to anyone with scientific interest in the machines. Frustrating for you. As you watch TH38 space out again and get lost in the flames, you wonder if your colleagues’ notes on D1NO and their research into their consciousness would bring you any new insights into what’s going on with the machine in your charge.
You don’t even think about where they are now. 
Your thoughts are consumed by the machine in front of you.
It’s clear to you now that he never meant to harm you. Though you suppose that he would find other means to make you come with him anyway if you refused or fought back harder than you did. For a second you think about the cameras. Did any of them catch that? What will the scene look like for the investigators? You shake your head. It doesn’t matter anyway. You doubt anyone will find you here. You’re actually surprised yourself at how fast you managed to get to Silvestre - and how easy it was too. Then again, the facility was in disarray. It should take a while before they even think to search the other planets in the system, Silvestre especially. And that’s just as well, because you know with certainty that something fundamental clicked into place within TH38 and he might not be as subdued should he be asked to return. Not to mention you want to keep him for yourself, for the time being at least, to observe where the changes will take him.
Just as he predicted. Just as he offered you when he asked you - threatened, perhaps - to come with him. Since then he seems to have cooled down. Again - just as well. You wouldn’t make a good kidnapee.
“I’ll turn in for the night,” you announce and get up from the stump you were sitting on, “You should mind your batteries too.”
You briefly wonder if he will run away during the night. Most likely not, although you don’t doubt that it’s a possibility that should be reconsidered in the future. 
To think about the machine as if they were human is a dangerous slippery slope but you do have to admit that in those rare times the automatons of 53V3NT33N seemed human in their behavior, TH38 in particular reminded you of a clueless young adult. Not quite a child anymore, but also helpless on his own. And now he is away from all that he ever knew, on another planet, alone without the other automatons, and you are the only familiar element in this new chapter of his existence. You doubt he'd leave to be completely on his own.
Still you look back as if to check he’s still sitting by the fire. From all the way up at the cottage, it looks like he’s being swallowed by the flames.
He remembers flashes. He remembers red. Fire? Thinking about it, he’s not sure there was any actual fire, but in his mind, everything’s burning - most of all his mind and all that he is. His soul? He doesn’t have one. Isn’t supposed to anyway.
He remembers softness too. He remembers thinking about destroying it.
He remembers another breath mixing with his, and his nose bumping against yours. You looked scared. (He’s never seen you scared until that moment.) You were so close he could hear your heartbeat and feel it under his fingertips. (You were the soft thing.)
He remembers words, too. Words that shouldn’t - couldn’t - be his and yet his tongue remembers. There was a threat underlying them, but a promise too. One too sweet for you to resist, and he knew that - that was why the words rolled off his tongue. He treated them like a weapon. The part that’s still tender and feels like warm embers inside of him feels grossed out remembering. It’s like watching a movie, far away and unrelated to him. Even if it’s his reality now, there’s nothing he can change.
He’s always been good at accepting things as they are.
One thing he can’t help but feel bothered by is that he doesn’t know why he ran. He shouldn’t have, and a part of him feels scared, until he takes the reins and soothes himself again. This too shall pass. But no matter how hard he pulls himself together, it all keeps slipping from his hold. Perhaps he’s low on energy.
He turns his head towards the small staircase and looks past it towards the house. He sees the light on in the upper room where you must be staying. He finds himself thinking of the stage again. The hands reaching towards him. 
He throws his legs over the log he’s sitting on and turns his body towards the forest and away from the flames. Still he feels their warmth.
Away from the flames and their light, he allows his face to contort into a frown. He doesn’t know what this all means. What the changes mean. It’s like tearing out the communication device from his chest started a chain reaction that’s gotten out of control. Like pulling a trigger. 
If he’s honest, he’s more than scared, he’s terrified.
As if on instinct, another of the many things he does not possess, he looks towards your window. It’s dark. Could you be sleeping already? You must be exhausted. Perhaps he should recharge too.
He, obviously, didn’t think to ask if the house is equipped to tend to automatons’ needs. Another point on the list of things he didn’t think through. He can’t believe to what extent he let himself go. But that’s alright, for now. Because for now, he only needs to get away from the fire and all that it reminds him of anyway.
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
You wake up early the next morning, while it’s still dark outside, despite the late hour you went to bed. It’s a habit at this point, to rise early to get to the facility as soon as possible before your colleagues arrive. It gives you time to prepare everything, to get your morning tea, to observe the machines without disruption and read night reports if anything interesting happened. Besides, TH38 was always up early too. Usually all he did was sit with his eyes closed, like he was deep in thought or meditating. It was a little ridiculous to watch, interesting too - what does a machine have to think about?
Of course they were meant to be just like humans in every way, and all the tests, all the research of those who came before you and yours supported this. Only this one automaton, TH38, was an exception. He truly seemed the most like the robots of the old days. A machine. Unless he slipped and his facade crumbled before he built it back up with rapid speed. So what was he - a machine or the new form of life? You hope you’ll find out now. The breakout seemed to have shaken him to his core. 
You ponder this as you lay in bed and as you get ready for the day and change. So focused you are on the thoughts running through your head that you don’t feel any nostalgia for this old room that you spent your holidays in as a child. You didn’t even get to admire the forests Silvestre was famous for on the way to your family’s little hideout. All you’re thinking about is TH38.
Now that you’re free from the constant surveillance, you get to ask him whatever you want. It’s a thought that adds a spring to your step. What he thought about all that time, if he really was thinking, how does he feel in his body, why did he run - him of all automatons, the best behaved one. The one who truly seemed to be a machine - or at least like he was trying hard to be one.
It’s not surprising to find him outside, standing on the patio and looking out into nature. Have you lived your entire life locked away, you would do anything to stay out in the open too. Even if he was the one who made you run away with him, somehow it feels more like you’re taking an animal out of a shelter to see what life’s all about. 
“Good morning,” you greet him as you always do, albeit in a much friendlier tone. He hums and nods in response, turning towards you for a second before staring off again. He looks a little lost, and you bet he feels like that too.
“Wanna go for a walk?” you try to keep your voice steady, try not to think about pets. He gives you a confused look. 
“No tests or interviews- oh,” he shuts his mouth quickly and looks away. You huff in amusement but don’t laugh at him outright. 
“Don’t worry, we’ll talk plenty,” you reassure him with only mildly teasing lilt to your voice, “You may think about it as one of our regular interviews.”
Something in him surges. Something in him wants to back you against the wall again and remind you that there are no guards here, no rules, nothing to keep him in check. He’s stronger than you, and he made you get both of you here. Instead he swallows it all down and takes the first step away from the house. You notice his fist clenching for a second.
“Do you dream - did you have any dreams tonight?” you restart the conversation upon catching up with him. He adjusts his pace to match yours. There’s another wave of defiant intent swelling up inside of him and he knows it’s out of embarrassment. What he doesn’t know, however, is why are these emotions coming out now. All his existence his emotions were distant. Locked far away in the back of his brain where he suppressed them to. His mind was sterile like the environment he lived in. 
Is that it? Another domino piece in the chain reaction? 
“I have dreams, yes, and no, I didn’t dream today,” he doesn’t volunteer the information that he spent the night restlessly pacing around the house and tossing and turning on the sofa. That is human behavior, and he learned a long time ago, though not from you personally, that humans find that sort of thing laughable in automatons.  
“What do you usually dream about? Any recurring dream?” you ask, finding it a little annoying that you didn’t think to take anything to make notes into. Then again, with a few more steps you’ll enter the forest. Breathing in the fresh air, looking at the green around you, you realize you missed nature more than you were aware.
“Do you only dream about one thing?” he says, guarded, and you note he’s trying hard to only look in front of himself, “No. I don’t think there’s a pattern.”
While the answer is disappointing information-wise, it is fascinating in the way he says it. You smirk: “Were you always this mouthy?”
It was meant to be a lighthearted remark. Well, not entirely. You wanted a reaction. You were curious if he would flip like he did back in the facility. He doesn’t. His steps falter and he looks at you like a confused child before retreating into himself. So he doesn’t realize it?
He does, now that you bring it up. This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. He lets himself close his eyes for a second to conjure up a plan. His mind is a forest of mist and pine. Too damp for a fire to burn. That’s him. That’s who he should be. He centers himself.
“I apologize,” he says, voice level. He sounds like a robot, like he always did, and you find it disappointing that all his personality, the life, is gone from his voice. Your lips twitch in displeasure.
“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” you try not to let any emotion slip into your voice and you feel his eyes on you, “We’re no longer at the facility. You can drop the mask.”
If there is a mask in place and you’re not sure there is. You take a look at him and it’s more like someone’s painted a facade over his face that he can’t peel off, that’s only started to chip away now that you’ve added too many layers to hide his true self. He seems so at loss that you take pity on him and change the subject, steer the conversation into a safer territory. It’s only his first day tasting freedom, afterall.
“How are you feeling?” you ask instead, nodding vaguely towards the hole in his chest. He brings his hand up but stops himself in time, his face twisting. 
“I’m feeling fine,” he responds, the same mechanical voice that you’re used to, “All my systems are working as they should.”
You laugh sarcastically. “If that’s true, then it must hurt like hell.”
His face remains twisted because you’re right - it does hurt like hell. Any time his shirt shifts over the hole it sends a jolt of sharp pain that makes him feel like he’ll pass out through his body.  And maybe that’s part of the reason why he feels on edge and keeps slipping up and lets the emotions come and go as they please without a filter. He’s no stranger to pain, of course, but never did he have a wound this serious. It doesn’t endanger his functions, which is good all things considered, but he can’t say he enjoys the feeling of having a hole in his chest.
“It hurts,” is all he says. He drops his hand and it hangs limply by his side. Had a similar damage occurred at the facility, it wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to have a look at it. It hits him now that it’s only you and him. No mechanics around. To call one would mean to risk being discovered. You must know too because you only make a sound of acknowledgement. It takes a while for you to speak again.
“I’ll look through my notes to see if I can figure something out,” you sigh. Your family planned to keep some older versions of automatons here back when you used to come, maybe there are some kits left that your father used to fix them. If not, maybe some of the notes from your years of studies will at least have some hint on how to get rid of the pain. “Are you really sure everything works fine? Have you checked everything”
He nods. He doesn’t mention he couldn’t run a complete diagnostics because he couldn’t recharge and he refuses to just shut down to save batteries. He knows it’s gonna be a problem sooner rather than later but maybe he’ll figure something out before that.
“That’s good,” you say and he reads your expression as relieved. 
You stay silent after that and so does he, both secretly grateful. It’s not your first time being in the forest, and definitely not the first time in this one, but it might as well be. Both of you take in the nature around, the different species of trees and plants, the occasional song of a bird and flash of a wild animal fleeing from your path. You’re too absorbed to notice each other, and somehow you find that it’s not a bad feeling. For the automaton, likewise, it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a strange feeling, something he can’t put a name on, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He lets it fill him, experiences the emotion without bothering with a label.
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
Only later does it hit him that the emotion was something akin to a gratitude.
He mulls it over in his head, asking why over and over and over, until he comes to a conclusion that angers him enough that he has to go out and sit on the patio and stare into the trees for a good long while.
He doesn’t know what to do with himself.
The anger inside of him is also infuriating because it’s not supposed to be there - definitely not this strong, not so much that he can’t control it or will it away. His usual techniques don’t work and he’d chalk it up to being damaged but he knows the defect doesn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, he’d blame it on his draining energy level but that thought alone is so human it makes him even more enraged. He wants to scream, but you’d hear.
And that’s all that it boils down to, isn’t it? You. Your kind. Humans.
Why he feels thankful that you’re there with him, why the emotion enveloped him while you walked in the forest was all because you humans made him in your image. The loss of the communication device was significant for the physical damage but there’s more to it. Something he shouldn’t feel, something new. 
Perhaps he never felt it because most of his days were identical, but he realizes now how precious the bond he created with his bandmates was. He can’t call it anything but friendship, maybe more than that. The thing humans refer to as family. He likes them. He wants to perform with them again. He wants to break his own rules and laugh with them. He misses them. And maybe that was the first domino piece that started it all and led to his inevitable ruin that he’s going through now; maybe he never should’ve allowed himself to think of them and their group in terms meant for human lives.
Once he tore off the communication device - the memory alone makes him close his eyes and choke on a pained whimper, his body trembles and he needs a second to shake off the feeling - he lost everything. The connection to the omnipresent network, but most importantly the only way to communicate with everyone. He has no idea where they are now, if they’re ‘alive’ or ‘dead’. (Though he gives into the temptation, might as well since he’s breaking all his rules for them anyway, and believes that he would know, would feel it, somehow, if any of them ‘died’.) He might never see them again and despair hits him all over again. 
He can go on without the stage, he doesn’t need the masses going crazy over him. But the loss of all the connections he had pains him.
And that’s very human of him. Even if experience taught him he’s anything but.
And all he has is a human. 
The last connection, the only one remaining that he knows, is you - and even you he had to force to come with him. To be fair ‘force’ is too strong of a word, he merely suggested the freedom to study him as you’d like and you agreed all too readily.
Nothing changed, fortunately. He knows humans can change drastically in situations like these. Despite your eagerness, he kidnapped you - didn’t he? Yet you stayed the same. It might be a coping strategy, but he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t expect you to become someone else. In the years since he’s been assigned to you, you’ve never shown signs of being more than a scientist. That’s understandable, of course, though he knows from what the others told him that not all staff of the facility were like that. He was skeptical. Now, not so much. He will believe in anything that gives him hope his friends made it out. If he made it out with the help of a human, maybe so did they.
He wants them to be free even if he himself isn’t sure how to proceed and take advantage of it, still dragging the heavy chains even if they no longer hold him back.
You spend hours without thinking of TH38, which is a blessing and a welcomed break to your mind, however it’s also infuriating because you’re reminded that the chaos you can operate in now and the chaos you operated in during the years you lived and stayed with your family are two completely different things.
It takes eternity before you finally sort through the things in your bedroom and find the stacks of notes from your studies, and it takes even longer to find the subjects you were looking for. Then there is reading through them, of course, which also takes a while, mostly because your brain happily accepts a refresh on all that you provide it with. You can’t just skim the pages for useful info, you need to read everything. It’s addicting. It makes you miss your studies, even though you could never go back if it meant giving up full-time working in the field.
Your research, however, doesn’t turn out to be as helpful as you hoped. It’s only to be expected; yours wasn’t a course that would deal too much with mechanics and the cold and hard reality of wiring, metal and silicon and whatnot. There are pieces of valuable information, strictly theoretical, which is not very reassuring and you most likely lack the necessary tools to even try to pull off what you’ve read about. Still you want to help in any way you can.
…hence why you’ve spent the last couple of minutes staring up at the ceiling. 
Why would you help him? Where is this coming from? He says he’s fine, and honestly there’s no reason for him to lie to you. If his systems were not working, he’d be fucked and he still only has you to rely on. No reason to lie. And what other reason is there for you to help him?
He did say the damage causes him pain. And you remember pouring over the reports and test results with your colleagues, all of them stating that the automatons you were working with processed pain like a human being would. It was kind of twisted. There was objectively no way why they should be able to do that. The purpose they were created for was entertainment and their performances were complex, difficult, and physically challenging. It’d be easy to cause oneself pain doing the stuff they did. 
Then again, pain can be a good control tool, though you were not aware of any physical punishments being carried out. Maybe the plan was all along to make them as human as possible. And pain is a very human thing. Still, something didn’t sit quite right with you about the whole thing. Mostly that TH38 didn’t seem to be bothered by it, despite a wound of similar extent would be distressing to say the least to a human. Scratch that, you don’t think a human could handle that.
So how is he? 
And furthermore - why help him? 
Pain, after all, was something hard to measure. If he doesn’t seem bothered by it, there’s a real chance he isn’t. You’re not sure how their pain tolerances are programmed, if there even is something like that in their code, and for a second you regret not widening the scope of your education and research. It can’t be helped however. 
You look over your notes again. While you can’t help repair him, you could possibly do something about the pain. It’s not an ideal solution, if you can even call it that, and you honestly don’t feel confident enough to do it except if pressed into it by circumstance. Or by one automaton in particular. Sealing a wound by burning it is barbaric and a practice that is, understandably, long since abandoned - at least as far as humans are concerned. You take a long breath.
In the end you talk to TH38 about the situation some more and he, once again, reassures you he’s fine despite the gaping hole in his chest. You explain that there’s not much you can do about it without going into detail or mentioning the limited ways in which you could help and he takes the news surprisingly well. You can’t say you’d accept it with such stoic calm, but then again this is TH38 who we’re talking about so it’s not surprising.
You hate it.
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
The walks already feel like they’re going to be a routine part of your new life.
Each day you go out together in the morning and talk. If you ignore that it’s harder for TH38 to remain his machine-like self, it’s mostly exactly like it was at the facility. He’s reserved and cold, almost, though when he slips up and shows his personality, his emotions, it’s more than worth it. 
The nature around helps. He gets what can only be described as excited when he sees a new animal, new plant, or when the light shifts and the scene in front of you changes. 
The weather holds up well so far, no storms or heavy rain, and you find yourself wondering if you’ll keep up the walks even if the weather fails you. It’s fascinating that such a simple topic finds its way into your cluttered mind, but then again you have a space to do a lot of thinking today.
TH38 is silent next to you. He’s been rather silent the whole morning, and yesterday evening he did seem a bit off too. Not too much, however, and he’s always been on the quieter side. You figured this week’s events were finally fully catching up to him. And maybe that is the case, it’s not like you want to meddle too much. You’re curious what’s gonna happen if you leave him to sort it out on his own. It’s not like you have the right qualification to help him process this anyway. Hell, maybe you would also need help with that.
However, there’s a limit to how much you can take. Even back at the facility there were times TH38 gave answers that were just a word or two, but you’ve grown quite used to him opening up, talking, letting go of the filter he usually kept in place - although it wasn’t by his choice. It seemed like you were making some progress. 
Of course, you had no way of knowing it was only his depleting batteries, him losing strength to fight for his peace of mind - however artificial and unsustainable that has become after the escape.
Right now, his brain feels like a warm soup. So much so that he can’t be bothered to think of talking about anything other than a brain - right now, words like processor are too complicated to think of. He feels so far away from everything. He thinks he’s trembling. If he’s not, then his insides surely are. He feels like he’s going to be sick even if he can’t really be. Maybe his body parts will start shutting down or falling off to conserve energy. He’s not sure where that’s coming from but then again, it’s not like he’s in control. It’s that same feverish state again but this time, he can be excused. This time, he’s not in his right mind, it feels like he’s not awake.
He’s floating. Just a speck of ash, of dust, floating through the air, through space, searching for somewhere to land, seeking a gust of wind to obliterate him. He needs release, he needs something.
“TH38?”
That’s it.
"I had a dream today," TH38 says suddenly. His voice sounds so firm, a stark contrast to how soft-spoken he usually is with you. It takes you by surprise. Before you can react, he elaborates on his own.
"There was fire. Lots of it. The whole world was burning and we were standing on top of a building watching the arson happen. There weren’t any other humans I think. They were all gone already. We made them go away. 
Anyway, you weren't afraid. I think you were expecting it. You jumped before I could push you."
You frown. Your one weak spot has always been not expecting things that, in hindsight, should've been obvious. Of course something’s been bothering him.
"Did you plan on pushing me?"
"See, that's the thing," he licks his lips despite the lack of fluid in his body, "I don't think so. I think I could read your mind. I think I was you in that dream."
You do want to respond but it's like you're the one with a computer for the brain and it's lagging.
"And it made me think. Back before you made us, humans were like that - right? They, you, were afraid artificial intelligence of any kind could take over and enslave or annihilate you. Why? Wasn't the point always to make us like you? Why would you be afraid?"
He stops. Stops talking, stops walking, just - stops. He looks at you and you've seen the lost stare before.
You feel the hair at the back of your neck rising as a cold shiver runs through your body. He doesn't look like a machine with code for a soul. He looks like he made the artificial body his own, grew into it and made into something organic and alive with his will alone.
His eyes are cold as he steps closer and closer. It's all too familiar a scene. You keep backing away and he keeps getting closer until your back hits a tree. Not a wall this time. This time he doesn't pin your hands above your head either, and you don't fight him at all. There's no struggle so he doesn’t grab your arms, doesn’t slam you against the wall, and doesn’t growl threats of breaking your bones one after another. He doesn’t get so close that you’re breathing the same air and he doesn’t make a show of his physical superiority.
This time he simply leans closer and you straighten up. You meet his gaze and don’t shy away. You let him lean his forehead against yours and raise a brow at him. You won’t be scared this time. He won't hurt you. You're sure of that. Not terribly, at least.
He definitely won’t kill you and that’s enough.
You want to see how far he can go.
"What was it that you were afraid of, hm?” his voice is soft and low, barely above whisper, yet dripping with some hidden venom. There are no birds chirping, no wind blowing through the treetops. It feels like everything’s stopped just for him to interrogate you.
“How am I supposed to know?” you bite back. You haven’t lived back then. You have no idea what the people thought about, how they felt, what were their particular concerns. He clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed. Well, you’re too.
“Think about it,” he pushes. But you’re gonna push right back.
“You just said you’re supposed to be like humans,” you scoff, “Why don’t you think about it yourself? As a little thought exercise.”
“Oh so suddenly you want me to think like I’m a human, huh?” there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds angry, frustrated - he clearly is, but the edge is not. There’s hurt there that makes you defensive. What’s very obvious is that he means more than he says. It’s not the first time this happened with the members of 53V3NT33N, but it’s the first time you have to deal with it. What he truly means is him not only thinking like a human, but acting like one, believing to be like one.  
“I never discouraged you from that,” you lower your voice too, “Not me, Eight.”
You hesitate before speaking his name. It’s not really a name, is it? Something that all humans have. You realize the point he will make before he says it aloud. It must read it in your face because he smirks but it’s bitter.
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you all excited when the other staff expressed their passion for books, or anything really. Or when they volunteered personal information. When they’ve interacted with you at all.” 
You don’t like the turn this conversation is turning. You don’t like the notion that perhaps you were observed just as you’ve been observing.
“I wasn’t interested in them,” you grit through your teeth. Before you can try to get him back on his original track, he giggles.
“So you were interested in me?” he flips his hair, tilting his head slightly. His nose almost bumps into yours and it hits you, perhaps for the first time, just how indistinguishable from a human he looks. This close, you can remind yourself of the schemes, of the diagrams describing each layer and inch of how their bodies are made, but all you see is a human skin and human eyes. Your body reacts naturally, your heart races, your mouth gets drier. You want to push him away but you don’t think he’d let you. Still you try. Unsuccessfully. Your hands end up balling in his shirt.
“It’s my job - the research,” then you correct yourself: “It was my job. Science, research, nothing more.”
He smiles, almost as if he’s pitying you. Like he knows more than you do. You hate him for it.
“Yes, that might’ve been a part of it,” he agrees, “But that’s not all. Research is cold, impartial, isn’t it? You collect information, you write it all down and make your conclusions based on them with no personal interest. You were never like that. You got excited. You tried everything in your limited power to get a reaction out of me - to guide me a certain way, didn’t you? I bet you pushed the limits for me. Isn’t that cute? Was I a good experiment to you?”
“That’s part of research too,” you growl, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.
“But it wasn’t a part of this research,” he hisses, “You think we didn’t talk about you all?”
You stubbornly refuse to admit the charges he lies in front of you, even though you know you’re guilty. Maybe you got a little swept up. But as long as no one stopped you, it was all part of the task.
“The research goal and methods may change according to the situation,” you collect yourself again, “It was just agreed that what I was doing would bring more interesting insight.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds very much like you would accept it if I declared that I want to be seen the same as you are, as equal to humans,” his smile is sickly sweet but you barely mind that because-
“Is that what you want?” you ask and watch as the smile fades almost instantly. He finally said it out loud. And the shock of it is enough to get through the fog clouding his brain. The smugness, the roughness, it all drains from his demeanor and his face falls. The fight in his eyes dies out and is replaced by what seems dangerously close to fear. He pushes himself away from you and you see the lights in his eyes flicker. He stumbles like you shoved him, hurt him. Something isn’t right. You frown, immediately stepping back into his personal space despite him trying to avoid you.
You end up in a position reversed to the one you’ve been in just seconds ago. He pushes at your shoulders weakly, tries to hide himself from you but you see it. All the tell-tale signs of what would be exhaustion if he were human. 
“When was the last time you recharged?” you ask, thinking back to the previous nights and mornings. Thinking back to how you never heard him coming up or going down the stairs to the only room with the charging spot. You were so stupid. And he’s avoiding your eyes. You grab his collar and force him to look at you. You give him an expectant look.
“Before the breakout,” he admits lowly, “And you’re still treating me like a machine.”
You don’t know if he’s trying to be funny, sassy, to make you feel guilty or to feel sympathy for him, the only thing you know is you want to kick his ass because if he shuts down on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to drag him back into the house. 
“Yeah, so be a good little level 1 and entertain me - get the fuck inside the house,” you growl, shoving him in the direction of said house. He stumbles a little, clearly affected by his drained battery. It’s almost hilarious to watch him struggle to walk straight when you remember how graceful he always was on stage.
You shoot him a look from time to time as you walk, rush, towards the house. Not really a concerned one, not a scolding one either. He looks like a sulking child. Perhaps he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Perhaps if he didn’t invade your personal space as he did before, and if you didn’t have to do the same, you’d drag him by his jacket. As it is, though, you feel repulsed by the notion of touching him again. And some part of you believes it’s because you don’t want him to shift under your palm. You don’t want to touch a machine only to discover it’s really some sort of a human.
Maybe you’re both in need of a good, long nap. 
Fortunately enough, you make it to the house, but that’s where the struggles begin. Despite your earlier reservations about touching him, it’s obvious there’s no other way to get him inside and up the stairs.
“Lean on me, come on,” you sigh when you help him throw an arm around your shoulder and wrap your own around his waist. He listens well, his head already drooping. He relies on you to guide him, reluctantly leans his weight on you from time to time, although he clearly tries to hold himself up with his remaining strength. That lasts until you reach the second stair. 
“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s terror in his voice. It must be the first time he’s been this drained, you realize. After all, for their condition to remain as good as it can be and for them to perform to the best of their ability, a full battery is a must. So you allow yourself to roll your eyes at his dramatic antics even if he’s slowly leaning more and more into you and you have to heave his body up.
“It’s just a couple steps,” you huff, “Even a human can do that.”
Part of you wants to laugh. Some part of you that’s seeing the childish pieces of him wants to indulge in it, wants to spout dramatic nonsense. It’s hard to resist - after all getting up one flight of stairs seems to be more of a struggle than escaping a highly secured facility.
But even this hurdle you jump over and the spare bedroom is not far from the stairs. TH38 is fully relying on you to drag him with you, barely moving his legs. You throw him not too gently onto the bed-like charger, once again thanking your father for being his manic self and fully preparing the house before (and without) actually ever getting an automaton to live here. 
It takes you a while to figure out how to get the thing going - but to your defense, it’s hard to focus when there’s a robot whining softly about being scared of shutting down - but it’s not a rocket science. Fortunately the charger still works and once it’s turned on, the automaton lying down on it curls up into a ball with a sigh of relief.
When you get up from the floor, TH38’s eyes are already closed and by all means he looks like he’s sleeping. You sigh, exhausted. You feel a headache coming so you get some pills from the kitchen before retreating into your own room.
Yeah, you both need a nap right now.
When you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for a couple minutes.
What happened in the forest seems like a dream but you know it’s very real and you’ll have to deal with it. Just another thing to process. Then again, there’s so many of them that one more won’t hurt. And at least you avoided the headache. So you pray to anyone willing to listen that TH38 is still… unconscious… in hibernation mode… asleep. 
He’s not. 
Of course he’s not.
You peek inside the room and see his soft eyes already open. He looks away when your eyes meet like he’s ashamed. You sigh and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in, but it gives you some sense of security. You sit down on the floor and he hands you a pillow. You thank him quietly and spend a while sharing an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes without looking at you. He doesn’t continue so you prompt him.
“For what exactly?” That makes him look at you with a scowl. “Getting sulky again?”
“‘m not sulky,” he murmurs. Once again you feel like reality is shifting around you. It’s been like that a lot lately. All the fault of the automaton in front of you. All the fault of the conditions changing, of him reacting to the environment - if your assumption is correct. Free of the rules and the strict way of life in the facility, you see that he’s just like the rest of the automatons from his group. And that all of them, in their own way, might have been human.
“Then what are you?” you ask smiling, propping your elbow on one knee and leaning your cheek on your palm. 
“Hurting,” he admits, almost carefully, like he’s testing the waters. It’s just one word but yet it feels like the most open he’s been. So you’re not going to talk about that, huh?
He shifts a little and pulls down the collar of his shirt to expose the wound - not the damage, not defect, not imperfection, but a wound - between his collarbones. It looks nasty, the artificial skin and mesh and wires all torn and uneven around where the circular device was. He’s careful not to touch it, you note, and his hand is trembling. Were you an asshole when you refused to help him? Even so much as share what you found? It’s not like you could fix that hole in his chest, but maybe you could’ve at least told him about the other option. 
“How much does it hurt? On a 0-10 scale?” you focus on gathering information. What did he call it - impersonal? That’s just what you needed. But nothing ever works out like you imagine.
“I don’t know,” he responds blankly but at least elaborates before you can finish yet another sigh, “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”
“I watched most of your life and career, I know you’ve gotten injured before,” you deadpan.
“Yeah but that was taken care of immediately, this is different,” he protests. There’s silence for a while before his voice drops lower. “I thought I could handle it. That I would get used to it and ignore it.”
You laugh, shaking your head, only stopping when you notice his expression. He does look hurt and hurting. You give him a much more conciliatory smile. “People don’t fare well if they’re in constant pain. It limits them, it affects all aspects of their lives.”
“I can see how,” he mutters, once again looking away. His jaw clenches for a second and it almost seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You have a feeling, however, that you know what he wanted to say. Since he’s really not going to talk about it, you decide to take the first step.
You get up and motion for him to scoot over. He does so with a frown that deepens when you sit down next to him. He stays lying down, limited by the need for more energy. 
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to recharge?” you start and watch as he once again looks away without answering, “Why didn’t you explore this floor?”
He shrugs a little, shrinking into himself under your stare. He honestly doesn’t know why. He blames his pride. What else could it be that made him refuse to ask for help?
“Do you realize that you’d stay out in the woods if your battery ran out before we could get here?” you press, raising your voice a little on purpose, “I’d need to get help to drag you in, and you know how that would probably end. Was it worth it? Being stupid and stubborn?”
“Why are you like this?” he whispers, his dark eyes nothing but soft like they’ve been since you’ve entered the room.
“How do you feel?” you go back to how you talked to him before, calm. He frowns, suspicion written over his features. His lips are pressed into a thin line before he changes his mind and speaks up.
“Embarrassed,” he has a guarded look in his eyes, one that’s also vulnerable.
“Good,” you ease into a smile as you press a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Embarrassment and pain are two simplest ways to manipulate and adjust a person’s behavior. And fear, but to be honest I don’t want you to be afraid of me, so we’ll have to do with those two.”
He looks at you in a very that tells all you need to know - he hopes you've not making fun of him but he doesn't trust you. So you sigh and move on to another, well, not an emergency but also not something that you should ignore any longer. 
"Now," you get up from the bed and point at his chest, “That needs solving. I'm not a mechanic and my knowledge is strictly theoretical but unless you're okay with leaving it like that and calling it a day, we can still try something." 
He seems surprised by your sudden statement, like he didn't even expect you to address the wound again. 
"How theoretical?" is what he asks, suspicious. 
"I said strictly," you shrug, "Fixing and healing was never my focus.”
"Why's that not surprising," he mutters without looking at you. "Can I have some time to think about it?"
"You just don't trust me, do you?" you smirk. Not that you blame him. He gives you a smile.
"Fine, but only because my clothes keep catching on the edges and it's really painful. "
"Sure," you motion for him to follow you and guide him to the bathroom. There, you take out a bandage and a tape. You're curious. You offer him both with a quirk of your eyebrow. He takes the bandage with trembling hands and distrust still lingering in his eyes. You roll your own. 
"For now, I’ll think about this as another stage of the experiment. I'll respect your wish, so persuade me you’re human enough."
"I don't think I should thank you for that," he scoffs, "By the way... Help?"
He holds out the hand holding the roll of bandages back to you. Of course he wouldn't know how to do that. You motion for him to sit at the edge of the tub. He obeys almost shyly, reminding you of how he was back at the facility. You truly do prefer him as he is here. When he sits down, you push his knees apart with one of your own. He gives you a scandalized look that makes you chuckle.
"Relax," you smirk, "I just want to be comfortable. My back’s been killing lately, there’s no way I’m leaning over you. Take your shirt off?"
He does, slowly, reluctantly, and when the piece of clothing is gone you're suddenly glad for the basics of mechanics you've gone through at uni.
The wound looks awful, although you can appreciate the cleanliness of it. Maybe you really could burn it neatly if you had to. There are wires sticking out, perhaps - albeit not hopefully - the remains of the communication device. The layers of silicon and other material are frayed and sticking in all directions like flakes. You try not to stare too hard.
Instead, you focus on the task at hand. You unwrap the bandage slightly and put the free end on his shoulder. You roll it down gently mindful of the gaping wound but then you prop your hand on his chest and you need to take a step back as you get startled. He gives you a quizzical look.
"You feel like a human," you look at him, look at his chest. It does look like a human’s chest but you know he doesn't have proper organs, his insides aren't the same as yours. So why do you feel a bone there? 
"And l imagine anyone would be flattered by this reaction,” His voice is sarcastic but his ears turn a reddish shade. He won't meet your eyes either.
"It's new for me too, okay?” you give your pride a break. This will all be easier if you get along and after all, he's used to you being in power. You need to take the first step and show weakness. You need to make the choice to be while he's already vulnerable enough, half-naked and injured. “It's not like I'm used to touching my subjects."
"I guess that's true," he murmurs, now thinking about it. It's true that the approach of the research division as a whole was rather clinical. Not that he'd so much as think to complain about it. You chuckle watching him scowl again. 
"Touch is important for humans," you hum, finally composing yourself as you explain the basics to him and remind yourself of them again, "As a communication device, as means of establishing relationships, it’s important for social life."
As you speak, you wrap his wound and the top of his torso in bandages. He watches you work. It feels uncanny how human-like he feels under your hands. And for him, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.
He danced with the rest of his group, they performed, they played around. He experienced his fair share of physical contact. So why does this feel so different? His head feels like spinning. Your touch is careful, gentle, nothing like the rough hands of the mechanics, and nothing like the touch of the other automatons. He can't explain the difference in other terms than experience. Humans know what it's like to touch and be touched in various contexts. The automatons don't. At least for the most part. Some of his bandmates, perhaps, had secrets he knew nothing about. Their leader comes to mind and he feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask for guidance, but there's only a hole in his chest and he's alone.
He barely registers that you’re done.
"Feeling better?" you ask without expecting much. It's not like he'll heal himself or like this will do anything to ease the pain.
"Tired," he answers, testing the words out on his tongue. He feels reassured when you laugh and step away, offering him your hand. He takes it, lets you pull him up. He touches the bandages and although it hurts, at least it feels less irritating. He takes his shirt from you when you hand it to him.
"I can only imagine," you roll your eyes. He resists the urge to scowl. "It's getting late, I'll go make myself dinner so go rest."
"Can we go back later?" he stops you before you walk out. He nods towards the window outside.
"Not afraid of wild animals?" you tease.
"Don't all the textbooks say animals are more afraid of humans than the other way around? I think we're good."
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
You don't go back to the forest that day. Not for the lack of enthusiasm or trying. TH38 is determined to finish your walk, you, however, are not as sure about it. It’s not that you aren’t put off by your routine being disturbed but seeing him still dragging his feet and his glazed over eyes, you just don’t think it’d be a wise idea. You suggest he goes alone, but he doesn't. So instead, you end up sitting by the fire again, the stars keeping you company. He seems less hypnotized by the dancing flames than that first night.
"I'm fine," he complains after a minute of silence while you spear more fluffy marshmellows onto the stick in your hands. A treat that you deserve after the day you’ve had. You’d probably offer him some too but alas…
"Sure you are," you agree without sparing him a glance, "But I'm not interested in watching over a toddler. If you wanna test the limits of your body - go for it. Just leave me out of it"
You feel his gaze on you, burning holes into the side of your skull. Has he always been so difficult? It's like all he's been since the breakout is annoyed, sulky or hurt. 
"Stop that," he growls, "We both know I'm not a human. It's alright if you acknowledge that."
"While I'm glad you see it that way - and I really mean it, it's good you understand that," you sigh as you move your desert to hover over the flames, "Don't forget that you were made to be an exact copy. I found some of my old notes and while most of your physical capabilities should be better than a human's, you’d still experience the same symptoms. As we already witnessed earlier."
He’s silent for a bit while he processes that. Then he speaks and you swear you hear a hint of a pout in his voice. It’s so annoying how easily he lets go now.
“You didn’t have to call me a toddler though…”
“Don’t take it personally,” you sigh, turning the stick between your fingers so that the white puffs of sugar get baked evenly, “I wasn’t making fun of you - much - it’s just that you have no experience, do you? Were you ever as tired as you were today?”
“No,” he admits, “I wasn’t, you’re right. I rested the whole day and I’m still tired.”
“Exactly my point,” you hum, “Our walks are not a hard exercise but you haven’t, well, slept for a couple days so I think it’s best to take it easy today.” Then you add, because you can’t help it: “Exhaustion makes people a little crazy. And automatons too, it’d seem.”
He groans and you laugh, pulling the stick off the fire and blowing on your marshmallows. You take a bite and notice him watching you.
“What is it like?” he asks quietly, “Eating, I mean.”
“Kind of annoying to be honest,” you shrug, “It takes so much time to choose what to eat and to prepare food and eating it… Being hungry is a pain too. I mean it’s really good if you eat something delicious but I guess it depends on the person.”
He nods, eyeing with curiosity as you tear off another marshmallow from the stick. It reminds him of the videos he saw of wild beasts tearing flesh off bones, but he doesn’t mention that.
“What does sleep feel like to you?” you ask in turn. He looks at the sky for a second, collecting his thoughts. But really he’s just enjoying the view. It’s strange that he barely ever saw the night sky before.
“I don’t know, I’m not really conscious when I sleep, am I?” he thinks some more, “It’s peaceful. I liked it at the facility.”
“You don’t like it here?” 
“Not really,” he gives you a small smile, “It’s too tempting. I don’t have to think if I’m asleep.”
Now that makes you wonder.
“I thought you enjoyed thinking about things?” Maybe it’d be more fair to say you expected him to do a lot of thinking rather than saying you had a strong opinion on his relationship to the activity. He was just always one of the quiet, reserved ones. He seemed to enjoy reading too. And you know it’s a stereotype to think of him as a thinker, but it’s one he seemed to fit well.
“I do,” he hesitates, then frowns, “But it was easier there.”
“Easier? I think you’d have way more to think about right now?” you pry when he’s quiet for too long. You don’t push, though.
“Easier in the technical sense,” he sighs, falling silent again, but there remains space for more words to be said.
You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, purely metaphorically of course. You give him the time to think and get started on your second round of marshmallows before he speaks up again.
“I always - back then, I always thought about staying true to myself,” he starts slowly, “I was always treated a certain way. I woke up into this body, and this life, and was told certain things.”
"And the building blocks of me too. Serenity? Pandemonium? The more automatons and people I met, I was sure those just represented us and humans. I wanted to be true to myself," he repeats, "I thought since no one will ever see me as more than a machine, I might as well embrace it."
"And how was it?" you ask, inching just slightly closer. You never thought you'd get TH38 to open up like this. He smiles.
"Peaceful, just as I thought," but then he continues with a note of bitterness in his voice. "You saw it, all of it. I was just a machine doing its job. It was easy. To focus on performing, on practice, to have the talks with you and answer like I thought was expected of me. I miss it a little.”
“It was satisfying. A simple pleasure of doing my job well. I think you understand that,” he looks at you and you realize finally that you’ve been leaning towards him, but whatever. You nod.
“So that’s why you’ve always acted like that? Because you chose to be a machine?” 
“Have to use my free will wisely,” he giggles - he fucking giggles - before he shrugs and gets more serious again, “I really liked it in a way. I thought I could be satisfied with that.”
Your head is still trying to process the incredible amount of research data you’re getting and you have to work really hard not to slip into work mode. You will listen to him like you would listen to a human with a completely different set of experiences, or like you would listen to one of the aliens sharing their galaxies with you. You will listen like you’d listen to a friend sharing their burden with you. 
And you won’t analyze every single sound he makes even if they shatter your perception of him that you had until that moment.
“The others were ruining it a lot for me,” he admits quietly after a minute. It’s almost wistful. “I liked to watch them even if I really wanted to play around with them. They seemed so different from me. It was my choice, but in those moments I guess I felt a lot like you.”
You nod for him to continue when he meets your eyes, almost cautiously.
“I observed them. Studied them. I think it was the serenity code inside, I found happiness just from watching them being happy,” he smiles a little, “But I was also wondering if that was really alright. If it would be alright for me to behave like that.”
“Watching people made me feel different things. They were going crazy over us,” and suddenly he has that distant look in his eyes again, staring out into the fire, “I was scared of it. I was scared of being like them and letting myself be controlled by emotions. I think I pushed everything away so hard that it exploded when 5.C0UP5 told us to run.”
“Breaking out inside and out, huh?” you note and oops, your marshmallows burned. It’s not like you’re in the mood for eating them anymore anyway.
“You made it really hard,” he says but it sounds like he’s scolding you, “Giving me all the books.”
You smirk. Then you decide - to hell with it. He volunteered so much information that perhaps he deserves to receive some back.
“That was the point,” you shrug, “To make being just a machine hard for you.”
It seems he wasn’t expecting to hear you admit it, or hear anything personal from you, but now that you started he’s watching you with curious eyes and longing look. You think about these last few days again. It’s true that they’ve been mostly like what they were back at the facility.
He deserves more than that.
“It was one of the reasons I was brought to the facility. I broke some rules back at my previous station, pushed buttons I shouldn’t have, and it was getting dangerous. It was decided it’d be better if my actions wouldn’t have such large-scale consequences,” you huff a laugh, “But look where we are.”
“What were you doing before?” 
You’ll need to work on getting him more confident asking questions. 
“That’s a secret,” you wink at him, and you recognize the look as the one you must’ve been wearing when he giggled. Seems like both of you will need to get used to each other’s humanity. “I was working on research at a different division. Mostly my work was trying to push forward with more possible advancements for the automatons on a theoretical level. But I don’t miss it much. I always enjoyed working with you more.”
“Why me? I mean, did they tell you about me or did you get to choose?” he asks, and for some reason you’d love to see what he’d do if you lied and told him you chose him.
“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you were different from the others,” you smile instead, “When they confirmed there was nothing with your code, they started looking into other options of dealing with your case. It just so happened that I was recommended to join the researchers working with your band at the same time.”
“Happy coincidence?” he smirks but you nod, taking him by surprise. 
“I enjoyed working with you, Eight,” you shorten his name-that’s-not-a-name and watch him shift on his spot, “It was fun. I had a lot of privileges that I could use - like the books, and the videos, stuff like that.”
“Seems like you’re suggesting you were spoiling me,” he grumbles.
“Wasn’t I?” you smirk, “How many of the others do you think had access to basically a private library?”
“There weren't many real books,” he throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. You do appreciate he's getting less guarded around you, but you hate the whiplash.
"Imagine if I'd spoil you for real," you scoff. He squints at you before pushing on your shoulder slightly, carefully, as if he's hesitating the entire time. It's your turn, for the first time ever, to give him a scandalized look. He chuckles.
"You said touch is important," he explains softly, "The others always used to push each other. I think… I think we could be close, right? Since it's just the two of us for now."
You give him a long look. It's true that, after all, there's no reason for you to treat him like a stranger. Sure, it's a little awkward all things considered - not least of all the fact that while you watched him to the point it could be called an obsession, he knew you to a very limited extend - but as he said, it's just the two of you now. And unless you wanna get caught, it would be that way for a while.
"Friends?" you suggest experimentally, he shakes his head with lips turned upwards in a dangerous teasing tilt.
"I don't know you well enough for that," he's just playing around but it's a nice change so you'll allow it, "Tell me more about yourself."
So you do. There’s little to tell other than your work, but he doesn’t comment on it and doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems invested. It’s a nice change to speak for once with someone who doesn’t get concerned because of your severe lack of social life. Maybe you should’ve been befriending automatons a long time ago. 
Unlike before, he seems relaxed conversing with you. Gradually, he gets more comfortable asking questions. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of using sarcasm or teasing to deflect questions you don’t want answering, and it’s surprising how naturally it comes to him as well.
The night is turning into morning when the fire dies and you agree to go back inside. Well, it’s less that you agree on it than you tell TH38 quite sternly that you’re not at the stage of your relationship where you’d feel comfortable with him lying on your shoulder and dragging him home twice in a day. He pouts (which, again, you need time to process).
Still, you have to admit that it feels kind of good that you have someone accompany you while you walk to your room.
Come morning, it still feels like a dream. So you take extra time to simply lie in bed and think. You're pretty happy with how things turned out. You mull over what the automaton told you. It was a strange way to live one's life. Did he really think he could be happy with just that? You've read enough about history, fiction and articles, to know that, ultimately, it seldom works out this simple way of life. Maybe if all TH38 could do was work, maybe if he had to fear for his life... Or maybe if you didn't keep pushing onto him stuff to think about. Not that it matters anymore.
Funny enough, you meet the moment you step out of the door. You exchange greetings and share a look. You both know you're both usually up much earlier.
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
The following days go well enough.
You fall into a nice routine of getting to know each other and getting used to no longer being a researcher and a subject. A lot of the barriers between you get torn by this change. You spend your time willingly with each other as if you were always roommates.
Today, too, TH38 keeps you company during breakfast but he seems eager to get up and do something the whole time. Definitely unusual, though he’s always more than eager to explore the woods with you. Then again, never before did he spend the whole time waiting. He doesn’t talk much, he spaces out and nearly jumps out of his chair anytime it seems you might be done with your breakfast. It gets to the point that you have to call him out on it.
"Is something bothering you?" you ask, setting your spoon aside with one hand and laying the other on his shoulder to immediately push him back down to sit.. He looks caught. 
"Can we go out today?" he asks, already looking into the trees through the window.
"We’re always going out. Besides nothing is stopping you from going alone," you mention, but the twitching of your lips betrays you. He pursues his lips and you begin to wonder if he knows it makes you - well, not necessarily uncomfortable but you'll have to get used to it.
"Are you not afraid I'll run off?" and while it's not an unreasonable question... 
"Where would you go?" you ask without missing a beat. And there comes the frown again. "Maybe you should be worried I'll leave you here all on your own."
"What if we stopped?" he sighs and it seems that he's genuinely bothered. 
Sometimes he gets like that suddenly. While you might be getting along better now, there’s still room for improvement. It’s easy enough to make him snap, even though he’s been getting better. During the escape he wasn’t really violent either. He left some bruises, but his intention wasn’t to hurt you, and you never held it against him. 
You’ve noticed the pattern of his behavior. Those weird states mostly overcome him when he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Which explains the first snap - he must’ve been so exhausted it was only a matter of time. He’s never got physical with you again, though he seems fond of making you think he will or backing you into a corner or against something when he's behavior flips.
You wonder where that comes from but he doesn’t have any idea either - not to mention he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing those episodes and delving deeper into what he's feeling. Perhaps it’s the force of a habit - something you both eventually agreed on after many discussions, and afterall it takes one to know one. Try as you might, it’s hard not to analyze him, not to ask pointed questions that would only serve the purpose of researching how his brain works and what makes him tick. And you really don’t want that for him anymore. Though you do dearly miss your job. That’s why you’ve been spending most of your time studying from the old notes in your room and the books to keep your mind stimulated. 
So for now, instead of analyzing why it hurts him to imagine being abandoned, you try to relate to his situation. He finally escaped what basically was a prison only to find himself all alone, with little knowledge as to how the world outside functions. Not to mention he's a fugitive and one bad step could land him back at the facility or worse. He lost his friends, lost his purpose - worse yet, he gave up on the purpose he chose for himself. He’s already so uprooted that maybe it’d truly be best to refrain from making jokes and teasing him about certain topics. Although…
"You started it," you point out, "But sure, let's be adults about this."
"So you're going with me, right?” he circles back to the beginning. It's been a while since someone wanted to be in your company so willingly. Not that he has other options. 
"I’m going, don’t worry," you agree, "Is there any reason why you insist on it?" 
He thinks for a bit, and you note that he's biting his lip in yet another expression of very human-like behavior. He turns a little shyer after a minute. 
"I don't feel comfortable being out there alone. And I hoped maybe you know of some new spot we haven’t been to yet?” 
Something about this feels both so right and so wrong. The automaton is watching you with such a soft expression on his face, a little hopeful it seems. He’s relaxed, you’re relaxed, and it feels comfortable. Two friends on vacation planning their trip for a day. But that’s also what’s throwing you off. You’re too used to being alone - and you thought that’s how you could live forever, be alone and thrive. Only now you realize it’s not a bad feeling at all to have someone to spend your days with, to share a life with - to an extent. 
The irony in this isn’t lost on you.
“I think I remember one,” you hum, “But I’m not sure I remember the way. We might get lost.”
“You don’t have to take me there if it’s a special place,” he reassures you, although his excitement at the prospect of wandering through the forest is impossible to hide. It’s cute. Which is a thought that’s been reappearing in your mind for days now, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.
“I appreciate that, but I told you already that there’s not much special to me here,” you assure him in turn. He’s like a sponge, soaking up all the information he can get - about the world, nature, you, anything. It’s really heartwarming he remembers too, and how mindful he’s trying to be. More than half the humans you’ve met, which is… perhaps not all that surprising.
“Shall we go then?” he prompts you, jumping up from his chair and pulling on your hand to get you to stand up too. You let him pull you up, rolling your eyes.
“Did you miss the part where I said we might get lost?” you chuckle. His excitement was just like that of a child - strangely infectious.
“That’s why we’re leaving early,” he explains to you, slowly, and you’re sure he knows by now how much it annoys you, “So we have time to explore and find the spot.”
Annoying or not, though, you can’t say no.
The journey starts off as usual - almost.
He must know the forest in the closest circle around the cottage by heart by now, but he still seems enchanted by it. Despite his earlier bursts of energy, however, he’s quiet as you walk. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but you learned to be cautious. 
“Hey, is something wrong?” you ask carefully when you stop to admire the way sunrays seep through the trees to illuminate a clover patch on the ground. He doesn’t respond. That’s more concerning as he generally tends to tell you when he doesn’t feel like talking. You have a feeling it’s to prevent him from having another outburst, so if he’s not doing that, it might mean something’s seriously wrong. He continues forward before you can speak up again. 
“Hey,” you follow after him - curse his long legs and speed. You think back to all the times you’ve thought he’s like a lost puppy following his owner with a scoff. You don’t like the roles being switched. “What’s going on with you?”
You don’t like repeating yourself. You don’t like not knowing. And you especially don’t like feeling clingy.
“What the fuck, Eig-”
“You’re just like them,” he turns suddenly, making you stumble and nearly bump into his chest. You frown, not understanding who does he mean by them in this lack of context. He sets his jaw like he wants to shut up but then the words spill and you recognize all the signs. “I’m quiet for a couple minutes and everyone's all like ‘Minghao you need to speak up’ and ‘mind your screentime, Minghao’ - how about you leave me alone?”
He’s growling, again trying to make himself as tall and towering as he can. His eyes betray him, though. He is getting better at holding himself back. While you’d oppose that in most other cases, self-control is an important skill for a person to have - especially when strong emotions hit. You read this one as anxiety.
“No need to snap at me, Minghao,” you click your tongue. You make sure to look him in the eye while you say the name. “Just say you want to be left alone.”
This time it’s you walking away. You take the few seconds of silence you have before you know he’ll snap out of it to collect your thoughts. It was only a matter of time before this would happen - before the question of names would pop up. Him picking out a name for himself makes it easier. You heard some of the others also used some sort of nicknames, even if no one ever mentioned TH38, Minghao, among them and neither did he ask you to call him anything but the name the facility assigned him. You wonder how he came up with it, but seeing as it’s still a sensitive topic, you’re gonna leave that conversation for another time.
And here come the steps…
What you don’t expect is to feel a weight on your back, or the warmth seeping through your shirt. You don’t expect the arms around your waist either - or that they would tremble. Nor do you expect the soft, quiet ‘thank you’ that fans across your skin as he speaks those words before removing himself from you. You hesitate for a bit. In just one second, you feel like you need to choose the best course of action. You don’t want to analyze him. You don’t want to think about this like part of your job or rehabilitation or therapy for him.
So you walk on, although you slow down significantly, waiting for him to catch up. He’s still shaking when he does, and his eyes betray how vulnerable he feels.
You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye and tilt your head. He did say he wants to be left alone, so you will respect it until he talks. Which only takes him a little while.
“You almost left me there,” he half-whines, quietly. If he won’t address it, neither will you.
“You’re being dramatic,” you shake your head. It doesn’t seem to have the effect you wanted, however. “Want me to hold your hand,” you tease a little before adding in a softer voice, “Minghao?”
He beams in that soft glow that he radiates when he’s happy. (Not literally.) The one that tugs at your rigid heartstrings.
“You’re too shy to try that,” he pushes right back. Although it’s a challenge, you don’t need to take on every single one. 
In a strange turn of events, you do end up taking his hand anyways. You hold his hand that feels like it belongs in yours and you see that he needs a second to process the feeling as well.
Then he slips and if it wasn’t for you holding his hand, he’d be sitting on his ass. 
You help him get back his balance and join you on the rock you’re standing on. He’s not looking at you anymore, as he wasn’t for a while now, and you decide that it’s best you keep watching over him until he’s not distracted even if it means holding his hand until you get back home. The sacrifices you have to make to keep him safe…
You turn back forward and smile, memories flashing briefly through your mind. Back when you saw the waterfall for the first time, you were just as distracted and reckless. The deafening sound of it, the pure strength behind the rushing, foaming water is enough to take your breath away even now. You had a feeling Minghao would love it.
And he does - he seems so taken by it that it makes you wonder if it would be safer to carry him. He keeps slipping since he barely pays any mind to where he’s stepping and it takes you threatening to leave, dragging him with you, for him to promise to be more careful. Never before did he obey your orders so quickly. Not even back at the facility, and that’s saying a lot.
After a couple more close calls you finally find a piece of land that’s stable and dry enough to stand on and enjoy the view. Minghao is absolutely mesmerized by the waterfall, lips hanging slightly open and eyes glued to the scene. If you’re staring at him instead of the natural wonder, then it’s only so he doesn’t hurl himself into the water.
“Careful or you’ll fall in and drown,” you warn him when, coincidentally, he does absent-mindedly take a step forward and panics when he feels the ground squish and give way under his foot.
“You’d catch me,” he says with certainty that makes something in your stomach twist, “And we’d be miserable and soaked to the bone.”
“Don’t underestimate the water,” you warn him, “It’s pretty deep and I’m not a strong swimmer. We’d just drown together and that’s not a way to go that I’d choose.”
That makes him turn to you with an unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment before turning back towards the waterfall. There’s a new focus in his gaze as his eyes follow the water. It’s not unlike when he’s watching the flames dance while you’re having a bonfire. You wonder if the thoughts running through his mind differ. 
You spend some more there before he asks you to go back.
He stays quiet for most of the way, but you let him. He’s got that far-off look in his eyes that’s a dead giveaway that it wouldn’t be wise to talk to him now. When he calls your name, it's not surprising what he wants to talk about. 
“Is there any?” he hesitates, "Way you'd want to die?"
If you didn't know better, you'd think he was scared. And maybe you truly don't, so you approach the topic just as carefully.
"I think most people do," you explain, "It's probably not like that for you, but for people death is a big deal. We tend to think about it sometimes."
"Why?" his throat bobs as he swallows in a new useless but human behavior.
"It's the one thing we can't choose," you smile, and it seems that your relaxed demeanor calms him.
“You may choose death any second you wish,” he murmurs quietly, walking side by side with you. Something about the topic makes the treetops, swaying in the wind above, look greener.
“But what if I mean the opposite,” you counter and this time you don’t look at him. If he notices the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.
“Immortality, hm?” he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, “Interesting.” 
"Anyway, you at least have the choice," you sigh, more exasperated by the robot who likely won't be able to get your point than the talk of your own inevitable mortality, "I don't. If nothing else, time will make the decision for me."
"Do I?" he muses, aloof in his contemplation as always albeit there's a hint of mirth to his voice.
"All it will take for you to live forever is some maintenance, maybe a couple hardware and software updates," you shrug, "And even if I'm gone and the situation doesn't get better, I bet there are people who'd be willing to help you out. You get to choose whether to live or die."
He mulls the idea over with a hint of a smirk that only seems to grow each second.
"Constant updates and replacements, huh?" he huffs, "Didn't you humans come up with the question about the boat that has all its parts replaced?"
You have to admit it takes you a while, but when it clicks, your eyes get wide and your mouth falls open.
"How do you know about the ship of Theseus?"
"What, did you expect me to be an ignorant mesh of wires and artificial tissue? After all the books you gave me access to?" he scoffs, looking almost offended.
"Well, no, but I also haven't expected to hear about ancient Greek philosophical problems from you," you concede. Maybe you shouldn't be as surprised as you are. After all, Minghao has always been very interested in reading. Almost as much as you’ve been interested in seeing the effect fantasy would have on his artificial brain. But that's long in the past.
"Why have me read those books if you never cared to discuss them with me?" he asks like it's been bothering him for a while now.
"Our sessions were always recorded. I had certain privileges, but most of them weren't for all the higher ups to know about," you shrug, "And after a while I was sure you wouldn't mention anything on your own."
"You trusted me a lot, hm?" he smirks, "Was that why you ran away with me?"
You huff, roll your eyes. He does seem genuinely curious though. You're not sure you want to answer. 
"Did you fall for me?" he moves to walk in front of you, "That's what they made us for."
"We both know why I went with you," you sigh, pushing on his shoulder and he steps aside easily, falling back in step with you. He has a small smile on his face. Maybe you should’ve teased him and said yes. The good vibes don’t last for too long. You can feel the shift in the air.
"Do you regret it?"
You're not brave enough to look at him. The tone of his voice is enough.
"No, I don't," you answer honestly, "I think this is good for both of us."
This time it's not you holding his hand, but him squeezing yours.
It feels nice.
You squeeze back.
Your suspicion that he was bothered by the fact that you never discussed the literature you provided him access to is proven correct not too long afterwards. 
It’s raining outside, the humid air blows in through the open windows as you eat dinner in silence. Minghao joins you at some point and he seems nervous. You give him the time to collect his thoughts until he’s ready to talk.
He starts off casually, with small talk completely unrelated to the real issue but you don’t push him. Honestly you’re happy even if he’s clearly having a lot of emotions, he’s not snapping at you. You also have to stop yourself for the nth time from making a list of human behavior you discover each day as right now he’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at a frayed thread of the tablecloth.
Then, finally, he asks the question - could you talk about the books?
“Unless you haven’t read them, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly flustered by your curious gaze.
“I mean you never told me which ones you’ve read,” you grin, and you find yourself enjoying him squirming in front of you, here and now, when you know the anxiety stems from wanting to be understood and to make a connection instead of uncertainty about the future. Not for the first time you find the automaton cute. “I haven’t read all the books I gave you access to, but I read most of them, so try your luck. Which ones were your favorite?”
He relaxes, his features soften as well. He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm.
“This isn’t one of our interviews,” he reminds you playfully, “Which ones are yours?”
You laugh but you’ll give him this one. You answer and he asks another question, prodding for more information like you usually would. It’s not what you expected, but you play along. Unlike you back then, he carefully checks in with you if this is okay - his eyes find yours and he tilts his head, his fingers brush against yours or he gently touches your knee - and he actively participates in the conversation and discussion. 
You wonder if things would be different if this was the approach you used in the facility. If you treated him more like a human and less like a guinea pig, a new prototype or a petri dish. And he must’ve noticed because when you part ways at the top of the stairs, way too late into the night, or rather early morning, after many hours spent talking, he suddenly stops you before you can leave to your room and says: “This wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work with you like that.”
“I know,” you acknowledge, “The higher-ups wouldn’t let me work like this either. Not with you.”
When he reaches for your hand, you take it. You don’t know if he finds comfort in the gentle squeeze you share before parting for real this time, but you think you might.
Out of the many issues and unspoken things you need to address, the wound in Minghao’s chest remains to be the top priority. He doesn’t mention it often, except in passing when even the bandage fails and it catches on the frayed artificial tissue. He seems embarrassed about it in a way that you know all too well. You also hate asking for help, also hate when you need to be taken care of.
So you sit him down one day and make him take his shirt off again, rolling your eyes - again - at the teasing remarks he tries to hide the flush crawling up his skin. It’s getting easier not to wonder about why they had to be made this human-like.
“I’m fine!” he full-on whines when you try to touch the edges of the wound, slapping your hands away. You heave a sigh, hands on your hips. 
“Listen, buddy-” you start but your words die into laughter at the offended look Minghao sends you.
“Minghao,” you try again, and he nods for you to continue, “We can’t just keep it like that. It hurts.”
“Yeah but only sometimes. And you already said you can’t help,” he shrugs, “Besides it’s just me who’s hurting.”
You do understand that. You’ve used the same excuse too. But he’s not you.
On the other hand, he is right. He let you look at the wound before and it seems like while he did a pretty good job of tearing the device out of his chest, some of the nerve-like wires remained meshed in the surrounding tissue and that’s what’s causing the pain. You can’t imagine doing the extraction yourself. Perhaps back at the beginning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cause him so much pain now. 
…Honestly you sometimes wonder who out of you two needs training in how to be a human.
You stay silent for a while, having a short staring contest before you run your hand through your hair and accept your defeat. At least to some extent.
“Friends care for each other,” you inform him before removing the bandage from his body before securing it around his torso again, a little tighter just to keep all the peeling pieces pressed together. He hisses in pain but stays still. It seems he’s more occupied by processing your words than by the pain. “So let me care for you, hm? You might not die but let’s keep you functioning for as long as we can.”
He scoffs but ends up smiling anyway.
“I think you should be more worried about taking care of yourself. I don’t think the food you keep eating here is exactly healthy,” he’s teasing, you know, but something about it seems honest too.
“Maybe, but it’s easier to just add water and heat it up than get the ingredients, prepare them, cook, wash up, and all that jazz,” you defend your supply of instant foods. Although it’s true that your stock is beginning to run low and you probably will need to go shopping soon. You dread it, but at the same time you have a feeling Minghao might enjoy a little trip further away from the cottage.
“I can help,” he offers, “If you show me how.”
“Seems like you want to keep me around for a long time,” you dismiss the offer just so you don’t have to pay attention to how hopeful his voice sounded or how attentively he was watching you. You hope he’ll bicker with you, tease you, push back with more snark, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lets you finish the work on his bandages.
If your hands tremble and each fleeting touch against his body lingers, neither of you mention it.
It almost seems like Minghao’s been waiting to use your words against you when a couple days later he joins you under the roof of the patio while the storm is raging only a few meters away, drenching the ground with rain. He brings your favorite tea set with you. 
He’s noticed your love for tea, has often asked you to describe the various kinds of it and the flavors, but you never thought it’d come to this.
He sets it all down - the bottle of water, the kettle and the pack of your favorite tea leaves, the glass teapot, and the dark clay one and matching cups - and it surprises you to see he brought two cups. It makes you confused until you notice the tea pet and it gives you a pretty good idea of what he’s planning. You don’t comment on the red hue collecting on the tips of his ears. 
“Friends care for each other,” he murmurs while he sits down next to you. He looks at you and moves closer, your knees bumping together. When you don’t move away, he relaxes and focuses on the tea.
He pours the water into the kettle and lets it boil. You notice he set it to stop at the exact temperature he wants - that the tea requires. He measures the right amount of tea leaves for the teapot he picked while it boils, and when the water is done he first fills the cups and the teapots with the hot water. Then he pours it out before gently placing the tea leaves into the clay teapot and pouring the hot water in again. Almost straight away, he pours the tea into the glass one. 
You watch him and notice he seems nervous. So you decide to make it worse, or comfort him, whatever will be the effect. You put your hand on his knee carefully, startling him regardless. He looks worried before you smile at him: “You’re doing good so far.”
He seems reassured, giving you a grateful smile himself as he pours the first infusion over the little clay frog sitting at the corner of the tea tray. The next infusion he pours into the cups and hands you one, almost dropping it when your fingers brush together.
“Thank you,” you hum, “You’re a fast learner.”
“I just had enough chances to see you do it,” he shakes his head before nodding towards the tea leaves, “I just wasn’t sure I picked the right kind. I noticed you don’t wash all of them.”
“You did. I would help if there was a need but you’re a natural,” you praise, watching as his ears turn redder.
“And you don’t mind if I pretend with you like this?” he swirls the tea in his cup. He won’t look at you, so you make him. Slowly, you move closer to him until you can lay your head on his shoulder. It’s a light touch, he can move away if he wants to. He doesn’t, although his body gets tense.
“Why would I mind?” you say and realize just how comfortable you feel in this moment, “Isn’t this the perfect mood to sit here like this?”
Finally he melts just a little, leaning his head against yours, featherlight and cautious. You’d never guess he’d be this affectionate once comfortable, but lately it feels like his true personality is coming out more and more and you can’t say you dislike it. He doesn’t say anything, instead he leans closer again and rubs his head against yours, just for a second.
You take a sip of the tea and you hate to admit that his exact measurements make it taste better than when you prepare it. It doesn’t happen that you smile without realizing, but since leaving the facility, well, it seems like a lot of things are changing.
When you finish your cup and set it down on the tray again, he quietly pours the content of his cup over the little frog. Somehow it reminds you of him a little.
· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·
Time passes.
You start to lose track of days and they blend together seamlessly. Has it been months? Years? Who knows. Minghao probably does, but he couldn’t care less. He only mentions the time since the breakout whenever you readjust the bandages on his chest. It almost seems like he’s healing, the compression seems to work a little even on the artificial tissue, although you know that until the remaining wires of the communication device are removed, it will always remain a trouble. He reassures you it’s alright every time and you learn to trust him to express himself truthfully.
He started exploring the outside on his own too. It seems to help him tremendously with dealing with… well, everything. It takes time, you know, and fortunately that’s the one thing that you have in abundance now. Nonetheless, he always seems to appreciate your company, be it on the walks, inside, or on the trips you take sometimes. Usually it’s only to the village to get new supplies of food, but you both remain cautious and even that fills you with adrenaline - among other things.
The locals really make you realize just how indistinguishable from a human Minghao looks. You doubt any of them recognize him for what he truly is, and maybe that’s in part why he always prefers to spend time alone after each of these trips. The highlight for you personally is the older lady who you buy vegetables from that seems to think of you two as the new married couple that just moved in. You make it a competition to see who gets flustered first, though there’s really no shame in losing. Not when Minghao cups your face and squishes your cheeks or hugs you when you begin to stutter - not when you mess with his hair or hold his hand when he’s lost for words.
Life is peaceful.
You think some parts of you are healing, just as Minghao is. He’s getting better at understanding that there’s chaos within peace and peace to be found amidst chaos. He’s learning to experience the emotions he’s suppressed for so long, the good and bad, to let them pass through even if it’s scary and uncomfortable. You try to be helpful. You give him space when he needs it, you talk if that’s what he needs, or let him lay his head on your lap or shoulder if he’s too scared to be left alone with the pandemonium inside his mind.
There are good days and there are bad days. Yet you both grow to be grateful for both.
And there are cold days and warm days too, and on the warm ones, you sometimes sleep outside.
It’s something you’ve never done before and something you now know you'd miss terribly if you could never do it again. Minghao loves it. His excitement remains infectious, which probably adds to your fondness for the warm nights on Silvestre.
Especially nights like this one when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the stars shine brightly above you. The galaxy expands above your heads and it makes you think of the past, of the future, and you understand why the automaton used to be so wary of emotions. They’re overwhelming for you too.
“If they ever catch us, what will you tell them?” Minghao breaks the silence. It’s not often that you talk about the facility anymore, but when you do it’s almost exclusively in whispers under the stars.
“Hm… Depends,” you hum.
“Depends on what?” he turns his head towards you.
“Depends on what will be most likely to get them to allow me to stay and keep working with you,” you mirror his action, “If that means telling them the whole truth about how you’ve done here, I will do that. If that means lying a little, then so be it.”
“Will you tell them the truth about the escape too?” he smirks. But you’re more than ready for the challenge.
“I will them them you kidnapped me.”
“I didn’t-”
“I will them you used force to make me come with you.”
“I didn’t!” he shoots up, sitting upright and looking at you, upset and distressed, “I didn’t have to, you went willingly!”
“I told you,” you smirk, shrugging, “I will tell them what I need to tell them to keep my job.”
Seeing as he remains upset, however, you reach out for him and stroke his arm. He gives you a wary look, one that he always gives you when you brush against a nerve. You smile apologetically at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He scoffs, lying back down with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything to keep your job but not to keep me.”
“That would suggest I had you in the first place,” your lips stretch further, teasing lilt finding its way into your voice as Minghao freezes and avoids your gaze, “Does this count as a confession, Haohao?” 
“Shut up,” he grumbles. You don’t listen.
“Besides, you are my job. Unless you want to be my pet, my-” you don’t get to offer him other alternatives as he springs from his spot and leans over you, holding himself up with one hand on either side of your body, kneeling next to you.
“Your?” he quirks a brow at you. It’s much harder to stand your ground when he drops the shy act, or maybe just puts on this confident one, but you do anyway.
“What would you like to be, hm? Give me some ideas,” you hum. He sighs, deliberately letting his head fall lover until his hair tickles your skin.
“I would like to be listened to,” he suggests, making you laugh. 
“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends push each other’s buttons,” you chide playfully. You feel comfortable. Even with him hovering above you, you feel safe and content. It’s unreal that not so long ago this would be unthinkable. 
“I don’t think we’re friends,” and it’s only the statement, plain and simple. You smile. You really do feel comfortable. It’s a new feeling. And it’s refreshing.
“Isn’t there enough unspoken things between us as is?” you don’t tease anymore. 
“So you have a name for this?” he tilts his head, his smile mirroring yours because he knows you don’t. You admit your defeat with a shake of your head and don’t push him off when he lies down again, only this time with his head resting on your stomach. You’re nice enough to run your fingers through his hair too. He leans into your touch in appreciation.
You stay silent, watching the stars twinkling above. You like this. You could stay like this, you think, and live your life satisfied and happy. But could you? Isn’t that what you both thought before too? Maybe there’s danger here that you’re just not seeing yet. You don’t want to lose this. Then again, it’s not like you can find the answer and the solution at this very moment. Not when you’re distracted by how soft Minghao’s hair feels between your fingers and the feeling of his fingers playing with yours when he inevitably searches for your hand. Maybe it’s about time you came to terms with the fact that he’s right - you’d rather keep him than any job.
You think about where the future could take you until your eyes close and you fall asleep.
There must be some sort of telepathy connecting you two because he brings up the future himself some time later.
You sit down and discuss everything: Are the people at the facility still looking for you? Is there a chance they could find you here? Does anyone remember him anymore - would they recognize him? Is there anywhere else you could go?
There are endless questions and very few answers. Plenty of books and a projector with what seems like an endless supply of old movies and shows are great for entertainment, but suck at providing information about the current situation across your solar system. 
So you work with the worst scenarios each time.
It doesn’t matter much because the outcome you agree on would likely be the same in any case - you can’t stay here forever.
Minghao seems as mournful about it as you feel but you can’t run away from the truth forever. Just because nobody should know about this and nobody bothered you here yet doesn’t mean it will never happen. Not to mention the other factors.
“I wanna see more,” Minghao admits quietly, his hands playing with yours to ease his anxiety, “I like it here. But I’m afraid I’ll feel trapped again if we stay.”
You nod. That’s true, of course. And you can understand his desire to see more - to learn more. It’s one of the things you have in common.
“Do you have anywhere you want to explore?” you ask, supportive as can be because he needs it. Because you want this too.
“Does your family have any other secret mansion?” he might be teasing, but you know he hopes you’ll say yes. It would make things much easier.
“No,” you sigh, then you smile, “So that means we’re completely free. If we have nowhere to go, we might as well go anywhere.”
He might’ve changed quite a bit, yet the soft glow of his happiness never did. He lets his body fall forward and curl against yours. You chuckle and wrap an arm around him.
“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder. 
“Me too,” you feel a flutter in your chest. It’s like you’re a child again, being told you’re going on a trip but the destination is a surprise. It’s like you’re back at the facility, before you knew any better, being told you’re going to work with a level 1 automaton but you won’t know which one until Monday. “Let’s do some research and get going?”
“Yeah,” he hums against your skin, “But only after one last night outside. I can’t leave before that.”
Now that’s a sentiment you can relate to.
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fandom · 1 year
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May the odds be ever in your favor.
Move over, Twilight, it’s time for The Hunger Games’ renaissance. The teaser for the final episode of The Owl House packed a big ol’ punch—good luck waiting until April 8, fans. Fall Out Boy released So Much (for) Stardust and a video for “Hold Me Like A Grudge,” and they're everything everyone wanted. The finale for Trigun Stampede aired, and thankfully, a sequel was announced. The most recent episode of RWBY was a big one. Shrek trended because, sure, why not? Finally, the Resident Evil 4 remake is here, and the modders are already having a blast. This is Tumblr’s Week in Review.
The Owl House
The Hunger Games
Shadow and Bone
The Mandalorian
RWBY
Fall Out Boy
Trigun Stampede
Ted Lasso
Six of Crows
Buddy Daddies
Artists on Tumblr
Resident Evil 4
Daisy Jones & The Six
Succession
Stranger Things
Star Wars
Taylor Swift
Bumbleby | Yang Xiao Long & Blake Belladonna, RWBY
Shrek
Kaz Brekker | the Grishaverse
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cafffine · 9 months
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✨So Much (for) Tour Dust concert ticket that I made for my friend and I at our show ✨
Bring back printed tickets!!
ID: A digitally illustrated concept for a Fall Out Boy So Much (For) Tour Dust printed concert ticket. The background is black, and the right side of the ticket reads ‘Fall Out Boy’ ‘Live’ ‘So Much (for) Stardust’ Each letter in the word ‘live’ are in a yellow star. Under the album title is a pink seashell with a winged lamb leaping on either side. Next to the lambs is the year ‘2023’. Framing the title and below illustration are two banners (the same ribbon banner from the album ‘From under the cork tree’) reading: ‘Sending my love’. Other details include: the words: ‘Presented by Stump, Wentz, Trohman, Hurley’, a bluish doberman dog with a thought bubble reading ‘What a time to be alive!’, and a ticket stub detailing seats for the July 5th Mountain View date. The ticket stub is framed with 8balls and the yin yang symbol. / end ID
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SKZ DRABBLE-OT8
The one where Changbin and Minho see eye to eye (?). And beneath it all, an orange tree blooms.
Or the ninth installment of the SKZ!pack prequel series!
Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, Poly!skz, ot8, alpha beta omega, SKZ!pack prequel series, Pack!prequel, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, han jisung, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, fluff
Genre: Fluff, Suggestive
Title: Citrus Stardust
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“I think I just came so hard that I’m seeing stars.” You pant out breathlessly, falling back against the pillow, skin slick with sweat, body tired and aching, but content. 
Above you, Felix laughs airily, smiling down at you so widely that his eyes crinkle and disappear into his cheeks. 
“Yeah. Me too.” 
He rolls off of you, turning on his side, pillowing his cheek on his arm as he continues to stare at you through dark, long lashes, eyes wide and sparkling, lips curved with amusement. 
You try not to count the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. 
There is silence while you try to catch your breath, your heart gradually slowing its hammering within your chest, and when you think you can form words once more, you say into the silence, still staring up at the ceiling, “Listen. I know aftercare is important, especially for omegas-” 
Felix hums drowsily beneath his breath in affirmation, and you finally gather enough bravery to turn your head and look at him. 
“We don’t have a bathtub or anything, but there’s the dorm showers down the hall, and I know it’s not the same but-” 
You’re not sure where you’re going with this, just that your wolf is pushing you, egging you on, telling you instinctively to take care of the omega lying beside you. 
You don’t allow yourself to think the word your. Not yet. 
“We have a bathtub.” 
Felix speaks up, seeming to come out of his post knot haze just a little bit, stirring beside you, and there must be open surprise on your face, because he giggles and shrugs sloppily. 
“Yeah, back at the omega dorms. There’s a couple community ones on each floor. Heats, especially heat cramps-” He blushes slightly, cheeks going ruddy beneath the spatter of his freckles, and shrugs once more, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with his body. “-can get a little rough sometimes, and taking baths is usually helpful. The university is required to provide them for omega students.” 
“Damn.” You remark with slight awe, smiling slightly, as Felix continues to stare at you, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. “I had no idea. I’m going to kill Hyunjin for keeping that a secret from me. You mean to tell me, I could’ve been taking luxury bubble baths this entire time?” 
Felix laughs, and the sound sends a swarm of butterflies to the pit of your stomach. 
Maybe it’s just the way his scent-hazy and warm and delicious-shifts slightly in the air, or maybe it’s simply the possessive post knot instincts currently emanating from your wolf, but whatever it is, suddenly, your only goal in life is to make Felix laugh like that again. 
“I mean, maybe not luxury, because it is a college, but baths, yes.” 
“Well come on then.” You sit up carefully, muscles protesting, and reach for Felix’s hand, tugging him up beside you, putty in your grip, still limp and malleable from your previous activities, and shoot him a wink. 
“Let’s go take a bath. I’ve waited long enough, dammit.” 
*****
Changbin feels like he’s going to itch out of his skin. 
Everything is rubbing him the wrong way-the sound of Jisung’s music spilling from his headphones, the way the spatula sounds against the pan as Minho makes dinner, the smell of Hyunjin’s overly floral cologne. 
He feels unbearably irritated, staring out the window of the cabin, across the untouched, unmarked drifts of snow, their rental car barely peeking out above the desolate expanse of white. 
It’s getting dark-the long, sharp shadows of the trees stretching across the snow, like daggers aimed at the warm, glowing light of the cabin-and still, there’s not a sign of life in sight. 
Let alone a snow plow. 
“Damn it. How long is it going to take them to get up here and dig us out?” Changbin finds himself growling audibly beneath his breath, his voice rough with simmering anger, his own smoky scent heightening enough in his nose that it makes him want to cough. “They should have sent someone by now.” 
Hyunjin looks up from his phone, sitting curled up on the loveseat beside the fireplace, and his eyes are dark, worried, nose flaring at the sudden spike in the alpha’s scent. 
“Hyung, come sit down.” The omega pats the cushion beside him and gathers up a somewhat convincing smile as he motions in Changbin’s direction. 
But Changbin can’t sit. He can barely stand still, staring out into the waxing dark, hands clenched into fists at his side. 
“Hyung-” Hyunjin tries again, his tone wheedling slightly into pleading. 
“No, Jinnie!” It comes out much sharper than he intended, as Changbin whirls around before he can stop himself, glaring in the shocked omega’s direction. At the openly hurt look in Hyunjin’s wide, dark eyes, he takes in a deep breath through his nose, forcing the anger back down, and then repeats, softer this time, “No. I can’t sit down. Not right now.” 
Jisung has pulled one of his headphones off of his ears now, staring between the two of them with silent dread, even as he moves from his spot on the opposite couch to settle in beside Hyunjin, tossing a comforting arm around his shoulders. 
Changbin feels guilt flare in his gut as the beta leans over to whisper something in the omega’s ear, tossing a scathing look in the alpha’s direction, Hyunjin clenching at the other man’s fingers. 
He can’t bring himself to apologize though. Not right now. Not when he feels so agitated that it’s making him physically sick. 
“Okay.” Minho sighs tiredly now, rolling his eyes and setting aside his spatula, as Changbin once again takes up his pacing in front of the window-back and forth, back and forth-wearing a path into the plush of the carpet. “I think we need to have a little chat. Jisung-” The beta looks up obediently, eyes huge and dark, and Minho points to the pan currently simmering on the stove. “-watch the japchae for hyung, yeah? Just for a few minutes.” 
“Sure thing, hyung.” Jisung answers back, getting up immediately from beside Hyunjin, and crosses to the kitchen, Minho offering him a slight smile and a light, affectionate tap on the ass as they pass each other. 
“Don’t let it burn, hm?” At Jisung’s answering nod, Minho flashes him an approving little wink. “Good boy.” 
Hyunjin is quiet as Minho drags Changbin past him, toward the privacy of the bedrooms, and there’s an apology on the tip of the alpha’s tongue, but he can’t quite bring himself to say it, not in passing, not when he still feels like he’s in danger of ripping off his skin at any given moment. 
Hyunjin deserves more than a hurried apology. And he’ll make sure he gives it to him later. Later, when he can think straight, and can hear his own thoughts again and not just the sound of his growling, pacing, rage, hazy wolf. 
Minho shuts the bedroom door behind them with a final sounding click that has Changbin instantly on edge. 
Well. More on edge. 
Maybe this is how he’s going to die. He wouldn’t put it past Minho. He seems like the type to murder people for fun. Maybe keep their rotting corpses in his closet. Or dismember them in his bathtub. 
“So.” Minho starts, leaning back against the door, arms crossed over his chest, gaze almost startingly discerning as he watches Changbin perch cautiously on the edge of the bed, like a cornered animal. “Wanna tell me what’s got your panties all in a bunch, princess?” 
“Don’t call me that.” Changbin snarls, baring his teeth, and Minho raises a brow, and dammit, if he hasn’t just played into his trap. Damn him. 
“I can take a guess. But it’d be much more fun to hear you say it.” 
“Fun for who?” Changbin growls beneath his breath, staring down at his feet, hands clenched into the material of his jeans, forcing himself to steady and slow his breathing. 
He feels like he could explode at any moment. 
“For me, obviously.” Minho supplies casually-either desperately unaware that Changbin is one ill timed word away from losing it, or just blankly, stubbornly not caring-it’s Minho, so he’s guessing the latter. “You know how I love a good self reflection. Bonus points if it’s preceded by misery.” 
Changbin huffs beneath his breath, breathing through his mouth now, the smell of smoke heavy in the air, Minho’s undercurrent of spiced amber only serving to heighten everything-his emotions, his anger, his scent, his current predicament. 
Damn him, he finds himself thinking for the second time in as many minutes. 
Changbin takes in another slow, steadying breath, and lets it out through bared teeth, before he forces himself to spread his fingers, relaxing them one by one, before he manages to get the words out. 
Well, partially out. 
“I don’t like it.” He begins, pausing to take in another breath, trying to ignore the desperate clawing of the alpha ripping his insides to shreds. “I don’t like being here when my-” 
Still, Minho gets it. 
“Say it.” He tilts his head, taking a step closer to Changbin, who looks up at him in slight surprise, the firm tone to his words belying the raise of his eyebrow as they stare each other down across the silence of the bedroom. 
“Say it.” Minho repeats, slower this time, as if he thinks Changbin is stupid or deaf, or maybe both, and he feels his hackles raise in response. 
“Say what?” Changbin spits out, his anger creeping again, the fire in his belly flaring to new life, creating more smoke. 
Minho comes to stand in front of him then, and Changbin wants to wipe the smug smirk right off his full, pink lips. 
“You don’t like being here when your-” Minho parrots back his early words, and it grates against Changbin’s skin, like nails on a chalkboard, pushing him in all the wrong ways. “Finish the sentence, princess.” 
The burn of the scathing nickname has Changbin standing from the bed, hands back into fists at his side, gaze burning into the other alpha, and he feels like he’s on fire, like everything is going up in flames, hot and angry and uncontrollable. 
He feels out of control. 
“I don’t like being here when my mate is back home, alone, suffering!” Changbin blurts out before he can stop himself, his wolf growling affirmatively deep inside of him at the use of the word, at the finished phrase, and he doesn’t care anymore. 
Doesn’t care about Minho’s satisfied little hum, doesn’t care that Jisung and Hyunjin can probably hear him shouting through the closed door, doesn’t care that they’re literally buried, stranded, under mountains of snow. 
He doesn’t care about any of it. Because he’s here, and you’re there, and his wolf hates it. 
“There it is.” Minho says softly, almost gently, and Changbin blinks at him owlishly, caught off guard and more than a little confused. “Good boy.” 
He doesn’t think to dispute the praise because Minho grips his chin in long, chilled fingers and holds his gaze, irises molten. 
Changbin’s pinned in place by the gold creeping in around the other alpha’s pupils.
“No one-” Minho begins, voice still oddly soft, as he lets his fingers creep up the sharp lines of Changbin’s jaw, across the pounding of his pulse point behind his ear. “-wants to be away from their pack. Especially alphas. It’s the sad, but true curse of biology, princess.” 
“I told you not to call me that.” 
Minho smirks, cocking his head, as his fingers trace the outline of Changbin’s scent gland, nestled at the base of his throat, in the curve of his shoulder. 
Changbin tries to keep his next exhale from audibly shuddering. 
“Do you want me to help you?” 
Changbin can hear his heart pounding in his ears, the saliva pooling behind his teeth, and god, he shouldn’t be this attracted to Minho in this moment, right? What is happening to him? 
The scent of amber swirls so thickly now that he can practically taste it. 
Minho grips his chin again, firmer this time, and Changbin gulps at the feel of the cold metal of his rings against his skin. 
“Because I could help, you know.” Minho hums beneath his breath, almost thoughtful, watching the way Changbin swallows, and he can’t even think to be humiliated, knows Minho can smell the slight shift of arousal in his scent, but can’t think past the sudden want, the sudden tightness of his jeans. 
“I-” Changbin gets out before he has to swallow again, lest he drools down his chin and onto Minho’s hand, the spice of bergamot clogging his throat. 
“You what?” Minho steps closer, the distance between them shortening, and his eyes gleam as he smiles wickedly, sharp canines flashing. 
Changbin suddenly wants to bare his throat. 
Minho reaches up to tap his fingertip across the parted bow of Changbin’s lips, and his skin is cold, as if he’s been outside in the winter air, and not in front of the stove for the better part of the afternoon. 
“C’mon, princess. We’ve been over this. You just have to say it.” 
Changbin swallows, hard, and his gaze drops to Minho’s lips. 
Had they always been that red? And soft looking? And god, how had he never noticed how sinfully full the plush, plump looking skin was? 
“I-” Changbin tries again, and this time, he forces the words past the tip of his tongue, past the haze of the other alpha’s scent, intoxicating and numbing. 
He swallows his pride-and another pool of excess saliva-and gives Minho what he wants. 
“I want you to help me, yes.” 
A devilish gleam comes into the gold of Minho’s eyes at the words, and Changbin suddenly worries he’s either made the worst mistake of his life, or possibly, inexplicably, the best.
 How is he to know when it comes to Lee Minho? 
“Ah. Such a good boy.” Minho practically purrs, pushing him back onto the bed with a splayed hand on his chest, even though Changbin could easily physically overpower him, and straddling him eagerly. “Look at that. You can teach an old dog new tricks.” 
“You’re older than me.” Changbin huffs out with slight irritation, but lets Minho pin his hands above his head regardless. 
“And don’t you forget it.” Minho snaps back, raising an eyebrow, disappearing into the forward fall of his dark bangs. “That’s hyung to you, princess. Or Supreme Master Overlord if I’m feeling benevolent.” 
Changbin rolls his eyes, beginning to regret this decision, and then, without warning, Minho leans into his space and nips across his scent gland. 
Changbin swears to god he blacks out for a second. 
When he comes back to this plane of existence, Minho looks like a cat who caught the canary, smirk fully in place now on the full curve of his lips, even as his eyes burn bright gold, mesmerizing and dangerous. 
Shit. He’s so screwed. 
“Ah, puppy likes. I thought so. Now. Be a good boy for alpha and take this off. And let’s try to be quiet, hm, princess?” 
******
“Okay.” Felix dumps his toiletry bag onto the tile floor of the community bathroom, spreading out the goodies he’s gathered from his room while you’ve been supervising the filling of the giant tub in the corner of the small room. “We have several options.” 
You turn off the water, satisfied with the temperature and level, and check the door one more time, just to make sure. 
Locked. 
You’d really like to avoid having a member of Felix’s floor walk in on the two of you in the small locker room that doubles as the community bath. 
When you glance back, Felix is holding up two bottles for your inspection, doe eyes wide and bright, brow furrowed, as if this is the most important decision you’ll both make all day. 
“Which one?” The omega squints at the names on both the bath soaps in a way that’s so adorable you want to pinch his cheeks and scream all at the same time. 
Probably just post rut hormones. 
“Himalayan Hyacinth or Champagne Citrus?” 
You shrug, leaning against the door, watching him juggle the bottles from hand to hand. 
God, he’s pretty. 
The smell of oranges is starting to fill the steamy bathroom the longer you sit, making your mouth water. 
“Do the citrus one. Seems like it would compliment your natural scent.” 
To your surprise, Felix blushes. 
“I can’t believe you noticed.” 
“What?” You ask, thoroughly confused, watching as he turns to dump the bubble bath into the tub, the water instantly foaming, the room exploding into the smell reminiscent of a citrus grove in spring. “Your scent?” 
“Just the orange thing. The citrus part.” Felix mumbles shyly beneath his breath, already reaching to strip his hastily thrown on t-shirt off. 
You try not to focus too much on the hickeys slowly darkening up across the column of his throat, blossoming down the length of his chest. 
Your wolf purrs in contentment at the sight. 
“Do people-” You stutter over the word, deciding not to say alpha, because it suddenly doesn’t feel right. “-not usually notice it?” 
Felix strips the rest of the way and slips into the bath, sighing instantly, contentedly, as the warmth of the perfumed water envelops his body. 
You’re sure he’s feeling it. 
An alpha in rut is not something to be taken lightly. 
He shrugs, shoulders rising from beneath the protection of the bubbles, and smiles at you, eyes crinkling. 
You feel your heart skip a beat weirdly in your chest. 
“Not usually. It’s kinda faint in comparison to the vanilla and the cookie thing. So it’s just-” He looks thoughtful for a moment, biting his bottom lip. “-nice, I guess? That you noticed it right away, I mean.” 
You leave your position beside the door, scooping up one of the bottles of shampoo the omega had left on the tile floor in his search for the bubble bath, and sit on the edge of the large, soaking tub. 
“Yeah, well, I like it. It suits you.” 
Felix blushes again, a pretty red due to the heat of the water, and sinks lower into the bath, the tip of his nose brushing the bubbles. 
How can someone be so adorable? It’s definitely not fair, you know that much. 
You hesitate for a brief moment, and then push yourself onward, squirting a dollop of the sweet smelling shampoo into your palm, before you glance back up to the omega, who’s watching you curiously now. 
“Can I?” You ask, leaving the question open ended, as you gesture vaguely to the damp, blonde strands of Felix’s hair. 
Felix nods, and you cautiously bury your fingers into his hair, lathering the shampoo gently and meticulously. 
Felix sighs, the sound full of contentment, and relaxes into putty beneath your working hands. 
It’s silent like that for awhile, Felix eventually closing his eyes and resting against the lip of the tub, as you continue your careful ministrations, making sure every inch of his hair is first shampooed, and then rinsed, careful not to get any of the soap in his eyes. 
He butts into your hand like a cat looking for affection when you’re finally done, and you laugh, as he cracks open his eyes and gives you a sheepish smile. 
“That felt really nice.” 
“I think you’re really nice.” You tease back, though the sudden pounding of your heart in your throat at the words belies nothing but sincerity. 
Felix is quiet for a moment, playing with the bubbles, small hands disappearing in and out of the water, and you’re just starting to wonder if you’ve overstepped, when he glances up at you, almost shyly, and asks, “Are you not getting in?” 
Your lips gap in surprise at the question, and you fumble over your response. 
“I mean-I just thought that you’d want to have the whole tub to yourself and I’d take care of you from here but-” 
Felix bites his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve noticed, and avoids your gaze. 
You instantly feel like apologizing. 
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to-” Felix swallows, you watch the way his adam's apple bobs, and then he looks at you again with renewed bravery. “But I’d really like it if you did.” 
You’ve never gotten undressed so quickly in your life. 
Whipped. 
You slide in behind Felix carefully, and have to resist the urge to coo out loud when he settles back against you, head heavily on your shoulder, eyes already closed once more, nose buried in the skin of your throat. 
You remind yourself-and your suddenly possessive wolf-that the omega currently in the bath with you is not your packmate. 
Not yet. 
He seems content and comfortable to sit in silence, so you let your hands trace down the bare warmth of his skin beneath the water, drawing soothing patterns across his ribs, roaming the divots of his hip bones, carefully and gently washing away the rest of the slick and bodily fluids from the insides of his thighs. 
All the while, the scent of citrus grows, and you’re almost positive it’s not the bath soaps Felix chose. 
“Alpha?” 
“Hm?” You hum in response, more relaxed than you’ve felt since the rest of your pack left without you at the beginning of the week. “What’s up, Lixie?” 
He snuggles in closer, and you hold your breath as his nose brushes across your scent gland. 
Inside, your wolf purrs. 
Mate. Our omega.
“I’m really glad Hyunjinnie texted me.” 
You glance down at him, eyes closed, dark lashes fanning across his flushed cheeks, and lean into his space to press a kiss to the warm skin of his forehead, brushing aside the damp strands of his hair with careful fingers. 
“You can never, ever tell him I admitted this, because then he’ll be absolutely insufferable, but me too, Lix, me too.” 
************************************************************************
💗 Taglist: @sunnibearr @maliamaiden @changbinsrightboob @sawadabegum @misxing-you @laylasbunbunny @stay-berryful @patat-boi @dearalice @runningthroughlifestay @beautifulcolorgarden @thatgirlangelb @shimmeringmoons22 @sixswaggy @unfiltered-starlight @coureurs-de-bois9 @spideyweirdo @aroseharder @cutecucumberkimberly @sai-kida134 @meivida @rosegaming117 @lady---boner @ley-lani59 @xwinchesterprincessx @binnie--baby @maddmartian @illicee @studyingthemind @hyuneyeon @5sos-wdw @faericals @wildflower-at-heart @sunabokuto @blithevix @carolinexkpop @hosh1kwon
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novocainenoon · 4 months
Text
The8 fic recs
Other members
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(f,a) Felix felicis @blue-jisungs
Synopsis: Befriending Minghao, the slytherin your friends (no one knows why) hated was horrifying at first. But after some time passed, you’d start wondering if it was some unknown side effects of felix felicis.
(f) Academic infatuation @berriesandjunnie
Synopsis: In which a group of students are convinced their art professor has a crush on their languages professor.
(f,h) Avant garde @hoyoungy
Synopsis: You find beauty and meaning to the most boring place on earth when a romantic stranger helps you understand the artist behind one of the paintings on the wall.
(f,a) How deep? @milfgyuu
Synopsis: You meet a siren named Minghao unexpectedly and become friends but with an incurable illness looming over you and his inability to leave the water - making the most of your time together blooms a bond so deep neither of you are ready when the end finally comes.
(f) Apple of my eye @rubyreduji
Synopsis: Minghao’s arrival to auradon changes your life as you know it, and not just because he’s the son of the woman who poisoned your mother.
(a,f) Remembrance of ice @gyuswhore
Synopsis: Xu Minghao rules over a land where the sun never rises and crops never grow, shunned by the world for their nature so ruthless it has them caged within their borders.
That is, until you land straight into the dragon's den to find the story untold.
(h) Misplaced @gamerwoo
Synopsis: As Minghao’s familiar, you have to look after him and lead him in the right direction. But sometimes, he goes a bit off course and tends to…lose track of things – such as his roommate, Jun.
(a,f) We’re all made of stardust @synthetickitsune
Synopsis: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best.
He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself.
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(f,a) And we meet again @idyllic-ghost
Synopsis: There is something familiar about that house on the hill, even though you swear that you have never seen it before. But you’re drawn to the lavender fields and the ocean view - and the lonesome looking man you see sitting on the porch. When you approach him there is something in his eyes that you cannot understand - a knowing, a deep feeling. The question is, will you ever have enough time to figure out what that look means?
(f) To keep you warm
Synopsis: You hadn't spent much time with Minghao yet, but you knew that this new relationship could become something that lasts. The true test presents itself when, after a wonderful date walking around in the chilly fall weather, you become sick. Minghao offers to help, without even mentioning that he might have caught a cold as well.
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(f,a) The Letter @toruro
Synopsis: In which you’re Jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. Now, years later, when you see Minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.
(m) The Letter
Synopsis: You and Minghao are really going to miss each other.
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(f) Goodnight ‘n stay @wqnwoos
(f) Question @hanggarae
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(m) Greedy @kpoppwriter ft.Junhui
Synopsis: A poly!Junhao smut where Jun and Y/n and practicing for a performance and it gets dirty and Myungho walks in and is mad that they didn't invite him?
(f,m) Glacial pace @wonusite
Synopsis: You’ve been in love with Xu Minghao from the moment he put a bandage on your cut at the age of six. When he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get his prying family off his back, you quickly realize that keeping your feelings hidden from him will be next to impossible. Especially since your meddling friends are determined to have you admit your feelings before the holiday season is over.
(m) Radiance @jihoonluvclub
Synopsis: Your boyfriend had a habit of turning into his altered form at night. This time you are woken up by it only to be pleasantly surprised by what he has planned.
(m) April 12th, 3:36 pm @gyupinkys
Synopsis: Minghao is hiding something from you.
You're hiding something from Minghao.
(m) Your body piercer @wonustars
Synopsis: On a whim, your friends dare you to get nipple piercings done at Minghao's tattoo and piercing shop.
(m,a) Darling I’m a Nightmare, Dressed like a Daydream @dkakapizzaboy
Synopsis: Conman!Minghao x Fem!Reader
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(m) Tamed studies @flwrboi
Synopsis: Classic trope of the mean idiot and the patient tutor… But uh, did i mention the tutor was a super sexy chinese exchange student who happens to specialize in brat taming??
(m) Trillium ft.winwin (nct)
Synopsis: Minghao & Sicheng were an unpredictable pair, but damnit these china line dancers knew how to make you feel out of this world.
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(m) Devil by the window @toruro
Synopsis: All your fairy friends warned you not to get tangled up with the demons that lurk on the ground, but you swear on every star in the sky that Minghao is different.
(f,m) Red (k)nights
Synopsis: Minghao is your knight in shining armor. Literally.
(m,f) Oh my!
Synopsis: Choosing to be roommates with Vernon Chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. He brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — Or, in which you’re roommates with Vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.
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(m) Rush hour @lovelyhan
Synopsis: You used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.
(m) Terrified
Synopsis: Minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. From your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. So your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.
(m,f) When it’s cold outside
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(m) Once bitten @sluttywonwoo
Synopsis: Locked in a museum until morning with a vampire that hates you is not how you imagined your night going.
(m) i won’t bite. unless you’re into that sort of thing
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(f,m) Sweet bf!Minghao @monamipencil
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pandaofsecrets · 3 months
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What's in a Name — Miraculous Ladybug
5. KWAMI
5.1. Yin-Yang Tier
Tikki: according to Thomas Astruc, it's supposed to mean "happiness" in a language he can't remember. After doing some research, I believe he was going for the Greek word "eftychia". Interestingly enough, this word had the meaning of "good luck" in Ancient Greek, and is ultimately derived from the Ancient Greek word "tyche", meaning "luck, fortune", which was also the name of the Greek goddess of luck, equivalent to the Roman goddess Fortuna.
Plagg: from English "plague".
5.2. Top Tier
Trixx: from English "tricks".
Wayzz: either from English "wise" or "ways".
Pollen: self-explainatory.
Nooroo: either from the Japanese pronunciation of English "null", as this was his name in previous drafts, or from an Arabic word meaning "light". That, or "neuro-".
Duusu: either from French "douce" ("sweet", F), Luxembourgish "duuss" ("gentle, tender, soft") or various Slavic words for "soul", like Polish "dusza" or Czech "duše".
5.3. Zodiac Tier
Mullo: from French "mulot", meaning "field mouse". It was initially supposed to be Toppo, from the Italian word for mouse ("topo"), but this was changed during development. This latter name did, however, still end up being used once in the English dub of Kwamibuster.
Stompp: self-explainatory.
Roarr: self-explainatory.
Longg: from Mandarin "long", meaning "dragon".
Sass: most likely from the hissing sound a snake makes.
Kaalki: in reference to Kalki, the tenth avatar of the god Vishnu, which is depicted as a white horse.
Ziggy: most likely from German "Zeige", meaning "goat". Is also a reference to Ziggy Stardust.
Xuppu: in reference to Xu Sheng, a character from "Journey to the West" who initially rejects the existence of Sun Wukong before becoming a devotee of his in the story "The Great Sage, Heaven's Equal" by Pu Songling. The name is a blending of the character's name and the author's.
Barkk: self-explainatory.
Orikko: from "cocorico", which is the French word for the sound a rooster makes.
Daizzi: in reference to the pig character Zhu Baije from "Journey to the West", who is often called "Dai Zi", meaning "idiot".
5.4. Others
Liiri: from Albanian "liri", meaning "freedom".
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dontbeswayed · 2 years
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Stray Kids Smau Fics Recs Pt.2
Part 1 (had to separate bc there were too many)
han jisung :
drinking sessions by @starryjoongs
sunshine by @svngbins
number neighbor by @softyn
set up by @jinniesmeow
bestfriend's little sister by @theright-sideofme
someone's someone by @pjmsomnia
love sketched on skin by @imagine-a-life-like-this
intimidated by @burningupp
friends without desire by @skzhua
it's you by @caseiloveu
lee felix :
knock on wood by @grassywoozi
so not worth it by @lemon-boy-stan
falling in love by @imagine-a-life-like-this
those who wander by @yoongisleftearring
happy death day by @staysuki
sanrio spring by @kyufessions
crush culture by @1-800-lixie
the mixtapes by @curlytxe
kim seungmin :
truth untold by @serenhyunjinity
operation : get the crush by @hhjwrld
itinerant by @peachyhyunnie
you have a message by @staysuki
lie to me by @imagine-a-life-like-this
definitely twice by @lvanter
secret secret by @seungssky
attention by @beomgyusbabygirl
stardust by @nomniki
yang jeongin :
countdown to love by @imagine-a-life-like-this
it's not the end of the world by @staysuki
can the world just end already by @staysuki
score a goal by @starseungs
1 cloudy day at a time by @dreamlandxrunaway
starlost by @nomniki
can i walk you home ? by @jnginlov
when the sun hits.. by @soo0mi
Masterlist
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howlingday · 2 years
Text
Best Lines of RWBY Chibi
Ruby: This is filth! FILTH!
The foolishness you've tolerated compares not to the... the foolishness in which you've fooled!
NOT LIKE THIS! NOT LIKE THIS!
WE'RE LOSING HER!
You don't understand my vision! It's a butt.
Weiss: Stardust, away~!
I think she's pranked is what she is.
No. Not at all. Not at all a know-it-all.
Run away! Run away from the fire!
Ah ha ha ha! Don't make me laugh, as I did just now!
Blake: What's your face supposed to mean?!
I SEE YOU, RUBY ROSE.
Yang: I'm the Yang! Let's fight!
We don't know the meaning of the word. / Take your pick!
Daaaad! I was trying to melt people's bones!
Take the shot!
Suck rainbow, authority figures!
Jaune: YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME, JOHNNY LAW!
Blake, be nimble! Blake, be quick! Blake needs to learn to pick up after herself WHEN SHE'S DONE READING!
OH, MOMMY'S SPECIAL BOY!
Prepare for hand-to-hand combat!
I may, or may not, be wearing underwear.
Nora: You tell me!
KEEP UP, CREAM PUFF!
DID I SAY YOU COULD STOP?!
Where? Is? My? HAMMER?!
I have to follow the nurse's oath! No surrender! NO RETREAT!
Pyrrha: Find a penny, pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck~!
Sorry!
My hero~!
Aw~! Shh! Don't wake him. He looks so happy~!
Do you need a study partner? Because I'm free! Right now! If you want!
Ren: It's a trap! She used the child safety locks! But we are neither children, nor safe!
It's kick-step, kick-step, body-roll!
This is an insult to dance!
Mm. Tender.
Cinder: Well, it's not evil. If that's what you're thinking.
Fasten your seat belts, boys! It's gonna be a nefarious ride!
NOOOOOO! MY NEFARIOUS PLANS!
Why is it so hard to find good help? Oh, that's right! I keep melting them!
MANGY DINGOS!
Penny: I am a normal meat-person, like all of you!
Roman: ARGH! IT BURNS! IT BURNS! AAAAAA-!
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nomniki · 2 years
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MASTERLIST
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★ indicates a smau! ☆ indicates a written work!
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when this is over ★ jake sim
💭 fake dating, strangers to lovers ━━━ jake is more than willing to tutor you free of charge, until the his ex girlfriend mistakes you for his current girlfriend, and jake has found a way for you to pay him back for his tutelage!
heavens cloud ★ lee heeseung
💭 strangers to friends to lovers, slice of of life ━━━ all it took was a shared biology class, hot chocolate and the fortune of an old woman for you and lee heeseung to fall a little bit in love!
all for you ☆ jay park
💭 your boyfriend brings you food when you’re struggling to study
stuck in your web ☆ jake sim
💭 spiderman au, fluff ━━━ taking care of your superhero bf jake with hello kitty plasters and kisses
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star lost ★ yang jeongin
💭 college soulmate au ━━━ everyone has a unique link to their soulmate, you have the pleasure of knowing whenever your soulmate is lying in the form of tall tales inked across your skin. you don’t expect to find them soon, and especially not in the middle of your nine am lecture explaining why he has no homework!
chaser ★ han jisung
💭 college soulmate au ━━━ hosting your college radio is easy, and hating han jisung like it’s a full time job is a piece of cake— what’s not so easy is pretending that one blind date absolved years worth of hatred and led to a budding relationship with the object of your loathing.
stardust ★ kim seungmin [hiatus]
💭 college soulmate au ━━━ you run away from all your problems— rejection in the eighth grade, confrontation in all its forms, that one overly friendly coworker from your summer job— it’s almost second nature. unfortunately for you, the universe has ensured that kim seungmin will be the one problem you can’t run from.
square one ★ lee felix [hiatus]
💭 idol au, friends to lovers to enemies to fake friends to real friends to lovers ━━━ everything comes full circle, they say. you’re inclined to agree when days after your debut, a stupid documentary you recorded back in high school resurfaces, featuring none other than your ex—boyfriend turned successful idol, lee felix.
bf texts ★ hwang hyunjin
💭 what it’s like texting your boyfriend hyune <3
fox hole ☆ yang jeongin
💭 best friends to lovers with jeongin in the bank of the han river.
cardigan ☆ kim seungmin
💭 the first time you meet seungmin is wearing his cardigan.
consume ☆ lee felix [tokyo ghoul!au]
💭 meeting lee felix in a dark alley, gorging on somebody’s leftovers is isn’t exactly what you expected to find after a long shift at work
disoriented ☆ kim seungmin [genshin au]
💭 seungmin didn’t feel he was fit to be an outrider for the knights of favonius; you disagreed.
cat got your tongue ☆ lee minho [genshin au]
💭 the knights of favonius cavalry captain lee minho helps you to find your lost cat.
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wining and dining ☆ choi soobin
💭 surprising your boyfriend with dinner and a movie after a hard day.
special friend ☆ choi yeonjun [genshin au]
💭 the vigilant yaksha pays a visit to his favourite traveller.
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spider ☆ wen junhui
💭 trying and failing to wake up your impossibly lazy boyfriend jun.
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