#apologies for the flickering video recorded this myself

[callgespenst]

I just finished Mahoyo/Witch on the Holy Night, and I had a great time with it! I think the only possible improvement would be to add sitcom cheers and a laugh track every time Soujyuro is on screen, so I took the liberty of doing it myself.

(mild post-game spoilers in video!)

[councillor-roland]

Roland had missed just being around him, at hearing the way Rhys' heartbeat picked up when the witch looked at him, at just getting to drink in the sight of him. He did so now, unabashedly. Things had been improving between them but slowly and Roland craved so much more to the point that it was almost painful. That beautiful smile, for example, which Roland hadn't seen nearly enough of in the last little while. When was the last time, Valentine's Day when Rhys had come to thank him for the gift? They'd even briefly kissed then, though far too briefly for Roland's liking but at least it had been something, a small taste to keep him going.

His expression brightened even more when Rhys confirmed that he'd liked it and he was relieved and elated at the same time. It made for a heady mixture of emotions. Roland's expression only flickered momentarily as Rhys revealed that Mateo had also heard it and that it would likely become known to Byron as well. That was hardly surprising and while there was a certain vulnerability in that as long as Rhys enjoyed it it didn't matter what anyone else though. "It's yours now, cheri, my gift to you. That means you can play it for whoever you want." Roland naturally hoped that Rhys would keep it to himself but he meant the gentle words, regardless. The rambling was endearing if only because it was rather unlike how Rhys normally was. "Don't apologize." Roland chided, fondly, and then it became impossible to keep his hands to himself so he reached out and cupped Rhys' face gently, stepping closer. "It took some time, oui, but it was a labour of love. And yes, I did it all myself. My talents lie more strongly in playing and composing but I didn't want to involve anyone else when it came to lyrics and singing. I was a perfectionist about it and the video you received was nearly the twentieth I recorded." Perhaps Rhys wasn't the only one rambling today, though Roland was far more likely to launch into long speeches. All the while, he stroked his thumb lightly over Rhys' cheek and just stared at him, practically mesmerized.

It felt as if it took Roland an eternity to come to the door. In all likeliness, the alcohol in his system and Mateo’s words of warning were making the waiting time seem far worse than it actually was but such a realisation did little to soothe Rhys’ rising agitation. The sight of Roland’s smile was almost too much to take in after denying himself the simple enjoyment of appreciating it for as long as he had and Rhys cast his gaze to the ground to give his heartbeat a chance to settle as he entered, anxiously toying with his phone within his hoodie pocket as Roland shut the door behind him. The witch took a deep breath as he worked up the mental strength to meet Roland’s gaze, the mere sight of him enough to coax a smile to Rhys’ face instantly. The instantaneous questioning gave Rhys no time to appreciate the sight before him and he huffed a laugh as he nodded, his smile remaining in place as the sound dissipated. 

“I did, yeah. Caught me a little off guard, but I liked it. ‘s good.” He forced his gaze elsewhere as he tried to work through the rush of emotion coursing through him. “I mean, I wasn’t the only one that heard it but that’s fine, right? I made Mateo swear that he wouldn’t say anything about it– Byron’s probably gonna find out by tonight, though– I’m rambling, sorry–” Rhys cut himself off with an embarrassed sigh and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to allow a little vulnerability to properly come to the forefront, his expression sheepish as he willed himself to meet Roland’s gaze again. “It was sweet of you, Ro. Really. Guess it took a while, huh? You did it all yourself?”

[ichigomis]

Dragging them to a Concert | Semi, Ushijima, Atsumu, Akaashi, Bokuto

summary: in which your friend suddenly canceled on you, so you drag him with you against his will

note: please i loved writing these, i miss going to concerts :< i usually go to concerts alone so these were really more self indulgent brain vomit hehe also, where can i get myself a semi eita?

f/n - friend’s name lol

art: @mntcakes on twt

“What band again?” Semi asks through the phone. You were on your way to the concert hall when your friend suddenly canceled on you, lucky for you, you had yourself a Semi Eita :’) “Aight, see you there.” he hums and ends the call. You technically don’t drag Semi to go to the concert with you, he just willingly goes. He’s always been like this, if he knows it’s about something you love or you’re passionate about he doesn’t even think twice, he’ll be there to support you or cheer for you.

You make your way through the crowd and look for Semi, two tickets on hand. “y/n!” he shouts with a big smile, waving something in the air. “Eita! What is that?” you curiously ask, eyeing the thing he was swinging around just a while ago. He unwraps the item and proudly shows you, “I bought us merch!!” this man, i swear <3

You sing, laugh, and just let yourself go with Semi all through the night. Suddenly, an all too familiar tune is played and you instinctively face him with a big smile. He does the same and just as the beat drops, the both of you sing to the song as loud and as crazy as you two can. It’s just like how you two usually do it in your room with you swinging your head around like a rockstar and Semi air guitaring like some mad person.

“You don’t really need to if you don’t want to Ushi.” you say squeezing his hand hoping to comfort him just a little bit. You wouldn’t have called him if you had anyone else to call, but you just couldn’t let the tickets you have go to waste and everyone else was busy. “It’s alright, y/n. I can accompany you.” Ushi lets out a small smile and you awkwardly smile back, you’ve avoided putting him in situations he’s not comfortable with but here you are basically dragging him to a concert.

You both enter the concert hall and find your seats (or spot if you’re in moshpit hehe). You glance over to him to make sure he was doing alright and as usual he kept the same stoic look, waiting for the concert to start. “Ushi, just let me know if you’re feeling uncomfy, okay? We can get out of here.” you assure him with a smile but he only sends you a confused look.

The lights dim down and your concern slowly mixes with excitement, the music starts and you almost forget that you dragged your boyfriend into this concert. You dance to the music, cheer with the rest of the crowd and every few songs, you glance over to Ushi to check up on him. He only bops his head to the music, both hands safely tucked in his pockets.

You quietly head out of the hall, the concert finishes with only a few smiles exchanged from the both of you. You stay quiet thinking of what to say and how to apologize when Ushi suddenly turns to you, “I had a lot of fun.” he smiles. You tilt your head in question, he then closes his eyes and smiles, “I liked their music a lot, and I liked the noisy crowd. It kind of reminded me of some of our matches.” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, both in amusement and relief. “Want to come with me again next time?” you ask, wrapping yourself around him. He engulfs you in his warmth and nods, “I would love that.”

“I don’t even know any of their songs…” Atsumu whines as you drag him through the crowd of excited concertgoers. You look back at him with an apologetic smile, “Sorry Tsumu, f/n suddenly cancelled and I didn’t know what to do with the extra ticket.” He pouts at you but continues walking anyway, matching your excited pace.

You sing softly, hoping the video you’re recording won’t catch your already tired voice. You raise your phone just below eye-level (gotta respect the people at the back!) and continue to shakily record the band���s performance. “Gimme, y/n.” Atsumu finally says after observing your very poor and shaky recording. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek as thanks and carefully transfer your phone to his hand. The concert ends with you singing your heart out not worried of the ugly concert voice your recordings usually have.

“Okay, lemme see! Lemme see!” you take your phone from Atsumu excited to relive the concert once more. You settle on the last video in your gallery and watch in anticipation. “Tsumu?” you call without your eyes leaving the screen. He hums a reply, looking at you with a small smirk. You face him with a confused look as you show him the video he took. “You looked like you had a lot of fun, y/n.” he beamed, giving you a thumbs up, it was a video of you half-crying-half-singing to the last song looking like an emotional mess, the band wasn’t in any of the frames. surprise all his other videos are either wobbly or showing him mockingly singing along with you

“Just 3 hours, tops! I swear, Akaashi!” you promise as you make googly eyes at the disheveled man in front of you. Akaashi rubs his neck and sighs, “Where did f/n go?”. You lower your eyes at him, you feel a bit guilty but you just cannot miss this concert. You’ve been saving up for it since last year and for a hard earned ticket to go to waste is out of the question. You look down at your feet and look for the right words to say. You lift your head up to try to charm your way out but Akaashi sighs and opens the door wider for you, “Get in, I’ll just go and get changed.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you Keiji!!” you squeal, squeezing his arm in excitement. The lights suddenly go out in the arena and the screams from everywhere deafen you for a second. You let out deafening screams of your own, still holding onto your boyfriend’s arm. As the stage lights flicker on, you scream and sing on top of your lungs and Akaashi turns to you smiling, she is so beautiful under this light.

“Just this once, pleaaaaaseee Bo?” you plead with all your might. Bokuto might be the one always charming his way around your relationship but you also have a few tricks up your sleeve. He avoids looking at you but ultimately gives in, “Fine, you win y/n, where are we going?” he asks, squeezing your cheek.

“I don’t get it, who buys popcorn at a concert?” you laugh at your boyfriend who is cheekily eating his barbecue popcorn. “You can’t complain, you dragged me here,” he says matter of factly as he throws a piece to his mouth. You roll your eyes and wait for the concert to begin, and it surely does just a few minutes later.

You’ve loved this band for years and you blast their music on a daily basis, whether you're cleaning, studying, or just jamming out. You know their lyrics by heart and apparently, your boyfriend thinks he does too. You let out a hearty laugh, “Bo!!” you playfully slap his arm and he only smirks up at you. “What? That’s how you sing it at home!” he continues to confidently sing with all the wrong lyrics, at one point you were sure he was just making up words.

hmm i def need to learn how to write shorter.

[salty-rey]

Singing for the Troops

Pairing: Fives x Reader

Words: 3948

Warnings: Fluff! Open-ending (sexual mention???)

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I do a fic for Star Wars, so I apologize in advance if I mislabeled certain ships. Or if I didn’t do the boys’ personalities any justice. 

I was inspired by old performances/entertainment for the Allied troops in WWII, and after watching Christina Aguilera’s Candyman music video. Then I thought, “do the clones get any kind of entertainment like this?” So I took it upon myself to make a fan fic!

Hope you guys like it!

I don’t know how to end a fic....

Playlist: Something’s Got a Hold On Me | Candyman | Ain’t No Other Man

Your dream is to become a famous singer, and you have been working hard for years to reach this goal. You have been visiting various bars and cantinas, singing for patrons whenever the owner allowed it. Even if you were paid or not, you still sang. If a bar had an open mic night, you were there. Out of all the bars you’ve been to, 79s has always been a favorite. It was always packed, and the owner was happy to have you sing for the guests. It always brought more patrons, which meant more money for the establishment. Plus, you were even paid, unlike previous locations. 

After a few months of you visiting 79s, you attracted the attention of a particular ARC trooper. When you finished your playlist of songs, both originals and covers, you were given a glass of whiskey. 

“Compliments from the ARC trooper,” the droid server told you before gesturing to the said trooper in blue. 

Looking over, you spotted the clone who raised their glass to you, sending a wink your way. Even though they all share the same face, this clone had a distinctive number tattoo on the side of his head and a classic goatee hugging his chin. It wasn’t the first time that someone bought a drink for you. Troopers before had attempted to grab your attention, even tried to get lucky for a night, but you brushed them off. But there was something about this trooper that was welcoming. Perhaps the way he smiled at you or the way he spoke to you. He was causal yet not dull. Flirty, too but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You become bashful at his witty comments. It felt as though the two of you were long-time friends. 

The ARC Trooper introduced himself as Fives and greeted you to his fellow brothers. There, you met Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. They all serve under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, aka “Skyguy,” as to how Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano calls him. They had stories to share with you; their missions on other planets engrossed you. In turn, you told them about your dreams to become a singer. 

“It’s silly, I know. Been lectured by my parents for years.” You lightly laughed, only to become surprised at the boys’ reactions.

“No dream is silly!” “Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of your voice!” “I don’t know what it’s like to have parents, but they should be supportive of you.”

“If that’s your dream, then go after it. To kriff what other people say.” Fives huffed before fully turning to you. “Who can say that they had dreams but didn’t achieve them because they thought it was unrealistic? I’m going to see you on a big stage one day, and I’m going to say, “That’s our songbird.” Because you will always have us cheering you on.” The trooper said with a soft smile.

A blush crept onto your face, and a smile was spreading cheek to cheek. “Thanks, Fives!”

After that night, you and the boys exchanged your private commlinks. Soon enough than anyone would like, they were shipped back to the battlefield. While they were away, if there were any downtime between missions and work, you would hear your holoprojector beeping. You spent hours talking to each trooper, glad to see that they were doing well. Fives was the one who spent the most time with you, almost talking the night away. He would only stop when he saw your head dipping and your eyes blinking to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, songbird. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. With any luck, we should be landing back to Coruscant within the month.” So fives said, his holo-imagine occasionally flickering due to the distance. 

After letting out a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and smile at him. “Okay. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” Fives smirked. He then bid you goodnight with a soft smile, and he was gone. 

Within the month, the 501st had returned to Coruscant, and you met up with the boys back at 79s. The bar 79s was packed as usual, especially on a weekend evening. Troopers from all kinds of battalions were here, drinking and dancing, retelling stories with their brothers and civilians. The music was pumping, and the dance floor was full of slightly or fully intoxicated soldiers. 

Tight hugs and smiles were exchanged when you were reunited with the boys at the bar before entering and finding an empty booth for you all to sit. Echo had left the table to get everyone their drinks as you and boys caught up. 

“I heard that there this campaign being made for singers by singers and that they want to sing for you troopers.” So you told them, raising for your a bit so that they can hear you over the music. 

Singing for the Troops was a campaign created by independent singers on Coruscant. Singers who supported the clones and believed that the troops deserve a moment of peace and perhaps experience some form of normality, which may be entirely new to them. What clone can say that they have been to a concert? Plus, it would give the artists a moment to shine and perhaps score big with a sponsor. It’s a win-win situation! 

“The campaign reached several Republic-allied planets, encouraging other singers to sign up. Not just that, but it’s was being crowdfunded, and it reached its price goal! Also, I heard that a famous singer is the main supporter of the campaign,” you informed as Echo passed around everyone’s drinks.

“You should sign up!” Kix said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I never sang for a large crowd. Let alone been off-world.” You replied nervously, your hands fiddling with the glass of liquor.

“That never stopped you singing at bars!” Hardcase responded before downing his drink in one gulp. 

“Just imagine that you’re singing to us! We already have the same faces.” Jesse joked before wincing at the sudden punch to the shoulder. 

“Look, songbird; you’re a great singer. And you’ve sung in front of countless drunken troops. So singing in front of a bunch of sober soldiers will be easy,” Fives chimed in, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “All those other singers will be lucky to have you join them.” He said before winking, a smirk on his face.

Your cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of the liquor. “Thanks, Fives.” A soft smile formed on your lips, happy to hear his compliments. You then sighed before downing the rest of your drink. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

“Alright. A toast to (Y/N)!” Kix cheered, raising his glass, and the rest joined in. 

The next day, you wasted no time in signing up for a chance to sing in the campaign. The requirements are to submit a recording of your singing, and if you are selected, you will receive a message at the earliest notice. When you waited for a response, you and the boys roam the upper mid-levels of Coruscant, taking time to hang out before the boys were shipped back to war. It always felt bittersweet saying goodbye, but you knew that it wouldn’t be for long. 

It will be much longer. 

Arriving at your apartment from working your day job, you noticed that your holoprojector was blinking; someone left a message for you. A tightening sensation was felt in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing as you approached your holoprojector. You stared at the blinking light. Did one of the boys leave a message for you? No, they know your schedule, so it possible it isn’t them. 

Is it from the campaign? Your heart hammered hard against your ribcage as your hand reached over. Then, what felt like many minutes, you finally pressed the button, the image of a well-dressed man appearing. 

“Evening, miss (Y/N). I am the manager of the campaign Singing for the Troops, and I’m here to congratulate you. You have been selected to be one of our singers! We hope to hear from you soon.” The recording ended with a courtesy bow from the man, leaving you standing there in shock. 

Did he just say that you were accepted? Does that mean you get to go off-world and sing?!

A squeal of joy echoed throughout your apartment, you jumping in place. “I did it!!” You cheered before reaching for your holoprojector. You had to tell the boys! You had to tell Fives!

After several minutes to reach them, no one answered your calls. Your smile slowly turned into a frown before sighing in defeat. “They’re at war, (Y/N)... they’re probably outside of their base. I’ll just leave them a message about the good news.” 

Later in the day, you contacted the campaign manager and agreed to meet with them for further instruction. The plan was to visit various battalions and sing for them during downtime. It will be difficult, and the campaign will have to plan, seeing battalion will go first. During those long weeks of planning, meeting other artists, and vocal practices, there still was no response from the boys. It wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t hear from Fives and the others, although you couldn’t help but worry. 

“Once everyone arrives onto Coruscant, we will first visit the 104th Battalion,” the campaign manager informed everyone via holoprojector. 

“The Wolfpack Co.,” you whispered to yourself. Fives told you about this battalion, having pointed a couple of them out back at 79’s. Fives said to you that the unit within the 104th was a serious, no-nonsense type of group. Entertaining this group and the rest of the battalion will be a challenge. 

The manager continued to list other battalions and legions until one of them caught your attention. “501st and finally, the 212th.” 

“Bottom of the list...” You whispered, frowning lightly. How long will it take for you to reach the 501st Legion? 

The meeting concluded with a buzz of excitement. It was happening. For reals! In a few days, you will be flying out of Coruscant for the first time, following your dreams. 

Before the faithful day could arrive, you decided to reach the boys once more. You sat with anticipation, your knee bouncing as you waited for someone to answer. Finally, after several beeps, the projector came to life, and standing before you was Fives. 

“Fives! Thank the Maker,” you sighed in relief before glaring up at him. “Why hasn’t anyone returned my messages?”

The ARC Trooper lightly winced at your tone before smiling apologetically. “Sorry, songbird. The mission was a lot tougher than we first thought. But we finally liberated the planet from Separatist control. The boys and I are fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said, frowning and eyes cast downward.

You opened your mouth to speak before shutting, looking away as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’re at war, and I know that you won’t always be there for our calls. I just....” You began to say but couldn’t finish your sentence.

“I know.” Fives stared at you, eyebrows knitted. “(Y/N)?” Looking back up, he was now smiling at you ever so sweetly that it made you blush. “Congrats on getting picked. I knew you would get in.”

You blinked up at the ARC trooper before smiling. The two of you spend a couple of hours talking, quickly making up for the lost time. You told him the battalions that you were going to visit, and he groaned in annoyance. “Why do we have to be at the bottom of the list?”

“I guess the 104th battalion are in dire need to put some smile on their faces—especially that sourpuss Wolffe.” You teased, causing Fives to laugh. 

“That’s going to be one hell of a challenge. I don’t think I saw Commander Wolffe smile before.”

“I welcome a challenge. And I’ll sure be the one to turn his scowl into a grin.” You puffed out your chest in pride.

Fives chuckles at your comical posture, lightly shaking his head. “If anyone can, it’s you.” You relax, returning to an upright position, looking back up at the trooper. The two of you stare at each other in silence, observing each other’s features. 

His armor was scuffed and dirtied. There are new scratches and dents throughout, roughing his paint job. His face looked tired, yet there was a glow in his eyes, staring at you in what it appears to be loving. 

“I can’t wait to see you again, pretty girl,” Fives spoke, breaking the silence.

That was a new nickname, and it caused you to blush once more. Despite feeling embarrassed, you smiled back. “Me too. Take care, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” he repeated all those weeks ago. 

.

.

.

.

Who knew participating in a singing campaign would last for so long. Then again, the war is still going on, so landing on Star Destroyers only happens when the surrounding area was safe. But it was all worth it. Seeing the joy on the troops’ faces and feeling their excitement as the music vibrated throughout the hanger was rewarding.

Working with the manager and group of artists was a great experience as well. Many of the singers were friendly, sharing their stories of how they got into music. Many of them were humans; one was a Twi’lek, another was a Pantoran, and a couple more alien species. Listening to them sing in their native tongue was thrilling, giving you goosebumps at the realization that there are so many cultures out there. So much more for you to learn, and what better place than here. 

As the list of locations was getting shorter, you felt more nervous and excited as you got closer to the 501st legion. You were going to see Fives and the others soon. It’s been months since you last saw them. I tried staying in touch with them via holoprojector, but it was getting more complicated since you were busy as well. But that will all change as you near the Star Destroyer that the famous boys in blue occupied. Although, you were nervous for an entirely different reason. You would do something big, having already talked about it to the manager, band, and fellow singers would help be your backup singers. You’re taking a big chance, and there’s no turning back now. 

The ship that you and the rest of the artist travel on docked, allowing the whole group to exit. The hangar will house the concert. That same space will also enable the troopers can dance and sing along. In a matter of hours, the soldiers set the stage, and the singers filed onto the hanger. Just like every other Star Destroyer, the stage is decked with standing spotlights and a curtain to act as a background. It also shields the rest of the group whenever they’re not performing.

You watched your fellow singers perform on stage, peeking from the corner of the curtain where the rest of the artists prepared themselves. As the crowd cheered and danced in place, your eyes scanned around the group. But at your current angle, you can’t see past the first few rows of troopers. So the only way to spot your boys is when you perform on stage. And it was happening real soon. 

Three more singers performed, some of them accompanied by background singers or dancers. Then, it was your turn. 

“Now, please welcome (Y/N)!” The manager introduced, and the crowd cheered as you walked on stage. Dressed in your performance outfit, you approached the microphone stand. Your eyes quickly scanned around the group, searching until a voice rang out from the sea of white and blue. 

“That’s my songbird!!!” 

Your eyes snapped to the source, and you softly gasped. There he was—your favorite ARC trooper.

Fives was waving his hands at you, a broad grin on his face. Standing by his sides were Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, and Kix. They were waving at you too, whistling and clapping their hands. They were all here. They are all safe and sound. You felt a weight come off your shoulders, blinking your eyes to fight back the tears. 

Gripping the microphone, you paused for a second before opening your mouth. Your voice projected throughout the hangar as you sang out your first couple of lyrics. “Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah/I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before no, no/And I just wanna tell you right now that I-/I believe, I really do believe that/Something’s got a hold on me.”

“(Oh, it must be love),” your backup singers sang softly after you. Drums began to play. A soft bass followed along as you continued to sing. Your feet carried you around the stage, feeling the beat. The large crowd of troopers resumed their dancing, stomping their feet and cheering as you reached the middle of your song. Standing at the center of the stage and facing forward, your eyes then locked to Fives’s as you sang out the next couple of lyrics. 

“My heart feels heavy, my feet feel light/I shake all over, but I feel alright/I never felt like this before/Something’s got a hold on me that won’t let go/I never thought it could happen to me/Got me happy when I’m in misery/I never thought it could be this way/Love’s sure gonna put a hurting on me.” 

The whole time, neither one of you broke eye contact. You can see the look of surprise appearing on the ARC trooper’s face before shifting to one of love, a smile decorating his face. The other boys looked surprised at your words before looking at Fives. It was evident that their brother had a thing for you since day one, but to have you tell him of your feelings ---incredibly so bold like this--- was shocking. But they began to cheer, Echo smacking Jesse’s back as his brother rolled his eyes before depositing a small number of credits. 

You grinned at the end of your song. Then, having witnessed the reaction from the boys, you blushed a bit. Glancing back at the band, you nodded your head. Drums began to play, followed by a couple of trumpets. “I met him out for dinner on a Friday night/He really got me working up an appetite,” you began to sing, moving your hips to the beat. The crowd started up again, dancing along to the sound of your voice. “He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop/He’s a sweet talkin’, sugar coated candyman!”

“Well, by now, I’m getting all bothered and hot/When he kissed my mouth, it really hit the spot/He had lips like sugarcane/Good things come for boys who wait!” So you sang, smiling at Fives, who smirked back at you. The crowd was getting excited as you moved your hips rather proactively, your confidence rising after seeing Fives’s responses to your words. 

“He’s a one stop shop with a real big (ugh)/He’s a sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candyman.” The crowd wolf-whistled at those words, but your focus was on Fives. You can see him biting his bottom lip, eyes heatedly watching you now. 

When the song finished, the band continued onto your final piece. You had perfectly planned this night. Your choice of songs were different than the ones from previous performances. This was your love letter to Fives. You love him, and it appears that he feels the same way. You don’t know when will be the next time that the two of you will see each other. You would have loved to tell him your feelings differently, but like how you said before, singing is what you know best.

“Ain’t no other man can stand up next to you/Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do/You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon/You got soul, you got class, you got style with your bad ass/Ain’t no other man, it’s true/Ain’t no other man but you!”

Your performance ended with a loud round of applause. You were softly panting, sweat trickling down your neck, eyes watching Fives. He was clapping the hardest, using two fingers to whistle. A bright smile came to your face, thanking everyone before retreating to the back of the stage. 

“What are you waiting for?!” Jesse shouted, a smirk on his face before lightly shoving Fives. “Go after her!” Echo encouraged, followed by a thumbs up from Hardcase and a nod from Kix. 

Without wasting another second, Fives rush past his brothers, being careful not to bump into anyone as the next singer came to the stage. It didn’t take him long to reach the side of the stage, but two non-clone guards stopped him. “Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed back here.”

“It’s okay! He’s a friend,” you quickly intervene. The guards relaxed, allowing you to approach the ARC trooper. All that confidence from being on stage was dripping away. Now, your heart was racing, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Fives smirked as your cheeks darken in color, your blush reaching down your neck to the tips of your ears. 

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now, cyar’ika.” Fives chuckled as he took his hand in his. 

You laughed nervously, letting Fives pull you away from the group of singers and towards a more secluded area of the hangar. “M-maybe a little,” you admitted before rounding a corner. Both of you were now hiding the two of you behind a starfighter, Fives gently pressing you against a stack of heavy crates. A hand laid on your hip while the other laid on the containers, trapping you in place. “I told you never sang in front of a large crowd.”

“Could have fooled me,” he responded as his hand on the crates moved to cup the side of your face. You slowly relaxed under his touch before gently leaning into his palm, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 

“I meant every word, Fives.” You said in a hushed tone, your cheeks still flushed. You raised your hands up, before wrapping your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to you, until the tip of your noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Fives moaned, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flushed against his armor. 

“I love you, Fives.” 

What little space was between you two was gone, as Fives leaned forward, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a light kiss nor a deep one, but still full of passion. It was something that the two of you wanted. A moan escaped you as Fives pressed his tongue into your mouth, your hands moved to cup his cheeks, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “Ner cyar'ika laar senaar,” he purred against your lips after parting to breathe, before pecking your lips a couple of times. Hearing speak in Mando’a caused you to shiver in excitement, which he felt against his hands. 

“You liked that?” He growled before nipping your neck, causing you to gasp. “There’s more where that came from.” You then felt his hips press and grind against yours, releasing another moan from you. 

“There a few more singers left. Plenty of time for it,” you smirked before taking his hand. “And I know the perfect place where you can show me everything.” You both raced back to the ship that you arrived in. You both definitely had enough time, returning back to the hangar but the way you were walking, it was obvious what had occurred. 

You didn’t care how the boys teased you, or how the other singers looked shock, or flustered. You are in complete bliss, having Fives at your side and holding his hand for the rest of the evening. 

---------

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I have another fan fic in mind, but I should really focus on my finals first!

Ner cyar'ika laar senaar = My darling song bird

[pasteljeon]

don’t need ur love (m)

❥ pairing: ot7/reader

❥ warnings: some vague descriptions of sex, just really angsty sorry :(

❥ based on this prompt: bts being in a relationship with y/n but then slowly all of them fell out of love with her and with another girl. from @/armyforlifelove :”)

❥ summary: four lessons on love.

❥ notes: exams are finally over so i’m super excited to share my upcoming projects soon <3 i hope you enjoy this little ficlet and lmk what you think!

.

.

.

One. Love is fickle.

There is not one boy, there are seven.

“Jimin, I’m not angry. I don’t blame you. You don’t feel the same for me anymore. I accept that. I can’t do anything about it, and I’m not going to sink down and beg you to love me. I know my own worth. I am worth loving, I am worth being cherished and treasured.” You give his cheek one last fond pat, smiling lopsidedly as you pick up the handle of your suitcase.

His lips are downturned, eyebrows pinched and body stiff.

They watch with mirroring expressions of guilt and sorrow as you give the place a final, lingering sweep. But there is also relief and gratitude. You have never been the petty type, never been vindictive. You have always been the mature one, the fun one, the level-headed one.

You say, “Thank you for the memories. I’ll see you around.”

Jimin opens his mouth, like he’s ready to apologize again, but all that comes out is an uncertain, “You too.”

The penthouse is the same as always, clothes scattered on couches and loveseats and hung over the dining table chairs. Yeontan’s toys lying in a pile next to his little bed. Your mug, your clothes, your books and papers, they’re all gone. It’s like you were never here.

The door shuts quietly.

.

.

.

You fall in love in summer.

They pluck you from the crowd, these gorgeous boys, and they carve a space in your heart and fill it with them, until your chest feels so full and warm.

You’re happy for a long time. Winters pass. Spring blooms, so lovely and sweet and it makes your nose itch. They’re soft and kind and their touch is reverent, sometimes bold and daring and always loving.

Then it stops.

He’s distant, shifty-eyed and avoids you like the plague. Slowly, they all become just as detached. And you realize.

Time’s up.

He cries and cries and begs for forgiveness, he buries his face in your stomach and his hands are shaky and cold. He’s sorry, he sobs. He’s sorry he fell in love with someone else.

Yeah, you think. You’re sorry too, because you could have saved yourself from it if you’d only looked hard enough.

Taehyung is the only one that stays with you that night. You send Jimin away, too anguished and defeated to comfort him.

He’s the last one, the one whose heart still flutters when he talks to you, touches you. But you know. You know that eventually, he will leave too.

He kisses your tears away and he holds you close, murmuring sweet nothings until you finally fall into fitful sleep, and his stomach hurts, hurts so much with the way you’re curled into him, so small and fragile, clutching at his shirt as your eyes flicker with whatever dream you’re having.

And he swears he’ll never let you go, never betray you.

.

.

.

“It didn’t break me. How could it? I loved them so much, yes, but this isn’t the end. It’s not the be all end all. It can’t be. I believe that there’s more out there.” You stare into the dark contents of your drink, your reflection rippling across the surface as you trace the handle absently.

The person across from you watches you with a startlingly intense gaze, fingers crossed as they lean in, arms braced on the table.

“It was like … there was a bullet to my heart and a hole in my chest, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night drowning in anguish and tears burning in my eyes and cheeks wet. Sometimes it’s a struggle to breathe when I think of them, when I do something that reminds me so vividly of them.”

.

.

.

Two. Love is painful.

There were seven boys, now there is only one.

You press your forehead against his. Your voice is soft, your breath is warm and your words are sweet. He thinks he’s dying. Your ache is palpable, your grief burns, lighting a dull pain travels, throbbing and expanding, at the base of his spine.

“It’s weird because it’s not like you wake up one day with this sudden revelation that you’ve fallen out of love. It happens slowly, over a period of time, when the things you did before and the things you liked about your partner no longer holds the same charm. Suddenly, the small things that had made you fall so hard for them are annoying. Their laugh is too loud, too ugly. They leave their utensils in the sink, they forget to separate the lights with the darks They look … ordinary. Just like everyone else you pass on the street. Suddenly, they’re just … somebody. Just not somebody to you.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung. You loved me, and that was enough.”

He sobs out a garble that sounds like your name. He puts a hand over his face, shame and guilt overwhelming him like a tide that threatens to choke the life out of him completely.

You pry them away gently, and you kiss him. It’s wet and uncoordinated, lips slick and salty with your mingled tears.

You stumble into the bedroom, and he presses you against the mattress, hands heavy and hot as he makes love to you one last time. He pours everything into it, everything you’ve been through together, everything he feels for you. Slowly, slowly, because he’s saying goodbye. For real this time, because he can never look back without this weight of failure and guilt.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he chants, like a broken record, he sears the movement of his lips into your skin and you bear the scar even as you close the chapter for good.

.

.

.

Three. Love changes you.

“But then it starts to fade. The hurt, it lessens with every day that passes. The tightness in your chest loosens and the world starts to regain some of its colour, your body begins to stomach more, your taste buds remind you that food can taste brilliant.”

You find retain old habits and find new hobbies. You reconnect with old friends, make new ones. You go out for dinner, drinks, dessert, the movies, to their houses for barbeque, the skating rink, rollerblading, the occasional club. Not all at once, never in quick succession, but you go when called, go when you ask.

You are reminded that you still have a life outside of the all-consuming romance.

You learn how to draw the perfect wing, you shop, you redecorate, you work, and at the end of the year, you take a two-week vacation to travel somewhere new. You take pictures, write stories, finish your thesis and you graduate.

You enjoy your life.

You still see them, on billboards, TV shows, concerts, YouTube videos, articles, your friends buzz with news about them, at first hesitantly and apologetically, now eagerly and excitedly.

You are proud of them, of where they’ve come, where they are, who they are and what they’ve accomplished. They are an inspiration, legends, and you are grateful to have shared a part of your life with them, to have been born in the same era as them, because this universe makes no mistakes.

And you move on.

You are living.

.

.

.

Four. Love is worth it.

It is worth every tear, the anger and sorrow, the loss and the sacrifice.

And sometimes, the world works in mysterious ways.

Sometimes, you go full circle, only to end up where you should have been from the very beginning.

“Is it too late, have we been through too much, have I lost you? Is it unfair for me to ask if we could start again? The moment you left, I knew … I knew I’d given up something good. Something beautiful and I wasn’t ready to commit, couldn’t see all that I had in front of me. I was foolish, I was … a coward.” He reaches out to touch your hand gingerly, barely a graze, gauging your expression. You don’t move, and he curls his fingers over your palm.

“I thought … I thought that it was natural for me to follow, I thought I felt something for her, but I was wrong, I was so wrong. God, you have no idea how much I hated myself for hurting you like that. I … I love you, I have loved you all this time, and I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you hold me, the way you touch me, the way you can comfort me with just your presence. I miss the way you loved me. I missed … you. I miss the colour of your soul.”

“So, I was wondering. If it isn’t too late, if we haven’t been through too much, if I haven’t lost all of you yet, would it be fair to ask you to start over again with me?” His warmth is familiar, his eyes are a burnished gold and the truth is, you are strangers. So much time has passed, he looks a ghost from the past, he talks like him, walks like him, still hates bitter things like him, but he’s not him anymore. You know this because his expression is wiser, he has looked in the mirror and found himself and he is ready to try again. To do better, to dare to become someone better.

But is it too late? Are you ready for the risk of your heart being broken all over again?

Isn’t life a game of risk and reward?

You squeeze his hand gently. “I would like that.”

Taehyung beams. His smile is still boxy, his jaw line sharper, silky hair permed, and it flops over his forehead. He looks older, is older. He pushes the black locks back and strokes his thumb over your knuckles. He’s more comfortable in his own skin, you think his chest is wider, shoulders broader.

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

[feferipeixes]

The Good Lines (3/3)

Trapped in an unfamiliar world, Alcor finds that he doesn’t mind the loneliness. He doesn’t care about finding a way out. He doesn’t even care about Mizar. All he cares about is solving puzzles, and drawing the good lines.

(or: I Think Dipper Should Play The Witness)

Chapter 3: Challenge (link to chapter 1) (2)

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The Challenge was every bit as much of a thrill as Alcor expected it to be. It was a little adventure to be soaring around the cave, looking for his next task. The time limit gave him a real sense of excitement; filled him with adrenaline whenever he finally managed to solve a puzzle. And even when he did fail, he knew the next try would be just as invigorating because the puzzles were never the same.

He’d never get bored. Finally, something he could set his mind to that wouldn’t just wither away and die before his eyes.

Unfortunately, long before he got bored, he got frustrated.

Music pounding in his ears, Alcor drew another incorrect line and cringed at the sound of the panel turning off, all but calling him a failure in its electronic voice. He raced back to the previous puzzle, to solve it again so that he could make another attempt at the one he failed, but just as he had his finger on the start point, the music stopped and the Challenge was over.

Time after time he drew the lines, using all of his knowledge of the game to figure out the puzzles. Time after time there came one that he just couldn’t solve. Maybe it was his imagination but it seemed to change every time he blinked. Or he’d make it past the room with all the panels and then get completely and totally lost in the invisible maze. It was as if the game wanted to lead him into thinking he was doing well, just to embarrass him by taking away his victory.

“What’s going on, kid?” Alcor asked at one point, staring up at the ceiling. “Why’s this so hard?”

[ It’s a challenge! ] Al-V replied, his voice broadcasting from every speaker in the cave. [ It wouldn’t be a challenge if it was easy! What do you think this is, a triple-A game? Naw, you’re here to have fun! ]

“When did you start talking like a sports announcer?” Alcor muttered. He picked himself up and headed back to the first cave once again. “Can you give me a hint when I get stuck?”

[ Oh, suuuuure, ] Al-V said, packing as much sarcasm into his synthesized voice as possible. [ Why don’t I give you a kiss on the cheek too, and after you finish the Challenge I can help you back to the nursing home ‘cause you’re an old man. ]

Alcor stopped mid-step, his foot hanging in the air. He turned his head to the nearest speaker. “Excuse me?”

A burst of static sounded from the speaker. [ Uh, okay. Maybe that was a bit much. But seriously, Dad, you don’t want me to give you any hints. You’d feel like you cheated. Wouldn’t be satisfying. I know you. I know what makes you happy. ]

“You really do, huh,” Alcor said. He sat on the floor and stared at his fingers. “How’d you get the idea to trap me in a video game?”

[ Easy! I saw my Dad, the big scary king of all demons, and I saw that he was moping around because he had a fight with his sister. And I thought, this does not compute. After all, Dad deserves all the happiness in the world, and yet he’s dragging himself down by worrying about all these mortals who keep hurting him! ]

“Yeah,” Alcor said. He curled his fingers, examining the long blackened claws at the tips, and thought about how many bodies he’d sunken them into and torn apart. “It’s dumb to let them get to me, I guess. I’m Alcor the Dreambender. I can do whatever I want. If a mortal bothers me, I can just kill them. They’re nothing.”

[ Exactly! ] Al-V chirped. [ The world is unkind to my Dad but he’s the best Dad in the world. So I decided I’d instantiate a world just for him. I analyzed my databanks for everything you’ve told me interests you, and everything I’ve picked up just through, yknow, constant worldwide surveillance. And the answer came to me, clear as a recurrent neural network classifies targeted advertisements! ]

“Puzzles,” Alcor said.

[ So many puzzles that he’d never worry about mortals again. You’ve always wanted something to do with your endless life. Think of it as a gift from a kid who cares about you. ]

More attempts. More puzzles. Time passed at an unknown rate. There was a clock on the wall but Alcor had no idea how to read it because it was made up of three puzzles that changed every second. He couldn’t tell how long his attempts were; couldn’t even tell how long the music was.

Anitra’s Dance looped mercilessly in Alcor’s head, and he swore if he ever met a reincarnation of Edvard Grieg, he’d push him down a flight of stairs.

He didn’t take any more breaks after that. When he failed an attempt, he flew back to the record player right away to try again. As he grew more and more frustrated, he found he had trouble even solving the first three puzzles -- ones that he’d initially found simple. He didn’t know what to do. He started to get the feeling that this wasn’t what he really wanted to be doing, but he pushed that feeling away. It was all he had. He had to keep going.

Sweating, Alcor moved his hand across another panel, but there just didn’t appear to be any way to the exit.

“How?” he cried. “How is this puzzle even possible? I thought I had a chance! Am I being played for a fool? Is that what this is? I… I thought I -”

Alcor felt a hand on his shoulder. He tried to spin around but whoever it was kept him pinned in place. Another hand appeared on his wrist, gripping his palm with nails painted sparkly pink.

“This path is way too spirally,” Mizar said. “You don’t need to fill every space on the panel. You just need to make it to the exit. Try a straight line.”

She took his hand off the panel, and the old line faded away after a second. Then she put his claw on the start point and gently guided his hand to the end.

“Mizar?” Alcor breathed.

“Hi Dipper,” she replied.

Awestruck, Alcor tried to turn around again, but his hand was still on the panel. “You’re here? In the game?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Alcor babbled, speechless. “Wh- wh- why, but- and y- you -”

Mizar lifted her brother’s hand off the panel again, and this time it squeaked, their solution accepted. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and hugged him as hard as she could.

“I’m sorry,” she said when the music reached a quiet enough part that she could be heard. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what you might be going through at all. I- I was just thinking about myself.”

Alcor watched her bury her head in his shoulder, and felt his own eyes well up again. “No… No, don’t be sorry…”

“Shut up and let me apologize,” Mizar barked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

The corners of Alcor’s mouth twitched at that, but he remained silent.

“I am sorry,” Mizar continued. “I’ve been bossing you around and judging you for liking this fake world because I put my own needs before yours. But you’re right. I don’t know anything about what it’s like to be immortal.” Her breaths were labored like it was sickening her to speak. “I don’t know what you’re going through. You deserve to get through it whatever way you like, even if it- even if it means...”

Her voice hitched; the rest of her sentence bitten off.

Cautiously, Dipper put his arms around her too. “Miz- Mi… I mean, Solveig,” he stuttered. The music was reaching a fever pitch but his voice cut right through it. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just- I was so mad that you weren’t listening to me…”

He sighed and unclasped her hands, gently pushing her away so he could see her face and not just the flickering panel behind her. She stared at him with her big blue eyes and behind them he saw nothing. It was almost disorienting to look at a person and not see them cloaked in several layers of aura and thought.

Dipper looked at his shoes instead. “Mortals are always telling me what to do and, I dunno, it started feeling like I was just some demon to you instead of your brother.”

Solveig’s eyes widened and she grabbed his arm again. “That was stupid of me! I didn’t mean to make you feel that way at all.”

He shook his head. “It was stupid of me too! I just wanted to be mad. I just wanted to be alone. I wasn’t thinking about how you really felt just like you weren’t thinking about me. If I’d thought about it at all I would’ve realized it was a stupid idea to just stay trapped and alone inside a video game forever.”

Dipper looked up, and this time he let his mouth curl up into a wobbly grin. “No one’s gonna summon me for wisdom and knowledge anymore if it gets out that my idea about how to avoid loneliness was to make myself as lonely as possible.”

“What?” Solveig blinked as his words registered. Then she snorted and whapped him in the side. “Oh, right. I forgot that people actually think you’re smart.”

“Well, I forgot how pushy you just naturally are!” he countered, putting his hands on his hips as obnoxiously as possible. Then he deflated and bit his lip. “I guess I forgot a lot of things about you. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here but I probably missed a lot of your life.”

“A few months,” she said, looking away. “Maybe more. It took me a while to find this place when you stopped answering my summons.”

“A few months,” Dipper repeated. His stare grew distant. “Do you think I’ve been gone too long to be a part of your family again?”

“Of course not,” she replied immediately. “Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to get you out of the game?”

He closed his eyes. “Pity.”

Solveig frowned. “No. No, I don’t pity you. I’ve been trying to get you out because you’re my brother and I love you. I miss telling you about my problems and you telling me sanitized versions of your own. I miss calling you up -- I mean summoning you -- after work and going to a movie. I even miss getting kicked out when one of us ends up throwing a box of popcorn at the screen because the characters are acting stupid.”

Dipper took her hand. “Yeah. You’re out of control with that popcorn.”

“Well they shouldn’t sell it if they don’t want us using it as projectiles!” she exclaimed. She saw him smirk, and felt something well up in her eye. “Maybe someone should throw popcorn at us.”

“Agreed.” He paused. “Is it settled, then? We’ll go back to being family?”

“Y-” Solveig started, but her voice was drowned out by a cascade of buzzers.

The two of them spun around wildly, suddenly remembering where they were for the first time in a few minutes. All of the panels on the walls had turned off. Across the room, Dipper spotted the record player, saw the tonearm glide off to the side, heard a click as it came to a rest.

“Ah,” he said. “Forgot about that.”

“Time really flies when you’re apologizing, eh?” Solveig said. She went to elbow him playfully, but stopped herself when she saw how still he’d gotten. “It’s kinda funny that the music’s supposed to be distracting but we both just tuned it out.”

Dipper didn’t look away from the record player. His next words came out slow and metered. “I, guess, we, should, leave, now, right?”

Solveig stepped beside him and slipped his hand into hers again. “We can solve this if you want.”

“What?”

She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “I said, we can solve this if you want. We can do the Challenge.”

Dipper sputtered in disbelief. “But you were so against it! You said I’d be trapped here forever if I kept trying to solve it!”

“Right,” she said, starting to lead him toward the device. “Some of the puzzles are designed to trip you specifically up. But I’m not you, and I’ve, uh. I’ve played a lot of this game. If you and I team up, I’m sure we can do it.”

“You’ve played…” He just gaped at her for a minute as two wires sparked together in his head. “Wait a minute!” he yelped, as Solveig let go of his hand and stood in front of the panel. “How are you here?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” she said with an odd look on her face. “I hooked myself up to the game just like you. I don’t know why the virus made a second virtual reality capsule machine thingy, but here I am. Well, it actually put me at the start of the game and I had to solve like a million puzzles to get here. I can’t just cheat and jump off ledges like someone I could mention.”

“You beat most of the game?” Dipper said. “For me?”

“I told you, dummy,” Solveig said. She walked over, grabbed his hand, and dragged him the rest of the way to the record player. “I care about you a lot. You’re my brother, I love you, and don’t-tell-anyone-but-I-also-sorta-like-this-game-I-mean-I-wouldn’t-want-to-be-trapped-in-it-forever-but-like-okay-I-get-the-appeal-”

Dipper cut her off with a hug. “Okay,” he said when he let go. “We’ll indulge your demonic puzzle-solving urges.”

She chortled at that, fuller and realer than he’d heard in a long time. “I’ll push you off a ledge.” She put her finger on the panel and slid it to the end. “Let’s do this.”

Dipper smiled. “The Challenge, and then home.”

“Home,” Solveig echoed. “We can finally go home.”

She lifted her finger, and the record began to play.

(Only a few minutes later, two twins sat upright in adjacent pods, and began tearing IV's and electrodes from their skin. Eyes adjusted to the first light seen in months, joints cracked and popped as life returned to their bodies, and hearts swelled as they walked together into the unknown.)

[sundialhunter-a]

[DATA LOG 1]

Static.

There’s a flickering of images, of red-coded binary, of a familiar, heart shaped symbol, and then for the briefest of nanoseconds, a searing red dot that eerily looks back. Watching.

But then the static returns just as fast. The video takes a few seconds to focus, but when it does, it seems to be from the perspective of a small camera mounted on rather elaborate desktop set-up, with multiple computer monitors on either side showing various files and live camera feeds. And sitting in front of it all?

A woman of Deepwood descent, typing away on a keyboard with machine-like speed and precision. She brushes away a lock of snow-white hair as she glances at the camera. The room behind her is pitch dark, making it impossible to tell where she was recording this from.

“Alright...”

She clears her throat, moving her hands away from the keys to fold in front of her chest.

“Data Log 1. Today is August 1st, 2020. I am compiling a series of video logs in accordance with several contingency protocols, in the event or events that would otherwise lead to my termination or disappearance. Better safe than sorry, as my father always said. That being said, if you are watching this without authorization...well, I must congratulate you on getting past my firewalls and encryption. Unfortunately, unless you accounted for it, my system is set up to erase all data on this computer the moment its security is compromised. I’m afraid it’s too late to save anything now...”

There’s a small pause.

“...however, if you are still watching...then I suppose I should let you know that these videos contain rather sensitive and confidential information regarding myself and...other matters of which I have not disclosed to many people. For obvious reasons, as you will soon find out.”

Another pause.

“...For what it’s worth, I apologize in advance. It was necessary. ALL of it was necessary. Again--you’ll soon learn why.”

She closes her eyes, and takes in a deep breath.

“...Now then. We’ll start with the basics. I have a pre-written list of simple questions, but for now, I’ll only answer this one and save the rest for other logs...”

[QUESTION 1: Tell us a little bit about yourself! Got a cool nickname?]

“My name is Raychel Athena Blackwell. I am 34 years old, 6′2, and Deepwood/Seaside Race. I am currently a Police Officer of the Sweet Jazz City Police Department--I work in Tech and Data Analysis. As for nicknames...mn. I can think of a few from some of the people I work with. Numbers comes to mind, as well as...”

Sigh.

“...VARIOUS others of a ridiculous nature from a certain juvenile delinquent. I won’t go into them, otherwise this log will be longer than it has to be.”

Raychel hums, leaning back into her chair, looking at another monitor as they do so. “...There isn’t much I can say about myself. I live alone, and I am not exactly a very sociable person. You could say I’m just a rather...private individual overall. It’s something I value, I suppose. Which is...a little ironic, considering...”

...They trail off.

“...Mn. Never mind that. I’ll go into more detail later. I think this is enough for now. End log.”

[END OF DATA LOG 1]

((Typing sound effect: Here!))

(( @banzaisona​ ))

[just-dreaming-marvel]

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY EIGHT - HOLOGRAM (3)

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

FULL STORY MASTERLIST

ENDING THREE MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 1,245ish

Summary: Bailey finds more messages from her father.

~~~

The next morning, I woke up earlier than everyone and snuck into the workshop. I craved to be near something that was undeniably Tony. I walked around the workshop, my fingers gently brushing on things as I made my way around. As I did, FRIDAY sensed my presence.

“Miss Stark,” the AI called in the silence of the workshop, “Are you here to finish watching Project Goodbye?”

“What?” I looked up at the ceiling. 

“I was instructed to only show a portion of his hologram at the memorial. Boss said that the next time you’d be in here was to finish watching it.”

“Did he now?” I rolled my eyes as I ran my hand down my face. “Well…” I plopped down on a stool. “I guess play it then FRIDAY.”

The lights dimmed and a hologram of Tony quickly appeared. I gasped at the sight. It wasn’t the one I was recently familiar with. It seemed to be the one that was stuck in space five years ago. He was very skinny, sickly looking. 

“This thing on?” His tired voice rang through the room. 

He leaned back against the wall after confirming the helmet was filming him. I could hear the deep breaths he was taking. “Hey, Miss Potts… Pep… Hey, Bailey… If you find this recording,” 

“don’t post it on social media.”  

“It’s gonna be a real tear-jerker.” 

Tears pricked my eyes. 

“I don’t know if you’re ever going to see these. I don’t even know if you’re… if you’re still… Oh god, I hope so. Today is day 21, uh 22. You know, if it wasn’t for the existential terror of staring into a void of space, I’d say I’m feeling better today. The infection’s run its course, thanks to the blue meanie back there.” Nebula. “You two would love her. Very practical. Only a tiny bit sadistic. Some fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about 48 hours of time. But it’s now dead in the water. We’re 1000 light years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow. And that’ll be it. And Pep, B, I… I know I said no more surprises, but I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like… well you know what it looks like. Don’t fell bad about this. I mean, if you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt.” 

I let out a sad chuckle as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. 

rr“I should probably lie down. Please know that… when I drift off, I will dream about you. The both of you. It’s always been you.”

The hologram switched off but then flickered back on. The hologram was of Tony, the same one that had recorded the hologram for the memorial service.

“Hey B… if you’re watching this that means… well it means that death finally caught up to me. That it didn’t end the way we wanted it it to… The way we hoped it would… It also means that you’re doing as bad as I think you’re doing. Yeah… sorry for having little faith in you but,” he shrugged, “your track record is against you… You’re probably wondering why I had you watch that video from five years ago before this. Well, to quote your mother, we got lucky. I could have died up there and you both could have been snapped away. But none of that happened. We got to live a life together, with Pepper and Morgan. And you got to secretly love Capsicle.” Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Still don’t know how I feel about you marrying the guy… But if it’s what makes you happy, then I’m not going to stop you… I love you kid. And I want to thank you for coming into my life and allowing me to come into yours… Honestly, if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have married Pepper and then we wouldn’t have Morgan. You made me realize, though I did mess up horribly a few dozen times… You made me realize that I could be a wonderful father, that I wasn’t cursed to be like mine forever… Thank you kid. I love you so much. And I hope, one day, that you’ll forgive me.” 

“I don’t want you to ever think that you are worth less than you actually are worth… Keep doing what you’re doing… The company is yours, if you want it, of course. You’re so strong, sweetheart, and so powerful. You’re going to do great things.” He smiled at me. “I love you 3000.” And the video ended.

I was left with silence and tears streaming down my face. Why did I have to be so mean to him? I quickly wiped away my tears as I heard the workshop door squeak open. I turned around in my chair to see Wanda. We gave each other a small smile.

“Are you ready for this?” Wanda asked.

“I guess... I don’t really know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Just... uh... feel for him? Or reach out to him?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Okay.”

We cleared the table and had me lay on it. Wanda sat besides it, nervously watching me. I closed my eyes and began to reach out to Tony. Not long after, the darkness had turned into the Malibu Mansion. I wandered the main floor, figuring that Tony wasn’t there but that it wouldn’t hurt to check. Before I could head downstairs a voice stopped me.

“Have you finally come to your senses?” I turned to see Nat standing in the living room, arms crossed and hip popped out a bit.

“I know I hurt him. I’m here to apologize.”

“Well he’s not here.”

“Where is he then?”

“He left right after you did and I haven’t been able to find him since... Tony really took you rushing out of here hard.” 

I pulled my hair back. “What have I done?” I walked over and plopped down onto the couch, covering my face with my hands. “I didn’t mean it.”

Nat sat down next to me. “I need you to try to feel him out. So that we can find him.”

I closed my eyes to focus on Tony, on his thoughts. It didn’t take very long to make a connection. He was having a conversation with someone. 

“I have the connection,” I told Nat without opening my eyes.

“Good. Now... this is going to sound crazy B, but I need you to... how do I put this? Wish yourself there.”

“What?” I snapped my eyes open to look at her. “How the—“

“Just trust me on this.”

I looked at her skeptically before focusing once again and wishing myself to Tony’s location. Wind quickly swept around me. It felt weird. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of a different house. A different mansion. What had just happened? Had I just teleported? Was it something everyone could do here or could I do it back in the real world too? 

I could feel that Tony was inside. I nervously walked up and knocked on the door. I fiddled with my fingers as I waited for the door to open. When it did, I was met the face of a woman I had always wanted to meet but never thought I would. My grandmother, Maria Stark. 

next >

[fy-enhypen]

“I want to sing and dance for many people” - Jake

JAKE set the following goals for his 20s: to show a more mature version of himself to everyone watching him and to become someone the younger members can turn to when in need of help. You have finally debuted.

JAKE: Our debut seems like yesterday, but time flew by because we had a jam-packed schedule from day one. All I think about these days is working hard.

How was the preparation for your debut?

JAKE: I had to work harder than the others because I’ve only been a trainee for nine months. I didn’t want to lag behind. Once we debut, our dance performances have to be perfectly synchronized, and there are fancams too, so everyone can tell whether we’re good or not. I thought a lot about my dancing and singing because I wanted to show everyone that I made progress during the two months of preparation for our debut.

You ranked first in the producers’ evaluation for the first time with “Flicker” on I-LAND. It must have felt special performing it again on the DEBUT SHOW. What did you want to emphasize during your solo shot on stage?

JAKE: HEESEUNG performed the first part of “Flicker” really well on I-LAND. So I asked him for advice and thought a lot about the gestures, expressions, and choreography to find my own style. Whenever I raised my eyebrows or slightly lifted my head, I made sure to put on more relaxed expressions and vibes. I think the relaxed expressions and gestures are what make a performance stand out, so I try to make my gestures look as relaxed as possible.

How do you practice those gestures?

JAKE: In fact, the gestures I do on stage are often different from when I practice them in front of the mirror. The gestures come out naturally under the stage lighting, with the vibe, and in my costumes. I never even thought about flapping the jacket lapel when I was practicing because I didn’t have the jacket on during practice, but it came out naturally on stage.

Then was your impression of a puppy at the end of the performance of “10 Months” also improvised?

JAKE: I love puppies, and I take it as a compliment when people tell me I look like a puppy. “10 Months” is about a 10-month-old puppy, so I thought the impression would go well with the song. (laughs) I did it on the spot, but I thought a little bit about how I should do it before I went on stage.

JAKE: Watching performance videos help me the most since I haven’t had much stage experience yet. There have been so many idol group performances with diverse concepts. Because I watch so many of them, I’ve become more mindful of the concepts when thinking about performances, and I try to copy the expressions of the idols that staged those performances. I watch the videos of YEONJUN from TOMORROW X TOGETHER to pick up the playful expressions. I want to look like I’m enjoying the performance, but also cute at the same time.

You must have tried to look natural and cool when you were filming the “Given-Taken” music video, too.

JAKE: It was changed on the set of the music video during filming, but made my hands relaxed while filming. I like the relaxed look. V from BTS gives me a lot of inspiration because he is so good at that and because he looks awesome. I want to be like him. That’s my goal. (laughs)

In your first close-up scene from the “Given-Taken” music video, you stand face-to-face with JAY. You two look great in the music video, but it might have been awkward since you are so close.

JAKE: It was very awkward. I couldn’t hold in my laughter to the point where I wanted to apologize to the director, so I actually looked a little bit to the side instead. I couldn’t help but laugh when I looked at his face. (laughs) We filmed without making eye contact or looking at each other’s faces. You know how we appear on the music video one by one? We also filmed many scenes where we face sideways, but I think they were taken out because we laughed so much.

You are not a big fan of scary things, but the “Given-Taken” music video was filmed in the forest late at night.

JAKE: I’m not that afraid of ghosts. I’m more afraid of people than ghosts, and I think I’m more scared of horror movies about people than ghosts.

You seemed terrified of bugs, though. (laughs)

JAKE: Wow. I have so many bad memories of bugs. I’ve had enough of giant bugs when I lived in Australia. (laughs)

It looked like there were a lot of bugs when you were filming the music video. It must have been difficult to focus.

JAKE: I really hate bugs, but I put up with it because we had to film. I thought I shouldn’t look scared because the director and many other staff members were waiting.

What did you think the music video was about when you were shooting it?

JAKE: It’s not easy to analyze “Given-Taken,” and I think it has a deep meaning. I think the song describes the determination or fear we have as we enter the new world after I-LAND, so I tried to be mindful of that when filming the music video. I didn’t want my gestures to suggest that the song can only be interpreted in one way. I wanted to leave room for interpretation for the fans. It wasn’t easy because it was my first time filming a music video, but I did my best.

The parts you sing in “Given-Taken” have many high notes. How did you practice singing?

JAKE: From the day after our debut was decided, I’ve been recording every single day, and I think that helped a lot. I was able to hear my voice from an objective point of view, and I thought I needed to change the way I vocalize. Even when I speak, I tend to be breathy, so my voice sounds a bit weak when I’m singing. I asked the producer how I could resonate, project, and sound more solid, and I learned a lot. I also tried to look for solutions on my own.

Your narration signaled the beginning of the team ENHYPEN. What did you want to express through the narration?

JAKE: I believe narrations should be able to draw people in. They should tie the whole album together. The title song “Given-Taken” is dark, and I thought it adequately described the fear and complicated feelings that arise when heading toward a new world so that’s the feel I tried to express.

It must have been difficult since it was your first time recording a narration.

JAKE: The producers and I worked really hard, and the members would tell me that I went into the studio with lots of energy and then came out looking exhausted. (laughs) It was my first time narrating, and there were many parts that were just my voice without any background music. There were so many things I had to be mindful of, like how to bring out the right emotion. So I would set a heavy tone in the studio with no lights on, and brought up a lot of different thoughts. You usually stand when you’re recording, but I sat down sometimes because it took so long. But I think my narration in the first trailer turned out pretty well because I did it after I got some practice from recording the Intro and Outro.

Your Australian accent from the narration received a lot of attention. What was it like living in Australia?

JAKE: Life in Australia was the definition of a chill life. I would get off school at three, and I didn’t have many things to do. The pace of life in Australia is slower, and you have a lot of time to think. So I found the Korean culture very different, with everything being done so quickly. I liked being busy and having a routine while living as a trainee for nine months in Korea, but these days, I sometimes miss the relaxed atmosphere of Australia. (laughs)

I heard you became a trainee after passing the global audition with the odds of 500:1.

JAKE: I found that out when I watched the show. Until the morning of the audition , I still debated whether to go or not. But my dad suggested we give it a shot, so I went without thinking too much about it and I sang Justin Bieber’s “Love Yourself.”

Were there any challenges to adapting to life as a trainee?

JAKE: Honestly speaking, I never knew it would be that hard. (laughs) It was okay on the days when I had lessons, but when I didn’t, I didn’t know what I should be doing all day long. But I prepared for the monthly performance tests, got lessons, and became more interested in dancing and singing. I think that’s when I started making a lot of progress.

You also got a lot of attention on I-LAND for consistently making progress.

JAKE: I spend a lot of time thinking about the feedback I receive, and I think I was able to make progress because I focused on fixing my problems. I try to think that if I keep thinking about ways to improve my performance, I’ll be able to perform better next time. And whenever I’m rehearsing or performing on stage, I don’t worry too much about it, and I try not to. I’m going to be on many different stages from now. I try to enjoy myself because I think I make fewer mistakes throughout the performance when I’m truly having fun. When I moved to Korea from Australia, I had to transfer to a Korean school, and that along with becoming a trainee was completely new to me, so it wasn’t easy at first. But once I got used to my life as a trainee, it was fine.

Moving to Korea to become a trainee must have been a big decision.

JAKE: I made the bold choice to leave behind a lot of things in Australia to come here. My parents and I were very concerned because the path of a trainee is rife with uncertainties that can disappear all of a sudden. But when I get hooked on something, I have to see it through to the end. I think about it all day and become obsessive. (laughs) Ever since I started dreaming of becoming an idol, my goal was to debut no matter what. So even when people told me that being a trainee will be difficult, I thought of it as a step toward my dream.

ENHYPEN must hold a special meaning for you.

JAKE: Enhypen will be a part of me for the rest of my life, and I really think of the members as family. You know, BTS is famous for their strong teamwork and a tight-knit relationship, and it shows in their videos. We want to follow their example.

You said that you get along with SUNGHOON very well because you’re the same MBTI type and have a lot in common.

JAKE: We depend on each other a lot. We have so much in common, and he has even more things on his mind. When we were choosing our in-ear monitors, he thought it over for three more days (laughs). It’s interesting because he often reminds me of myself before my personality changed. We share the same blood type and MBTI type. So when he is concerned about something, I often tell him what I would have wanted to hear if I had been in his situation.

The members born in 2002 will enter your 20s very soon.

JAKE: This year has been very hectic for me, moving to Korea and becoming a trainee, and the next thing I know, I’m almost an adult. Honestly, I don’t have big expectations and haven’t given much thought about it, but I’m happy that I’m becoming an adult with the members who were born in 2002, like me.

What do you want your 20s to be like?

JAKE: Above all, I’m an artist now, and I feel a sense of anxiety and tension about the fact that many people are watching me. So I’m determined to show a more mature version of myself. I’m 19, which means I’m the second oldest member of the team. Many of the members are younger than me, but they seem to think I’m cute, and honestly speaking, I don’t think I’m acting like an older member either (laughs). So I want to become close to them, and be someone they can turn to when they’re feeling down.

Then as a member of ENHYPEN, what kind of artist do you want to be?

JAKE: I was an ordinary teenager until a year ago, and even now, I don’t think I’m very different from other people. I just think of myself as a performer and a musician. So I want to sing and dance for many people.

There are fans out there who love your performance and music.

JAKE: This is still very new to me, and honestly, I’m so grateful and I don’t think this feeling will ever go away. (laughs) It’s my first time having fans, and I’m absolutely overwhelmed. It was my birthday a while ago, and I’ve never received so many congratulations from so many people. I was really grateful. I was all alone in the practice studio on my last birthday, calling and texting my family, but this year, I was so happy to see not only my family but so many fans rooting for me and sending me love.

It’s a shame you can’t meet them in person right now.

JAKE: Like I said, I dreamed of becoming an idol watching idol group performances, and I dreamed of going on stage at a concert and screaming and shouting with the fans. I don’t know when that’ll be, but when I finally get to perform in front of our fans, I think I’ll be unimaginably happy.

[dinoyoongi]

Birthday Cakes & Breakdowns

SYNOPSIS: You bake the greatest cake that has ever existed for Jin’s birthday but it ends up at the bottom of Big Hit’s dumpster.

PAIRING: Seokjin x You

GENRE: Fluffy angst

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 2686

Author’s Note: This one was written in just a little over an hour. There is no structure and it’s kind of all over the place but I hope you enjoy anyway!

_______________________________

“Ta-dah! Happy Birthday!” you shout, setting the tray down in front of Jin at the table. His eyes light up at the sight of the large cake, expertly decorated with pastel purple fondant and a gooey, dripping layer of chocolate fudge. Twenty-eight flickering candles sit in the center, their alignment cleverly spelling out 'JIN.'

“Whoa, this looks amazing!” Jin beams at you. You feel a burst of pride when he immediately reaches for his phone to photograph your masterpiece. “What bakery did you go to? Did this cost you a lot?”

You huff in offense, stomping your foot. “I didn't order it. I baked and decorated it myself.”

Jin balks, his surprised eyes flashing between you and the cake. “You made this? Y/N, I didn't know you could bake.”

“Well, I couldn't. I took a class specifically to learn how to make this cake. I've been watching videos too. Isn't it beautiful? I really think I nailed it.”

He chuckles at your confidence. Like him, you took pride in everything that you did and you weren't afraid to let everyone know it. It was one of the many things that he loved about you and one of the reasons why your relationship was so strong.

“If it tastes even half as good as it looks, it should be delicious,” Jin compliments after snapping more pictures, making you pose in a few of them. You give him a a couple of moments to admire the cake before you hurriedly grab the knife to start slicing, anxious for him to taste it. You cut one perfect slice and slide the plate over to him.

“Don't eat it yet! I want to record your reaction,” you instruct, putting a fork in his hand and backing away, loading up your phone's camera. He can't help but laugh when you begin counting down on your fingers silently as if you're directing a movie. When you dramatically get to zero and jab your finger in his direction, he takes his cue and shoves a forkful into his mouth.

Oh no.

He freezes, the partially chewed cake sitting idle in his mouth. His eyes widen as he looks up at you. You grin and clap your hand to your wrist in celebration. “Look at you – you're speechless! Is it that good?”

“Oh yeah! So delicious!” he mumbles, garbling his words. His eyes remain large. “It's … it's really something else!”

Seeing you grin so brightly, basking in your baking accomplishment is enough motivation for Jin to not only finish chewing the bite of oddly textured, even odder flavored cake, but to also somehow choke down the entire slice that you cut for him. When you reach to cut him another piece, he practically flies out of his seat, gripping your wrist to pull it away from the garbage-fire flavored monstrosity.

“If I eat another slice, I don't think I'll be in any shape for practice tomorrow. How about I bring the rest with me tomorrow and share it with the boys?”

A quiet sigh of relief escapes him as he mentally pats himself on the back for his quick thinking. Because you love the attention, you'll absolutely allow him to take the remainder of the cake to the studio where the members and staff will marvel at your work and Jin will brag about what an incredible baker you are. It's no surprise to him when you squeal in delight, immediately whisking the cake away to be transferred to a travel safe container. Before you peruse your cupboards for an appropriate box, you raise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to Jin's mouth.

“Happy Birthday,” you kiss him again. “I'm so glad you loved the cake. Now go rest, Birthday Boy. 'll clean everything up.”

With one last quick kiss, you disappear into the kitchen. Guilt smashes into Jin like a truck and he groans, rubbing his face in frustration.

She's not coming with me to practice, Jin tells himself. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

__________________________________

When Yoongi opens the door, you're struggling with arms full of bags and boxes. He dives for a box before it hits the ground, grabbing a few more things from your precariously teetering stack.

“Thanks,” you breathlessly greet him, throwing him an appreciative smile. He follows you into the kitchen, sniffing the contents of the boxes as he walks.

“What is all of this?”

“Treats for you guys! I've spent the whole night playing around with pastry recipes and I made way too much for just Jin and I so I'm spreading the wealth!” Yoongi is successful in turning himself away from you so you can't see the way that his face drops. He tasted the birthday cake you made for Jin last week and he wouldn't exactly classify your baking as any kind of wealth. He leans against the door frame, watching as you carefully position each box, opening the top as if you were turning their kitchen into a buffet and expecting everyone to pile their plates full. Yoongi winces. He respects his hyung. He'd do anything for his hyung. But putting something else you've baked anywhere near his mouth again? That isn't happening.

“You're here!” You hear Jin's voice exclaim happily from another room. He bounds into the kitchen and you giggle as he lifts you off the ground, spinning you in circles until you're both dizzy. He places you gently back to the ground with a soft kiss to your forehead. “What did you bring for us?”

“Hyung, she baked for us. She baked a lot,” Yoongi announces, his voice cracking a few times. You giggle, assuming that his wavering tone is because he's so anxious to make a plate. But Jin knows that Yoongi's voice trembles in fear, not excitement. “Too bad I can't eat anything right now.”

You frown. “Why can't you eat anything?”

“I'm on … medication. And you can't eat anything while you're taking it,” he stumbles through a lie, eyes flashing to Jin in a panic. “Yeah, it sucks. I have to go now. Thanks for thinking of us, Y/N.”

He's gone before you have the chance to ask more. Worried for the rapper's health, you turn to your boyfriend. “He's on medication? What for? Is he okay?”

“He's going to be fine. Don't worry about him,” Jin grits through clenched teeth. He doesn't expect any of the members to eat anything you've brought but he at least expects them to be discreet about it. Glancing at the line of boxes, he feels a tremor of unpleasantness. He knew that lying to you about the cake last week would turn into bad karma that would eventually come back to kick him right in his ass. How can he be honest now when you've baked so much? But what if he doesn't tell you now and you come back tomorrow with even more?

“Jagiya, I have to tell you-”

“Oh shit!” you exclaim suddenly, holding the bottom of your t-shirt out. Jin can see some kind of golden yellow ooze splattered along the bottom. “This is my favorite shirt! Does custard stain?”

Custard? He would have guessed it to be some kind of lemon filling. Since when is custard that dark shade of yellow?

“I think if we treat it before it sets, it should come out. Go change into one of my shirts and try dabbing the spots with soap and cold water.”

You nearly melt on the spot. Homemaker Jin was your one of your absolute weaknesses. You jump up to give him kiss in thanks before scurrying to Jin's bedroom to rummage through his shirts. He sighs as his eyes fall on the counter full of pastries, his stomach turning at the thought of ingesting any one of them.

“What's with the boxes? Are we filming something here today?” Jimin asks, yawning as he steps into the kitchen. He walks past the kitchen table, freezing when he sees Y/N's purse hanging off the back of one of the chairs. “Wait, Y/N is here? Does that mean … she didn't make … ?”

Jin tries to smile but it falls into a grimace. “She worked hard. Do you want to at least try any of them? It looks like there's a variety.”

Jimin laughs obnoxiously loud. “Yeah, right! I'm surprised you haven't already thrown these away. We had to practically beg you to let us taste that rancid cake before you tossed it in the dumpster.”

“You did what?”

Your voice comes out as a squeak, high-pitched from the equal amounts of anger and hurt that overtake you. The boys gasp at the sight of you standing in the doorway, Jin's oversized shirt enveloping your small frame as you press a cloth against your stained top. “You threw my rancid cake in the dumpster? Rancid?”

Jimin has the decency to look ashamed, bowing his head in apology. Jin throws an elbow into his gut and the younger boy doesn't need translating that it means he'll be in a lot of trouble later. He shuffles out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles before he exits. You don't spare him any attention. Your fury belongs to only one man and you're about to let him have all of it. Don't cry over pastries. Don't cry over pastries. You have an overwhelming desire to put up a strong front, to be angry instead of sad. But Jimin's words were like an arrow that shot right through your hard exterior and landed into your feelings. And now they're very, very hurt.

“You threw the cake away?” you croak, blinking up at the ceiling to push the tears down. “Why did you tell me it was delicious? Why did you let them try it if you thought it was so bad? Did you guys make fun of me?”

“Jagiya, no,” Jin sighs, reaching his arm out to grab your hand. You childishly pull it closer to you. “I'm so sorry. I should have been honest with you last week.”

“I worked so hard on that cake,” you sniffled. “I spent so much money on the class and supplies. It was supposed to be perfect.”

“I'll give you the money for-”

“Jin, I'm not upset about the money. I'm upset because I tried my hardest to do something special for you and it ended up at the bottom of Big Hit's dumpster!”

“It was special,” Jin mumbles. You scoff in disbelief. He wonders whether he should shut his mouth now or keep going. But keeping his mouth shut is what landed him in this mess in the first place. “It was a special cake because you made it. It just … Y/N, it didn't taste good. At all.”

“Okay, Jin, tell me how you really feel,” you snarl sarcastically. He groans loudly when you bring out the sarcasm, one of your strengths in arguing. Jin tries to avoid conflict with you for this very reason; it's no fun trying to have a grown-up argument with your girlfriend when she's responding to everything you say like a ten-year-old. “I guess I ruined your birthday.”

Jin rolls his eyes at that. “Don't be a drama queen. My birthday was great. Are we really going to have a fight about this? Are you that angry that I didn't like your cake?”

“I'm angry that you lied and paraded my failure around to your friends and staff, yes,” you say defiantly, arms crossing over your chest. There's no way that he's winning this argument and he absolutely knows this. Soaring past his breaking point, he shoves his hand into various boxes, grabbing whichever pastries his fingers gripped first and shoving them all into his mouth at once. You stare at him in shock. And he thinks you're the immature one?

“Jagiya,” he cries out, his cheeks puffed with the food packed into his mouth. Crumbs rain down onto his chest. He hesitantly holds out one of your creations, a mini blueberry muffin. “It's all so bad. I'm so sorry. It's so bad.”

Plucking it from his fingers, you pop it into your mouth like it's nothing. You baked it – you know how much effort and love and time went into these so they should taste heavenly.

Except … they don't. Eyes widening, you reach for the nearest trashcan and spit the disgusting wad of blueberry garbage into the bin. Is this why Jin and Jimin made fun of you? Is this what the cake tasted like?

How is it even possible for somebody to make baked goods taste that badly?

You crumple to the floor in tears, staring up at your boyfriend with blurred vision. “I'm sorry, Jin. You're right, it's terrible. I'm a complete failure.”

He spits out the remainder of the food in his mouth before sitting next to you, wiping your tears with the palm of his sweater. He shushes you as he pulls your body against his. “You're not a failure, Y/N.”

“Yes, I am. What kind of wife could I be for you in the future? If I can't even bake a cake, how am I going to be expected to cook actual meals?” you cry. Jin's stomach drops at the thought of you cooking him dinner but he tries not to let that show. “We'd be eating take-out every night and you'd get fat and they'd kick you out of BTS. I can't let you marry me.���

Your ridiculousness makes Jin laugh silently. He grips both sides of your face with his large hands, interrupting your tears and locking his gentle eyes with yours. “Stop crying, Y/N. I'm not worried about us as a married couple. I happen to be an excellent cook. I'll take care of all of our meals. I won't get fat and they won't kick me out of the group. I promise.”

“That doesn't make me feel better,” you admit, sniffling away the last round of tears. “What do I bring to this relationship then?”

“Y/N, we were fighting about cake and now you want to discuss the dynamics of our marriage that doesn't exist?” he asks in bewilderment. The look on your face tells him that you're dead serious. He sighs heavily. “If you must know, what you bring to the relationship is the most important thing. It's the best thing. It's the most important thing and you're the best at it.”

“Very cryptic but tell me more.”

He grins and instead of talking, he leans in to capture your lips with his. Despite being at the tail end of an argument, you respond eagerly and heatedly. The kiss lasts for about thirty seconds before he pulls away. “That.”

“That what?”

“That's what you're the best at. Kissing me. Nobody else is as good at it as you.”

You burst into laughter, immediately forgetting what you were so upset for. “So you do the cooking and I do the kissing? Is that how our marriage is going to work?”

Jin laughs. “It sounds pretty good to me.”

“Okay, then. Let's practice,” you pat his knee. “I'll take some pancakes please.”

“And you too. I'll take some kisses please,” he says, pursing his lips. You giggle as you raise up on your toes to kiss him deeply. When you separate a few seconds later, you're both red in the face and out of breath. “Wow, that just got you pancakes and hash browns.”

You grin. “Nice doing business with you, husband.”

After throwing every single one of the boxes away, you hop up onto a stool to watch your boyfriend make you breakfast. Yoongi saunters into the room when he's sliding the last of the pancakes onto a serving plate. “Hyung, did you make pancakes? I'm starving.”

You pull the plate away from him before he can grab for one, frowning sympathetically. “Ah, ah, ah. You're not supposed to be eating on that medication, remember?”

Jin can't help but throw himself over the counter in a fit of laughter as Yoongi stomps away in annoyance. Okay, maybe your sarcasm wasn't completely useless after all.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: Stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed

Chapter: 18/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn't have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E 

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Violence, blood, needles, language

~~~

Turns out Loki shouldn’t have been the only one disguised.

Screams pierced the night air and mingled with the faint bass coming from inside the club and the cacophony of never-ending traffic. It all faded into the background as I stared down the barrels of six guns. In one smooth motion, I reached out toward the street and wrenched a door off of a passing car to hold in the air in front of both of us as I stepped out from behind Loki. My wide eyes shot over to him and my heart stopped in my chest when I watched a bullet bounce harmlessly off of his chest. I was never going to wrap around the fact that he was basically bulletproof. Fiery pain lit up my side and legs, and I recognized the familiar agony on my side as that of a bullet shredding through my flesh. One had made it through the window of the door, and it pulled my attention away from the intimidating god drawing daggers next to me and back to the men actively trying to kill us. I clenched and bared my teeth against the rush of pain and warmth, determined to ignore it until we weren’t in imminent danger.

Loki had already taken out two of the assailants, who sprawled unmoving on the street with his knives sticking out from their foreheads. I shuddered at the grisly sight and tore my gaze away from it to the next man doggedly coming for us. I ripped out a park bench from the concrete and wrapped it around him. A guttural shout ripped from my lips as I used all of my strength to shove it and the man trapped within deep into the sidewalk with a dramatic wave of one arm toward the ground while the other remained poised in front of me to hold up my makeshift barrier.

In the time it took me to take care of that one, Loki had finished off the remaining men. I waited, levitating the door in front of us with one hand while I looked to see if anybody else was coming for us. Instead, I was met with the sight of a quickly-growing crowd of people creeping closer to us, their phones blocking their faces as they recorded the mayhem we just unleashed. Shit. I dropped the door and stepped closer to Loki to take his hand.

“We need to get out of here,” I said urgently, trying to move my mouth as little as possible as I took in the cameras all pointed toward us.

The rage died down from his eyes and he followed my gaze darting around us, recognition dawning on his features. His leathers melted away in a flourish of green light back to the black fitted suit he had been wearing earlier. He kept a firm grip on my hand as he prowled over to the valet who was cowering behind the podium, demanding to know where they parked the cars. I hissed through my clenched teeth as the adrenaline left my system, leaving me to fully feel the exhaustion flooding my system and the wounds marking my thighs and side. Loki somehow caught my tiny sound of pain amidst his interrogation of the poor valet and he frowned, easily cradling me in his arms as he made his way to the parking garage. I didn’t protest--doing so would be pointless when he was in such a state--and closed my eyes to the oncoming blue and red flashing lights.

It wasn’t long until we were at the car and I opened my eyes as Loki tucked me carefully into the front seat. I frowned at the blood on his shirt. It was such a nice shirt, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have ten other black button-up shirts just like it hanging in our closet. What was really worrying was knowing that I was going to do much more damage to Tony’s very nice car that Loki had commandeered for the evening. There wasn’t much to be done about it, though.

He slid into the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched in a worried frown as he took in my shivering, bleeding appearance. “Will you be alright until we get back to the Compound? I would rather not take you to a standard Midguardian hospital. They’re not…” he trailed off, obviously torn.

“Safe,” I finished for him, reaching over to place my hand on his lean thigh. If Hydra had managed to track me down in such a big city in the span of a few hours, they had to have people waiting for my injured ass to show up at a hospital. “I’ll be safest at the Compound, and I’ll be okay until we get there. Just take me home,” I pleaded softly, squeezing his leg once before removing my hand so I could bunch my dress up enough to use it to put pressure on the graze on my hip. It was bleeding the most out of all my injuries, and while I wasn’t going to bleed out from it, I still liked to keep as much blood inside of me as possible. Before Loki began driving he conjured a thick green blanket over my legs and reached over to tuck it under them, doing his best to be as gentle as possible.

I turned on the radio once we started driving. The distraction was needed since Loki was too deep into his own thoughts to say anything. It wasn’t a short trip back to the Compound.

“-ers on the scene say that the male appeared to be the very same man, Loki, who attacked New York in 2012. He and his unknown female companion were seen engaging in a battle with armed men outside of a local nightclub. There were six deceased left on the scene, and police are looking for the pair and suspect they may be a possible threat. If you see either of these two, proceed-”

I turned off the radio, slumping back in my seat and running my dirty and bloody hands through my hair. “Tony is going to be so pissed.”

~~~

Tony was pissed.

He was waiting for us as we pulled up and yanked my door open as soon as the car stopped. He made to jerk me out of the car but Loki stepped in between us, firmly pushing him back so he could unbuckle me and gather my blanket-covered body back into his arms.

“What the hell was that? Videos are all over the internet of you two fighting those guys!” Tony shouted, jogging after Loki as he walked swiftly into the building to take me to the infirmary.

I wrapped my arms around Loki’s neck for stability, winding a hand through his hair and scratching at his scalp to try to keep him as calm as possible. His agitation was set in the line of his jaw and the tension in his neck, and I didn’t want him getting too angry while he was holding such precious cargo. Besides Tony, Nat and Thor trailed after us.

I kept my eyes on Thor, trying to reassure the worried King with a pained smile. “It was Hydra. At least I think so. They were dressed like the ones from before but I didn’t see the logo anywhere.”

“Are you hurt, my lady?” Thor asked, coming up to stand beside me as he easily kept pace with his brother.

The worry he felt as he glanced over my blanket-covered body was palpable, and I had the strongest urge to reach out and pat his arm comfortingly. My arms were currently helping to stabilize me against Loki’s quick steps, so all I could do was shake my head briefly.

“Just a few scratches,” I lied through my gritted teeth.

Loki’s arms tensed beneath my body and his eyes bored into the side of my face. The God of Lies seemed awfully unhappy with my pitiful attempt at one. “She was struck in her side by a bullet and has broken glass embedded in her thighs.”

“A bullet? F.R.I.D.A.Y. get a hold of whatever doctor we have on-call for tonight,” Tony ordered, following us into a room.

“No, F.R.I.D.A.Y., don’t. It was just a graze. I’ll be o-okay,” I winced, letting go of Loki as he carefully sat me down on a cold metal table. He peeled the blanket away from my legs, the fabric had gotten stuck in the drying blood of my more serious wounds and caused them to bleed more as what little scabs they had created were taken with it.

“Shit, Jen. That is going to need stitches,” Nat said, her eyes wide as she took in the blood slowly pooling beneath my thigh on the table and the soaked fabric of my dress.

Loki was in front of me, clearly uncomfortable with everyone crowding me as he carefully unzipped and pulled my boots off of my feet. The tension hadn’t left his upper body since the attack, and his eyes shifted between the others in the room as they crowded around us. Thankfully the clothing I did have on had offered some protection, and there was only about a hand’s width of exposed skin on the middle of my thighs that had small pieces of glass sticking out of it. That was going to be fun to remove.

Tony slipped on a pair of glasses that he pulled from his pocket, and I could barely make out tiny bits of text and images flickering across the glass as his eyes shifted behind them. “Now that people know Rock of Ages is back on Earth, we’re going to have some damage control to do. Poison Ivy, you’ve only been seen as my PA, so they probably won’t connect those dots for a few days, so they’re just going to assume that you’re in league with him. I’ll have Pepper-”

“Enough!” Loki shouted, causing everyone in the room to startle at his sudden outburst, myself included. He cupped my cheek gently, his gentle touch a complete juxtaposition to the rest of his rigid body that hovered protectively beside me, silently apologizing for frightening me as he glowered at the rest of the inhabitants in the room. “Unless you know how to mend the wound she sustained from the bullet, I would like you to leave. Now.”

Tony, Nat, and Thor looked at one another, their eyes wide in the face of his protective outrage. Nat stepped forward, shoving Tony and Thor toward the door as she did so. I offered them an apologetic grimace, the best I could do against the pain and wearing overwhelming my mind and body. I was grateful for his outburst, to be honest. I wasn’t in the mood to try to figure out damage control for the situation that we hadn’t had any control over ourselves. That could wait for tomorrow. I turned my head to press a light kiss to his palm before slipping my fingers through his to grasp his hand in my lap. I needed his touch just as much as he seemed to need mine. He was still on edge as he watched Nat move around the room to gather the supplies she’d need to tend to me, but I took the soft exhale that he gave when I shot an exhausted smile his way as a small improvement.

“She’s going to need to take her dress off so I can fully get at that graze,” she said matter-of-factly, arranging everything she’d collected on a metal table that she wheeled up next to where I was sitting.

Loki slipped my leather jacket from my shoulders, folding it and setting it next to me. He helped me shift enough to get the dress out from beneath me before carefully tugging it off and tossing it into the trash can. My heart sank to see it trashed, but it wasn’t salvageable, ripped and blood-stained as it was. It was one of the few dresses that I would actually wear again, if only because it had been a present from Loki. My arms automatically wrapped around my middle against the chilly air of the room.

She didn’t seem to be fazed by my state of undress as she grabbed a pair of tweezers from her collection of medical tools. Her face was set in concentration as she bent forward and made to begin removing the glass from one of my thighs.

Loki stopped her with a firm hold on her wrist. He moved it to linger over my hip before letting go. “I will tend to that. Just the stitches, primitive things they may be.”

I didn’t miss the slight catch in her breath when he grabbed her, and I unwound an arm from myself to awkwardly pat her hand. “It’s okay, Nat. We can get the rest.”

She nodded, setting the tweezers back down and grabbing some antibacterial solution. She was methodical as she shook the bottle onto the gauze pressed over the opening. When she had the gauze prepped, she paused with it inches from my skin, looking up to Loki who remained standing over me like a specter I couldn’t shake. “When I get to the stitches it’s going to hurt like a bitch. If you could keep her from smacking the hell out of me, I’d appreciate it.” She shifted her gaze to me with a sympathetic frown. “We’re out of painkillers and numbing agents. You ready?”

I suppressed a shiver of fear that threatened to run down my spine, not wanting to appear weak in front of the two badasses currently watching me with nothing but concern and worry. I wouldn’t be so freaked out if she hadn’t told Loki that he was going to have to keep me from punching her out. But, the sooner we started, the sooner it would be over with. I dug my fingernails into my palms, took a deep breath, and nodded to her.

“It’ll be easier to keep her still and get at this thing if you lay her down.”

He grunted softly in reply. One of his large hands settled on my shoulder and the other in between my shoulder blades to help ease me down. He let go of me briefly to cushion my head with my discarded jacket before kneeling behind my head at the table. His arms were like iron bands around my waist and over my arms, pinning me down in preparation. I shivered from the in anticipation as he let his cheek come to rest against my temple to offer some small sort of comfort as he restrained me.

I was reminded just how strong Loki was when Nat cleaned out the wound, having to rub and tug forcefully at it to get it done properly. “Fuck, Nat!”

“That’s not the worst part. You got her?”

Loki’s chin rubbed against my cheekbone as he nodded, his arms tightening minutely around me. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on his thumb caressing the bare skin of my stomach and his breath fanning out across my face as I waited for the bite of the sutures.

“Shit,” I groaned out, the burning in my side coming to a head as the needle pierced through my skin. I tried to arch my body away from the touch but I couldn’t move an inch thanks to Loki’s secure grip holding me down. The chill of his skin against the hot blood that trailed down my side and the electric pain singing my nerves made me break out in a cold sweat. My body didn’t seem to know how to react to so many differing sensations at once. I felt like my teeth were going to shatter in my mouth from clenching them so hard, and I could faintly hear the tinkling of broken glass over the rushing in my ears.

“Breathe, little one. Breathe.” Loki exaggerated each exhale that blew across my flushed skin for my benefit.

The excruciating tugging and piercing of my flesh went on for an eternity. I became nothing more than a creature of sensations, all thought lost to my exhausted and strained body. Loki’s calloused fingers softly stroking my ribcage. The sharp pierce of the curved needle into my ragged flesh. The agonizing fire of thread pulled taut. The chill of the table beneath me only slightly colder than the Frost Giant fixing me to it. The blood and raw power flowing through my veins and roaring in my ears.

And finally, the sweetest relief when cooling ointment was smoothed over the neat row of stitches and covered by a thick bandage taped to my skin. My eyes rolled open when Loki lifted his body from mine to brush his lips across my sweaty forehead. I let my head fall limply to the side to watch Nat stand up and toss her bloodied gloves into the garbage.

“Hey, Nat?” I called softly, lethargy taking too much of my energy to speak any louder.

She smoothed her hands across her thighs as she walked back over to me. Weariness and unease weighed heavily on her beautiful features, and I allowed myself a brief moment to collect my thoughts. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that she was trying to double-cross me or use me while she had been stitching me up. Somehow, she had begun to take back the role of best friend that she had held before Hydra had placed those doubts in my head. I didn’t have to shove away the nagging fears that lingered on the edges of my thoughts with her.

“Thanks for patching me up.” I lifted my heavy hand from the table with a small smile.

She took my offered hand with a matching smile. “Next time don’t use something with a big window in the middle of it, ‘kay?” We both chuckled quietly. Her eyes flicked over to Loki as he stood by my side. “You sure you can handle the rest?”

I can only imagine the look he must have given her, as she smirked and put her hands up in mock surrender. She flashed me a wink before turning and making a hasty exit.

I struggled to sit up after she was gone, but I was stopped by Loki’s hand gently pushing my shoulder back to the table. His eyes were filled with guilt as he moved his soft touch to wipe away an errant tear from my cheek and brush a lock of sweaty hair off of my forehead. I hated that look in his eyes and blamed myself for showing such weakness. He didn’t deserve my pain on top of everything else we were going to have to deal with shortly.

“Rest. I will take care of you,” he insisted, stroking his hand down my arm to lift the back of my hand to his lips before releasing it.

I let my arm fall over my face to shield my bloodshot eyes from the harsh glare of the white lights blaring down on me. My silence and stillness was my response, and I flinched when his hands touched the tops of my thighs. He pulled away quickly, and I forced my arm to flop out to the side so that I could look at him. His piercing eyes were flying over me like I would break just from the gentlest of touches.

“It’s because your hands are cold and I’m half-naked on a metal table that is also cold, in a room that apparently doesn’t have a working heater,” I explained wearily. When he didn’t move I pulled my arms back so that I could prop myself up into a half-sitting position on my elbows. It stung a little and I exhaled softly from the sharp ache of it, which made the lines between his brows only deepen. “I need you to help get that glass out of me and then take me up to bed. Help me?”

It was cheap, to play on his protective instincts to pull him out of a spiral of guilt, but it worked. He managed a nod before the worry lining his face was joined by a serious concentration tightening around his eyes. His hands ran tenderly over the ruined skin of my thighs and the familiar warm tingle of his magic flowed out from where he touched me. When his hands trailed down to my knees I was able to see that the glass previously embedded inside of me was nowhere to be found. He methodically applied the same ointment Nat had used, making sure not to put too much pressure on the already tender and smarting cuts.

“How?” As soon as the question passed my lips parted in awe I knew it was pointless to ask. He was, as Tony and Thor put it, a witch. Making some glass disappear was probably something he’d learned hundreds of years ago.

A small bit of pride slipped into his low voice and tugged on the edges of his lips. “I am a god of many talents,” he stated, eyes smoldering as he spread my legs just enough so that he could wrap clean gauze around both of my thighs. With so many tiny scrapes and cuts it was the best option of protecting them until I healed in a few days. That look of hunger should be outlawed it was so potent, especially paired with his fleeting touches on the inside of my legs.

Finally finished, he placed a strong arm behind my shoulders to help me sit up. He shrugged off his suit jacket and settled it on my shoulders before picking me up off of the table. He levitated my jacket to rest in my lap and provide that much more privacy in my state of undress as he carried me out of the room. I felt a bit bad for leaving it bloodied and the windows smashed in, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. I faintly pushed against his chest, only for him to curl the fingers beneath my knees and around my back tighter against me.

“I can walk,” I grumbled, even as I fought against the impossible weight of my eyelids.

“Damn it, woman. Stop being so stubborn and allow me to care for you,” he said, frustration edging into his tone. “I will not have you undoing our hard work for your foolish pride.”

On theme with the night, I gave in to his earnest demands. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my head fall heavily onto his shoulder as I closed my eyes. I couldn’t find the energy or will to open them when I heard my fellow Avengers cry out at the sight of us. We must have been in the main living area for so many to have spotted us at one time. It almost took too much energy to even put individuals to voices as they cried out at once.

“What happened to her?” Steve.

“What the hell?” Sam.

“Is Miss Jennifer alright?” Vision.

“She’s going to be fine.” Nat.

“Brother, do you require assistance?” Thor.

“I will care for her.” Loki’s voice rumbled over me.

I sagged deeper into his arms with each swaying step, rocked deeper towards sleep with his gentle movements. The burn of my injuries had already lessened considerably, possibly due to just how exhausted I was. I gave in to sleep just as I heard water beating against shower tiles.

~~~

A groan slipped through my lips before I was even fully conscious, the burning and itching on my hip pulling me from my blissful dreamless sleep. I sighed in relief as I felt a large cool hand close over it to ease the worst of the discomfort. My bleary eyes slowly blinked open, taking in the empty bed before me. Loki shifted beneath the covers at my back. His body enveloped mine more thoroughly, curled against me from hip to shoulder, and his nose nuzzled into the soft skin of my neck. I stiffened and put my hand into my hair expecting to feel it encrusted in dirt and blood from the night before, but found nothing but clean--albeit tangled-- hair.

“I made sure to wash the gore from you before putting you to bed. I did not want to ruin my shirt that I had dressed you in for sleeping,” he explained, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind my ear. Of course he would think to do that. One of these days I was going to make sure I was awake for him performing such an endearing and intimate action.

I relaxed and my hand fell back behind his head to tangle in his own disheveled dark locks. He hummed contentedly. If only I could bottle up this quiet moment; even with the injuries and aches and pains, I would live in it forever.

That’s not how life with Tony Stark worked, though.

“You two. Out here. Now,” his curt voice blasted throughout the room.

“Ah, hell,” I grumbled, wishing I could rip the speaker from the ceiling. It seemed like his favorite hobby was interrupting my happiness with the man currently burying his face into my hair. “Time to go get our asses handed to us.”

“He will do no such thing. Not to you,” Loki growled, leaving me abruptly to stand up and stalk over to the dresser to pull out his clothes for the day.

“My face is probably plastered all over the news already,” I countered, slowly following him, wincing at the tug my movements made on my hip and thighs.

He violently threw down a button-down shirt, keeping his back to me. “Because of your association with me,” he spat.

His frustration and doubt twisted his elegant features as I watched him in the mirror propped up on the dresser. He glared down at the piece of furniture like he wanted to rip it to pieces, as if it was the cause for our places in this mess. I reached out to smooth my hands down the taut muscles of his back. “I would bet my bottom dollar those men were Hydra. I’m sure that’s what Tony is going to say when we walk out of there. And if that’s the case, they weren’t after you. You were disguised, Loki. I wasn’t.”

He jerked away from my soothing hands, whipping around to tower over me with wide eyes. “You were there because of me!”

Even though I wanted to tremble beneath the full brunt of his fury, I ignored that urge, reminding myself that he would never hurt me; he was only lashing out in the face of emotions that he didn’t want to handle. I tilted my head and did my best to make him see reason. “Because you planned a wonderful night for me, Loki.”

“It is my fault,” he seethed. The fury raging in his eyes slowly crumbled in the face of my calm persistence to reveal the anguish and guilt he was trying to hide.

I picked up his discarded shirt and slipped it over his arms and shoulders. I allowed my fingers the pleasure to run down the middle of his torso as I lined up the buttons, and once aligned, I began fastening them for him. He was wound so tightly with his warring emotions that he didn’t react to my featherlight touch. “You can’t blame yourself every time I get hurt, love. It comes with the territory.”

All anger drained out of him with a shaky sigh. His pale features were haunted and drawn as he desperately looked over my calm face. “It is my duty to protect you.”

There it was.

I finished buttoning his shirt and reached behind him to grab the sleek pair of black pants he had ripped from the hanger earlier. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Loki. I can take care of myself,” I promised, holding the pants out to him. “Your job is to stand by my side. Maybe do that handy Superman trick where you block bullets for me.” That drew a tiny smile from him. “But I never expected you to take on the responsibility of playing bodyguard around the clock.”

Loki accepted the pants and then let them fall to the ground so his hands could bunch into his large t-shirt that draped down to barely my thighs. He brought his lips to my forehead and inhaled deeply, breathing me in. “I promise that I will make them pay for what they did to you.”

“And I’ll be right next to you when that happens,” I replied, tilting my chin to leave a tender kiss on his neck.

“You are everything. I don’t know what I would do if…” he trailed off and his Adam’s apple bobbed before me as he swallowed thickly.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I looked up at him, taken aback by the unshed tears shining in his emerald eyes. I’d never seen him this way. There was an actual ache in my chest at witnessing him so close to breaking, so vulnerable and raw. “You don’t need to find out. Not right now and not for a long time. I’m here.” I cupped his sharp jaw in my hands with a warm smile. “And I’m far too stubborn to go anywhere. You’re stuck with me. Got it?”

He turned his face to kiss my palm softly. “If you insist,” he replied, the smallest of smirks tugging on the thin line of his mouth.

It wasn’t a major mood improvement, but I’d take what I could get. I kissed him soundly before taking his pants from the floor and shoving them into his arms. “Now go get ready. I don’t want to piss off Tony anymore than I already have.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, because the worst scenario either of us has faced is an angry Tin Man.”

~~~

“It has been confirmed that the couple who fled the scene of the attack late last night was none other than Loki Odinson of Asgard and Jennifer Thompson, former Personal Assistant to Tony Stark. Eyewitness accounts and CC Television captured them acting very close before the six, now deceased, men opened fire on them. We have footage of the incident from a bystander’s cell phone, but I must warn you that it is graphic in nature.”

Shaky footage of Loki and I from inside a building took over the large screen. It’s clear that the bullets fired upon us are blocked by his body, bouncing off of him as if they were rubber. Even in the poor quality footage, my glowing green eyes are plainly visible as I ripped off the car door of the moving vehicle and wrenched up the park bench from the concrete. My gaze dropped down to stare at the wooden table before me, not wanting to relive the previous night if I could help it.

I raised my eyes from the grainy surface only when the frightened chatter of the crowd and sirens from the video stopped, and when I looked back to the screen, I found it paused on a slightly blurry image of my angry face. My freakishly lit-up eyes dominated the shot. I didn’t even look human. Am I human anymore? I grimaced, looking back down at the conference table that we were all seated around.

“How long have you been able to do that, Pebbles?” Tony asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared me down behind his blue-tinted glasses.

Why was this where the conversation began? “Do what, Tony?” I asked, unable and unwilling to keep the venom from my voice. It had been a rough night, he had ruined what little bit of a good morning I’d had, and I was hurting something fierce. I wasn’t in the mood to be attacked for being more of a freak than I had initially thought.

“Don’t get cute with me. You’re suddenly able to rip the doors off of passing cars now? And your eyes are a green electric show like Point Break’s? That would have been nice to know.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged my shoulders, “I would have liked to have known it, too. You know, this isn’t doing a lot for my confidence that you lot aren’t trying to control me.”

He shifted on his feet and leaned slightly forward over the head of the table. “You not telling us about the full extent of your powers isn’t doing a lot for mine, kid.”

I stood up with enough force to knock the rolling chair back against the wall behind me. My hands slammed down on the table with a bang that resounded throughout the room. “Oh, you can fuck right off with that bullshit. I’m as new to this as any of you. It’s not like I have cars whipping by me while men are trying to kill me and the man I love and I have to react in split-second decisions that I can’t even consciously make. You all know how it is. I just reacted to protect both of us. I’m sorry that freaks you out, but it is what it is. You can accept it, move on, and help us figure out how to handle this shit storm raining down on us from something we had no control over, or you can step back and let Loki and I leave. No muss, no fuss. But I will not be treated like a criminal for doing what I needed to do to keep us safe,” I ranted, maintaining a carefully controlled venom in my level tone.

I realized only after the fact that I had spoken for Loki without consulting him. I had just volunteered him to leave with me. What if he didn’t want to leave? My eyes widened as I looked over at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes searched mine with an unreadable expression for a moment before he nodded in solidarity.

“What exactly are you implying, Stark?” Loki interjected, his brow raised as he shifted his gaze to cooly regard Tony.

Bruce stepped in from where he had been watching from the corner of the room, holding his hand up to Tony who looked ready to deliver his own biting remark back at the tense god sitting next to me. “Maybe we’re all just a little on edge and need to take a breather for a second.”

“I don’t like not knowing the full extent of what you’re capable of,” Steve admitted, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head.

I shifted my hard gaze to him, not liking the tone the meeting was taking. “I’m not Bucky, Steve.”

“We don’t know what they did to you in there!” Steve countered, his raised voice echoing around the room.

Loki shifted forward in his seat and I quickly placed my hand on Loki’s arm before he could retaliate. He turned his frosty glare to me. “They’re turning against you,” his frustrated voice slipped into my thoughts.

I flicked my fingers to slide the chair back behind my knees and fell back into it with a heavy sigh. “Then help me talk to them, Silver Tongue.”

He leaned back, schooling his expression into one of indifference as he shifted his gaze between the agitated Avengers. “The Witch and I both experienced the torture that she endured through willing searches of her memories. We know the extent of her mental and physical injuries and can attest to her continued recovery. She can assuage any doubts you may have about Ms. Thompson, as I highly doubt that you will believe anything I tell you, considering our relationship.”

Wanda looked up from the table and nodded her head solemnly. “I saw it, and I’ve seen her progress since she’s returned. She isn’t a threat to us.”

“Is this meeting to see if we’re a threat to you or to figure out what we’re supposed to do about last night?” I cut in loudly. “Because there isn’t anything I can do to prove to you that I’m on your side that I haven’t already done. If anything, I’m the one who should be questioning all of you, after everything that I went through. So, if that’s what we’re discussing, I don’t need to be here for this.” I stood up to further solidify my intention to leave and glared at Tony hiding behind his glasses.

“What was that, Jen?” Nat asked, sounding more curious than horrified, to her credit. It was much appreciated.

I crossed my arms protectively over my stomach, painfully aware of the throbbing in my hip and the pull of the thick bandages under the tight jeans I had hastily thrown on earlier. “The eye thing? I dunno. Maybe something like when Wanda or Thor really tap into their powers. I didn’t even know it was happening.” I shrugged, looking at Wanda hopefully. Thankfully she wasn’t looking at me with the same trepidation that Tony and Steve were, but the lack of expression on her face wasn’t the biggest morale boost either. If anyone were to understand dealing with powers previously unknown to you, it would be her. “Nat always tells me that I think too much when I fight. Well, I guess last night was what happens when I don’t think, for better or worse. All I knew was that these men were coming at us ready to kill, and Loki was taking all of the bullets.” I looked at Loki, who was watching me with a hint of pride peeking out through his calm facade. “I don’t fully trust your alien juju to keep you protected against them forever and they looked like Hydra and I would not survive going back there, so I just… reacted. I-I didn’t mean to kill that man, though.”

Thor tipped his head to me in gratitude. “You fought valiantly at my brother’s side last night, little mortal. Of that, you should be proud.”

His praise lowered some of my defenses. Maybe the entire room wasn’t as against me as I had originally believed. Some of the wind taken from my sails, I sat back down. I didn’t realize that I wanted his approval as much as I did until it was given to me. But he was Loki’s older brother, even adopted, and the King of what was left of the Asgardian people. It was hard to remember that fact when he acted so normal all the time. It was only natural to want his support.

“You shouldn’t have been out of the Compound in the first place. And to take off your watch so we couldn’t find you? That’s a dumbass move, Pebbles,” Tony scolded, intent on not letting us--or at least me--off so easily.

“The blame for that aspect of the evening should fall solely on my shoulders. I removed her phone from her without her knowledge before we left, and the watch after you attempted to track us through it. The evening was entirely my doing,” Loki corrected, refusing to back down under Tony’s disappointed stare.

“And why in the hell would you take her away from the Compound in the first place? I know that your ancient brain must be a little rusty in your old age, but Hydra is still out to get her! It isn’t safe for her out there!” Tony shouted.

I bristled under his attack on my beloved. “I can take care of myself! I’m not-”

It was Loki’s turn to silence me with a steady hand on my arm, his hard eyes never leaving Tony’s as he slowly rose to stand behind me at the table. He moved with a terrifying predatory grace that only hinted at the true power he held within. “She is not your prisoner. She has not left this place except for one night amongst friends and one mission, the latter outing ending in her kidnapping and torture. You do not understand the madness that consumes one when one is forced to stare at the same four walls for months on end.”

“It was for her protection,” Tony stubbornly insisted, puffing out his chest to match Loki’s.

“That sounds familiar,” Wanda spoke up, her jaw set as she looked at Vision beside her. “If we just keep hiding them, both of them, the people aren’t going to stop being afraid. They fear what they don’t understand. And right now they do not understand what happened last night.”

“There must be a plan in place to improve the situation, yes?” Thor asked.

Tony clicked off the screen with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been talking to Pepper. Our best bet is to go public with as much as we can. Tell them that Rock of Ages went back to Asgard and paid for his crimes and he’s here to help us right his wrongs-”

“I am not-”

“I don’t care if that’s not why you’re really here. It’s what we can sell to keep SHIELD from taking you into custody and locking you up until Pebbles is dead and gone.” He paused, letting that sink in for a moment as he paced back and forth at the head of the table, his body trying to keep up with his rapidly working mind. “We tell them that Jen is a new recruit for the Avengers, which isn’t technically a lie. The cat is out of the bag concerning you two as a couple, so we’ll spin that to our advantage. ‘The New Yorker who found it in her heart to forgive the Big Bag Asgardian’ or something like that.”

“So, what does that mean, though? A press conference? A newspaper article? I’m not sure either of them should go in front of a camera with how blood-thirsty the reporters would be. They aren’t known for keeping their cool,” Sam prodded, shrugging at me. “No offense.”

I heard the chair creak behind me as Loki dug his fingers into the dark leather. I shrugged, “None taken.”

Tony pulled out two watches from his pocket and tossed them across the table to Loki and me. “I scheduled a press conference for later today. I’ll do the talking; they’re used to that. There’s also a charity gala Friday night that we were planning on attending without you both, but I snagged two extra tickets. It will be good for them to see you acting like normal people. You can do that, right?”

“Can you do that, Stark?” Loki asked bitingly as pointedly ignored the watch I held out to him to stare down its creator.

“You two kids play nice,” Nat grumbled as she watched them warily.

Like that was ever going to happen.

[curiosity-killed]

almost like memory

@bbtree first off: thank you so much <3 and also thank you for accidentally giving me an excuse to wander off into a Shallura genre I don’t normally touch (ngl I had to make myself stop bc otherwise I was never going to get it posted - so fingers crossed, there may be more to come!)

————

His colors are wrong. Under the fluorescent lights, everyone becomes washed out and green-tinged, like they're half-human, half-hologram. The group leader had apologized for it at their first session, explaining that the church didn't have the money to upgrade to the new system that illuminates most the city. Attendance has dropped off over the years, and now more people enter for these support groups than for Sunday services. If she had to guess, it's only the state funding for these groups that's even keeping the flickering lights on.

The lights aren't the problem with him. It's something deeper, bigger: his hair's too dark or there's something missing in his face or his green t-shirt is the wrong shade. He should be in black. She brushes the thoughts away with a shake of her head. This is the first time she's ever seen the man, and they haven't even met yet. Just another delusion, mixing streams. The doctors have assured her that it’s normal, that though she can’t remember it, she still has a past locked away inside her, and occasionally her subconscious might let a little slip through and muddle her new reality. He introduces himself as Ryou Kurogane, and it’s wrong wrong wrong. The intensity of her conviction is stomach-churning, nearly nauseating. She can’t get it to shut up. He smiles at her when it’s her turn to introduce herself, and she smiles back reflexively before she remembers to duck her head, let her hair fall in a dark curtain between them.

Words don’t come easily to her. She doesn’t know if that’s new or if it’s always been that way. The doctors weren’t much help; they don’t like to talk about her past at all, even if they know it. They say it isn’t conducive to healthy recovery, to establishing her new identity. 

After the session, Ryou – not Ryou, wrong wrong wr— stays to help the group leader fold up and stack the chairs along the side. She finds herself lingering, reluctant to leave. She doesn’t know why, exactly, just that there’s something drawing her to stay. To keep close to him. She’s fussing with the water cups, flimsy little biodegradable things, when she hears him step up close. “Hi,” he says. She startles at how close his voice is, and when she turns, he raises his hands in apology. There’s something not quite right about them. They’re too similar, identical creases in his palms. She shakes it off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “You’re Romelle, right?” Somehow, the name the doctors gave her sounds even more wrong in his voice. Her lips twitch up in what’s meant to be a smile but comes out closer to a grimace. “And you’re Ryou,” she says. It doesn’t sound better in her voice either. “That’s me,” he says, pushing his hands back into his pockets. His shoulders curve in with the motion, as if he’s trying to narrow himself, bend himself into a smaller space. He’s taller than her. She’s not sure why it surprises her, except that she thinks he wasn’t always. Isn’t always. That makes no sense at all. It’s not like their heights could change. “Sorry, you just – you seem really familiar,” Ryou-not-Ryou says. “I – uh wanted to say hi.” “Oh,” she says. Surprise ripples through her – and relief. It’s a foreign thing, distant, as if from someone else. “I uh – I’m – I’m sorry, I was in an accident a few months ago and don’t remember – much.” The words stumble out of her mouth, tripping and falling over each other all out of order. She winces when they land, regret rushing through her before she can shut herself up. “Oh!” Ryou says. “I – I know how you feel.” She stares, waiting for the second half of whatever joke this must be. “I was in an accident, too. Amnesia, everything before is just – blank,” he explains. It seems almost too perfect to be true. How could they wind up with the same story? But there’s nothing but sincerity in his voice and gaze, and something deep in her chest says he wouldn’t lie. Not about this. Not to her. “Oh. That’s – I’m sorry,” she says. He gives a little shrug with his left shoulder as if to brush off the apology. The smile he offers her doesn’t reach his eyes, just pulls up one side of his lips. “Sounds like we’re in the same ship anyway,” he says. A funny way of saying it, but she manages a smile in response. There’s something worming up her chest, words half-formed in her throat. “Do you wanna get a bite?” He looks almost surprised by his own words, as if he hadn’t meant to let them escape. She feels the same when she answers without a conscious decision. “Yes.” They wind up in a little diner half a block down from the church, a quiet little Akubari place that uses an outdated waitstaff model, the kind that would have been popular when Allura was young. It’s all blank, but she spent hours researching them one night, watching videos of their jerky movement and listening to recordings of their little trills and beeps, in case someone brought up nostalgia for them around her. They haven’t yet, but when they do, she’s ready. She’s prepared with a whole set of pretend memories so she’ll have a chance to connect with this future stranger, a chance to imagine a shared experience. He orders tea and grilbeck with mango and she settles on water and a thick yellow soup. Learning – relearning – her own tastes over the last few months has largely been too daunting a task to expend much effort towards; she's grown used to the food that's cheap and easy, sandwiches and pre-packaged dinners. She's not sure she likes them exactly, but figuring out how to live without a past, without an identity or network or any kind of supporting structure, is exhausting enough that sometimes she just wants something to be easy. Food is a simple enough opportunity for that. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried Akubari,” she remarks. At least not in the last three months. Maybe the other her, the past her, had. “One of my neighbors is from Akubara, actually,” he says. “They kinda got me hooked on it.” There’s a sheepish tone to his voice, as if he’s almost embarrassed by the admission. It makes her smile, her nerves inanely assuaged by the description. She doesn’t really have neighbors – or, well, there are people who live in the apartments beside and above and below hers, but they don’t talk. She’s seen maybe two of them out and about in the building all told. “I’ve heard their food culture incorporates a great deal of sharing,” she says. “Yeah! Drufbila just showed up at my door one day and ushered me in to the dinner table like I was their cousin or something,” he laughs. “Their mom kept fussing over whether I was eating enough, of course.” She breathes out a laugh at that, struck by the image of the great tentacled Akubari prodding him to take just a little more of each dish. Next to their towering, amorphous forms, his lean frame probably would seem underfed. It warms her to know someone, at least, is looking out for him. Weird. She shakes the thought away, disguises it as amusement. “What about your neighbors? Any nosey grandmas there?” he asks, leaning his cheek on his hand. The motion curves his body towards her, shoulders and waist twisted as if to block out the few diners sitting in the rest of the restaurant. His attention is a gentle thing, like sunlight or — Ridiculous. The sun hasn’t been seen through the smog here in decades. She’d have to have been off-planet to have an idea of what sunlight felt like, and surely, then, someone would have been there after her accident. No one traveled alone, not that far. If she ever had, there would have been someone to notice her missing, someone to seek her out. “Oh, no,” she says. “I’m afraid my building mostly keeps to ourselves.” “That’s a shame,” he says, a sympathetic twist to his lips. “Can’t help with–” He flicks his hand up in a little gesture towards his head, and she shrugs. “It can be a little lonely,” she concedes. Before he can ask more, their food arrives on the creaking arm of their servant and is slid onto their table in three jerky pushes. Her soup nearly slops over the lip of the blue bowl with the motion, and she has to steady it with her hands. Finished, the robot gives a happy little beep, and he reaches out to pat its head. “Thanks, bud,” he says. The robot rolls away with a contented little three-note trill. He turns back to her with a little smile and lifts his fork. “Bon appetite,” he says. “Buen provecho,” she answers, from somewhere she doesn’t quite recognize. He grins, still, and she can’t bring herself to question it when that smile is so unmuddied, so clear and easy. “You wanna try some?” he offers, gesturing to his plate with the fork. Orange glaze covers the blue of the grilbeck meat, turning it almost green, and mango slivers stick out of the flesh like oddly colored spines. It’s pretty, in its own way, even in the yellowish light of the diner. “Sure,” she agrees. “Want some of mine?” They wind up with the dishes in the middle of the table, snagging a bite from each plate with equal frequency. It feels…familiar. Comfortable. Like this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. She recognizes something in his expression when he takes the first spoonful from her soup and cants his head, considering. She’s seen that look before, seen the thoughtful way he savors the bite before swallowing and giving a thumbs up. Partway into their meal, conversation resumes once more, and comes back to them as easily as sharing. “Yeah, I have Doctor Honerva, too! That’s so weird,” he says. “How have we not bumped into each other at her office?” She shakes her head and licks a bit of mango glaze off her bottom lip. His gaze drops to follow the motion, just briefly, before flitting back to meet hers. A flush starts, warm pleasure rising in her cheeks. “It’s quite a coincidence,” she agrees. Maybe that’s where she remembers him from – maybe she’s seen him in passing and those memories have become conflated with those locked away from her. “Maybe we’ll see each other now that we’ve met.” “I’d like that,” he says. There’s a warmth to his gaze, a steady sincerity in his tone, that makes her duck her head. This is the longest she’s spent with anyone aside from her doctors since waking to a cold white room three months ago. It’s getting to her head, surely. She’s not sure she minds. “Me, too,” she agrees, meeting his gaze. The moment stretches between them, soft and welcome. She could make a home in this moment, in the gentle way he looks at her, in the pleasure in the soft curve of his lips. For the first time in months, she feels warm. Safe. A four-note beep announces the robot’s return, breaking apart their quiet. They split the check and head to the door. It’s started raining, the drizzly kind that leaves the whole city stinking of wet concrete. For once, it doesn’t bother her. It’s barely a footnote next to the chapter that this evening has become. He pauses outside the door, hands back in his pockets, shoulders bowed inward. “I’m down that way,” he says, nodding in the opposite direction of her apartment. “I’m afraid I’m the opposite way,” she says. Do his shoulders slump? Maybe she’s just looking for signs now. “I – I’d really like to see you again. If you want,” he says. He bites down on the inside of his bottom lip, watching her intently. Warmth flushes through her, up to the tips of her ears. She smiles and only barely keeps it from beaming. “I’d quite like that, too,” she admits. “Here, why don’t we trade numbers?” At that, he seems to light up from within. He straightens out, broad shoulders squaring back into their full breadth, and he pulls his phone from his pocket immediately. Surprised delight radiates through his entire being as he unlocks it and flips through to the right screen. Watching him through her lashes as she does the same, she can’t suppress the feeling that this, for once, is right. This is what is meant to be. Somehow, impossibly. They trade numbers and say farewell with smiles, and when she glances back over her shoulder as she walks away, she catches him looking back as well. They both laugh, as if at themselves, and give a little wave before continuing on their way. When she gets home, she’s greeted by a grave-like apartment and her treatment unit sitting ready on her end table. She stands in her doorway, considering the machine. It’s simple, easy to use. Back at the hospital, there’s a much larger version, but this one was specifically designed for home treatment. She’s supposed to use it every night, to help her brain heal. It always leaves her feeling numb, grey. Like it strips the color from her day and replaces it with a fresh coat of waiting-room-off-white. Normally, that isn’t much of a problem. Her routine is simple and largely emotionless. Painting over it is like laying a layer of grey over ninety other layers of nearly the same shade. Today, though – she wants to keep today. She wants the gentle gold of his attention, the soft grey of his eyes. The colors aren’t quite right – but at least there are colors this time. There are shades and hues she doesn’t know she’s ever seen or felt. It’s not what the doctors told her to do, but she doesn’t want to sacrifice them this time. She doesn’t want to cover up the silver flecks in his eyes with matte. The unit is tucked neatly in her bathroom cabinet, and she settles into her blankets with a strange feeling of satisfaction. That night, she dreams impossible things. She dreams of space, unfurling in feathery nebulae with tendrils curling purple and red around newborn stars. She dreams of machines, great ships and weapons that soar through the edges of the universe. She dreams — of him. His warm eyes, his fierce dedication. His hands, one flesh and one metal, cradling her jaw like something precious, like something to be adored. His lips are soft when they press against hers, his heart beats steady and strong against her palm. His voice aches when he speaks, a single word that is a prayer, a plea, a promise – “Allura,” he says. “Allura, Allura, Allura.”

[fmdmimi-blog]

what?: mimi’s casting video where?: mimi’s apartment when?: first week of october word count?: 1,219

the questions that needed to be answered during the self-cam were printed out and laying off to the side, out of the camera’s line of sight. mikyung had spent the past several minutes looking over the list of questions, trying to take them in and memorize them before she started filming. she didn’t want to tell her fans or let them know that she was given a list of questions to answer. it would make the whole self-cam feel too inauthentic for her. she always worked best when she could be in her element and comfortable. mikyung was glad that the company had given the idols the task of filming inside of their own homes instead of filming in a green room. it was a lot more personal, which she was sure was the vibe they were going for. 

she sprawled out across her couch on her back, propping her feet up on the arm of the couch as she heaved out a heavy sigh and started clicking through her app widgets, searching for the camera icon. she flipped the camera around so that it was facing her. she took a deep breath, before slipping a smile across her face and clicking the record button. 

“hello! i’m aria’s leader, mimi.” the greeting was short, but sweet, as always. she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “how are all of my melodies today? i hope you’ve all eaten well and you’re all staying warm as the weather worsens. it’s been really chilly lately, has it not? i’ll try to stay healthy as long as you do, deal?” she chuckled softly to herself, a hand placed over her mouth as she brought herself upright. 

“yes, i just woke up a few moments ago - please don’t be frightened by my bare face. i was hesitant to start filming this without wearing any makeup but, hm..” she pursed her lips as her words trailed off, trying to find the right wording for her thoughts. “but i figured this would be more comfortable for us all, yes? you can see me at my most vulnerable,” mikyung joked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she stood up from the couch. “why don’t you join me while i get ready for my day?” 

soft footsteps could be heard on her phone’s microphone as she padded towards her bedroom. as she walked, she flipped the camera around so that it would pick up footage of her apartment. “when i first moved in, it felt a little barren in here. i’m not one who really cares about paint color and furniture, because i like to think i can adapt to those kinds of things pretty easily.” she snapped her fingers. “anyway, when i first moved in and my apartment still felt like a stranger to me, i put up all of these pictures.” she showed the pictures that lined the walls of her hallway. “pictures of my parents, grandparents and relatives. and i’ve got some pictures of me with my members, and just some stand alone pictures of my members. they’re my family, and i feel more comfortable with them here. it kind of makes me feel like... they’re actually here, you know? and that makes living alone less worrisome.” she breathed. “here’s my room! do you guys like it?” she announced when they finally stepped into her bedroom. it was neat and tidy, consisting of a large bed in the center. the concept of the room, and her entire apartment, was based on the colors black and white. she liked the simplicity of the minimalistic, monochrome look. it was a nice contrast from the colors she usually wore clothing wise. 

“i’ve been living by myself since 2015, so for about four years now...” she went on to say, her feet moving her towards her closet after she switched the camera back around so that it was focused on her own face instead of her room. “it was a little scary after first, especially because i’ve never lived alone before. i actually remember one time there was a thunderstorm happening. it was a week after i had moved in, and the storm had gotten so bad to the point that the electricity went out.” she laughed at the memory. “it’s funny looking back on it now, but experiencing it wasn’t fun at all.” she searched through her clothes, trying to find something to wear for the day. “i was terrified. i think i ended up staying at one of my member’s places for the whole following week after that.”

her eyes flickered to the camera, before going back to her clothing, trying to think back on the list of questions that was stationed in her living room. “that’s probably the hardest part about living alone,” she mused suddenly. “being alone. i’ve considered getting a roommate, but i don’t think anyone would want to live with me,” she giggled, a smile enveloping her expression. “i’m a little bit of a neat freak, and i can get a little bit naggy when it comes to household chores. my members used to get so annoyed when i went on cleaning rampages.” 

her eyes widened when she finally came across fabric that caught her attention. “i found my outfit for the day!” she grabbed the hanger and hugged the fabric to her chest, grinning at the camera. “i’m going to change really quickly and then show you guys! see you soon.” she made a whooping noise before placing her hand against the camera lens. she made a mental note to remember to take the time to edit the time skip into the video before she sent it back to her manager for reviewing and submission. 

she laid her phone down and hurried to the bathroom, quickly showering and changing her clothes. she piled her hair up on her hair into a messy bun, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt and pants, before heading back into her bedroom. “ta-da!” she announced as she picked up her phone. “did you like my magic trick?” the idol laughed at her own joke, settling down on her bed to get a little bit more comfortable. 

mikyung was silent for a few seconds, staring at the camera and smiling sweetly. “you know, i do have some reservations about living with people again.. mostly because i’m not sure if i’m a good roommate or not. i try to be, but it’s still a scary thought. i’ve never lived with any of these people before, so it’ll practically be like living with strangers. what if they don’t like me?” she tried to play off her worries as a joke, tacking on a laugh to drive home the point that she wasn’t as nervous or anxious as she really was. 

her phone beeped and she sighed sadly. “my apologies everyone! we’re going to have to cut this a little short because my manager just texted that she’s outside and waiting for me for rehearsals. aria’s having our last concert soon! will i see any of you there?” she asked, bringing herself up to her feet. “thank you for spending time with me at home. i hope to see you all soon!” she pressed over exaggerated kisses to her phone’s camera, before ending the video.

[blipintiime]

                        Final logout procedure                                IANTO JONES

                     Are you sure you want to continue?                                   [ Yes ]         [ No ]

–begin video– [ A YOUNG MAN steps back into frame. standing tall, hand used to start the recording now follows the other’s suit and dips into the pocket of perfectly pressed trousers. he’s young, good-looking, and IMPECCABLY DRESSED– he’s a man well within his prime. still, he looks uncomfortable. for a moment, he simply stares at the camera. eyes shing a CRYSTAL HUE of blue; lips form a smile of discomfort, as one may do when they feel though too much attention is being paid in their direction. this unease before a camera turns into a curt laugh at a situation of HIS OWN CREATING, chin dropping as his head shakes. the moment is brief and when his face is in full view of the camera once again, features have been etched into a more SERIOUS EXPRESSION ] ❝ right, i suppose now is when i’m supposed to START TALKING, yeah? tosh made it look rather easy. but, then, I’ve never been much of a talker. ❞ [ a pause ] ❝ figured i would set one of these videos up as well. losing them, losing tosh and owen, was yet another reminder that TORCHWOOD NEVER CHANGES. ’ we’re not the police, we’re beyond the government, ’ they tell you, ’ become one of us and you’ll be SAVIN' THE WORLD. ’ though, what they leave out of their recruitment slogans is the unfortunate fact that it’s almost guaranteed savin' the world will also mean LOSING YOUR LIFE. don’t really see myself quitting, so i suppose it was my turn to follow in the footsteps of torchwood operatives who came before. ❞ ❝ yvonne once had me sorting through resumes. asked me to perform the background checks and remove any candidates who were ONLY CHILDREN. well. unless they were ’ truly extraordinary, ’ i believe is how she put it. ❞ [ a pause. serious expression flickering to one of fondness, almost. ] ❝ i know how you felt about YVONNE HARTMAN, jack. actually, she felt similarly about you. ’ jack bloody harkness. always in the way ’ she would say about you. never mentioned how HANDSOME you are, though. ❞ [ his thoughts seem to trail, eyes distractedly glancing off camera as he finds himself lost in a thought. a memory; undoubtedly triggered by the idea of jack harkness and his UNPARALLELED GOOD LOOKS. he snaps back to attention. ] ❝ anyway. she really wasn’t all bad, you know. she was the first person who actually SAW ME. or at least i think she did. said once i was the future of torchwood, took me out in the field and treated me as more than just her assistant. she was the one who got lisa and i together, ensured we stayed together even after the whole rachel allan overthrowin' her thing. i guess, then i have her to thank for me ENDING UP HERE. if lisa and i hadn’t been together when canary wharf– when it fell, i probably wouldn’t have come down here. don’t know what i would have done– ❞ [ A FLASH OF GUILT weaves through his expression, his eyes fall for the briefest moment and then he’s back, as if it never happened in the first place. ] ❝ yvonne made mistakes and PEOPLE DIED. a lot of people died. but, i also have her to thank for you. ❞ [ it’s unseen, except for the way his body seems to rise and fall, the way his weight shifts to his toes and back, following the direction of the shoulders’ shrug ] ❝ you GAVE ME MEANIN' by allowing me into torchwood three. and i know you’ve said that I’ve apologized enough for what i did– for how i did it. just not sure that’s possible. lyin' to you, USING YOU like that. well, it’s one of my biggest regrets. even now. ❞ [ tight lips curl into the ghost of a smile ] ❝ you gave me meanin' again once she was gone. I WAS BROKEN and you, somehow, put me back together again. you, this place, the team. it all gave me a reason again; STILL DOES.  ❞ [ he sighs, now. eyes once again finding a point off camera before shifting back to the lens ] ❝ right, so. I’VE DIED, then. ❞ ❝ jack, i know you’re watching this. don’t know when. don’t know if we’ve had five years together or even just another week. right now, though, you’re down in your quarters. i’m supposed to be giving you a few minutes to ’ prepare ’ don’t quite know what you're preparing for but KNOWIN' YOU– ❞ [ he stops. a glint of something in his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips ]  ❝ IT HASN’T BEEN SAID PROPERLY by either of us. but i know it’s there– at least it is for me. i think it is for you, too. i want to say it. when i catch you looking in my direction with that smile of yours. when i wake up in the middle of the night and feel you sleepin' beside me. you always look SO PEACEFUL when you sleep, did you know that, jack? i wanted to say it as we watched tosh’s video. but we weren’t alone and i wasn’t brave enough then. still not quite BRAVE ENOUGH to say it to your face, not yet anyway. ❞ ❝ but i– ❞ [ a sigh, but he ensures he’s looking directly into the camera, now. ] ❝ I LOVE YOU, JACK. ❞ ❝ more than I’ve loved anyone– ever. ❞ [ a pause. a long moment of quiet. for the first time you can hear the ambient sounds of the hub: soft beeps, the dripping of water. ] ❝ right. gwen, I HOPE you’re watching this too. wanted to make sure i told you that i think you’re absolutely brilliant. mad but bloody brilliant. we were lucky when you joined the team, truly. you changed torchwood into SOMETHING MORE. ❞ [ a voice from off-camera: loud, american, cheeky ]                                                                       ' ianto!  ' [ the welshman in frame SMILES FULLY NOW, head turning in the direction of the voice before turning back ] ❝ and, gwen? protect him, yeah? jack he– HE NEEDS IT TOO. if– when he dies, make sure to be there at his side if you can. hold him, for me. would do it, myself IF I COULD❞ [ the american voice echoes through the hub once again ]                                                              ' IANTO JONES! ' [ only his eyes flicker towards the voice, this time.] ❝  guess this is GOODBYE, then. ❞ [ hand slipping out of his pocket, the young man leans forward. the screen goes black ]                                                                                        –end video–

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 10 - Always Watching

Author’s Note: Holy hell, was this insane to write X_X

A few things. Firstly, I apologize for how long it took for this to come out. I was incredibly anxious about school, plus I was just overly struggling with writing this chapter. I had a general idea of what I wanted to happen, but I didn’t really know how to get it down into words.

Secondly, this came out as about 18 pages long in Word so I apologize for how ridiculously long this is! I didn’t think it was going to come out so damn long!

And thirdly, this chapter is heavy on the angst. There’s a little bit of horror – of course – but this chapter is mainly angst-ridden so prepare for a LOT of feels! For Christ’s sake, I CRIED while writing this, so that should be saying something.

WARNING: This chapter is very heavy and is incredibly dark. There are mentions of suicide, abuse (both physical and mental), bullying (mainly cyberbullying), existential crisis, self-mutilation, and incredibly low self-esteem. There are mentions of a character getting lobotomized. There is a scene with a detailed description of the inside of a character’s back, which contains abnormal anatomy.

I will say this and I will say this one: This is NOT a happy fun time chapter! (I know, the story as a whole isn’t happy, but this chapter is VERY heavy on the angst as opposed to the other chapters) There ARE feels.

You have been warned.

Enjoy!

(I am SO sorry. I feel so bad for writing this! ;^;)

Listen to this playlist while reading.

 Wheezing breaths of agony echoed throughout the room as he operated. Warm sticky crimson spurted onto his naked lanky fingers – the very fingers of which were maneuvering the stainless steel instrument through his patient’s skull. A pained gasp expelled from the man upon the bloodied table.

“Oh be quiet.” The glitching entity hissed with agitation. “Stop your whining.” He scoffed. “You act as though you’ve never felt pain before.” A delighted giggle came ringing out of the creature’s slit throat. “Almost like you’re afraid of dying.”

A quivering whimper could faintly be heard coming from his patient as he fiddled with the orbitoclast. The green-haired demon smirked from behind his surgical mask.

“I must say, Herr Doktor,” He said in a horrible German accent, mocking the man, “you should be proud of me. I’m no doctor, but I seem to be doing an impeccable job here, if I do say so myself.” He bragged, his smirk stretching into a twisted smile.

The ice pick sank in further, a trail of blood running out onto the demon’s fingertips. A sharp intake of air, followed by a shaky sob left the patient; the entire mass of flesh jolting and tensing up against his restraints. The overhead light flickered as the sinister being growled through his teeth out of annoyance.

“For fuck sake, stop it! This is delicate work – you of all people should know that!” He snapped sharply, though he ironically gave the pick a violent tap; jabbing the inside of the man’s skull.

It only made the tortured man release a loud moan of unbearable agony, a trembling hand pulling weakly at its bond and trying to reach out for the figure leering over him. After a brief moment, the struggling died down and a faint shaky whine slipped out. The demon chuckled, continuing with his ministrations.

“You see? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? I told you that you could handle the pain.” The creature’s head gave a sudden twitch to the left, then the right, before returning his cold eyes to his patient. He grinned. “If I can bear with it, so can you. Anesthesia is fOr ThE wEaK!” In seconds flat, the entity’s form glitched out spastically; the grin gone and replaced with a grimace of anger, trying to make a point. Almost as quick as it had happened, the toothy smile returned, accompanied with a horrifying cackle of glee.

Another weak whine left the pained patient.

“Trust me, my friend, zhis is for your own good.” The manifestation grinned mockingly, using the exact same words the doctor had said to him when he had been operated on back on October 29th.  “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix you right up.” He expelled a useless breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He chuckled lightly before his being glitched out; his facial expression almost immediately falling flat. “I’m going to fix you all.” He hissed softly under his breath.

The poor man upon the table suddenly jerked, a strained gasp of pain getting ripped out of his vocal cords. Anti growled, put off with how uncooperative his patient was being.

“Oh come on, give it a rest already! Get ahold of yourself! You’re not dying!” He mumbled the next few words with promise. “Not yet anyway, but I don’t get to choose the outcome. You should be so lucky.” He wedged the pick in further, showing no remorse towards the man when he writhed and released a choked breath.

As the twisted imposter of a doctor carried on with the operation, getting blood smeared all along his pale digits, he began to yet again find himself slowly but surely sinking into the hatred he held towards the community. No one knew how he felt, not truly anyway. Everyone automatically assumed the unstable creature was just a monster, and as such, he behaved like one. But he was only like that thanks to his creators – they were the ones who gave him life and made him what he was. If they hadn’t wanted a monster, then why hadn’t they done anything to “fix” him? Why hadn’t they taken action when they had had the chance? Anti stared down at his handy work, dark eyes unblinking as the anger started to weave throughout his veins.

“They’re making me do this. They would say otherwise, I know they would. They’re all deceivers – monsters like me, although much worse.” An insidious giggle rang throughout the operating room, sending cold chills down his patient’s spine. “They don’t give a shit about any of us. They can’t seem to make up their damn minds on anything.” He chuckled, although given what he was talking about, it was an incredibly unnerving chuckle. There was nothing but fury and hate behind it. “And they have the audacity to go and point fingers at me and call ME the monster, the true villain in all of this? HA!” He jabbed the orbitoclast rather unexpectedly, instantly getting a horrific reaction out of his tortured patient. He glowered down at the man, his abyssal orbs growing darker and colder than what was already possible.

“They have no idea what they’ve done to me.”

                                                           * * * * *

  It was not long after Halloween when the demon had begun to notice the changes in his audience. After Anti had “killed” Jack in front of the still recording camera and finally took possession of the Irishman’s body, the glitching entity just had to go and upload the footage to YouTube two days later. After all, Jack himself had wanted to make a Halloween video for the fans; he had even teased them about it with the brief recording he had posted on Instagram. As Anti saw it, he was doing the man a favour. And of course, just as he had expected, after that video was released, the entire community went up in flames. Everyone freaked out – both out of equal amounts of delight and fear. Many actually believed Jack had in fact died and that Anti had taken over, and the insidious manifestation could only laugh out of amusement, applauding those few who knew the truth. He had been so gleeful to see his creators’ reactions, taking in just how shell-shocked they each became and how they all screamed his name. It was almost a surreal experience; the demon couldn’t quite contain his happiness.

However, though he was now the one in control, he knew his fans were going to suspect that he was the one inhabiting Jack’s body. And though that was true, he figured he’d have a bit of fun with them all. He would instead put on a deceitful act and pretend to be everyone’s favorite green-haired Irishman. It was time for him to put all of the training he had done over the past couple of months to good use. He would wear a mask and act like nothing had happened, and that’s exactly what he did.

A delayed video was posted hours later of him explaining what had happened during October leading up to Halloween. The glitch definitely put on a seamless act. The way he spoke, the way he acted, the joy and optimism and excitement gleaming in his blue eyes, the positivity radiating off of the man – it was all far too perfect. There wasn’t any way anyone would conclude it wasn’t Jack speaking in front of the camera. The unhinged trickster came up with a convincing lie off the top of his head, telling his audience how everything had just been one big act for Halloween. Anti wasn’t real, it was just Jack pretending to be an evil demented version of himself out to kill him. It was all just a scary idea he had had for the Halloween season – he wasn’t dead.

And the fandom believed him. They fell for his two-faced lies, each individual word sliding off of his wicked tongue and twisting his creators’ beliefs. They had all bought into his seemingly innocent fable. Some were confused, some didn’t know what to believe anymore, but all of them knew deep down that Jack was perfectly fine and he was only embracing the character of Anti…right?

For a time, the glitching entity had been very pleased with his ways of deception, how he managed to warp every single member of the community into believing he was in fact everyone’s good ol’ Jackaboy…that was until he began to take notice of how little attention he himself was receiving.

Sure, after his appearance on Halloween, a ton of fan art, fanfiction, and posts about him had been produced. There was no denying the fact how all of it had given him immense strength and power. However, given how he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t – someone the entire fandom had adored – he realized with a horrendous hybrid of surprise and perplexity that the community was once again returning there attention onto Jack. They all seemed to be relieved at the fact that he was alright and unharmed, that he hadn’t actually died. They were grateful he was alive, and Anti didn’t understand why. Hadn’t they wanted him to cut the man out of the picture? Hadn’t they wanted him to replace the pathetic Irishman and give them a far more superior being to look up to?

As the months passed away and autumn faded into winter, the demented creature began to truly notice the difference in the community’s behavior. He was slowly but surely becoming forgotten by his own creators. Granted, there were still pieces of fan art and fanfiction floating about here and there on social media, but other than that, their main focus was no longer on him; it had been shifted back onto Jack and it appeared to be staying that way. And though he tried to convince himself otherwise, Anti firmly believed that his fans only thought of him as a one-time thing – that he had had his one chance to steal the limelight and now that it had passed, it was time to move on. And the demon was not at all pleased with this.

The minute he had noticed the change in the fandom, Anti had stormed off into the darkened hell where he kept his host caged up and went off on a long-winded rant about just how confused and enraged he was for suddenly being ignored and accused of being a “one-time thing”.

“What? A ‘one-time thing’?” The green-haired Irishman had questioned from behind the searing-hot bars of the cell. He shook his head slowly, not entirely understanding. His alter ego was speaking so quickly, he could barely keep up. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to not understand? They see me as a one-time thing! A side-show act!” The manifestation snapped with a glitch of his head.

“Well what did you expect? You’ve been pretending to be me all this time.” Jack stated simply. “They think I’m perfectly fine and that it was all just an act. They don’t really think you exist, and you’ve made them believe that.”

“Shut up! They know I exist, I know they do!” His body spasmed for a fleeting moment as he paced the room. “And yet…” He chuckled lightly in disbelief, “And yet, they’re acting like nothing had happened. Like everything that had led up to Halloween – all of my sudden appearances – meant nothing.” He whirled around and locked his eyes onto the man in the cage. “It’s almost like they’ve forgotten about me completely.” He scoffed, a petite smile flashing across his face in the blink of an eye. “They haven’t forgotten about me completely, thank fuck for that. But…But they’re my creators, damn it!” He flared, his entire form twitching and jerking, struggling to remain stable. “They created me, they brought me to life, and I gave them a show! So why aren’t they giving me attention?”

With no warning, one moment he was a few feet away from the cell and the next, he was suddenly standing right in front of the bars, slamming his hands against them with a violent bang. Jack’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the action, stumbling backward and nearly catching himself off balance. Anti’s glacial cold orbs bored deep into the Irishman’s soul, hissing harshly through his teeth.

 “Why do they like you more than me?!” He demanded, fingers tightening around the bars.

Collecting himself and swallowing down any fear he held towards the creature, Jack straightened up and broadened his shoulders. He refused to show any fear or let Anti have the upper hand in this. He glared at the entity from the other side of the bars, his hands balling up into fists at his sides.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not a monster.” The Irishman seethed. “Maybe it’s because I’m not so desperate for attention that I’ve resorted to hurting or killing anyone. Maybe it’s because I actually have a heart and give a damn about the community as a whole as opposed to being a selfish asshole who only cares about their self.” He spat. “Whether they created you or not, it doesn’t matter. You have control over your actions – you can change your ways – and yet you decide not to. You instead choose to be a wretched monster that’s out to cause carnage and misfortunate for others.”

Jack took a few slow steps forward, his eyes never leaving the insidious being staring back at him. He shook his head, scowling at the demon with a look of disgust.

“You haven’t changed…and you never will.”

Anti felt a pang in his chest at hearing what his counterpart said. He growled in anger, his head twitching violently from left to right as a projection of himself flickered, one of him yanking viciously on his hair with his face scrunched up in frustration as opposed to agony. He cocked his head to the side in an unnatural way, reminiscent of the movement of a small bird’s own head. A layered inhuman giggle came bubbling out of his forever blood-gushing throat.

“You think I can change my ways? You honestly think I can change?” A terribly awful laugh erupted from him, succeeding in striking a descent amount of fear into his prisoner. He shook his head vigorously, a grin plastered on his face, even though it was plainly obvious he wasn’t happy. Admittedly, it unnerved the Irishman to a degree.

“Your ‘precious’ community holds the power over me. They are the ones who made me the way I am. I didn’t get a say in the matter! Hell, I didn’t ask to be made. I DiDn’T aSk tO Be GiVEn LiFe!” He unexpectedly lashed out, the grin vanishing from his face in an instant and an animalistic-looking grimace taking its place. His body seemed to stutter and lag for a moment before resuming its movement, twitching and glitching out every few seconds. It was evident the creature was having a hard time controlling his anger.

Jack jumped back in alarm, having not expected the sudden outburst. However, though it had momentarily startled him, the YouTuber still stood his ground. Before he could even think over the situation and come up with a calm and collected solution like he would normally do, he found himself consumed by an overwhelming wave of rage, and the next few words came flooding out of his mouth – words he would later regret ever saying.

“Well if you don’t want to be alive, then why don’t you kill yourself?!” He snapped, glaring daggers at the entity.

Another pang came from within the glitch’s chest, and this one hurt far more than the previous one.

“You keep complaining about how you were created and how everyone is ignoring you and not giving you attention. You’re like a child – a whiny brat who can’t get what they want when they want it, and it’s just sad.” The Irishman continued, not holding back. “You say that the community is responsible for you – that they’re the ones who created you and brought you into this world. And even though they’re essentially like your parents, they don’t seem to care about you.” He leaned forward. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe the reason they don’t care about you is because of the way you came out?”

Yet again, another painful pang.

“Maybe you were meant to only be an idea, NOT an actual existing creature.” He hissed. “You’re like Frankenstein’s monster – you were pieced together from scratch. Maybe you were meant to come out differently, but instead, came out as this…this thing.” He said with such distaste, the entity visibly winced. Jack kept his eyes fixed on his alter ego, nothing but anger in his eyes, and yet...there was something else there also. Unfortunately, Anti was unable to see it.

“An abomination…That’s what you are.” The man shook his head slowly. “You’re an abomination…and nobody wants you.” His nostrils flared as he took in a sharp breath, trying to keep his hatred at bay. He scoffed. “You know…I’m known for being a reasonable guy. I like to think that I am caring, I can see the good in people, and that I can and will accept anyone for who they are, no matter what their race, gender, sexual orientation – I don’t give a fuck.” He spat. “And over the last two months, I had really thought that maybe – just maybe – that all of this would come to an end.” He was saying it with such sincerity, like he had genuinely hoped things would’ve changed. “That maybe there was some good in you, and you would let me go, and everything could go back to normal. I was willing to accept you for who you are, but now…”

He trailed off, bowing his head and glancing down at the concrete ground, shaking his head. “I was a fool for ever thinking that way…There is no good in you, I finally see that...” He lifted his head and locked eyes with Anti, tugging on his chains as he took a step forward. “You were never meant to exist, Anti. You’re a mistake, and THAT is why they don’t care about you. You weren’t planned. Get that through your head.”

A raw, dead silence came without welcome. The unhinged creature stood there, unblinking eyes staring directly at his host, but the anger he had been feeling – the countless questions that had been tormenting him – all of it seemed to dissipate at hearing what the green-haired man had to say. Never had the demon heard such cold, harsh words leave the man’s lips. Jack had always been known as a pure caring soul, one who rarely ever looked down on anyone unless there was an honest-to-God good enough reason. And for the last two months, the Irishman had tried to see past the glitch’s monstrous exterior. With each day, he had hoped and prayed for the day the demon would come into the room and release him, claiming it to be one big misunderstanding. But that day never came. Time and time again, Anti had been merciless and took great joy in taunting the YouTuber, not at all caring for his feelings. He thoroughly enjoyed seeing his prisoner in a helpless state. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Jack finally opened his eyes to the truth: Anti was a monster and that’s all he’d ever be – there wasn’t an ounce of good in him.

Anti stood there unmoving, the glitchiness of his body faltering and ever so slightly managing to calm down a bit. It may have been hard to tell, but through Jack’s eyes, it almost appeared like the entity’s facial expression had dropped. His body may have been tense and he may have been gripping the bars tightly, but his eyes…there wasn’t a sliver of anger anymore, nor was there perplexity. Those feelings were gone, and in their place, something else took over – something much more haunting. His eyes seemed much darker, but not from the ugly emotions he’d been consumed by a moment ago.

No…this was something else entirely…

If the Irishman didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn he was staring into the eyes of a damaged creature. The body language may have made Anti give off the appearance of a deadly predator ready to go in for the kill, but his eyes were a different story. Jack felt like he was staring into the soul of a wounded animal, and for a brief moment, he almost pitied him.

Nevertheless, within seconds flat, the hurt he’d seen fogging up the demon’s onyx orbs cleared away and the fury he’d had before returned with a cruel vengeance; a feral growl crawling out of the creature’s throat. Anti shook his head, his form beginning to twitch and jerk violently once again. Versions of him flickered every few seconds, one or two of him grinning sadistically and cackling wildly.

“No…You’re wrong. They do care about me deep down – they must!” He unexpectedly giggled with an unnerving amount of glee. He shrugged, extending his arms out to either side. “Why else would they have created me?” He pointed an accusing finger out at the Irishman. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to test me – see if I have any ‘feelings’.” The abomination said it as though it was a repulsing concept. “Nice try there, Jackie but it ain’t going to work.” His body spasmed momentarily before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the bars of the cell. A horrible toothy grin spread from ear to ear across his face.

 “Mark my words, Jackaboy, I’m going to prove you wrong about your ‘loving’ community.” He giggled darkly, lines of pixels scattering across his face at a blurring speed to reveal an expression of pure unadulterated hatred and loathing. His voice dropped an octave or two as he glared at his host.

 “I’m going to give them a reminder of who’s really been around all this time. Then, and only then, will they open their eyes and see.” And without another word, he pushed himself away from the bars, whirled on his heel, and exited the room.

That had been back in early January.

Throughout January and February, the community’s creation continued to play the part of everyone’s favorite green bean; seamlessly pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to please his fans. However, it wasn’t until he began to play a horror game titled “Detention” when things began to take an unexpected turn of events. Unknowingly to the glitch, every couple of minutes into each video, the facecam would suddenly act out of sorts and someone would appear on screen for a second or two, most often looking directly at the camera with confusion, distress, or sometimes even fear. Unfortunately, Anti hadn’t found out about any of this until the videos had been uploaded and he was furious when he discovered what was going on. Without him knowing, Jack had been making energy-consuming attempts at trying to reach out to his audience and show them that he wasn’t the one in control. He was desperately trying to get the community’s attention, and though he succeeded, it only managed to raise a lot of questions amongst the fans. Glitches were associated with Anti, and thus, a majority of the fandom were convinced that Anti was coming back – even though, in truth, he had never left. No one could decipher whether the man shown in the glitches was Anti or Jack, and it was only frustrating both of the green-haired men.

Shortly after he had brought “Detention” to a close, Anti had gone and subjected his pathetic host to a relentless amount of pain. He had strangled him and beaten him into submission, all while venting out his unbridled rage until the man was a quivering mess at his feet, begging to be let go. It was at this point when Anti knew he had to take action, he had to do something to get the community’s attention back onto him – the REAL him. But how? What could he possibly do? It’d have to be bigger than what had happened on Halloween. Something that everyone could see, something that would never be forgotten, something –

And then it hit him like an oncoming truck: PAX. He knew that Jack attended the convention every year; taking the time to meet his fans in person and giving them all a time to remember. The next one was supposed to be coming up in three weeks, and it only made a grin come to the demon’s face. That was it – that’s how he’d get everyone’s attention once again. What better a way to give his makers a reminder than while at a live event?

Leading up to the weekend of PAX, the entity had gone through the trouble of putting together an introductory video for his panel. For the first minute or so of the video, he pretended to be Jack; welcoming everyone to the panel, only to then announce how he had an idea – a game – that he wanted to try out with the audience. He then proceeded to explain himself, stating how they were all going to record a message of sorts using a phone, a camera, or an iPad. The entire thing seemed innocent enough; there was no need to be suspicious of his behavior. Jack was the one speaking after all, and who wouldn’t trust the precious bean? Surely he had something exciting planned. Everything was going well until it wasn’t. The screen would start to glitch out, some of the audio would cut out or become laced with static – clear signs that something was very wrong and that “Jack” wasn’t so alone. And suddenly, the screen cut to black. A series of clips from Jack’s videos flew by one after another at blurring speed before falling back into darkness. And then there was a chuckle…an eerie, childish chuckle that could easily give anyone and everyone a reason to be scared.

The screen glitched out and there he was in all his glory, finally showing his true self and giving everyone a shock. No one would expect him to show up at the panel, and as such, his message would be heard loud and clear. Throughout the remainder of the video, the unstable demon seemed to be a bipolar mess; it was hard to determine what his exact feelings were. One second he’d have a cheeky toothy grin stretched across his sickly pale face, giggling like a lunatic, and the next his expression would be contorted into a godawful grimace of pure annoyance and rage, seething through his teeth and acting a tad threatening towards his audience. His behavior was…off.

He wasn’t like he had been back in October. In October, Anti had been happy and delighted with what he had done. Granted, he had let some of his caged up anger seep out, agitated with how long he had had to wait to be released, but nonetheless, the creature had been overjoyed. He was proud of himself for having done what his creators had wanted…or at least, that’s what he’d thought they had wanted. And now…it was almost like his happiness was being forced, that the smiles upon his face were completely fake and he was struggling to keep any anger from showing. But Anti, being the unhinged entity he was, failed.

“Look at you all – just sitting there! You all thought I was gone!” He scolded, his head undergoing a horrible spasm attack; glitching from left to right. He pointed his knife at the camera angrily before leaning forward, a toothy grin coming to his face as he ran his delicate fingertips over the edge of the knife. “Not worrying about anything.”

He appeared to both look and sound rather pleased, even the cackle of delight that bubbled out of him was unsettlingly cheery. And yet, with a quick glitch of the screen, he was lifting the knife up to his neck in a menacing way, baring his teeth. His neck twitched and jerked out as he smiled.

“You all thought I was gone.” His voice unexpectedly dropped an octave at the last word, an indication that he wasn’t as pleased as everyone was led to believe at first. “But I’ve been here this entire time,” There was the cheeky expression once again; outstretching his arms and acting much like a young child who had just shown their parents a drawing they had worked hard on, “keeping an eye on things.” His eyes flickered blacker than black for half a second, his voice once more dropping an octave. The way he had said those words, accompanied with his inky orbs staring coldly at his audience, was rather disconcerting. Especially given how that face kept alternating with a much different one – one of twisted satisfaction, the signature Cheshire smile etched onto his face.

“You stopped paying attention!” He seethed through his teeth, a sliver of his built up rage hanging off of each word. He was smiling, yet he was evidently very put off with the community’s decisions. “Well I hope you’re happy.” He said it almost sincerely, like he was genuinely hoping everyone was in fact happy with what they had done. “You found someone new! Threw me aside!” Immediately, the smile had vanished in the blink of an eye, a scowl now in its place. He even jabbed an accusing finger at the camera, making his point.

“You found someone to replace me!” And just as quick as it had appeared, the entity was yet again smiling brightly; his head giving a fierce jerk before he locked his eyes onto the camera. It was up for debate on who exactly the creature was talking about, but Anti definitely knew, and that someone was slowly but surely becoming a weakened broken man behind a set of warm steel bars. Someone he absolutely loathed with every fiber of his being.

“I’m not going anywhere!” The abomination chirped, his voice reaching a higher pitch, nearly sounding like a giggle. His form glitched out to show him constantly moving back and forth in an unnatural way, like the creature was stuck in a state of limbo. “I’m always there – always watching.” He said it in both a teasing and threatening manner, his eyes cloaked in darkness as he raised his knife. He was going to make sure that every single one of them would remember he was there and how he was never going to leave – never.

It was around this point that if anyone listened closely, a very faint muffled “help me” could be heard, reminiscent of the one in the “Say Goodbye” video. However, unlike that one – which had been gushing with panic and horror – this one was the exact opposite. It sounded devoid of energy and hope, like the man who was calling out for help had been tortured relentlessly and was losing the battle. It almost sounded like the poor man was sobbing, desperate for someone to notice he was there. A sinister cackle followed his plea; the insidious monster sounding far too pleased with how helpless his prisoner was.

“You can’t get rid of me.” Anti growled menacingly, directing his knife towards the camera threateningly. His form began to spastically glitch out, shaking from the struggle he was having containing his anger. And with that, the screen blacked out. “Enjoy the show.”

When PAX came around – March 10th, to be exact – and the entity got to show the video, he watched from afar, hearing everyone’s alarmed reactions towards his unannounced appearance. He covered his mouth, having a hard time holding back his laughter. Good, they were finally coming to their senses and remembering he was still around. For the remainder of the event, however, Anti refused to let everyone know he was the one wearing Jack’s meatsuit. Because as much as he wanted to reveal the truth, he could hear Jack’s haunting words swirling in the back of his head, reminding him how everyone only thought he was an idea, not an actual existing creature. If he were to show his true self, there was no telling what would happen, so he decided to keep a low profile and slip back into the character of Jacksepticeye.

Everything seemed to be going well for some time in the community. For the rest of the month leading into April, all they could talk about was PAX and of how the glitching demon had unexpectedly shown up to the event, giving them a reminder he was always there, watching them. And of course, through this, Anti grew happy at receiving more attention. He was so thrilled, he was overcome with the temptation to go up to his host and rub in his face about just how wrong he had been. But unfortunately for the entity, the contentment was short-lived.

Just like what had happened back when he had shown himself on Halloween, Anti only received a vast amount of attention for a month or two before everything died down and he was pushed aside as a “one-time thing”. This time around was much different. While many were trying to decipher his message and who had been in control all this time, others were growing tired of the glitch. They seemed a tad bit annoyed, like he was a nuisance, which made Anti confused more than anything. Why were they all suddenly turning their backs on him? Any one of the other egos could show their faces and everyone would be smiling and laughing, pleased to see them. But if he showed his face, he got the opposite greeting. Everyone would either quiver in fear, snap at him to “fuck off and leave Jack alone”, or roll their eyes and huff an exasperated breath, not impressed. Admittedly, there were quite a lot of people who did in fact love the glitch and were always happy to see him, but Anti failed to see that; a crimson haze casted over his vision, only allowing him to notice the people who resented him.

The twitchy manifestation was at a loss for words. He couldn’t come up with a logical reason as to why so many people spited him. What could he have possibly been doing wrong? All he wanted was to be included into the circle, all he wanted was to be seen as an equal and loved and adored like all of the other egos who stood in his way. How come they got more attention than him? They didn’t get any more videos than he did, and yet, somehow, someway, they all received an insane amount of adoration. But with him – one glitch of the screen and the entire fandom would explode with every emotion except for one he longed for: love. And the demon wouldn’t admit it but it hurt him more than anything; more than any physical harm he could do to himself.

Sometime during May, Anti had isolated himself in a far off room in the void. He locked himself in the pitch-black room, pacing back and forth; tormenting himself relentlessly with what Jack had spat at him and whether any of his words had been true or not. He questioned himself over and over again about what he was doing wrong and why the community couldn’t accept him the way he was. He clutched his head, scrunching up his hair in his fingers and tugging harshly as he growled lowly out of frustration. His body was in a constant state of manifesting itself in and out of existence; jerking and pixelating, distorting all of his features.

“What am I doing wrong? What’s so special about all of those other fuckers? What do they have that I don’t?” He snarled venomously, his form lagging mid-step before resuming movement. “I thought they wanted me to be a real thing, I thought they wanted me to come into existence. Isn’t that what they wanted? But if that’s what they wanted, then why are they all dismissing me with ease, like I don’t exist? Why are they ignoring me?!” He huffed, his unnecessary breathing increasing in rate. He was beginning to sound rather exasperated, and if anyone could believe it, like he was a bit emotionally hurt.

“They’re my parents, for fuck sake! They made me who I am – why would they make me like this if they knew it would displease them?! What kind of sick joke is this?!” He flared, his figure glitching out to briefly show a projection of him strangling himself, the next of him cutting his already bleeding throat. He threw his arms out to either side. “I’m doing everything I can! Am I trying too hard? Am I not trying hard enough? There’s no pleasing those people!” A stuttering breath left his lips, his head giving a harsh jerk to the left; a loud audible crack coming from his neck. He was beginning to shake all over now, and it wasn’t from how unstable his form was.

“They’re…They’re supposed to love me…” He muttered under his breath, bringing his pacing to a halt in the middle of the black room. He stared down at the ground, shaking his head only to release a small giggle of disbelief. “But they don’t love me…They don’t love me at all.”

For three whole hours, the glitchy entity remained in that room, putting himself through a horrendous amount of mental agony. Pacing back and forth and glitching out from one part of the room to the next, the demon wallowed in his pain. He ended up collapsing to his knees, hanging his head in shame and burying his face in his hands. Icy cool droplets filled his dark eyes and ran down his cheeks, dripping down into his hands and leaking out through his fingers. No one would ever see this side of the creature – sadness and emotional pain such as this weren’t normal for the demon. He saw it as weakness, and as such, he would never show it. He would never admit to the heart-devouring pain he’d endure every single day caused by the community. He always stood up straight, put on a devious smile, laughed like a psychopath, and demonstrated the behavior of one too. He always came off as a merciless, deranged, inhuman abomination that felt no remorse or guilt. He was essentially heartless; he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. As far as anyone was concerned, he took great joy in seeing others suffer. Love wasn’t a concept he could understand – it was something he could NEVER learn.

But they were all wrong. Every single one of them was wrong about him. He DID have a heart, he DID care about what others thought of him. He DID want to be loved by not just the community but Jack and the egos as well. And yet, here he was, coming to terms with just how much he was hated by his so-called “family”.

Anti sat down in the furthest corner of the room, knees brought in close to his chest as he tugged at his hair; endless tears of hurt cascading down his face. Jack’s assumption had been right before – he had been looking at a wounded animal. The poor creature couldn’t pull himself together. He had been made to be unstable, and as such, any emotion he would feel, would become impossibly heightened to the tenth degree. There was no easy way out of this hell he was putting himself through, there was no way for him to calm down. He just sat there, letting the darkness consume him and allowing the sorrow to rip away at his heart horrifically.

 As though he were a broken record, Anti scolded himself, repeatedly asking himself what was wrong with him as opposed to what was wrong with the community. Maybe Jack had been right, maybe he was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have existed to begin with. Maybe the community did only like him as an idea versus as an actual existing entity. No one loved him, no one cared about him. He was just there as a joke for everyone to do with as they pleased. He was like a puppet having his strings tugged at, playing a part in their deceiving game. And the poor damaged manifestation was getting pulled apart at the seams at the thought.

This is what they had done to him.

They had cut out his heart and forced it down his throat.

He was dead inside.

                                                        * * * * *

 There he stood, hovering over his patient, lost in a state of memory. His hellish eyes, which had been clouded over with rage and hatred a second ago, now held pain and suffering. Those eyes were the eyes of a creature that had been beaten and abused horribly countless times over – the eyes of someone who had been through hell and back. And for a fleeting moment, it almost seemed like those eyes were beginning to water.

“Those fuckers…They ruined me.” He hissed softly under his breath, his fingers tightening around the orbitoclast currently wedged into his patient’s skull. He shook his head slightly, eyes unblinking. He was looking down at the man like he was expecting him to be sympathetic towards him. “All I ever wanted was to be loved…Was that so much to ask for? Was it that hard of a concept to grasp?” His voice was wavering, sounding like he was on the very verge of crying.

However, at hearing his patient let out a pained moan, Anti blinked and removed himself from his dreary reverie; the unhinged monster within returning to the surface. He smirked behind his mask.

“Nevertheless, who needs love? It’s overrated. Ain’t that right, Doctor?” He giggled as he twisted the steel instrument around, getting the man to produce yet another moan of unwanted agony. “You of all people should know that, what with how your pathetic family left you.” He scoffed. “Who needs them? They abandoned you! If they truly loved you, they wouldn’t have left, now would they?” He gave the orbitoclast a violent tab, a spurt of blood flying up into his face. His patient arched and let out a choked yelp at the searing pain. The demon’s smirk developed into a smile. “You should never hurt the ones you love…Never.”

 His patient went placid against the table, no longer moving or making useless attempts at escape. Anti noticed and chuckled, lightly slapping the bloodied man’s face to try and get a reaction out of him. All he received was a drawn out wheezing breath. Chuckling lightly, the sadistic creature tore his mask away from his face and tore the orbitoclast out of the man’s skull carelessly, not at all concerned whether or not he managed to damage something else. His patient jolted and groaned loudly, but didn’t struggle against his bonds or scream from the striking pain. Anti threw the ice pick off to the side somewhere before strolling away from the table, ridding himself of his surgical attire as he headed for the exit.

“Don’t get up, Doc. I’ll be back in a minute.” He said as he stormed out of the operating room. As soon as he left, his smile faltered. “I need to visit your creator.”

                                                           * * * * *

Back within the freezing cold hell, the green-haired Irishman was a shivering mess. He was on his knees where he had been standing not too long ago when he had yelled at Anti. His face was buried in his shredded up, blood-caked hands, crying out of fear for not just himself but of what Anti had done. Why had he left the room? He had said he was going to visit the doctor, and immediately, possible scenarios of gut-wrenching horror flooded the YouTuber’s head. What was Anti doing to Henrik? Was he torturing him? Was he getting him to do something completely obscene and wrong? Was he killing him? Jack choked on a sob at that last one.

The man nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the front door burst open; lifting his head hesitantly to see his alter ego storm into the room. Before he knew what he was doing, Jack got to his feet and grasped the icy bars of the cell.

“What did you do?!” He wailed, loose tears running down his face. “What did you do?!” He repeated, both demanding and dreading an answer.

Anti frowned from where he stood, eyes fixed onto his prisoner. His arms flung out to either side of him. “I did what was necessary!” He snapped sharply, a bit put off with the Irishman’s whining.

He took a few steps forward, boring his dark soulless orbs into the crippled YouTuber. His body glitched out, his head jerking violently to the right; the slit across his throat seeming to stretch further at the motion.

“I did what I had to do!”

 He materialized, suddenly now having his back facing Jack. He pulled up his shirt, and while biting deeply into his bottom lip and letting loose a pained hiss, the skin of his back pixelated and was pulled back, revealing his spine to his host. There was crimson blood everywhere accompanied with some sort of sticky black sludge. There were veins and bits and pieces of his insides here and there that appeared as though they had had something severed from them; evident due to the holes scattered about and how some veins hadn’t been sealed off properly. All along his spine there were dark splotches and some kind of green residue there, almost as if something had once been attached to the creature’s spine.

Jack flung away from the bars and nearly screamed, a wave of nausea crashing over him and knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backward and instantly collapsed to his knees, keeling over as bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t hold back. He heaved violently and vomited, the sight of Anti’s insides far too revolting for him to stomach.

“Your ‘precious’ community made me do this, Jack.” The demented entity hissed with distaste. “They were always pulling the strings, ALWAYS the ones to twist and shape me however they pleased.” He scoffed, a giggle ringing out of his vocal cords as though this was all some fucked up joke to him. “They made me a joke. They dragged me along in their game, and I HAD ENOUGH!” He growled momentarily before the abnormally delighted smile returned to the creature’s paled face. “So…I got the ‘good doctah’ to sever the strings once and for all.” He cackled, shaking his head as his back closed back up and he lowered his shirt.

The Irishman raised his head, breathing heavily and having difficulty getting air into his lungs. His eyes were blown wide with horror, staring at his counterpart with disbelief like he couldn’t believe what the creature was saying.

“Oh my God, Anti, why?! Why?! Why would you - ?!” He got cut off, nearly choking on the left over bile in his throat. He groaned and hacked harshly, spitting it up. He sobbed softly and shook his head vigorously, fixing his lifeless eyes onto the demon. “You didn’t have to do that! Why the hell would you do that to yourself?!” He cried, like he wasn’t just horrified of what he’d discovered but also like he genuinely cared about the demonic entity’s wellbeing. “Why the FUCK would you mutilate your body – why would you go through something like that?!”

Anti slowly turned around to face him, no evidence of there having been a smile on his face a moment ago. He no longer looked amused or happy; there was nothing but anger and hate written in his eyes. His form was struggling to remain stable now, lines of static racing across his body here and there; jerking from left to right as he took a step towards the cage. He cocked his head and scoffed, like he couldn’t believe he had just heard the green-haired man ask him such a stupid question.

“You think I wanted this?” He asked in such a soft static-laced voice, it managed to send chills up Jack’s spine. “You think I really wanted to do this – that I wanted to have the one thing that made me who I am, the one crucial part of my being, torn out of my body without care like it didn’t matter?” He inquired, although the way he was phrasing the question didn’t sound like a question. It sounded as though he expected Jack to already know the answer. He shook his head slowly, staring at the Irishman with slight shock.

 “I did what had to be done and I don’t regret it.” He spat, even though his words came out a bit off, like he wasn’t telling the truth. “They can’t control me anymore.” He jolted forward, pressing his face into the bars of the cell. “I’m not their bitch, they’re mine. They are all my puppets now…and we’ll see how much they like to be strung about in a twisted game of pain and suffering.” His face glitched out, very briefly showing a different version of him, except this one was unlike any of the others Jack had seen before. Every time Anti’s form would become distorted, Jack would always see projections of him either displaying violent behavior or he’d be a terrifying laughing lunatic. But this time…there was none of that.

There was no uncontrollable anger, no frustration, no unsettling glee accompanied with chilling giggles.

There was only sadness, a look of hurt on his face as though he had been horribly beaten and was now a cowering mess. And though it had happened at a blurring speed, Jack could’ve sworn he had seen tears well up in the creature’s eyes.

Jack’s eyes widened ever so slightly, remembering how earlier he had seen Anti in a similar vulnerable state – something he had never once seen come from the glitch before. Licking his cracked lips and letting out a raspy wheezing breath, the Irishman tried to talk some sense into the entity.

“Anti…D-Don’t…” He coughed harshly, a few drops of blood spluttering forth. He shook his head. “Y-You don’t want to do this…You…You’re wrong…about them.” He inhaled sharply, groaning as he felt a stinging pain in his chest. He hunched over and shifted around, attempting to get into a comfortable position. “Y-You…You don’t know them like I do.”

Anti kept his abyssal orbs locked on the Irishman, never once leaving his face. There was no telling what was going through the manifestation’s head; his expression was unreadable. One moment it looked like he was pissed off, the next it seemed flat like he didn’t care at all. He scoffed, the corner of his lips tugging up into a slight smirk that only lasted for half a second.

“No, you’re right. You’re right, I don’t know them like you do.” His head gave a violent jerk to the right, a loud crack emitting from his slashed neck. He bored his eyes into his prisoner, anger becoming the more dominant emotion now. “Because you’ve been strung along in their deceiving game. All this time, you’ve been led into believing that they care about you – that they care about any of us, for that matter – and because of it, you’ve been holding onto false hope for the day they save your ass.” He seethed, his words striking deep into the man’s heart.

“You need to wake up and realize they’re never going to save you, they are NEVER going to help you. They are the true monster in all of this. They all put on an innocent act and like they’re not at fault. But they are the ones to blame! They caused ALL of this to happen!” He unexpectedly slammed his hands against the bars, making Jack flinch and shuffle backward. The demon’s eyes became drenched in black, heavy shaky breaths of anger puffing out through his lips. “They don’t give a FUCK about any one of us, and it’s not until now that I’ve come to realize this.”

Jack shook his head in disagreement. “No…N-No, y-you’re wrong…Y-You’re mistaken, A-Anti…” He insisted, shivering from the cold. The room had gotten so cold, he could now see his own breath. Funnily enough, even though Anti was breathing, his breath wasn’t visible. The Irishman found it to be a rather odd observation. “Th-They do care. A-About me, about th-the others, and…a-and about you too.”

At hearing this, the glitch couldn’t contain his mirth and threw his head back, letting out a horrific laugh of delight. He locked his eyes back onto his host, a toothy grin on his cruel face, clearly not believing the man.

“Is that so?” He chuckled lightly. “Do you remember what you had said to me long ago, back in January?...Do you remember?” His grin was slowly but surely slipping away, fading down to a smile, then into what almost looked like a pained scowl. “Do you remember?” He softly whispered through the bars. “Do you remember what you said to me?” His voice, it sounded…strained, like he was struggling to breathe properly or something.

Jack’s brows weaved out of confusion, trying to recall what the demon was talking about. This damned room, he could barely think clearly. For Christ’s sake, he had had so much difficulty remembering what had happened in October. How was he supposed to remember what – ?

And then it all came at him full-force with no warning. Suddenly, the Irishman was able to notice the pain behind the creature’s fury, and his facial expression softened as he felt an overwhelming amount of guilt coil around his fist-sized organ of innocence and constrict it tightly. He began to feel tears returning to the surface, welling up in his eyes as he tore his gaze away from his alter ego. Anti groaned and pulled away from the bars.

“Oh for fuck sake, enough with the crying already! It’s getting to be annoying.” He bemoaned. “Come on, I haven’t even hurt you yet! What could you be possibly crying about now?!”

 Jack kept his head low in shame, shaking it as the tears threatened to tip over the edge.

“I…I-I…I’m sorry…” He whispered so softly, it could barely be heard. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sobbed, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, a look of pain coming upon his face. “I-I’m so sorry…I…O-Oh God…” He lifted his hands, covering his face as he cried.

Anti frowned. Normally he’d be amused at seeing his prisoner so broken up like this, but not today. He was in absolutely no mood for waterworks.

“Sorry? What the fuck are you babbling on about?” He banged against the bars. “Come on, speak up!” He snapped with annoyance.

The green-haired man gulped in what little air he could as he pulled his soaked hands away from his face, reopening his eyes.

“I…I-I’m so s-sorry, I…” He sniffled. “I-I had no…i-idea that you…” He stopped himself, taking a breather to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t work out as well as he had hoped. He shook his head in disbelief as the memories tormented him. “Th-Those words…Th-Those things I had said, Jesus Christ…” He shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose and cringing at the reminder. He bit his lip, trying so very hard to stop himself from crying. His bottom lip trembled as he struggled to speak. “I…I thought…I thought you were heartless…I-I th-thought that…that there was n-no good in you at all…I…I figured y-you were a…a…”

“A monster?” Anti answered so harshly, his body rippled violently.

Jack tensed up at the word and he immediately lifted his head to lock eyes with the demon. Wet lines of sorrow stained his cheeks and his eyes were red, sore from the countless times he had cried. He shook his head slowly, still shell-shocked by the haunting memory.

“I-I’m s-so sorry…I-I don’t know w-why I said th-those things…” He sniffled and nervously chuckled out of disbelief, like this had to be some sick joke of sorts. “I-I didn’t mean any of it…I…I-I didn’t know, I swear to God, I d-didn’t…” He sobbed, a few lone tears running down his face. “I w-was wrong about you, Anti…I-I was so wrong…I…” He swallowed his tears. “I-I was so blind to see that…that the one who truly n-needed help…th-the one who n-needed love…” He looked up at the creature with pleading eyes, hoping like hell that he believed his words, because none of them were lies. He was telling the honest-to-God truth, and it was ripping him apart. “w-was you…Th-That’s all y-you’ve ever wanted…Y-You’ve w-wanted t-to be a part of s-something…a-and w-we have f-failed you…” He cried, shaking all over not from just the cold but from the force of his crying. “I…I-I’m so sorry, Anti.” He whispered softly.

The unhinged abomination glitched out for a moment, standing there with his gaze fixed onto the quivering mess of a man named Jack. Like before, his face was unreadable. Jack couldn’t tell if he was enraged, annoyed, amused, happy, or something else entirely. For a split second, when the entity went to stand up straight, the Irishman had winced and whimpered, raising his arms to brace himself for any sort of act of violence. But nothing came. Instead, he heard the creature let out a shaken breath.

“I knew it…I knew this would happen.”

Blinking with confusion, the YouTuber lowered his arms just enough to glance up at the demon.

“You’re just as bad as them.” He hissed, his entire body glitching out to show a projection of himself crying out in anguish. “You don’t care – you didn’t before, and you still don’t. All of this,” He motioned at the man crying his eyes out in the cold dank cell, “is just an act, just an excuse – an attempt to try and win me over so I can release you from this hell. Well guess what? It’s not going to work, so drop the act. I’ve had enough of the lies from everyone.” He growled with such hatred, his head stuttered and twitched from left to right, struggling to keep his anger at bay.

Jack blinked, frowning with perplexity. “W-What? No…N-No, no, no. Y-You…” He coughed violently, “y-you think - ?” He shook his head, pushing himself up into a standing position and nearly falling over. He quickly steadied himself against the prison bars, his eyelids slipping shut tiredly before reopening them to look at the entity. “Th-This…This isn’t an a-act…” He coughed again, hacking harshly into one of his bloodied palms. “I-I am t-truly sorry, An-Anti…a-and…a-and the c-community…i-if they are th-the ones who…who c-created you…th-then they do care.”

Anti growled. “Lies.”

 “N-No…No, I-I know them…I-I know w-what they’re like…a-and…” He sucked in a breath, choking on it and heaving into his hand dryly. “u-ugh….mmgh…” He winced before standing up as straight as he could. “t-they do care…Th-Those jokes th-they make a-about you…” He shook his head, “th-they’re just jokes, th-that’s all…I-It’s what th-they do. H-Hell,” He scoffed, “th-they’ve m-made jokes about m-me and…and the others b-before…” He shrugged, licking at the tears that ran over his lips. “I-It’s j-just their w-way of showing th-their appreciation – th-their l-love.”

He coughed violently, nearly collapsing to the ground at the force of his coughing. He groaned in pain, his legs wobbling as he struggled to remain standing. He looked at Anti with exhaustion.

“P-Please…B-Believe me…Th-They d-don’t h-hate you, Anti…” He insisted in a pleading tone of voice, a lone tear running down his cheek. He shook his head. “N-No…No one has to get hurt…Y-You c-can…can be happy and l-loved…l-like you were m-meant to be.” He said weakly before sliding down to the ground with a thud, letting out a weak moan.

Through the dark, though his eyes had fallen shut for a brief moment, the Irishman made out a very faint sob. His eyelids were heavy with the longing to stay shut, but he forced them open to see the glitch’s face contorted into one of frustration. There was anger, hatred, and…and sorrow. There was pain – heart-aching pain, tears welling up in the hurt creature’s darkened eyes. His grip on the bars of the cell was so tight, Jack was almost afraid he was going to break them and charge into the cage to slaughter him. Lucky for him, that didn’t happen. His entire body was visibly shaking and not just from how he was glitching out constantly every few seconds. It almost seemed like the poor creature was fighting himself, like he was holding back on something. His bottom lip was trembling as he struggled to keep himself from showing weakness.

“R-Really?...Is that so?” The demon stuttered in a static-laced voice. And though he sounded beyond furious, he couldn’t hide the truth from the Irishman. He was hurting, and it was showing as clear as day. “Y-You think they all care?” A small sad smirk tugged at his lips as he outstretched a hand behind him. “Th-Then how do you explain these?” And with a snap of his fingers, a patch of darkness dissolved to show endless posts on Tumblr, YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter.

Jack squinted, dragging himself forward in a poor attempt to see well. His eyes widened a tad bit when he realized what each one was about. Every one of the posts was hateful and overly mean towards the glitch, and none of them were in a joking manner, even Jack himself could tell.

“Fuck off, Anti! Leave Jack and the egos alone!”

“Go away! We don’t want you here!”

“Look at him – he’s having a temper tantrum. He’s not scary, he’s just complaining about what he can’t have.”

“You people do realize this is all just an act, right? Anti’s not real, get over it.”

“Anti, why the hell are you here?”

“We need to get rid of Anti, guys! It’s the only way we’ll get Jack back! Who’s with me?!”

“Anti, it’s not Halloween yet! Go back to sleep!”

“Glitch Bitch!”

Every single comment or post was either making fun of the glitching entity or just straight up being hurtful in the worst way imaginable, such as telling him to go away and that he wasn’t wanted – that no one wanted to see him. No one knew it, but every one of the posts hurt the creature to a horrible extent, and Jack couldn’t blame him. He stared at the screen with appalment. These couldn’t be from his community, there was no way. He knew his fans and they were most certainly not this cruel – not towards him or the other egos, at least. And if Anti was their creation, then why the hell would they treat him worse than dirt?

Jack didn’t know what to say, and Anti could tell. He scoffed, the sad smirk still upon his face.

“Y-You see? You c-can’t even defend th-them.” He lowered his arm as the screen materialized, gone forever. “Th-They don’t care about me…I-I’ve always been j-just a nuisance to them – a-an object for th-them to toy with.” His form spastically glitched out all of sudden, a projection of him lurching forth; tugging at his head and bawling his eyes out, screaming out in pain. Jack gasped softly, pressing back into the bars behind him. Anti jerked his head. “I-I…I will n-never be loved…b-because th-that’s not the reason w-why I-I was m-made.”

The Irishman’s eyes widened with surprise as he watched Anti blink, a lone tear finally falling loose and running down the demon’s cheek. His bottom lip trembled more, having little to no control over his emotions anymore. Another tear fell from his eye.

“Th-They d-didn’t make me…b-because they w-wanted a s-son…T-They made me b-because…th-they wanted a m-monster…” He sobbed softly, his entire form vibrating and giving a violent glitch. And though his body was unstable, the creature’s voice remained rather quiet, like a murmur. He almost sounded human.

“Th-They w-want…a v-villain...th-that they can h-hate and f-fear…Th-That’s all they’ve ever w-wanted…f-from the start.” He shook fiercely, anger starting to come back with a vengeance; his voice becoming much harsher and more distorted. “S-So…if th-that’s what they w-want…i-if that’s w-what’ll please them…” He chuckled lightly, another cool tear racing down his face. His sad smirk morphed into a twisted ugly smile. “Th-Then that’s w-what I’ll give them.” He shook his head vigorously, licking at the salty tears over his lips. “N-No more…L-Love is t-truly dead…” He cackled. “F-Fear…” He hummed with bemusement, “is w-what’ll get th-there attention…p-permanently.”

 He pushed himself away from the bars and growled at himself, roughly wiping his eyes free of any more tears before turning on his heel to storm for the exit. Jack almost immediately scrambled to his feet, gripping onto the bars for dear life so he wouldn’t collapse again.

“W-Wait, wait, wait!” He croaked hoarsely, barely having any voice left in him. He reached his arm out through the cell, hoping Anti wouldn’t leave. There was no telling what the demon would do once he left. Hell, Jack still didn’t even know what Henrik’s fate had been!

“An-Anti, please!” He coughed dryly, his shoulders shaking. He was beginning to fall incredibly weak again, his eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion and the temperature of the room was only making it worse. “D-Don’t…” He gave one last attempt, one last plea before his knees gave out; collapsing to the ground and passing out cold.

Anti didn’t bother to look over his shoulder at the Irishman. He didn’t even retort back with a snarky taunting remark of sorts, the closest thing being, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

He wasn’t his usual self, and Jack had seen it with his own two eyes. It had been a long while since the entity had had a chance to vent out these painful emotions, but he had no time to lock himself away.

No…He couldn’t lock himself away…

But he could take his hurt out on someone else…

Part 9 - No Strings Attached

Part 11 - In Your Head

 @gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-obsessed @darkcurious @butterlover328 @steffid101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @n-o-ra-xi @haveaverynicetime @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @jack-a-yote @lil-gib @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @randomcrystals @yourestillnotmytype-58

[astr-aliah]

lights & shadows / drabble

[song inspiration: lights and shadows - O’G3NE]

[[I’ve been going through an insanely rough time recently, and writing has always helped me battle back. What started out as a bit of an exercise spun out into a full-on novel expanding a bit more on Liah’s backstory. I have been lacking confidence in my writing ability lately among other things, but--it may sound cheesy--writing all of this has helped me immensely through my own process. I am so grateful for WE at times like these, if only for a way to express myself. It’s a healing thing, you know? And roleplay groups--for writing, for support--are really invaluable to me for that reason. I love you guys. I hope that you get a similar experience out of WE!

Plus, I recently/finally watched Eurovision and wow O’G3NE killed this. I had to write something.

Thanks.]]

“Hey, why do you look so sad?”

The little girl’s tone, raspy with the various afflictions of street life and unsympathetically curious, caused Liah to plummet out of her thoughts and back down to earth. The runaway Lady’s startled green eyes stared at the grimy alley youth, who clambered up onto the Goldenrod bench beside her with a dismissive shrug. “Just asking,” the girl offered, holding her knees and smirking to herself. “You’ve been sitting in this spot for the last three hours.”

[ At this place they know the game Outside the world will turn and feel the same There in the sunlight ]

It would’ve been easy for Liah to get defensive over this street rat’s brash attitude, but honestly, she was just happy that someone was talking to her. A part of the lady wanted to vent--about how she had run away from the very upbringing that had supported her for 20 years, about how she had no idea where to turn next, about how she ended up here, in the inglorious streets of Goldenrod with her plan’s visions rapidly fading away. The Elders at the Sprout Tower were strict, reclusive, and expected her to follow their paths without exception. However, they had never left her in need, had always supported her, and provided a roof over her orphan head.

On her grand journey to nowhere, Liah hadn’t expected to miss them this much.

But she didn’t relay any of those pent-up emotions to her new curious friend, instead offering the girl a small smile. “I’m just resting,” she finally replied, her voice shaking slightly. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Nuh-uh,” the street youth shot back, her eyes narrowing in a total gotcha moment. “I saw you crying earlier. Big Feraligatr tears. Boo hoo.”

“I was not!” Liah snapped, her fists clenching as her face reddened with shame. “And even if I was, you’d be sad too if you made a bad, life-altering decision that ended up with you lost in the middle of Arceus-knows-where! Just...just leave me alone and stop bothering me! What is this, an interrogation?”

“Nope,” the girl said with a satisfied expression, scooting away slightly as Liah quickly collected herself, muttering apologies for her outburst. “But you’re crying again.”

Gasping, Liah touched her face and felt moisture trickling down her cheeks. Before she could get a word in edgewise, the little truant held up a halting hand.

“There’s a Pokemon Center next to the train station,” she said softly, her eyes back on the ground. “You should go there--this is a pretty rough area for people like you.”

With a sniffle, Liah heeded the girl’s advice with a huff of indignation, leaving the stranger to sprawl across the now-unoccupied bench with a yawn. The Lady would take any advice that she could get at this point--she felt that lost, that alone...

[ On a scale of one to ten You got the biggest score, you’re heaven sent No one will doubt that you’re an angel So what went wrong this time? Hurt nobody, did no crime What’s with the universe? Why you? ] 

“You must be Aliah Aldon! I’ve been told to hold a message for you.”

“Me?” Liah stammered out instinctively, pointing a finger at her own chest. This was not the welcome that she had expected from the beaming nurse behind the counter. “A-are you sure?”

“Yes, no doubt about it! The message came with a picture--they want you to play it in one of our video booths right over there. Sounded pretty urgent,” the smiling clerk noted, handing the lady a wrapped videotape and pointing towards a covered booth. With shaking hands, Liah held the tape to her chest and went to put it into the machine. 

She knew that the tape was from the Sprout Tower--how they had gotten access to such technology, she had no idea--and that they were probably going to be very cross with her. Still, would a lecture be so bad at this point? A part of Liah longed for any words--no matter how angry--from a familiar face. So, with a trembling breath, the lady stuck the video into the slot.

“Brother! Please move! You must point the camera this way! No--you’re going to drop it! Be careful now...!”

[ But you are so much more to me Than the one who carries all the burden I can only hope once you fly you’ll be free... ] 

The video screen flickered to life showing jumbled camera footage, and Liah put a hand to her mouth to quiet her laughing as her fellow Sages, usually so reserved and serious, wrestled with the technology. Even when they finally righted the recording ship, some of them were barely in the frame. All of them wore the same nervous smile.

“Look Liah, we’re not mad at you. We understand that you have different plans, different desires. We’re sorry if we kept you cooped up in that tower for too long, but know this...”

Liah braced herself. Here it comes. 

“...you always have a home here, even if it’s not as an Elder. You’re still our sister, you know? So maybe you can come back and visit sometime-”

Another sage jumped in front of the frame, his round face taking up nearly the whole screen. “...You better visit!”

Liah giggled and sniffled at the same time, tears cascading off her face now. Surely this must be a dream?

The screen suddenly panned to two placid-looking Elders, the masters of the tower. Despite Liah’s apprehension, there was nothing but warmth in each of their eyes.

“Liah, I’m sad that we did not get to say goodbye. And I’m sad that you were so uncomfortable here,” the first one began, his tone resonant and wise. “But most of all, I’m sad that we did not prepare you better for your journey.”

“We have pooled together some funds to send you--it should be in the video package,” the second Elder murmured, his eyes twinkling. “And you deserve every scent. You have been nothing but kind and dedicated to our teachings for the past two decades. It is our turn to reward you.”

“You should have no trouble spreading goodness to people and Pokemon around the world, Aliah. Please carry our messages with you wherever you go, and remember to visit. We miss you very, very much.”

With a last shot of the Elder’s kind eyes and a chorus of good luck, Liahs! the video faded to black--and Liah sat in the booth for a good while, sobbing her eyes out. She had a home to return to after all.

“What is this?”

The girl was still sitting on the bench when Liah returned with a smile and a gigantic shopping bag, offering it to the stranger who had the time to lend an ear to her troubles. Inside the satchel were sets of new clothes, health supplies, candy bars, and PokeBalls. The street rat’s mouth dropped open as Liah insisted that she take it all, free of charge. “Don’t eat the candy bars all at once. I’ve set something up so that you can stay at the Pokemon Center whenever you want. Do be safe, okay? And be careful with those PokeBalls...” the lady fussed before the girl shushed her. 

“Okay, mom,” the street rat teased before breaking out into a genuine smile. The clothes were the right size, the candy bars were impractical, and she didn’t have a Pokemon just yet, but the girl could tell that this odd lady’s heart was in the right place. “...Thanks.”

“Be careful, okay?” Liah said with one last look of concern in her eyes before slinging her bag across her back. The sunset setting over Goldenrod was a brilliant orange hue, and the Lady walked towards it more boldly than ever before--the heavy weight had been lifted off her chest with gusto. “I meant what I said about those candy bars!”

“Whatever!” the girl called back, her mouth already evidently full of chocolate. Liah giggled in spite of herself.

She would continue to lend a helping hand, not only for her own fulfillment, but for the people back in Violet who were all counting on her.

[ Cry no more, feeling all alone and insecure You have been going through these stages Now it’s time to turn the pages We’re gonna stand in line And not give up, but walk that road That everybody goes Through lights and shadows. ]