#had a small manic moment and cut my hair a tad

[wingsmadeforflying]

Achievement Unlocked: Recognizing myself in the mirror and feeling happy!

[liamloveslarry]

so the lovely holly @nympholouis kindly gave me a prompt idea to write in that harry and louis meet at a modern day art exhibition where there is no talking allowed, but there is a lot of eyebrow wiggling and finger pointing going on. 

i tried my best to come up with something so if you want to read it, it’s just under the cut! :)

Harry sighed quietly through his nose as he tapped his foot a little brokenly against the hard polished floor. 

Liam had planned for them to attend him the local art museum that had been advertising a new exhibition for weeks, something about wanting to be more cultured and ‘take it all in’; to be honest Harry thinks it’s just a ploy for Liam to chat up the receptionist that he met on a night out a few weeks ago.

He checked his watch one more time and saw it was nearing 1 o’clock, nearly time for the exhibition to start. He’d had it explained to him that it was one of those shows where you couldn’t talk, and instead you were led around the exhibition as the guide spoke about which piece of art you’d stopped in front of. 

A soft buzzing ejected him from his thoughts and he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, seeing there was a new message from Liam.

Liam: Sorry mate!!!! WON’T be able to come, sumfin just happened last minute so gonna have to cancel! Lol enjoy anyway! Maybe you’ll meet someone there ;)

He rolled his eyes and placed his phone back into his pocket. Great, he thought, so not only could he not he speak, he was now on his own.

It’s not that he didn’t particularly enjoy art, or attending galleries and museums, it’s just that he was planning on having a lazy Saturday to himself, chomping on cheesy snacks and catching up on his shows. So the fact that the person who originally wanted to come here, now wasn’t even turning up, annoyed him a tad, but he knows Liam wouldn’t cancel for the sake of it, so it must be something important.

It’s not like he can leave either, the tickets had cost them thirty quid each, thirty quid he could’ve spent on shitty snacks and wine, he thought, so he’s not going to waste it now by leaving.

He could see people starting to gather out the corner of his eye, murmuring quietly amongst themselves before the guide had told them to politely shut up. 

Harry’s eyes bugged a little as she shuffled over, joining the small group but straying to the back.

It was about ten minutes into the exhibition when the guide had stopped them in front of one of the pieces, Harry had looked up from where he was staring at the man in front’s shoe, which had a piece of tissue stuck underneath and snorted. 

The guide’s sharp eyebrows twitched as she glared through her pointy glasses and huffed under her breath, before carrying on with her sentence.

Harry pulled his lips in and tried not to laugh as he stared at what one could only assume as two people fucking. It wasn’t that it was necessarily sex, it was the fact that the artist had tried to depict the beautiful imagery of two people so passionate about one another, and whether intentional or not, had made the man’s penis entirely too big and the woman’s breasts nipple-less. He was confused as to whether there was a deeper meaning, and he’d probably get his answer if he listened to the snooty guide, but instead a sharp cough made his eyes flick over to where a man was standing, pulling the same face Harry was.

He was dressed in a soft grey sweatshirt and light wash jeans that tapered off just above his ankles, stark white trainers gleaming against the mahogany floor. 

Harry flushed a little as his eyes met his, and the man smirked, nodding his head towards the art piece and wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry tried to hold in a laugh but a tiny chuckle squeaked through his lips, so he placed his hand over his mouth and looked at the floor. 

When he looked back up the man wasn’t watching him anymore, but there was a small smile gracing his lips.

As the group wandered through the museum, and the guide’s voice droned over them like an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t stop, the only part that made this whole thing bearable was that Harry and the nameless man had begun to communicate with their hands and certain facial expressions. 

Throughout the tour, Harry would pretend to fall asleep, eyes rolling back into his head and mouth opening just a little as if to imitate a snore, making the other man laugh quietly, fist closing over his mouth. The man would often in return, slyly point at their guide discreetly and copy what she was doing, pinching his lips as if he’d sucked on a lemon and use his fingers as a mouth, opening and closing them as she spoke, making Harry grin something manic.

Muted giggles and soundless laughter accompanied by scrunched eyes and red cheeks filled the hours, making it seem like it was just the two of them alone together in the room, until a rather rotund woman standing next to Harry sneezed so loud it made him jump. All of a sudden, the colours and lights and pictures flooded Harry’s vision, snapping him back to reality and making him realise, that no, it wasn’t just the two of them, and now there was substance staining Harry’s jacket while the woman profusely apologised and dabbed him with a tissue. Harry had glared and let himself be somewhat manhandled as the man who’d been making Harry giggle under his breath for the past hour shielded his mouth with his palm and pretended not to laugh.

The shake in his shoulders was a dead giveaway though.

-

After stumbling across a particularly phallic shaped object that stood proudly in the centre of the room, coated in white, its florescent shine twinkling underneath the soft spotlights, the man captured Harry’s eyes as he lifted one of his eyebrows and raised a fist to his right cheek, pumping his tongue to the side of the other, imitating a rather sexual gesture. 

Harry blushed and tried to contain a laugh by biting his lip, his fingers squeezing around nothing inside his jacket pocket as he stared at the man’s working jaw, willing himself to calm down, as it was probably strongly frowned upon to get hard in an art museum. 

The man had lowered his fist then, probably remembering where he was for a second, knowing he could get caught at any moment and winked at Harry, before turning back to face the object.

Pinpricks prickled and sprung across Harry’s entire body, and there was a certain warmth to his face that seemed to be growing the more he thought about the man standing just ten feet away. 

He was clearly cheeky, but he had kind eyes and an even brighter smile. His cap also hid most of his hair but a soft, artfully feathered fringe swooped across his forehead and across his brow bone.

The guide cut through his thoughts with a nasally announcement that this would be their last stop, and something heavy settled in Harry’s stomach. He frowned slightly when he thought about not being able to see the man again, and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity when he knew he probably didn’t feel the same.

So he’d imitated a perfectly platonic blowie and waggled his eyebrows a few times at Harry, it didn’t mean anything, just a way to pass the time, right? 

As the tour wrapped up and some gatherers dispersed while others stopped to chat to one another, Harry felt a small tug on his arm as he was leaving, and felt a drop of something in his pocket.

As he looked up, he caught the eyes of the man from before, leaving with one last smirk and a quirk in his brow, before jogging down the steps and racing towards the metro.

He felt something crumpled when he went to reach inside his pocket and pulled out a scrap piece of paper, black ink had transpired into hastily written words as he read:

‘I’m no artist, but I’ll gladly check you out’

Followed by a number and a name.

Louis.

-

And if Liam takes the credit in his best man speech years later, well, Harry thinks, he supposes he’s not wrong.

[wiltingpierrot]

“No Peeking!” [Crona!Spinel AU]

So some of you actually wanted to read the writing I cut out from an ask and it really makes me happy that you do. But instead of posting what I cut out as is, I decided to lengthen it some more. It’s 1,800+ words long already but I feel I have to create a rift in between. This one is 1,600+ words long.

I am by no means a fanfic writer, and this is my first time writing something like this. So my er... style might be unsavory to some. This might feel rushed and you may find some mistakes here or there. Again, I’m not a literary type of artist.

Anyways, I wrote this while listening to Salve Maria from the Soul Eater OST on loop and I thought some background music helps.

Here’s a youtube link.

-----------------------------

You’re in a dark room with no light present at all. You’re counting from one to a bajillion and you’re not sure where it ends. You keep losing count and have to start over again each time. “No peeking, we’re playing hide-and-seek,” she said.

“But Pink, that’s like a huuuuuuuge number! What if I lose count?”

“Oh silly Spinel, just start over.”

She closed the door in front of you.

...

You don’t know how much time has passed. The complete darkness has been hurting your eyes for so long, you can’t tell if they’re open or closed anymore. How’s the garden? At least there you have plant life to tend to.

You are so lonely, so very lonely. You only wanted someone to talk to. But you’re playing a game with your diamond. You have to follow the rules. Otherwise she’ll...

Your gem is starting to hurt. You’re starting to feel painful sensations, emotions. These emotions are not fun at all. You’re supposed to be happy that you’re playing a game with your Diamond. You wish, you really wish you could throw these feelings someplace else. You just don’t want to feel them right now.

Darn it! You lost count again. So you start over. Stupid sad feelings.

  You keep seeing her face in the black void, her annoyed face looking down at you. You keep seeing variations of these faces, even ones you never saw her make. You’re desperate to override them with happier memories of her. But each time you force yourself to conjure up her beautiful smiling face in your head, another frowning Diamond appears over it.

You frown as well.

 You’re starting to doubt your playmate. You’re starting to doubt yourself. You’re starting to hate yourself for how stupid and naive you are to believe you can actually count to an indefinite number before you can seek for your playmate. She doesn’t want you. She wants to get rid of you. You saw it on her face, how sick she was of you. That’s why she made you do this. She even locked you up in here. 

That can’t be right. These thoughts can’t be right. She said she’d be hiding somewhere and all you gotta do is count and then find her. And it’ll be the greatest hide-and-seek round in all of history. You wish you have a place to just dump all these thoughts when you don’t need them. You definitely don’t need them.

There’s only silence. There’s only darkness. You continue counting, reaching the 8th digit for the umpteenth time.

  You stretched your arm to have your hand feel around the walls, the ceiling, and the floors for the scratch marks you made. You really don’t want to lose count again. You wished you marked the first few hundred thousand a little smaller.

It really hurts your fingers. The fabric around the fingertips of your rubber gloves has been torn off from all the scratching. Well, it’s hard to scratch anything if your nails are covered in rubber anyways.

You just want to be done with counting so you can go out and find her. How much more should you count?

 ...

You lost all space eventually, and so is the hope you are ever getting out of here. You stopped counting. The silence only worsens the buzzing noise blasting in your ears. Your hands reached for your face, clutching the skin surrounding your eyes. They reached for your hair next and started tugging and pulling. Your face feels wet; something is flowing out of the corners of your eyes and onto the roughly scratched floor.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Stupid!” Your eyes widen just as you felt a sharp blow to the back of your head and fell flat on the floor. It didn’t stop there. What felt like a pair of fists continued pummeling at you. “Stupid, stupid, STUPID, MORON!” Each word punctuated at each punch. It hurts. “IDIOT, STUPID HEAD, what a FUCKING DUMBASS!”

It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS. You beg for it to stop. Your hands desperately try to stop whatever is behind you, but you felt nothing. Finding the strength to turn around, you’re ready to face the meanie and- it stopped.

It’s silent again. No one’s here but you. You wondered if you’re just imagining things, but the damage dealt to you felt very real. It still hurts. The words the voice said skewered even deeper into your gem.

You fall to the ground, your back lay flat on the rough floor with arms resting lazily at your sides. Strangely, your arms feel tired and your knuckles are sore. You’re just… so very tired.

  You pondered about the voice you heard in the silence. She… she? She sounds like you. But it’s all rough and gruff, and the echoes they carry are pitched a tad lower. It growls and roars and screams in ways that sounds feral and monstrous. You’re scared. What if she comes back and hurts you more somehow?

  It happened again. And again, and again. You always end up a pained, crying, and quivering mess afterwards. She kept saying mean things to you and Pink. It’s not very nice. It bothers you however; how your hands always end up in places you don’t want them on after every beating. How they always feel sore when the silence comes back.

At times you find your hands gripping tightly around your neck, or clutching at your hair. At other times your fingers are dug into the edges of your gem, as if they were trying to pull it out. There are times where the pulling wouldn’t stop until you feel an electrifying sensation and your form glitches, forcing the hand to let go.

You wonder if it was all real or not. If the voice you’re hearing was your own all along. If the hands that harm you are the ones you possess.

  One more try. You started counting. Back to number one.

It’s better than this painful noise ringing in your head.

   ...

 “Listen ya dumb little sack of shit. When are ya gonna stop counting your stupid little numbers, and get your stupid little legs a MOVE ON!?” She’s gripping the top of your head and your chin so roughly it hurts. You still can’t see her. You still can’t feel at her, but she can definitely grab and hurt you. It’s not fair.

“But… but Pink said-“ a couple of fists grinds at the two sides of your cranium.

“Are ya fucking KIDDING ME? Ya always say the same thing EVERY TIME. Pink this, Pink that. GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK HEAD dumbass, she DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOU!” her voice changes volume at times that don’t make sense but it hurts your ears all the same.

She’s… not exactly wrong.

…

   You poofed somehow. All you remember is that you got so fed up with the terrible treatment and you reached into your gem. For the first time in millenniums your eyes caught a glimpse of a faint, pink light. Your hand was able to pull what felt like a short handle, smooth and glassy.

Extend.

A pink, glowing blade manifested from the end of the handle, all sharp and curved. A handy sickle. It brought good memories of the lovely garden. The garden. You imagine the place is no longer the beautiful little playground it used to be.

Your hand gripped tighter around the handle. What do you intend to use it for? Even with this faint light present you still couldn’t see her. The glow coming from the blade, while faint as it was hurts your unaccustomed eyes. Looking around the radius of the small glow you could finally see the scratch marks. How ugly… rough, and desperate looking they are. You don’t remember the details, but the way the scratches looked made an almost audible snap in your mind.

The curved end of the blade, while never hitting its intended target, had made its way deep into your shoulder.

...

 And now you’re back in the complete darkness. And you feel different. Your clothing feels different for sure. You put your hands onto your torso and felt something you can describe as “dark”, cool, and smooth. Your heels felt like there’s something hard and slightly heavy attached to them. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel… you.

…

You winced. Your eyes widened. A rapidly growing pain spreads around your back. You clutched tightly and desperately around yourself but it does nothing to stop the agonizing sensation. You felt thick liquid flowing beneath your skin. How is that possible?

What started from little whimpers and groans turned into an agonized, bone-chilling scream. You started writhing in place, your hands grabbed at your head. Your fingers dug into your scalp and pulled, causing your back to curl forwards.

It’s too much. It’s too much.

Suddenly, you felt something burst out of your back. No amount of words can explain the pain you feel at that moment. It’s that voice again. Her terrifying, bloodcurdling cry echoed loudly around the room. It was so loud, your ears could pop. She continued to scream, and it gradually turned into manic fits of boisterous laughter.

“FINALLY! HAHAHAHAAA!” A gleeful yell sounded from your back. You finally stopped screaming as the pain gradually goes away. You still feel very sore however.

 Trembling, you dared to turn your head to take a peek of-

Oh. If you are any organic being, you would’ve soiled your shorts already.

----------------BONUS-------------

-6,000 years ago-

“Apologies, my Diam- er, My Rose Quartz. I can’t help but notice that your Spinel is not with us. Is she alright?” 

“Oh, pffft, she’s fine. I have her play hide-and-seek to make her stay put for a while. She’s counting to like, a bajillion or something right now. Gives me plenty of time to visit the Kindergarten with just you by my side.” 

Pearl can’t help but blush slightly. It soon fades away when she had a little realization though.

“Umm, my Rose Quartz, I’m afraid “a bajillion” is not a definite number.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that… she could be counting forever.”

 Rose stared blankly at her Pearl. Her eyes widened. After what felt like a few minutes she finally waved it off. “She’ll figure it out. It’s not like I locked the door or anything. She’ll just get bored eventually and get out of there.”

“D-door?” 

“You know, the secret little bunker under the moon base?” 

“…My apologies, Rose Quartz, but I don’t recall hide-and-seek using-” 

Rose made an exasperated sigh. Pearl was starting to regret what she said until Rose Quartz spoke up again.

“I just… needed a break from her, you know? She can get a little… annoying.” The last word was said through gritted teeth. “Besides, I always wanted to spend the day with just the two of us this time.”

Pearl’s blush returned at full force and she couldn’t help but smile fondly at her Diamond in disguise.

When Rose Quartz urges her to follow her further into the Kindergarten, Pearl can’t help but move as if she has an extra spring in her step.

--------------------------------

Umm, yes. This is my attempt at writing. 

This is like an alternative to the usual waiting game from the movie. That means how she will antagonize the Crystal Gems will be different from the usual injector+rejuvenator method as well.

Spinel will come to Earth a lot sooner, but will meet the Crystal Gems a bit later than the original timeline. Sometime after Connie comes back from her Space Camp.

[an-ambivalent]

Oath Of Desires: Six

Synopsis: [Yandere! Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung] [Poly AU]

It had only been them three for a long time. Not one person more, not one person less – just Jungkook, Taehyung and [Name].

Jungkook was elated when Taehyung and [Name] told him that they had become a couple. He literally could not have been happier.

They were his favourite couple, and he loved them both…. A little too much.

When there was a hindrance in Taehyung and [Name]’s relationship which caused them to fall apart, Jungkook was distraught. Afterwards, when he realized the depths of his love for his ‘friends,’ Jungkook made an oath of his dark desires – he was going to do whatever it took to get them back together. And this time, he was also going to become part of their relationship.

Warning: As this story contains yandere themes, the characters display behaviors that can be triggering or uncomfortable to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display any sort of this behaviour irl.

                                                ___________

“Love is an obsession; it has that quality to it. There are healthy obsessions, [but] mine is [not] one of them.” -Pamela Stephenson

                                               ___________

“I kissed [Name],” Jungkook interjected, as Taehyung leaned on the couch with his upper body hunched forward. Since the effects of the sleeping pills still lingered, Taehyung’s body was limpy;  and although he was conscious for the most part, a part of his conscious was still in its slumber. After Jungkook’s bold exclamation, silence surrounded them — an uncomfortable silence that was full of unpredictable catastrophic possibilities. Jungkook was merely standing there, blinking owlishly with his large eyes, and his arms hung loosely by his sides, waiting for a response from Taehyung. And due to his groggy state of mind, Taehyung merely stood as he was, not being able to digest Jungkook’s words for a  brief moment. “You what?” He asked, and as if he could sense the dread of impending doom one felt before there would be anger, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Meanwhile for Jungkook, it was like thinking of those words, and saying them out loud again was a sort of revelation he had been waiting to hear his entire life; the pupil of his irises widened slightly as he started intently at Taehyung, and repeated himself. “I kissed [Name].” Just with hearing those three words once again, whatever blissful reality Taehyung had been living in, in which he got away with only caring about his own selfish desires ruled by his insecurities, was shattered. The bliss was now starting to vanish in thin air, leaving nothing, but the suffocating dust of ashes behind. Suddenly, fury seeped into Taehyung, and red clouded his vision. He disregarded his current weak state, and lunged towards Jungkook. Out of everything, Jungkook had not expected Taehyung to become physical with him. As a result, he simply took whatever hurt Taehyung inflicted on him. Taehyung shoved Jungkook angrily, as he began his rant. “You fucking piece of trash, you— you kissed [Name]?! How dare you?! I fucking— this was your plan all along wasn’t it?! You planned to steal her from me since the very beginning, didn’t you? That’s why you clung so pathetically to her all the time. I knew it, I fucking knew you were after her all this time. Your promises of being my best friend and endless loyalty were nothing but bullshit, weren’t they? I should’ve known you were going to turn out to be a bastard and thirst over my girlfriend with how creepily obsessed you were about her all the time,” Taehyung spat, as he clutched the collar of Jungkook’s shirt tightly, and shook him. Due to Jungkook’s build being bigger, heavier and stronger than his, and his current weak state, Taehyung’s attempt of violence did not have much effect on Jungkook. Not to mention, Jungkook’s hair was over casting his eyes, and shadowing his expression, so Taehyung was unable to his reaction. For now, Jungkook merely allowed Taehyung to vent. “Everything was perfect when it was just [Name] and I, before you came and ruined everything. I never doubted, even once, never doubted her love for me before you-- before you came along and took her from me. It was you, it was because of you I became so messed up, your fucking creepy obsession that made me hurt her. You changed her and it was because of you she stopped caring only about me. Why couldn’t you have just gone and died somewhere instead of coming in our lives and messing everything up—“ Taehyung hissed, however, he abruptly stopped talking when he saw that Jungkook’s lips had widened into a wide grin — a manic grin. The suddenness of it was troubling. Even for Taehyung, who had been too invested in his emotions of heartbreak and anger, was forced to snap out of his emotional trance, and examine Jungkook with a cautious gaze. There was an indescribable and minute inkling of fear that formed in his gut, and subconsciously, he gripped Jungkook’s shirt tighter. He glared, and growled. “Why are you grinning you asshole? Am I a joke to you?” Taehyung snapped, as Jungkook combed his hair away from his eyes smoothly, and Taehyung was finally able to get a glimpse of his face. Jungkook’s eyes were twinkling in joy, as his grin widened, and he cupped Taehyung’s cheek tenderly. His unanticipated touch startled Taehyung. With wide eyes, Taehyung’s stare flickered to Jungkook’s hand on his cheek, and then back to Jungkook, who was looking at him with deranged infatuation etched in his eyes. “You don’t have to be so jealous Tae,” Jungkook began using the nickname ‘Tae’ that Taehyung only ever allowed [Name] to call him. Subconsciously, Jungkook licked his lips in a poor attempt to moisturize them. Then, “I love you too,” He confessed sincerely. A sense of utter disgust immediately went through Taehyung. Right away, he roughly shoved Jungkook off him in order to create some distance between them. “You fucking sick psycho! What kind of game do you think you’re playing—“ He voiced, and as he had spoken, he winced at the headache that had been brewing, and suddenly manifested in his head. Taehyung never received the chance to finish his sentence since Jungkook had interrupted him. There was extreme madness glinting in Jungkook’s eyes, which made Taehyung freeze in surprise. “Both you and [Name] will be mine,” Jungkook breathed obsessively, before he raised his arm, clenched his fist, and swung it at Taehyung’s head swiftly, and quickly, and knocking him out.

A few days later [Name] was drenched as she entered Jungkook’s residence. See, instead of catching a ride with Taehyung like she usually did whenever she visited Jungkook at his place, or catching a cab, she had decided she would walk to his place this time. Granted that his place was far away from hers — a couple of kilometres that would usually be a bit too much for a person’s liking to walk it. However, for [Name], it was a work out that she had desperately needed. See, for the last few days, due to her emotional baggage, she had become a mess. [Name] had not eaten, slept, or looked after herself properly, and isolated herself in the four walls of her new apartment’s run down living room.

Each time when [Name] reflected on how she had come onto Jungkook so strongly, only to kick him out and give him no matter in the say, her mental health worsened. She was overwhelmed with guilt, and she hated herself for her recklessness. She had acted selfishly, by pushing herself onto Jungkook in order to find some sort of escape from her emotional predicament, even though he was not even attracted to her. If anything, Jungkook was like a younger brother to her. So, after she had come to her senses, [Name] had felt disgusted with herself. More so, when she realized that what she had done, was exactly the type of thing Taehyung would do — let her emotions rule her actions and cloud her judgement. As much as she did denied it, deep down [Name] knew that she was like Taehyung in many ways — it was one of the main reasons why they always clicked so well together. Their connection, and understanding of each other was impeccable. For that reason, whenever they fought, it hurt more because they knew each other so well, whatever harsh things they said, it was said out of the ugly truth that the other did not want to acknowledge about themselves. They knew each other wounds, and how to cut deeper in it. Aside from this, [Name] felt as if she needed to apologize to Jungkook big time. It took her a few days, but she did manage to collect herself -- even if it was the bare minimum. For a further piece of mind, and due to the nice windy weather, [Name] had decided to walk. She did not think it would rain heavily when she had left her own residence. As a result, there did not carry an umbrella or a raincoat. So, when was nearing Jungkook’s residence, she was only able to shield herself from the rain with her light summer coat that had a loose hood. Of course, it barely protected her. She was drenched, so her wet hair stuck to her skin, droplets of water hung on parts of her clothes and skin, and water was dripping from her coat and down onto the floor. The moment she had entered his residence (the door left unlocked), Jungkook had run up toher to greet her. Frankly speaking, [Name] found this to be a tad strange because of how quickly he had arrived by her side. It was as if he had been waiting eagerly for her arrival this entire time.

Jungkook’s hair was somewhat frizzled, and falling messily over his face. As he took [Name]’s coat off her, she noticed how his warm fingers had lingered on her cold skin a few seconds too long, before he hung it on the coat hanger. Additionally, she also took note of the few new cuts that scarred his cheeks, and a bruise on his lips. The entirety of just this small interaction was a bit bizarre, but [Name] decided not to comment on it. Instead, she waited patiently for Jungkook to invite her in, and offer her a remedy for her shivering body. However, before did invite her in, Jungkook had become preoccupied with something else. Just like her hair, [Name]’s wet clothes were also sticking onto her skin. Since rain had seeped through into [Name]’s shirt, it was now see through. The colour of her bra was visible, and Jungkook’s gaze lingered on it. However, just before [Name] could notice his staring, he snapped out of it, and returned his gaze to her face. She looked absolutely angelic and vulnerable with the way she hugged herself in order to protect herself from the cold. And the way the rain droplets glistened on her — they were like small twinkling diamonds. Just the sight of her made Jungkook’s knees feel weak, and he knew that along with Taehyung, he had to have her. Jungkook gave her a tight lip smile. “Come in [Name], I’ll make you some warm tea. There’s a few hoodies of mine on the couch if you want to borrow one in case you feel too cold. Pick whichever, I don’t mind. I’m sure they’ll all look really lovely on you,” Jungkook said, as he turned around, and walked from the entrance door of his house, to towards the kitchen. The compliment at the end of his sentence was rather weird, and made [Name] furrow her eyebrows in confusion. However, many things about Jungkook were weird and confusing: like the fact that despite being an orphan, he owned his own house without being in debt. Taehyung had once joked about that to her in private. He had said that Jungkook probably had it passed onto him because he killed his entire foster family or something. It was a joke that was just downright  insensitive for [Name] so she had told him off for it. But by now, [Name] was accustomed to Jungkook’s weirdness anyway. So, like usually she did, she was quick to shrug this off too. [Name] chose a plain black hoodie to wear, and as Jungkook started making the tea for her, she addressed the elephant in the room. “Thanks for calling me Jungkook even though I promised to be the one to do it…” [Name] started, and trailed off awkwardly. Jungkook’s build prevented her from seeing the things he was putting in her tea. Just as he finished adding a crushed powder of some sleeping pills he had given to Taehyung in her tea, Jungkook quickly threw away the packet, and turned towards [Name]. He smiled widely, showing off his white teeth. The emotion never reached his eyes though. “It’s alright [Name]. That’s what friends are for,” He said, with another wide grin. To be frank, there was a sort of eeriness etched in his smile that sent shivers through [Name]. She nodded awkwardly, and started to fiddle with her fingers nervously, as she spoke once more. “Yeah friends. That was another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Um, you know about the whole situation of me kissing you…” [Name] said, and trailed off, as she glanced away from Jungkook for a moment, and then returned her gaze on him. He licked his lips subconsciously. [Name] noticed how he had suddenly narrowed his eyes at her, and his aura seemed to have darkened. Oh god, she thought, was my kiss really that bad that he’s giving such a horrid expression? Oh god, I really messed up this time. I need to apologize and clear the air with Jungkook if nothing else. “What about it?” Jungkook asked stoically. The lack of emotion in his voice, that was usually always filled with wonder, and a child’s sparkle of curiosity, made [Name] bite her lip in nervousness. Why do I always end up fucking up my life? [Name] wondered, but quickly snapped herself out of it. “I’ll say this one more time and I truly mean it. Jungkook, I’m really sorry about doing that to you. I— I wasn’t in the right state of mind, and I know that that’s no excuse for me using you like that— oh god, I’m so awful. I swear I didn’t mean anything by that kiss, it was just a mistake. I’m so sorry—“ [Name] cried, however, she was abruptly cut off. See, while she had started her little vent, Jungkook had abandoned the tea he was making for her — he had become a wild predator who was driven by his instinctive desires. By the time [Name] had got to her second ‘I’m sorry’ of this chapter, Jungkook stood right before her. Then, he suddenly grabbed her face, and forcefully pressed his lips against her. [Name]’s eyes widened, and she stilled in surprise. As Jungkook increased the intensity of the kiss, he forcefully guided [Name] to stand up on her tiptoes in order to keep up with his pace. This kiss barely lasted, and as soon as the rush of intensity of the kiss had come, it was gone. Jungkook pulled away momentarily, but still kept his face extremely close to [Name]’s as his breath fanned her skin. The [h/c] female stared up at him with wide doe eyes. “You apologize too much mum. If you’re truly sorry for what you’ve done, you can make it up to me by doing what I say,” He said smoothly, and smirking, before he pressed his lips on [Name]’s once again. This time, [Name]’s response was the complete opposite. She did not freeze like she had before, nor reciprocate it like Jungkook wanted her to. Instead, with an incredible amount of strength one would not expect of someone like her, she pushed Jungkook off of her. “What the fuck Jungkook?” [Name] exclaimed, as she wiped her lips with the sleeve of Jungkook’s hoodie she was wearing, in disgust. Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Did a single word of what I said before not go through your thick skull? I said it was a mistake and I regret it. If you try to pull off shit like that again—“ “You’re just confused! You don’t regret it! You love me! You and Taehyung would anything for my happiness, I know it! Here, let me kiss you again and you’ll see what I mean,” Jungkook said, smiling reassuringly, as he tried to grab [Name] and kiss her again. However, he never got to, because [Name] swung her arm instinctively, and punched Jungkook in the face. His head swung back, and there was a loud noise emitted as a result of her hit. Although her hit was strong, it was not enough to have knocked Jungkook out; and while [Name] should have used this time to run away, leave, and get help she stood still frozen in shock. Seemingly, she was not able to comprehend that she had hurt Jungkook like that. Jungkook tilted his head slightly as he straightened himself up. As he brought his face forward, his eyes were wide in anger, and there was blood oozing out of his lips. Of course, being the caring and always selfless person at the wrong times that [Name] was, she blinded herself to his seething expression, and instead focused on his injury. She gasped and took a step closer to him. “Jungkook I’m so sorry—“ BIG MISTAKE. As soon as she had started apologizing, she had stopped. This was because Jungkook had cut her off with a growl, before he lunged at her.

[rosenthalfm]

hey guys , libby here ! way too late to this fun lil party , and here to present you with only the bare minimum of a backstory , and the shell of a personality . ugh ! my mind ! i had so many ideas for the rosenthal’s bleeding heart , but alas ... i struggled to put most of it into words . ig that’s what happens when you decide to create a brand spankin’ new muse . here’s to hoping she’ll flesh out better in interactions than she did in this lil intro post . but now , without further ado , i present to you my environmentalist in the making ! and if you want to plot hit that lil heart and i’ll be breaking down the door of your discord in a real hot minute !

。· . ˙ ☀ ⌈ kelsey merritt + cis female + she / her + the black sheep ⌋ yo , have you meet that POGUE , sadie rosenthal , yet ? — no ? well , to give you a little heads up before you do , they’re a TWENTY-ONE year old , WAITRESS AT DORO’S DINER AND ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES STUDENT , and have been living in coston for TEN YEARS . since i’ve known them , they’ve reminded me of MEANINGFUL CONVERSATIONS WITH A STRANGER , MELTED ICE CREAM DRIPPING DOWN FINGERS DECORATED WITH TINY GOLD RINGS , TANGERINE PEELS DROPPED INTO A WINE GLASS , A WINDOW WIDE OPEN TO THE GLARE OF THE MORNING SUN , WHITE LINEN PANTS AND ALWAYS BARE FEET . usually they’re quite ALTRUISTIC & ECCENTRIC but just make sure you keep an eye out for them around town because i heard can be quite FLIGHTY & ORNERY as well so here’s hoping they aren’t the ones to undo this whole peace pact they have going on this summer . but just between you & me , i kinda hope it all falls apart . the rivalry keeps this whole boring town interesting . ✏ libby, twenty, she / her, cst

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

sadie rosenthal had been conceived on a yacht anchored in the south of france , or perhaps on one of the white beaches right where the tide ebbed and flowed , where the water began to froth , where the land met the sea ( the specifics were buffudled , but all that mattered was that she was ). think : sunkissed limbs tangled together in a fervid frenzy that burned hotter than the summer sun , water-woven hair , and foaming waves stretching around knotted bodies like a blanket . think : two strangers drunk off a shared bottle of dom pérignon . think : lust mistaken for love . sadie had been born the dampened finger that extinguished a scorching flame , this wailing and pink thing , who entered the world choking on her own saltwater tears ,  had bound two unwilling strangers together for life . 

she had aged right where she had been brought into being , along the edge of the sea , where the sweeping sky muddled with the waves ( should she lie with her back flat , the two were interchangeable ). it was there that she had grown to feel most at home , toes curling into the warm sand as she flipped through pages upon pages of heavy books that looked rather odd in her tiny and tremoring grasp . sadie rosenthal had always felt more like a cracked cone oozing melted butter pecan gelato , or fior di latte , or whatever sweetened flavor had slipped from someone’s clutches and been left to fester , than girl ( she was but a brief blip of joy , not unlike the sticky and sand riddled treat . but where the two differed was that she had always been unwanted ). 

reared only partially ( and even that choice of word was a bit too generous ) by a cutthroat stockbroker who read more like a caricature plucked right off the pages of a wolf on wall street than an actual man , she had taught herself from a young age that simply being aubrey rosenthal’s offspring did not permiss her his love , learned to live off his fleeting affections and fleeting presence. raised only a wee bit more by a woman who read more like an new author’s unfinished , unedited first draft ( the kind of flourishing prose that possessed no meaning further than surface level prettiness , the kind of prose that publishing houses aplenty would reject ), sadie felt more adult , more complete ,  at age twelve than she imagined adrienne almonte might ever be . but while she might have existed in a world of her own , at least her mother was there . manic and messy , an abstract artist , who smeared paint across canvases that littered every corner of their little chateau by the sea , across the wallpapered walls , the busts and books that lined the shelves , but there . her father had only left mere pieces of himself throughout their house , his smoked cigars left behind in all the little nooks and crannies , his festering glass of scotch on his bedside table , another on the group near his armchair in the study , crooked portraits of the three hung haphazardly upon the walls , but he only showed face for weeks at a time before returning to his real family . 

it wasn’t until her father’s first wife had begun to question exactly where he had been wiring all that money to ( soon after , filing for a divorce ), that he had moved his replacement family into his real home . and sadie had come to the sudden realization that she found it much easier to love her father from afar . 

a microscope was not needed to assess the damning damage that had turned aubrey rosenthal into the shell of the man he once was , the hoax that sadie had grown to adore . she had cut out clippings in a magazine that highlighted the family-man and his benevolent streak , tucked them into her books and used them as page markers , felt her heart swell knowing that the man who had birthed her was so good . no , she might not have been apart of the family in question , but one mistake ( yes , she is considered a mistake . he knows that , and she knows that ) made in the heat of the moment didn’t make him bad . it was all that deceit , all that rot , his fraudulent manner guised by his generous donations to charities that he had barely researched , that turned sadie’s adoration into disgust . she decided then and there that her goodness need not be contingent on saving face , that she could make her mark on the world without the copious sums of money and the page six articles . 

𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑠

sadie has always felt out of place , a tad bit too posh to truly fit in with the pogue’s ( a side effect of her plush private school education and bottomless bank account ), a wee bit too rugged to truly fit in with the kooks ( she’d always felt as if she had been more gilded than gold , tarnished by green hues of patina . vintage and second hand in the way that might have caused them to turn up their noses ) . she had been born unto a great deal of money , but she had been kept tucked far away from high society , like an ugly secret blooming beneath the surface . and while she spent her days claiming that she didn’t have money , her father did , that didn’t stop her from funding her own college with the checks he wired into her account in place of an apology . 

she’s always had expensive taste , and though she lives in a small beach shack far from her family’s large second home on figure eight island , it’s furnished rather lavishly . though she purchased it all herself ( waitressing is great money when it’s not being placed aside for college ). It’s all a bit bohemian luxe , with vintage morroccan rugs lain over the cracked flooring , faux ( of course ) mongolian fur littered throughout the space ( though it looked great , it wasn’t the best interior design choice for a girl who spent her days on the beach ), large and small , but all antique and all ornate  mirrors nailed into the walls , bright jewel toned colors and far too many old books stacked on every open surface . it looked a bit like something that might be seen in an anthropologie catalogue.  

she’s thrifted almost all the clothing , and books she owns , making for quite an eclectic taste in clothing and novels . 

her love for the environment had began the moment she picked up her first cracked and worn coffee table book , flipping through pages upon pages of images of the rainforest . she substituted story books for all of mother’s coffee rimmed table books , skimmed through them with the same fascination other girls her age might have read eloise at the plaza with . by the age of eleven she was reading the pages of environmental ethics books , not fully understanding but knowing that she wanted to . 

she’s a pescatarian , finding it a bit too difficult to eat meat after the many documentaries she had viewed over the years . luckily , it was no difficult feat finding good seafood so close to the water . 

[professionally-unprofessional]

can you write a scenario where katsuki's s/o got his hero costume by mistake so she has to wear it for the entire internship? thank you!!!! btw i love your writing so much, keep it up ^.^

It’s here. Finally. I’m sorry it took so long. I started when I was on holiday and then things got a bit manic. Sorry anon. Also thanks so much! I’m glad you enjoy my writing - I started with the hope of making people smile with some good content :)

I really hope you enjoy this anon! I aim to do my best for each and every request. Oh, and thanks for requesting! This one was super fun :)

You grinned cheekily as your beloved boyfriend refused to wish you goodbye at the station while the class was splitting up and heading off their separate ways to get to their internships. He was too stubborn and possibly too shy to do anything cute like that.

It didn’t bother you in the slightest. In fact, it gave you plenty of chances to tease him and wind him up. What could possibly be better? “Aww, don’t you care enough about your precious girlfriend to even give her a nice send-off?” You teased with a sly smirk. “Ooh, I wonder if there’ll be anyone cute at the hero office interning too!”

With a growl, he grabbed you and roughly pecked the crown of your head without warning. It was over before you’d even realised what was happening. You smirked, content with what you’d manage to wrangle out of him. He knew you were just teasing but that didn’t stop him. You’d both placed the hero costume cases down by your sides while you teased him and he pretended like he hated it. How could he hate it though? It was you and you were just annoyingly adorable sometimes.

You were about to pinch his cheek and ask if that was a blush that you could see, but your little plan was cut short when there was a final call for your train to the internship. It was the last time you were going to see him for a week so it was only natural that you’d wanted to have a little moment with him before you departed. Although there was a chance you could chat in the evenings, odds were you were going to just want to go to your room and sleep at night.

So quickly ruffling Bakugou’s hair in the irritating way that you liked, you gave him a final grin before grabbing your hero outfit and running off to catch your train. Aizawa would hang you with his scarf if you ended up being late… not to mention that the last thing you needed was to make a bad first impression.

The train ride was around two hours so you had some time to kill. Music through earphones sounded like a good idea. So you watched the world passing and thought warmly of your bomber. Best Jeanist, huh? You couldn’t wait to hear how that was going to go. You knew he was going purely because Best Jeanist had the highest hero rank of all the offices that had given him offers.

However, you had your own little suspicions about how it was going to pan out. After all, you might not have been Deku, but you did enjoy keeping up with the hero world and from time to time you caught bits and pieces to do with the various top heroes. If Bakugou made it through the week successfully, you’d be surprised. Best Jeanist was very calm and professional. Not to mention you’d seen his sidekicks in the background of some images of his hero office in a review. If Bakugou came back looking like one of them… well at least you’d get a good laugh out of it.

You, on the other hand, were going out to the coast to help out since your quirk always functioned better around water. You were going to have great fun! In fact, since the agency was so far away from home, they were even letting you stay in a nice hotel near to the hero office. You’d enjoy it - a week’s break away from the city. How wonderful!

The journey there was uneventful. The train was quiet which was lovely - no screaming, crying children was a blessing. You managed to kill the few hours with music and whatnot. Tracking down their hero office was easy and soon you were shaking hands with your mentor for the week with a determined fire in your gaze. You were going to succeed and you were going to excel. The whole point of this was to better learn of ways to apply your quirk.

As you’d expect, one of the first exercises was to go out on patrol. It seemed that your mentor not only was interested in further training your quirk but also in making sure that you fully understood and comprehended every step and part of being a proper hero. So with a grin, you headed off to quickly change into your hero outfit. You couldn’t wait to have a chance to wear it! You could remember the pretty custom made dresses some fancy women and celebrities had. None of that could compare to a custom-made hero outfit by the support company and the support classes.

However, you weren’t met with your signature colours. Instead of your familiar hero costume in the box, there was a very different but equally familiar costume. Black and orange stared back along with the two huge gauntlets. Oh boy. It clicked. This was your own doing. The train station. You stupidly hadn’t checked which box was your own. Looked like you were going to be wearing your boyfriend’s clothing for the week. Under any other circumstance, you’d have been glad to sneakily nick some of Bakugou’s clothes and tease him endlessly about it.

Unfortunately, the circumstance where you actually needed your own hero outfit wasn’t preferable.

You were certain that Bakugou was going to throttle you for not checking the numbers on the outfit cases once you returned. At least you had a week of being away to deal with it and let him cool off.

You wondered if you should tell your mentor. Then again, chances were they’d guess that it wasn’t yours as soon as they saw. They did have a good understanding of your quirk so it should’ve been obvious.

Deciding not to chance it, you showed the outfit to your mentor and explained that there’d been a mishap. You conveniently forgot to leave out that the mixup was mainly your fault for rushing and not checking. Aizawa would have your head if he found out. Despite your thoughts, your mentor merely smiled and waved it off. Mishaps happened, but you couldn’t exactly wear your civilian clothes when out doing hero work so it looked like you’d have to try your boyfriend’s clothes on.

Fine by you.

It was a tad big, but fit well and didn’t hinder your movement. So you looked in the mirror and smirked to yourself, suddenly finding yourself in a silly mood. Your smirk faded and you mimicked your boyfriend’s signature angry scowl and glare in the mirror. Oh no. You couldn’t take it and burst out laughing. It was pretty funny. You’d forgotten how much you missed his angry scowl or small pout already. That idiot. You’d definitely have to send him an image later and try and get him flustered.

You put the gauntlets on while you quickly messed about but took them off after and put them carefully back into the case. You’d whisper-screamed ‘die’ at the mirror once or twice between little bouts of laughter. They were too heavy and you preferred to use your quirk for mobility where possible. Those clunky things would just slow you down and weren’t of any use with your quirk so you gave them a miss.

It seemed that your mentor had been patient and given you a time allowance seeing as this wasn’t your costume and you’d need to be careful with it. Little did they know that you’d questioned your significant other about it previously and in great depth just to irritate him. You didn’t need to carefully go through the instruction manual when you already knew how it functioned.

The whole point of that little interrogation was so you could tease him and tell him that his outfit was doing all the work for him.

The patrol was fine. It was almost too peaceful for your liking. At the end of the day, you were raring to fight bad guys or do something constructive. You went over all the usual things that a patrol did and meant. It was nice and your mentor greeted the citizens of the small seaside town with a smile and kind words. They reciprocated his kindness and you even got an offer for free ice-creams from an elderly man in a shop window.

The town was pretty and you noted that you’d have to drag Bakugou down here sometime. Then again, he’d probably shatter the peaceful vibe with his yelling and turn a relaxing day into something else. Well, you’d see. Maybe you’d bring Shinsou and get him to brainwash Bakugou into being quiet for a day. Now wouldn’t that be funny?

As you wandered down the boardwalk on the way back to the office, you stared out at the ocean and felt a familiar warm tug. It was your quirk, calling out for the water. Soon. Maybe you’d get to do something wild pretty soon. Your quirk was hydro-kinesis and you loved it. There were so many things you could do with it, but one of your favourites was looking up comics and books with similar ideas and trying out the concepts that they offered.

As you returned, you changed out of the outfit and sighed. Nothing exciting today. Oh well, at least the hotel you were staying in was pretty luxurious. You had a plush room and a beautiful view of the small sandy bay and the rocky edges of the town. As you flopped onto the large bed, you thought about your day. Your mentor was actually a relative of the hero Backdraft whom you remembered was part of the team of heroes that stepped in during the Sludge Villain’s attack.

Geez, you were seriously turning into Midoriya. Bakugou was going to pop a vein if he ever caught wind of the full extent of your hero-nerdiness. He knew that you had a slightly larger than usual interest in the hero society and brushed it off as something to do with the fact that, like him, you were a trainee hero. Oh well. A topic for another time.

Ah, Bakugou. You retrieved your phone from the backpack that you’d thrown it in when you’d changed for hero work. You chuckled seeing the rage message come up, telling you to explain yourself and that this had better not have been another one of your deliberate pranks.

You called and wondered if he’d still be awake by now. Either asleep or training you assumed. He picked up on the third ring.

“Aww, did you miss me that much that you wanted to make up an angry excuse to hear my voice?” You purred, switching into your teasing mode. All you could hope was that he’d cooled off about the costumes.

There was a small choked cough and you knew you’d hit the nail on the head. How adorable.

“No! What the hell?! You stole my hero outfit and then pissed off to the coast! I hope you’ve got a damn good excuse for it!”

“Oh, I have the best excuse.” You grinned and received a disbelieving grunt. You paused for dramatic effect and readed your most dead-ass flat tone. “I didn’t look at the numbers and picked up the wrong case.”

There was a moment of silence and you weren’t sure what he was thinking. You got the feeling that he’d be sighing and shaking his head if you could see him. Perhaps you’d stunned him into silence. “You’re a real fucking idiot sometimes, you know that.”

Despite his words, they weren’t harsh and his tone was more amused that scathing. Phew. Time to make him eat them then. “Yeah, so I am, but I’m your ‘fucking idiot’ aren’t I?”

There was a grumbled ‘yeah and don’t forget it’ before the penny dropped at the other half of that joke and the incoherent screaming that came through the speaker moments later was precious.

You’d never get tired of teasing him.

After a couple more moments of him huffing for you to get your mind out of the gutter, he was about ready to change the subject. Oh no, he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. You’d missed him a little already and you’d be damned if you didn’t properly tease him.

“Hey, Katsu, I’ve got a serious question.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

“… How red is your face right now?”

The cursing caused you to bury your face into the pillow to stop your giggling from sounding too loud. Someone might be asleep in the room next to you. Deciding to give your angry blond companion a break, you changed the subject to his internship and received a rundown on how Best Jeanist was less than impressed about the costume mix up and that Aizawa had given him a verbal lashing over the phone when he’d asked for them to send a UA sports uniform down for him.

From what you could tell, he’d hardly been able to handle the embarrassment. Oops.

“But did you try my outfit on to see if it fit?”

“No way! Why the hell would I even try?”

“Aww~ I was just wondering if you looked as good in my costume as I look in yours.” That shut him up for a while and you could tell he wasn’t exactly sure how to come back to you.

“Of course it looks good - my outfit’s the best there is!” There was the prideful Bakugou you knew and loved. He’d have probably gloated that he’d designed it if you hadn’t already had that conversation and aggressively defended the support course and the wonderful jobs they did with adjustments and the support companies themselves for their work. He was fine to take pride in his hero work, but let the costume creators have credit where it was due. Yes, the idea had come from him, but the companies always made adjustments.

The two of you spoke mindlessly for a little longer and you laughed at Bakugou’s tale of Best Jeanist trying to get his hair to stay down. Good luck to him. Eventually, the two of you ended the call with you teasing the blond about how he still struggled with saying sappy things. However, you knew he was well aware that it was teasing and not a hint for him to change his ways if he didn’t want to. You weren’t going to be that pushy and you’d tell him flat out if he was doing something that was getting on your nerves.

So with a grin on your face, you finished getting ready for a nice rest and fell asleep with the thought of the angry teen in your mind.

What you hadn’t expected in this internship, was to be thrown into a serious situation on your second day. As soon as you’d gotten to the office, you’d noticed that everything seemed much more manic than usual. Within two minutes you’d been told to get your temporary hero outfit on and that you were going out.

You were to be briefed along the way. So you put on Katsuki’s outfit and followed a small team of sidekicks and your pro mentor out to a boat on the bay. Apparently, they’d noticed a small boat out coming towards this area. The scout had investigated and found that the ship was filled with migrant refugees trying to get away from their home which was encased in a civil war.

You weren’t surprised. It was a global problem whenever countries fell into disarray. However, the boat was too packed and the police wanted their unit to go and escort the refugees safely to the shore. Whatever happened to them after was a case for the police. Not you.

They were going to send another pro, but you’d heard that they’d been caught up with something to do with drug smuggling so here you were now, on a boat racing towards the site where the refugee boat was supposed to be. However, you couldn’t see anything from the boat when you noticed that their vessel should be within visual range.

You turned to your mentor who was also looking out and trying to spy the boat. “Can I go and try and scan for it?” They gave you a curt nod to confirm and you weren’t surprised when you were handed and earpiece and told not to engage until the rest of the team got there.

With that, you threw yourself off the boat, but before you hit the water, you summoned a large blob of it up, shaped it into wings and attached them to your back. Who said cartoons didn’t have interesting characters? Around 50% of your bodily fluids was body water so it wasn’t as though there was nothing to attach the wings to.

Taking off, you soared past the boat and used the updrafts from the waves to conserve energy. If seagulls could do it then so could you. Speeding towards the coordinates, you noticed that there was indeed something there. Little dots of darkness on the sea which was lit by the morning sun. Those dots didn’t refract the light as the water did and you could tell it was solid matter. Oh no…

You switched on the earpiece and reported what you saw. “I think the refugees are in the water. I can’t see any sign of the boat.”

Keep calm. That’s what you needed to do. You needed to keep a cool head and think and follow the instructions you were given. It was going to be at least another two minutes until you were even in range enough to use your quirk. Even then, it’d be at least another few minutes after that until you’d be able to see everything clearly enough to offer your mentor a full situation report.

This wasn’t good. You were out pretty far from the shore too. If you were working with shallower water you might have been able to move the water aside enough to lower everyone to the sea bed but out this far… You weren’t sure if your quirk was powerful enough to do that.

You kept up your pace as you flew towards the little specs in the distance and sure enough, they were the heads of the refugees. You needed to determine if they were doing alright or if any of them were halfway to drowning. If so, you might need to save a life without instruction, or with quirk communication at most.

As you approached, you realised that most of them didn’t have life vests. Seriously? This was why this was scorned upon. So many people got into trouble because of things like this. Lives were nothing and those in charge of it didn’t care about their safety, only the money they received for the service.

You quickly slowed in the centre of the vague area where the bobbing heads were and dropped down, standing atop the water with your quirk. “Don’t worry. Heroes are on their way to help you all. Please stay calm!” With that, you generated a soft current to bring those furthest away from you in closer. The others would be able to get them out and onto the boat faster if they were all slightly closer. Save getting them to swim over to the boat.

A slight frown threatened to dampen your smile as you realised that they all looked exhausted. They wouldn’t be able to stay afloat for too much longer. You looked back over to the boat and kept smiling. They weren’t going to get here fast enough. There was a muffled gurgle and you realised a child had gone under. You dove under and gently pulled them up to the surface.

Then, you took off and met the boat halfway and gently placed the child into the arms of a sidekick. “They’re all exhausted.” You murmured and the others exchanged glances.

“Keep that up. Bring some of them back to the boat ahead of time.” You gave your mentor nod as you took off, spraying up water behind you. Before you got very far you dipped a hand into the water and generated a current to push the boat forward even faster. Without any further ado, you put your energy back into working your water wings and getting back there. Picking up the pace, you could feel the wind whipping through your hair. It felt wonderful. As you approached, you threw yourself at the water and helped another two young children. One was older and you offered her your hand. You couldn’t carry them both but you could hold onto her.

You sped off again and this time the boat was much closer. The adults were doing okay. You spoke quiet encouragement to the two as you approached. Only then did you notice that one of the members on the rescue boat wasn’t a sidekick. It was a member of the press! You gave them a confident smile and the girl holding your hand smiled brightly too as a camera flashed. Then you handed your guests over to the boat and sped back. It was a tad back and fourth but you couldn’t do much else.

Now the boat was this close, it wasn’t worth another fly by so you floated down to the water and put everything you had into manipulating the current and pushing the boat forward. You had to get to them! Faster! With one final push to keep it going until the boat reached them, you sink onto the deck and huffed a little.

However, you couldn’t rest yet. Not until you had saved them all. So with a confident smile, you got back to your feet and looked ahead to the approaching figures before flinging yourself back into the water at your mentor’s command.

As the rescue boat pulled back into the harbour you let out a sigh of relief. As the police and medics took over, your mentor approached you and gave your shoulder a small pat. “You did well, but you should go and rest. We can handle the rest. Go back and be proud that you helped save lives.”

With a small thanks, you began to slip away but not before the little girl of about twelves whom you’d flown back to the boat had run over to you and thrown herself at you in a bear hug. How she’d slipped past the medics, you didn’t know. However, you smiled and gently rubbed her head.

“Go on and get warmed up. You’re probably freezing. They’ll take care of you for now.” You weren’t sure which language she spoke or if she could even understand you, but she gave you a great big grin and ran off to the others. On the way back, you stopped by the hero office and changed out of Bakugou’s hero costume and picked up the backpack which you brought with you each time. With no further delays, you retreated to your hotel room, cleaned up and sank into bed. You briefly wondered if you should talk to Bakugou but sleep went and enveloped you before you could think twice about it.

You woke up to your buzzing alarm on your phone and you deftly switched it off. No need for that annoyance. There was a message from your mentor, telling you that he was giving you the morning off after yesterday since he could tell that you slightly overdid it with your quirk, but that it was fine since it wasn’t like you were in a position where you couldn’t work.

What a softie.

You smiled and debated flopping back into bed for a few more hours. There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. Then again, you might as well enjoy the town since you wouldn’t have a chance to unless it was now. You hadn’t exactly come here for sightseeing.

You were just finishing up getting ready to leave your room and go and hunt down some breakfast when the phone went off. It was a rather specific ringtone which told you exactly who it was. You looked at the clock and realised that this would be the narrow window where he was up but not off at his internship.

“Sorry, (Name)’s busy being an awesome hero right now, please call back later.”

“It’s not convincing if I can hear you giggling while you do it, moron.” He groaned at your stupidity and you shrugged it off, saying at least you had a sense of humour first thing in the morning and that you weren’t a grumpy sod like he was to which he obviously argued that he wasn’t.

However, he was too quiet. He had an agenda for this call - you just knew it.

“Was there something you needed, Katsu?”

“Yeah, what’re you doing on the news and why did it have to be while you’re in my hero outfit?!” He roared and you burst out laughing and switched the TV in your room on. After flicking through a couple of stations, you found that picture of you and the two kids beside a reporter who was explaining the story.

“Aww, are you jealous that I look better in it than you do?” You grinned and you could tell he was about a hair’s breadth away from snapping entirely so you calmed down your teasing and smiled lightly. “It’s fine. I’m sure people will eventually get the idea that it’s your outfit… after they stop wondering why you’re a hero who keeps cosplaying as me.”

There was some incoherent cursing to which you just smiled until it calmed down and then after a moment, there was a soft. “You’re alright though, aren’t you?”

It gave you pause. Aw, had he been worried after he’d seen it? Was that the real reason why he’d called.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I overused my quirk a little but I’m no Deku. I’m perfectly fine. I’ve got the morning off though. Sucks to be you having Best Jeanist this morning while I’m out sunbathing.” You laughed at his groan and small complaint about his mentor.

“You’d better go or you’re gonna be late for it.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you when you get back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Aww, is that you trying to say that you hope I’m safe?”

“No! Go drown for all I care!”

You let out a soft hum as though thinking it over. “But then you’d probably drown diving in after me, right? Cuz you know you love me!”

He let out a sigh. “… Yeah fine.” There was a pause and you could tell he was trying to figure out how to say something.

“And you looked damn good in my hero costume.” And then the line clicked dead.

And you were just left there grinning like a damn idiot… wondering how to wind him up even more about it.

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 7 - Patience

Author’s Note: A reminder that this is an angsty horror story. This chapter takes place directly after Part 6, now centering on Jack and what happened to him. It will cover anything that wasn’t made clear in the previous chapter. Also, this chapter is dark, especially near the end. Warning! There will be feels!

I’m so sorry (not sorry)

Here's the playlist to go along with it.

Bolting upright and gasping for air, he awoke to complete and utter darkness.

It was pitch-black where he was, nothing but pure black in his wake. And it was also warm, rather hot actually. It took him a brief moment to even realize how he was beginning to sweat bullets given the temperature of the room he was currently in – that is if it was a room. Where was he? He couldn’t see a damn thing; there was no telling where he was. Was this real time? Was he dreaming? Unconscious? He didn’t know what to think. All he could hear was his own uneven gasps of breath and the pounding of his heart beating away in his ears. He was sitting on a cemented ground; he could tell from how uncomfortable he was. He squinted, trying to make out anything in the darkness.

“Hello?” He called out, hoping that maybe someone would hear him.

The only response he got was the echo of his own voice bouncing off of the unseen walls. Right as he rose to his feet, the green-haired Irishman froze where he stood. There was something of which felt a lot like metal cuffing both of his wrists and ankles, and as he had picked himself up off of the ground, a scratchy ear-piercing sound came from below, like the clattering of chains. Feeling at his wrists, his eyes widened in surprise to find that they were shackled, and though he couldn’t see, he had a horrible feeling his ankles were in just the same condition. He gave a tug of his wrists and took a few steps forward, testing his mobility and his limits. Grasping onto a chain, he began to pull himself in the direction of it until he reached out and bumped into what felt like a brick wall. A sense of panic began to swell in his gut as he turned and bolted forward, running smackdab into a set of metal bars. Shaking off the unexpected pain, the Irishman blindly felt around for the bars, the situation he was in finally starting to dawn over him. He was in a prison cell and was currently being kept prisoner. For who or what, he hadn’t a clue, nor did he want to know. More than anything, he wanted to know where he was.

Why was he locked up in chains? Why was it so dark and so warm? Was this Hell? Is that where he was – in his own personal Hell? What had happened before he had woken up? What had –

And very unexpectedly, like he had gotten struck with a bolt of lightning, memories poured into his brain like a rushing waterfall.

He had been recording his Halloween video. There had been sounds coming from the hall – eerie childish laughter and loud thumping. His nose had bled – something that very rarely ever happened to him – and there was the overwhelming sense of something there in the room with him, like he was being watched…Like something was toying with him. At one point, he had found himself transfixed on the kitchen knife he had used to carve his pumpkin, a compelling urge corrupting him to know what that blade would feel like slicing through his neck. It happened so quickly. He had felt like a puppet getting its strings tugged at, having any power or control over his actions robbed from him.

Staring emotionless into the still-recording camera…

Raising the knife to his throat…

Searing-hot pain as he slowly dragged the sharp cool blade along the skin and cut deep; severing his veins and windpipe…

Nausea and the sickening scent of copper plaguing the air…

His vision swimming in a red haze…

Psychotic laughter echoing, coming from every which direction…

Crimson washing down into his lungs, the beginning of drowning in his own life force…

Blood…So. Much. Blood.

With a gasp of horror, a hand shot up to his throat, instantly feeling for a large gash and expecting to run his fingers through hot sticky blood leaking out. But to his surprise, there was nothing there. No torn skin, no warm substance hitting his fingertips, no pain. The column of his neck was entirely bare, no evidence of there being a wound. He let out a sigh of relief, but as quick as that breath came out, question fell upon him.

He had cut his throat open and bled out – he knew this for a fact. He had felt everything. The pain had been excruciating, his vision had gone red, and all he could smell was copper. Blood had flooded down into his windpipe and he had been practically drowning in it; spluttering as he tried to scream for help. He had had no control over his body when this had happened, and someone – or something – evil had been laughing manically as he tore into his flesh. It had all felt so incredibly real, far too vivid to go and shake it off as just being a dream. That had NOT been a dream. But then if it hadn’t been a dream, then what the hell happened? Had all of that actually occurred? Had he died – was he dead?

His stomach dropped and his heart stuttered at that thought; his blood running ice cold throughout his body. Is that why everything was so dark and so warm? Maybe he WAS in Hell. It would explain why he was in chains and locked up in a prison cell; there was no other way to explain it. But why would he – of all people! – be in Hell? What could he have possibly done to get himself put here of all places?!

Coiling his fingers around the bars of the cell, Jack leaned forward, trying desperately to make out anything in the dark. His breathing was becoming a tad bit laboured now, due to the thought of being dead unsettling him greatly. If he was dead, all of those people he was close to – Mark, Bob, Wade, Felix, Robin, Signe, his entire family…

He cringed at the very thought of Signe walking into his recording room to discover his body slumped over the table, knife in a limp hand; neck slit wide open and bleeding out. She would surely be horrified at the sight and the world would seem to stop moving at that point. She would rush to his side, desperately trying to get a response out of him as tears would blur her vision, streaming down her cheeks. She’d fumble with her phone, calling for an ambulance all while sobbing over her boyfriend’s corpse. She and everyone else would never know what had happened or why it had happened. His death would remain a complete mystery.

He shut his eyes tightly and pressed his forehead against the bars, attempting to shut out that gut-wrenching image.

No…No, don’t think about that. Don’t you dare think about that. He chided himself. You’re not dead, you can’t be. Think logically here for a second. You’ve been having vivid nightmares for nights on end. How could this be any different? This is all just one big incredibly vivid nightmare, it has to be.

But although he tried to convince himself this, deep down he knew this wasn’t a nightmare. This was real time and this was really happening. Reopening his eyes to search the endless shadows before him, he called out once more.

“Hello?” His voice echoed. “Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?” He shouted, both deeply hoping and dreading for a response of sorts. “Hello?!”

Once again there was nothing but his words reverberating throughout the room in the dead silence…until he faintly made out a soft chuckle of delight. His ears perked at hearing that, his posture straightening instantly.

“Who’s there?!” He questioned the darkness.

Whoever or whatever was in the room with him didn’t reply, although from where he stood, if he squinted, he could make out what looked like eyes glowing a bright piercing green in the distance. He watched as they began to increase in size, the light patter of footsteps coming towards him as they approached. Having now adjusted to the darkness, the Irishman could somewhat make out the shape of a slim masculine figure heading in his direction, and once this thing was close enough, he noticed its head had a tuff of forest-green hair and how it was donning a black shirt and torn black jeans – the exact same outfit he had last been in and was still in. Blinking in confusion as a small tremor of fear raced up along his spine, Jack took a hesitant step back from the bars. This figure looked exactly like him, safe for the black gauges in his ears and what appeared to look like some sort of tube-like device lodged in his throat. Why was that? If he was in Hell, why was he looking at a copy of himself? And more than anything, how long had this clone been in the room? Had it been watching him this entire time, off in the far corner of this darkened hell? Noticing the questioning expression on the green-haired man’s face, his duplicate gave an amused chuckle.

“Oh right, hold on a second!” His voice was the same as well, safe for how it seemed much more gruff and distorted.

Raising a hand to his neck, the copy ran his thumb along his throat. Following the line of his thumb, the skin pulled open; creating a wide-open tear all along the width of his neck, blood dripping out of the wound. Almost instantly, Jack’s eyes widened in horror, the sense of dread he had felt before returning with a vengeance. He stumbled backward away from the bars, nearly tripping over the chains linking him to the wall. The twisted version of him let out a gleeful laugh in seeing the YouTuber’s reaction.

“Recognize me now, Jackaboy?” He asked, a smile stretched across his face.

Letting out a shaky breath and barely even able to speak, Jack trembled in fear. His lips struggled to part to give a reply to the creature’s question.

“Y-You…I-I’ve seen you before.”

The copy grinned. “Indeed you have.”

“In m-my dreams…” Jack’s brows furrowed as bits and pieces of his nightmares flashed through his brain. “Y-You’re…You’re from all of those nightmares I had, you’re….” He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry and sore now, “you’re the one who caused them.”

The figure chuckled, his entire being glitching out like it had in the Irishman’s dreams. Jack felt his heart skip an unsettling beat at this discovery. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the duplicate in front of him. He had so many questions, one too many crammed into his head. He didn’t know where to begin. He watched as the entity grimaced, moving a hand to touch the tube in its neck. He growled.

“This damned thing.” Tilting his head back to expose the column of his neck, Jack watched with disgust as the being grabbed the tube and yanked on it, slowly pulling it from his throat. A gross, wet sound accompanied it, the stitches surrounding the tube getting stretched and pulled apart as little blood and what looked like black ooze dribbled out. The Irishman nearly gagged at the sight. As soon as the tube was dislodged from the glitch’s throat, he groaned and chucked it far off into the void; rotating his neck as the open wound somehow closed up instantaneously.

The being let out a relaxed yet distorted sigh as he jerked his head. “Ah, that’s more like it.”

Jack found it odd that this creature had been in discomfort from a tube in his windpipe, yet remained completely unfazed at having a wide-open gash in his neck. Shaking off the feeling and inhaling and exhaling deeply, the green-haired man stared at the being sternly, hoping to give off a tough demeanour even though his poor heart was a stuttering mess.

“Who…” He shook his head, changing his wording, “What are you? What happened? Where am I? What’s – ?”

The unstable duplicate raised his hands, cutting off the Irishman. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. One question at a time there, Jackie. There’s no need to hurry; you have all the time in the world to get the answers you want.” He promised.

Jack fell silent, keeping his eyes locked on the copy; waiting impatiently for the answers he desperately needed. After a moment or two of nothing but the noticeable heavy breaths coming from the YouTuber, the demon finally gave in.

“First and foremost, my name is Antisepticeye, but you may call me Anti. Everyone else does.” As he said this, his body glitched out violently; showing a brief projection of him laughing like a lunatic. It startled the green-haired Irishman, making him tense up. “As for what happened, well…” The entity, now known as Anti, lolled his head downward, shoulders shaking as a giggle bubbled out of his slashed throat. His eyes shifted back up to Jack. “you already know the answer to that.”

At hearing that childish giggle, an icy cold chill raced up the prisoner’s spine; remembering just how many times he had recalled hearing that exact giggle. His aquatic-blue eyes remained fixed on the glitchy distortion before him, trying to figure out what this being was and what it wanted from him. He shook his head, running over the question he dreaded to ask. Wetting his lips, he pushed himself forward.

“Am…Am I…” He couldn’t even get the word out. It was right on his tongue, but he couldn’t let it slip out.

“Dead?” The glitch finished, arching a brow in amusement; the corner of his lips tugging up into a devious smirk.

Jack’s heart jolted and he audibly gulped, a bead of sweat running down one of his temples. His breathing was a tad bit shaky now. Though it was hot as Hell in the room, the way the creature was staring at him was chilling him to the bone. He was just waiting for the demon to tell him the unfortunate news. Taking note of the Irishman’s trembling form, Anti chuckled with delight and shook his head.

“No, you’re not dead.” He thought for a brief moment before shrugging his shoulders, cocking his head to the side. “Well, not yet anyway.”

At hearing this, the YouTuber didn’t release the breath he was holding. He was grateful to know he wasn’t dead, but then if he wasn’t dead, where was he? What had happened? Still so many questions to ask. He blinked, tilting his head out of puzzlement.

“But…B-But I – you – s-slit my throat open.” He stuttered, pointing a trembling finger at the manifestation. “I-I felt it. I saw myself lift the blade to my neck and cut it open. There was blood. H-How could I – ?” He couldn’t figure out a plausible reason for how he could have survived something as fatal as what he’d endured.

The demon could only laugh at his confused prisoner, finding it humorous how dimwitted he was acting.

“Oh Jack, I know you’re not stupid – I’ve been in your head long enough to know that.” Anti stepped forward to get a better look at the green-haired man. “Ever heard of something called an illusion?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

Jack’s face only scrunched up with further confusion, not understanding where the entity was going with this. “What? I don’t – .”

“Oh come on, surely you know.” The glitch said with annoyance lacing his voice. “You didn’t die, Jackie. Your body – your physical body, your vessel, whatever the hell you want to call it – is completely fine and untouched. The pain you had felt,” A smirk was slowly getting dragged across his face, “the knife I had made you use to cut open your throat and bleed out,” He shook his head, “it was all one big illusion. None of it actually happened.” He scoffed. “Why would I want to go and kill my own host? That’s just stupid. What use would you be to me if you were dead?” He stopped, giving a thoughtful expression. “Well, actually, I take it back. It sort of did happen. I mean, I slit open my own throat in the process. Pain and blood suit me, don’t you think?”

“Wait, wait, hold on a second.” The Irishman interrupted, trying to catch up with what the entity had just told him. His eyes were shifting back and forth as he looked at the ground, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. His attention returned to the demonic version of himself. “You mean to tell me…you were just toying with me? Is that it? You killed me without actually killing me?”

Anti gave an exasperated sigh, his form distorting and having multiply versions of himself flicker like a strobe light; one moment showing him tugging harshly on his hair out of anger, the next prying open his mouth, looking like he was attempting to unhinge his jaw. The Irishman found it mildly disturbing.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that I didn’t kill you physically, but mentally, I fucked you up.” Still noticing the confusion upon his prisoner’s face, the glitch rolled his eyes and growled. “I pumped you full of fear, you became caught off-guard, I shoved your subconscious out of the way, and low and behold, here we are!” He rambled off sharply, his head twitching to the left.

His subconscious…Wait…

Slowly but surely, realization was coming over the green-haired Irishman. His eyes searched the darkness, taking in what he could see. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t in Hell, but something didn’t feel right about all of this. He glanced down at his hands, lifting them to get as good as a look as he could. He rotated his wrists and clenched his fingers slowly. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his core. He felt empty and cold, even though the interior of the room was sweltering hot. His brows furrowed as he stared at his hands one moment, the next looking back into the endless black.

The void – is that where he was? Was he in the void, the place where all of the egos resided? It was the only conclusion he could make sense of. He was the only one to be able to access it, and the only way he could access it was whenever he was unconscious, in deep sleep, or even sometimes when he rested his eyes. His subconscious would then travel into the void and visit the egos, checking in on things and making sure each of them was happy. He had to be in the void, this had to be his subconscious locked up. And yet, even if this was the answer to his question on where he was, it still didn’t answer why he was there or why he felt so empty and cold inside. He couldn’t describe it, but something was missing. Something incredibly important. He lifted his gaze, fixing his eyes onto the demon outside of his cage.

“What did you do?” He demanded, trepidation lacing his uneven voice. A horrible suffocating hybrid of suspicion and panic was starting to grow deep within, and the longer the demon stared at him with that derisive knowing smirk, the worse the hybrid became.

Anti, being the unhinged abomination he was, chuckled as his head jerked violently from the right to the left before locking his eyes back onto his prisoner.

“Whatever do you mean, Jackaboy?” He inquired.

“You know exactly what I mean. What…What are you?” Jack finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Are you an ego? I don’t recall creating an ego like you though. What, are you an ego I had long forgotten or something?” He tore his gaze away, directing his attention back to the ground to process his thinking. He shook his head. “But…But no ego could possibly…” He trailed off, his eyes shifting back to the distorted entity. He frowned. “Why do I feel so empty?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Shut up and listen to me for a minute!” He suddenly snapped, which admittedly surprised the demon. He hadn’t expected the man to be quite so demanding. “Something is wrong…I feel…I feel empty and cold.” His voice was becoming shaky again, panic slipping into his words. “If…If this is the void, then that means this is my subconscious here right now…but…but if my subconscious is here, I shouldn’t feel the way I do.” He shook his head slowly, a hand moving to rest over his heart. He could feel it violently pounding away at the palm of his hand, anxiety catching up to him at an alarming rate. He licked his lips. “Every time I come here, I always – ALWAYS – feel warmth and a sense of security. I feel…” He let out a shaken breath. “I feel a spiritual link to my physical body. I don’t feel distant, I feel attached, like there’s still a psychic connection…but now…” He stopped himself, having a difficult time wrapping his head around the thought. He couldn’t finish the sentence. Dread was washing over him far too fast and he was drowning in it. Slowly returning his gaze to the demonic version of himself, with trembling lips he asked again, “What did you do?”

A chilling laugh echoed off of the walls, making all of the hairs on the back of the Irishman’s neck stand on end. His blood ran ice cold at seeing the glitch’s smirk spread out into an eerie toothy grin, a low rumbly chuckle sounding from deep within the butchered throat. The demon glitched out spastically as he stepped forward, grasping the bars and keeping his eyes transfixed onto his prisoner.

“Let’s just say that dear ol’ doctor of yours’ stitched me up real good.” Even though his grin had stretched as far as it could, it almost seemed like it had gone even further.

Jack’s stomach dropped at the mention of the doctor. His eyes widened, fear coursing through his veins as he lunged forward to grasp the bars. Anti jumped back, chuckling with delight.

“Henrik? What did you do to him?!” He shouted, worrying for his friend’s condition. What if he was hurt? What if he was dead?

The glitch laughed, his entire form stuttering and seeming to lag momentarily. “I haven’t done anything to him. He’s fine…” He glowered at the green-haired Irishman, smirking sinisterly as his eyes flashed a pale green. “for now.” The intervals in his voice had dropped at that, becoming deep and inhuman.

Jack huffed with anger, the anxiety and dread he was feeling truly getting to him in the worst ways now. He slammed his hands against the bars furiously, the chains rattling loudly.

“Answer me, damn it! What did you do?! What did you do to me?!” He didn’t realize it, but panic wasn’t the only thing seeping into his words. Desperation was there too, and Anti could hear it as clear as day.

The glitchy manifestation watched the YouTuber with sadistic glee, taking joy in seeing him already overcome by rage, worry, and fear. Chuckling low in his throat, he approached the bars, coming face to face with his other half. He tilted his head to the side and grinned, leering at him, almost like he was mocking the Irishman.

“I told you, Jack. I shoved your subconscious out of the way. And with me bleeding out onto the floor, I needed a doctor to ‘save me’, so to speak.” There was that bone-chilling signature giggle once more, causing the green-haired man to visibly quiver in fear. “That dense, weak-minded, poor excuse of a surgeon stitched me together and he has no IDEA what he’s done.” The giggle morphed into a horrific abrupt laugh that would surely make anyone’s blood run colder than ice.

Eyes as wide as saucers, Jack stepped away from the bars; staring at the entity in horror at hearing him explain himself. His words were slithering their way into his body and around his heart, coiling around it and constricting it tightly. His breaths were coming out laboured as the demon carried on talking, pleased to see the Irishman so weak and helpless.

“If only you could’ve heard how broken he was, Jackaboy. I must’ve given a convincing act, especially with how he screamed your name, begging for you to stay alive. He was so desperate that he resorted to intoxication if you can believe it.” He threw back his head and laughed, a sharp crack emitting from his neck. “HA! What kind of doctor does such a thing during an emergency? Is it any wonder his family views him as a pathetic waste-of-space?”

Jack visibly cringed at every word that came out of the glitch’s mouth. He couldn’t bear to hear him talking about Henrik like this. Had it been true? Had Henrik really done as he had just said? He shook his head. Henrik was never a man to tip over the edge and do something as careless as intoxication during an operation – at least that’s what Jack thought. Henrik may have been a mad man, but he had never once fallen off of the wagon before. The Irishman snapped out of it when he heard a cackle ring throughout the darkened hell. He locked eyes with the abomination on the other side of the bars, noticing how the Cheshire grin hadn’t faltered at all.

“He stitched me together, Jack, and he had no idea. He thought he was saving you…when really…” The creature couldn’t conceal his mirth; his form glitching and twitching spastically to reveal more than one version of himself laughing like a raving psychopath, “he was saving me…He granted me access, Jack.” He slowly stepped back from the bars, turning his head and lifting one of his hands to look at it. He flexed his fingers and hummed with pleasure, smirking wickedly. His eyes glided back to the quivering man in the cage. “It feels good to be the one in control.”

At that exact moment, the Irishman felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him and like time had frozen over. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like there was a weight over his chest and any and all air had been knocked out of him. His heart gave a painful pang as Anti’s words sank in, sudden realization dawning over him. He shook his head slowly, his wide eyes never leaving the glitch.

“N-No…N-No, that’s…” His head shook violently. “t-that’s not possible. N-No one…No one can be in control of my body except for me – NO ONE. It’s my body and…and I’m the one who holds the power. No one can take control, no one, not even the egos!” He exclaimed, trembling breaths expelling from his lips. His brows furrowed, not understanding. “No ego can take my place even if they wanted to – none of them could become linked to my body, so how…h-how could – ?”

The abomination released a mirthful giggle at listening to the man ramble on in confusion. His eyes settled onto the shivering YouTuber, an awful, horrible toothy grin plastered to his face.

“Whoever said anything about me being an ego?” His grin spreading further, his eyes flickered an abyssal black.

Jack gasped and jumped back in alarm, hitting the brick wall. Feeling his knees give out, he collapsed to the ground; his eyes transfixed on the demon, pupils dilated out of full-blown horror. The Irishman didn’t know what to think anymore at this point. Fear had finally taken a hold of him. He was at a complete loss for words. His mouth was open, but he couldn’t get anything out. He was literally paralyzed in fear. Anti of course could tell, and being the twisted mirthful monster he was, he cackled wildly; his figure spasming and showing duplicates of himself twitching and laughing, one grinning like a jack o’ lantern, another having his head jerk violently. After what felt like a decade had gone by, Jack found the words he longed to get out.

“W-What…What do you want?” It all came out so strained and raspy, like it was a hardship and like he was literally choking on the words.

Anti’s cruel laughter died down softly, his onyx-glazed eyes staring directly into his other half’s soul. The poor Irishman gasped softly and quivered at the sight. The demon smirked.

“Now that is for me to know and for you to figure out.” A sinister laugh rippled out of his sliced throat, the muscles in the wound visibly squirming and flexing.

Jack went to open his mouth to object, going to question him further, but the glitch kept him quiet.

“Enough questions. I wouldn’t want to ruin anything for you, Jackaboy. Where’s the fun in that?” He cackled. “No no, I’m going to let you stay here and muse long and hard over why you’re here and why I’m keeping you alive.” He sneered. “Maybe think about that precious community of yours’ and how they won’t notice you’re gone.” He taunted torturously, breaking down the hope and bravery the Irishman had had.

This was becoming too much for the green-haired YouTuber. His head was swimming in a relentless monstrosity consisting of anxiety, desperation, animosity, and melancholy. He could feel tears beginning to prickle at the corners of his eyes as he thought of the community and how this glitchy imposter was probably right. What if he was able to imitate him perfectly? With the demon now attached to his body, he was in control, and if he could act exactly like Jack, no one would notice he was gone. It would be seamless; not a single person would wonder where the real Jack was. And the recording he’d done for Halloween…If Anti uploaded that for all to see, everyone would probably think nothing of it. They’d just assume it was some cool scary idea he had come up with for Halloween, acting like he’d killed himself and then become possessed. No one would suspect that it had in fact actually happened, that none of it was an act. No one would know what had truly happened to him that day – not his friends, not his family, not Signe, not anyone.

Struggling to keep his sanity in check, Jack looked up at the demon, weakness shining in his eyes.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” He asked, sounding almost drained now. “You have what you want – you have control over my body. So why am I still here? Why haven’t you gotten rid of me once and for all?” He honestly didn’t want to know the answer, and yet he waited impatiently for it.

The unstable manifestation giggled with amusement, finding it hilarious how his prisoner had lost any and all moxie so easily. He bent over, holding the bars and leaning forward to peer through. He cocked his head, looking at the weakened man with fascination.

“Now why would I want to dispose of my toy so quickly?” He said in the most unnerving voice imaginable, the intervals of it changing ever so slightly. “After all, this is only the beginning, Jack. I have big plans for future events, let’s leave it at that.”

Without another word, the demon turned on his heel and began walking off into the darkness; his figure fading as the shadows enveloped him. Jack let out a few quick shaken breaths.

“W-Wait….What does that mean?…What does that mean?!” He scrambled to his feet, stumbling over his chains in the process. “Wait!”

He got up and dashed for the end of the cage. He slammed his hands against the bars, watching the demented copy of himself vanish into the dark before the sound of a door opening echoed, a blinding beam of light slicing through the eternal darkness. The Irishman winced, a hand flying up to his face to shield his eyes. Squinting, he could make out a figure walking out the door. It was Anti, and although he was off in the distance, Jack could easily make out the devilish smirk on his pale face.

“Wait! What does that mean?!” The green-haired YouTuber hollered, desperately wanting an answer.

But he never got one. The demon slipped out of the room, the door falling shut behind him, leaving the Irishman alone in the uncomfortably hot, pitch black hell.

* * * * *

Jack’s eyes shot open in alarm. He remembered why he was here, how he had gotten here. He remembered it all. And even though he knew the answers now, it’s not like any of it mattered. It was too late for him now. It was too late for all of them. Anti was the one in control – he wasn’t just able to pull the strings of Jack’s body, he also had power over the void. He called the shots now. Anything and everything he wanted he could do with a snap of his fingers, even if that meant getting rid of the egos one by one.

The poor Irishman’s heart felt like it was being compressed at that sudden realization. Everyone was in danger, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it, not with him chained up and suffocating in this increasingly cold room. He was already so weak, so drained and disoriented from being caged here for so long. If his execution wasn’t coming as soon as it was, he surely thought that the room he was currently in would be the death of him.

Lifting his head from his hands and letting out a few scratchy wheezing breaths, he hesitantly turned his head in the direction of where the watch lay across from him, over by what remained of Sam’s squished corpse.

The watch read 3:30 P.M. – half an hour left until his demise.

He had cried numerous times over, sobbing until there wasn’t a tear to shed, and his joints were numb from how many times he had tugged at the chains; festering blisters cuffing his wrists and ankles. And yet, fresh new tears managed to come to his eyes, his lips trembling as he tried to hold back the oncoming pain. Almost instantly, the worn-down Irishman scrambled to his feet and stumbled backward, catching himself by leaning against the wall. Panting heavily as tears blurred his vision, he grasped onto the chains with weak unsteady fingers before staggering backward and pulling with all his might.

“Come on….Come on!” He seethed through clenched teeth, his vision swimming as he focused on the link in the wall responsible for holding him hostage.

There was still no budge. There was no difference from any of the other times he had tried.

Shaking all over from both the cold as well as the emotional pain he was beginning to drown in, Jack tugged and tugged, wrenching on the chains desperately; tears falling from his eyes. Those eyes no longer held any light or hope, they were a stone grey now; dead like this room he was caged in. He sobbed, his hands shaking and struggling to keep a tight grip on what kept him bound to this hell; the metal scrapping away at the skin of his palms horribly. Drops of blood broke free and got smeared across the metal links as he yanked away, the friction brutally cutting away at his hands with each and every tug. And with each tug, he knew – he KNEW – there was absolutely no way of getting out of here. These chains weren’t going to break and he was going to die in here, cold and alone.

He cringed, eyes shutting tight as salty tears streamed down over his cheeks and over his trembling lips. He couldn’t bear the pain anymore, it was consuming him. Feeling his skin get viciously eaten away at by the metal, he broke down.

“Let me out! Let me out, please! PLEASE! LET ME OUT!” He cried, knowing fully well no one could hear him, but he didn’t care. He carried on wailing in anguish. “Let me out, let me out, LET ME OUT!”

He dropped his head and sobbed, his efforts at escape dying down. He sniffled and swallowed down the tears that ran over his lips, heartache finally ruining him once and for all. With his legs wobbling with the stress of holding him upright, the poor broken Irishman collapsed to his knees; shoulders shuddering violently from the force of his crying. He bawled into his raw bloodied hands, cool tears of pain rushing out of his bloodshot eyes. His whole body quivering from the emotional agony, Jack arched and threw his head back, screaming out into the darkness.

“AAANNNTTIII!!!”

Unknowingly to the YouTuber, from outside the room in a bright well-lit hallway, someone had in fact been listening to his cries. Standing there leaning against a wall, darkened eyes fixed on the door before him, was Anti. A twisted, cruel smirk was tugging at the corner of his pale lips, slowly but surely stretching into a pleased smile. An inhuman distorted chuckle of delight raced out of his slashed throat.

He knew what time it was.

He knew the man only had thirty minutes remaining.

And he was going to take pleasure in every one of those minutes, hearing the defeated Irishman’s screams.

“LET ME OUT!”

Part 6 - Stitched Together

Part 8 - Ze Good Doctah

@fear-is-nameless @golden-eyed-guardians @n-o-ra-xi @steffid101 @haveaverynicetime @butterlover328 @darkcurious @gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-obsessed @nightmarewolf133

Again….I’m SO sorry (not at all sorry)