#the glitch was awful. i was falling for ten minutes

[sweetzscore]

Enjoy Sky Blue

[whumpsoda]

Taking - Nevan & Darius

WOHEO Masterlist I finally wrote this… better now than never, I guess! I can’t wait to get more into early captivity stuff :D

cw: hypnosis/mind control, vampire whumper, kidnapping

This actually takes place a bit over six months after Malak was taken!

———————————————————————

“Yeah, Gen, I’ve got it, s’all good.” The sliver of a phone was pressed between Nevan’s shoulder and cheek, hands occupied with a bulky load of filled to the brim bags. He chuckled as he spoke, his voice loud and casual. “I’m already on my way back. I’m only like ten minutes away.”

He stepped in a lazy path down the cracked sidewalk, illuminated only by sporadically placed street lamps. The cumbersome bags bumped irritatingly to his legs with each step, crinkling into the silent night air. “I got Amara some toys too! They were pretty cheap, but really cute.”

A voice, muffled and glitched, spoke from the other end of the connection. “Aw, that’s sweet. Thanks, babe.” Genevieve said, from back at their apartment.

“I grabbed her a new bib, also. The one she’s got now is pretty gross.” He chatted, vision absentmindedly trailing over each next building he passed. Not many people could be seen inside, most already having returned home after dark. “How’s she doing?”

“Stop.” 

Nevan’s avid steps quickly became weighted, his legs gradually braking to a halt. Genevieve continued her energetic rambling, his mouth falling slack and any words dying right in his throat. 

“Still.” 

His muscles tensed, holding rigidly in their position. No matter the pouding in his mind, calling him to make a move, Nevan was simply and utterly unable to connect his brain to his limbs.

“…Nevan? Are you there?”

There was someone to his side, obscured by the convenient shadows of the dark and his unwavering sight. The most Nevan could manage was to sputter out a half baked, confused stutter. “He- hey-”

“Nevan?”

“It’s in your best interest not to fight.” They whispered, directly into his ear. Nevan’s breath hitched. “Hush now.” The stranger soothed, pressing a gentle hand to Nevan’s chest. “Just close your little lips and quiet your throat. Stay nice and still, completely quiet.”

“Nevan? Hey, are you there? Is this thing working?”

Nevan watched, all he really could do while paralyzed by fear and the hold of the man’s words on his mind, as Darius stepped into his line of vision. Dressed in drab, dignified clothing, the attacker studied him with an intense gaze.

“God, this stupid phone. Nevan?” She sighed. “If you can hear me, I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”

With each careful inch forward, boots clacking against the floor, Nevan’s stomach caved further with terrified sickness, thoughts running wild yet too fast to catch. He shivered as Darius’ icy cold fingers clutched his chin, beginning to gingerly shift his head every which way, studying Nevan’s features.

Nevan swallowed. Genevieve hung up.

“Great bone structure. Clear skin, beautiful eyes.” He muttered, speaking more so to himself than Nevan. As he did so, the phone was slipped away from Nevan’s ear, an action he barely noticed, and Darius quickly flung the cell to the floor. The crack of the screen rang just feet away as it hit the concrete.

Nevan twitched at the sound, but didn’t dare take his eyes off the man inches away. His vision was fixed on Darius’ mouth as he spoke.

Sharp, jutting fangs stuck out from the rest of Darius’ glimmering white teeth, large enough to rip out his throat with a single bite.

A vampire.

Nevan wasn’t given the chance to dwell on the realization before a firm hand gripped a ball of his hair, yanking back his head and forcing a yelp to scratch from his throat. “Hm.” The vampire hummed, studying the locks and running fingers through them. “Dreadful cut, terribly uneven. Nicely soft and shiny, though. We’ll have to fix that up.” He noted. 

“I do think you’ll serve an adequate pick. Wonderful looks, an easily overcome mind.” Nevan tried to make sense of the vampire’s eery observations. As the gears of his terrified brain turned, Darius slipped into the nape of his neck, a swift action that not only caught him by surprise but fluttered in his heart.

“Above average blood, as well.” Darius whispered, smelling the other man’s skin and letting his breath beat upon the area. “You’ll provide a lovely meal. A sweet, docile, obedient little meal.”

Meal? Nevan didn’t want to be the snack of a bloodthirsty creature. A soothing, angelic voiced creature, who’s sensual purrs licked his mind. Of course he wouldn’t… want that.

Though, he couldn’t help the way his eyes turned glassy and his eyelashes fluttered from the idea. “A delightful idea, I know. Being nice and docile for a hungry vampire.” His voice was snaking its pleasurable way around Nevan’s brain, echoing beautifully into each crack and crevice. 

It was already apparent Nevan was beginning to crack. “Drop the bags. You won’t be needing those.” Darius commanded, and after a moment the human’s grip fully released. His purchases landed with a thud to the concrete, spilling right out of the plastic. “Good boy.”

As much as Nevan should’ve lingered on the fact he’d just followed the man’s instructions with not a beat of opposition, he paid far more attention to what the man had called him. 

The vampire had spoken to him like one would a dog. That… wasn’t right. But, the way he said it, singing it in his charming, echoing voice, it sounded so good. So right. He would gladly accept such praise if the stranger would continue in such a wonderful sound as that.

“Hm. Tell me your name.”

“N- Nevan.” It rolled right off the tongue, like he didn’t even need a second to think about what he was doing. Like he didn’t even have the chance to stop himself from providing the vampire with what he asked. Nothing felt off about such a thing though, actually pleasant to follow Darius’ demands.

“Isn’t that just convenient. A pretty name for a pretty thrall. I don’t even have to rename you.” Darius stated, pleased, a bit of a grin tugging at his lips. “Well, Nevan, as of tonight you’ll be coming home with me.”

Home.

Home. How could he have forgotten? “But… I need, uh, need… I’m going… home… I think…” he thought. Just moments ago Nevan was so sure of his goal, yet now he was doubting himself, the idea muddling inside his brain. He was going home, wasn’t he?

“Yes, that’s right. I’ll be taking you home. To my home. That sounds nice, don’t you agree?” The vampire stated, matter of fact. He appeared so confident in his words, like he knew just what he was talking about. Nevan couldn’t help but be swayed by them.

Home. That sounded right. “Sure… mister…” Nevan mumbled, his voice drawing into a thick slur with each next word. The corners of his lips twitched into the ghost of a growing smile. This kind stranger was going to bring him home! What a wonderful prospect, fluttering in his heart as he continued to think it over.

“That would be yes Master.” Darius corrected, purring tenderly into his ear.

Master? Nevan’s face went wide, shaking partly out of the trance. “N-no!” He cried, recoiling in shock.

“Shhh. Don’t go freaking out on me, relax. Let my words sink in.” One of Darius’ hands curled over Nevan’s chest, sweetly stroking in circular motions over his heart. “Calm and relaxed, again. Good and submissive you are, ignoring those ridiculous calls of defiance.”

The rigid grip he held on Nevan’s jaw moved his head into a slow nod, and as he continued to digest Darius’ words he couldn’t seem to tell if the vampire was moving it, or him. “Mmm… yes… Master…” Any fear still pent up  fizzled right out as he finally agreed, his body warming as he relented. 

“One more time for me. Yes, Master.” 

Nevan wasted not a second to obediently repeat. “Yes… Master…” his tongue was so drowsily heavy, weighing down his slack falling jaw and slurring his speech.

“Good, good.” More praise! It was strange how pleasant such simple words could feel, but so marvelous they were. The vampire finally stepped back, content that at least then Nevan had no qualms to fight back.

“Here,” the human followed with sleepy eyes, as the vampire plunged his swift hand into his pocket. “Put this on.” 

Nevan eyed the cream colored collar that dangled from his palm, held out expectantly for him to take. His vision carefully trailed down the thin strap of light leather, and the metal clasps that glittered in the light of a nearby streetlamp, taking on the image of a gift from a god. 

At that very moment, the only thing that mattered to him was the collar. The magnificent, calling collar. Anything and everything surrounding it was exempt from his vision, eyes purely focused on the magical seeming item.

Nevan barely processed the steady, mechanical lift of his arms drifting toward the object, obediently following the vampire’s orders. The coarse piece was gently lifted to his throat, and wrapped around his bobbing adams apple by his own fingers. 

His body felt distant and fuzzily disconnected from his clouded mind as he did the clasp, creating a tight, warm ring around his tender neck. Nevan could sense the vampire’s piercing eyes following his motions, but could sense his satisfaction.

“I’m certainly lucky I found you at that dreaded skate park.” Darius’ words were thick with disdain, his expression twisting with disgust. Sorry guilt churned through Nevan’s belly. “It’s rare for me to find an acceptable thrall so quickly, but I’m sure you will do.” His knuckles softly brushed Nevan’s jaw, sending the human’s mind reeling once again.

“Skate… skate… park? Do… do I know you…?”

“You surely don’t remember it, but we’ve met. You mustn't need to worry your pretty little head about that, though. Nothing of your concern, really.” Of course, the man was right. Nevan had no reason to question him, he’d much rather just listen to fuzzy words slip from his magnificent lips, watching the buzz of his throat.

“There’s no need for you to speak, either.” He instructed, hushing Nevan by pressing a finger to his lips. Nevan couldn’t help but giggle as the contact flooded a slight bliss through his brain, a reaction Darius evidently found repulsive as he gave a look of disapproval.

The human blinked hard as sharp snaps of a delicate hand went off in his face, catching his sleepy attention. “Come along now. We’d best be heading home.” 

Nevan eagerly began to follow, although with the daze of his head he seemed to wander, Darius’ graceful path the only indication of where to step. Soon he’d even forgotten where they were headed.

He didn’t mind. Really, he didn’t have the mind to think about it. The man with the wonderful voice could tell him all he needed to know, and he would be satisfied.

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[cosmal]

hozier—

omg tell me what you think about hockey player!steve

omg ive done baseballplayer!steve but this is amazing shut up.

he's definitely a douche at first idc. that king!steve hockey player rep.

he's good. really good and he fucking knows it too.

he doesn't take shit from the ref. he'll yell about an unfair call or what he thinks is unfair.

he can get violent. fights about things that he usually starts. god. the bloodied noses. and when he gets pulled off some other guy, he's all smartass smiles with blood in his teeth. panting and shit ughhhhhhhh.

and then he notices you, of course, how could he not. you come to most of his games. he wants to believe you come for him.

then he finds out you're the coach's daughter.

how he's never met you before is beyond him but he really wants to. it's embarrassing really.

eventually, after a game, he runs into you leaving the coaching box.

because he's a charmer, he gets your number after a ten-minute talk he was lucky enough to get out of you.

you go on a few dates. the movies. the park. the arcade at your request. and he finds out, much to his delight or not he's not sure, that he genuinely likes you.

you're smart, way too smart for him, he thinks, funny, fucking hilarious, shy went you want to be and loud around your friends. worse than him, he thinks.

you're much more than the past girlfriends he's had.

when he finds out you've never skated before, he's amazed. being the coach's daughter.

he finds you a pair of skates straight away and takes you out on the ice.

"steve, im gonna fall on my ass."

"I won't let you. promise."

you shake like a leaf, gripping way too hard onto his hands as he guides you out onto the ice.

"alright, now stand up a bit - yeah that's it, baby. straighten your legs up."

"I can't."

"yeah, you can."

you do as he says and honestly, he's shocked you trust him this much. it hits him right in the gut.

"Im sorry, your poor hands."

"im fine, promise. had worse."

"I've seen the black eyes, steve."

"exactly."

he gets you so wound down, you don't even notice when he lets go of you.

he skates away from you, cheering.

"that's it! look at you go!"

"steve! what the fuck, come back!'

'you're doing so well, baby!"

eventually, you fall on your knees and feel like a complete fool.

he helps you up and he has it in him to feel a little bad.

"you okay? your knees okay?"

"just a little embarrassed."

"right. well, let's go get some food, yeah?"

eventually, you go to all his games just for him.

he blows you kisses before the game starts and comes up to the plexiglass after to fog it up and draw little hearts like a total cornball.

you've totally turned him into some lovely fool that puts king!steve to shame.

still, he gets into fights because he cant help himself.

he feels bad, really, awful, when he finds you on the sidelines looking a little upset.

he gets patched up by a medic and goes to find you straight away.

"your nose is bleeding."

"I'm okay."

you reach up and cup his face. "your lovely eyes, steve."

"I promise I'm okay."

"that's gonna bruise."

he lets you take him home and ice him up. he takes the scolding and the warnings because he deserves them.

"did you really need to hit him once he was down?"

"probably not."

"probably not. stop getting into fights, steve. you're gonna end up seriously hurt."

he promises to never get into another fight once he sees you crying.

he doesn't.

-

stopping the read more glitch <3

[theoneforwriting]

First Encounter

Day One Prompt-First Encounter

Villainous July Enemies and Allies

Tony didn't plan for this to happen. It was supposed to be a simple exchange. Sure plutonium is illegal to own and his plans for what he wants to do with it isn't exactly ideal for everyone.

“Don’t you think this is a little overkill?” Tony asked as he dodged an arrow. “Also you guys need to update your weapons because seriously, archery? You don’t even have a gun on you Legolas.”

“Nothing is overkill when it comes to you!” The archer snapped back.

“Sir, I would hate to interrupt you but it is quite dangerous to fight like this with plutonium merely a few feet away.” Jarvis reminded Tony.

“Ah good thinking J.” Tony started up the ion thrusters and soon was long gone from the shady alleyway.

“Honestly do you think they would have-” Tony didn't get to finish that sentence as he was knocked out of the sky. Screams surrounded him as he layed in a smashed car window that had (thankfully) nobody inside. Two images of the same figure loomed above him blacked because of the sun.

“Iron man, you are being arrested for several accounts of-”

“Yeah sorry not gonna let you finish that thought Mr.Iceberg because I promised that I would be home by dinner so…” Tony grunted, launching himself upwards and slamming the suit’s metal boots into the man’s chest causing him to go flying into a nearby shop window.

“Jarvis status.”

“You are obviously concussed but if you finish this up in less then ten minutes you will have enough power to make it home on time for dinner, the AC unit in the suit is also broken.”

“Damn it, why does it always have to break?” He scanned the situation around him already feeling the heat in the suit rising. Captain was still down in the shop but in the distance he could make out two figures coming his way, one of them looking like the archer from earlier. The street had already cleared of panicked civilians as soon as Tony had his bumpy landing. The hum of his repulsors was the only noise filling the street.

“I never said you had enough power for that.”

“Well Jarvis tough times call for tough measures, so I might be a little late for dinner, Pepper will have my head but I will always have her heart.”

“That’s very touching sir but I would check your four o’clock.” Spinning around at Jarvis’s suggestion Tony was able to punch the newcomer and have her stumble. After seeing her outfit he had a few wires connect together.

“So you’re the infamous Scarlet Widow, then is this some sort of team up to take me down? Kind of insulting that these are the only people you brought.” He dodged a punch “I mean what about that big green guy I saw on the news?” she tried to trip him but he flew upwards instead “his green would go nicely with the get up you have on.”

“Stop talking.” Was her only response. Her eyes started to glow a vibrant red.

“Time to go!” Before he could get very far dodging an arrow caused him to dip down to avoid it. Captain grabbed him by the leg since he was low enough, holding on tight to the leg, the man slammed Iron man into a building.

“Aw no, not Delmar’s.” The helmet’s filters were fizzing and popping but Tony could hear whoever said that as clear as day. In fact the voice sounded familiar. Tony was swung about a few more times before finally breaking free of the Captain’s literal metal hand.

“Sir I suggest we-”

“Retreat yeah I’m on it.” The suit fizzed and glitched, the thruster going in and out as he tried to make his not-so-grand escape. Bumping into an already damaged building caused some debri to fall. Soon a chain reaction started and the whole building was coming down.

“That’s Queens for you.” Tony mumbled.

“Help!” It was the voice from before but now that he could focus on it his heart almost stopped.

“Peter?!” He dove into the collapsing building searching frantically.

“Sir, he is to your right.” Jarvis, even amongst this disaster, was staying calm.

When he finally got to Peter he found him with his leg stuck under a slab of concrete. Wordlessly he heaved the weight off and scooped Peter up.

He had never held Peter while in the suit before. If he jokingly called the kid only skin and bones when he was at home then right now he was only cardboard and paper in his arms right now. He landed on a building nearby, setting Peter down gently.

“Jarvis?”

“Other than some bruising he is fine.” Tony didn’t have long to be thankful before anger suddenly filled him instead.

“What were you thinking?!” He shouted.

“Being in the middle of a battle like that, you could have gotten hurt!” Tony threw his arms up in exasperation.

“Why did you do it?” Peter asked, his face showed awe and wonderment.

“Oh no mister, I'm the one asking questions here.” It wasn't only until after he saw Peter’s confusion he realized his mistake.

Mister.

Right now he wasn't Peter’s dad. Right now his voice was vocoded, anything fatherly having been stripped from it. Right now his figure was encased in a metal suit where the face looked permanently displeased. Right now Peter doesn’t see his dad. Right now he sees Iron Man.

“Just don’t do that again, I won’t be saving you next time.” With that said Tony flew away.

Alone now on the roof Peter mumbled to himself “I didn't even get to say thank you.”

It was a race now for both Starks to get home. Peter stumbled on the fire escape to get off the roof, body aching as he pushed it to go faster, Tony was stripping off the suit and putting on enough makeup for an elephant to cover up the bruises he had.

Minutes went by as they traversed New York. Only for both of them to literally run into each other as they made it to the front door of their apartment.

“I’ll support you if you support me.” Peter told with a mischievous grin. Tony wanted to say no. To tell him off for how much danger the boy had just put himself in. But only Iron Man knows, Tony doesn't. Tony pulled Peter into a side hug.

“Sure kid.”

Before Tony could open the door himself it swung open to show a fuming Pepper Stark and an angry Morgan Stark attached.

“Where the hell have you two been!?” She asked.

“Yeah!” Morgan said while copying her mom’s crossed arms.

“Photography.”

“Business meeting.”

Pepper looked like she was about to give a piece of her mind before noticing the cuts on Peter’s face.

“Honey what happened.” Pepper’s voice had instantly softened as she brought Peter inside.

“Uh, I fell while trying to get an angle.” Peter explained while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, let’s go get you cleaned up,” she turned to face Tony “You however are still on thin ice.”Tony nodded, not really paying attention to what Pepper said.

How many things does Peter not tell us? he wondered

Considering how many things I don’t tell them.

Maybe Starks are just good with secrets.

[brelione]

A Start (JJ X Reader X Rafe)

A Glitch In the System:Chapter Two

Chapter One

(Y/N)

You felt the slight itch on your arm, knowing there’d be messages written all across if you pulled up your sleeves.The car driving by slowed down ever so slightly, making you and Max speed up, taking a short cut down the hill.

 “Yeah, no.Im not down to get axe murdered unless its by Tessa Thompson.”They laughed, kicking the ground to make sure they werent too close to any puddles. “Can you get your lighter out, please?”They asked.You sighed, digging your hand into your pocket, pushing down so a faint light came from it.Thats when you noticed the words written all over your right hand. 

Im a slytherin+scorpio and my favorite food is oranges

Wow, good for them. “What?”Max asked, noticing you had stopped.They gripped your wrist, laughing at the messages. “Come on, you have to write back!What’s the worse that can happen?”They asked, beginning to walk quicker than usual.

Your house wasnt far, only a ten minute walk or so. “I dont want them to think that im interested, I dont want to get my heart broken.”You answered, holding your hand at the side of your lighter, seeing more words spread across your palm. 

“Its your soulmate!They literally cant break your heart-thats literally the whole point, dumb bitch.”They shook their head, their curls bouncing as they did so.You rolled your eyes, continuing your walk. 

“Yeah?So then why dont you write to yours, Maximus Prime?”You asked, hearing them sigh.You grinned to yourself, knowing that you had won. “Maybe I just dont have one, i dont know.Or they’re a sociopath and cant feel love so it doesnt work.”They replied, catching themselves on a tree branch after almost tripping on the large rock.

You sighed, dragging your foot along the dirt in front of you, hoping that you wouldnt fall into the stream again.It was only a few feet across and only a few inches deep but the brown water never came out of socks and gave the soles of your shoes an awful smell.

You found a twig on the ground, lighting the end of it. “(Y/N)-thats such a bad idea!You’re gonna set the whole forest on fire or something.”Max protested, watching anxiously as you tip toed on the wet rocks, getting onto the green grass at your end of the stream, waving the flaming twig in front of you.

You held the twig between your fingernails, the wood already burned halfway.Max sighed, carefully making their way across. “Can you put that out, please?”They asked.You laughed quietly, giving it a few harsh waves in the air before the flame went out, tossing what was left into the water. 

“You’re such a pussy.”You shook your head, making your way across the grass until you got to your fence, punching in the code so you could get into your backyard.The two of you made you way carefully across the yard, blindly reaching for the door knob and smacking the light switch to light up the kitchen.

Max immediately rushed to open a drawer, finding a green sharpie highlighter that was probably a couple years old before grabbing your arm and forcing you to sit down at your kitchen table.You rolled up your sleeves, showing off both of your arms for them to read.

 “One of them is in Slytherin?I dont see how that could work out.”They grumbled, opening the cap of the marker and rubbing the green ink against your skin to cross out the word.You sighed, listening to them rant about how you were lucky that you had options. 

“You should answer the questions.”They told you, handing you the sharpie.At this point they had crossed out slytherin, scorpio and oranges. “I mean...they’re a slytherin scorpio that likes citrus.That means that they’re a hot psychopath and you should just go for it.”They watched as you used the sharpie, pressing the tip of the marker against your skin to make finer lines.

You wrote your zodiac sign, eye color, favorite fruit.They hadnt left enough space for you to answer anything else.Max was watching intently, pouting when you stopped. “What are you doing?You guys are just getting to know eachother!”They exclaimed, wanting you to write more.

You laughed, pulling your sleeve back down. “The dumb whore didnt leave any space for me to write.”You answered, immediately feeling the light itch of more questions being written.

They simply sighed, grabbing a beer from your fridge and using their fingernails to open it. “But its a start.Can we please call JJ?Please?”They were practically begging you, taking a quick sip of beer before taking your phone from the pocket of your leather coat.

Rafe

Rafe sat anxiously, watching as green ink scribbled out the words along his palm.No words yet.He was trying to think of other things to ask or anything to break the ice.What was her name?What was her ideal first date?Did she like milk chocolate or dark chocolate?Did she like chocolate at all?

He twisted his arm, trying to see what she was writing.Her handwriting was a lot better than his for sure.Ward had complained multiple times that he still wrote like a toddler even on important documents and assignments.His eyebrows furrowed as he watched the name of her zodiac sign appear, reaching frantically for his phone to see if they were compatible.

Then she kept writing, answering the questions until there was barely any space left.His heart was thumping, taking a quick photo before rushing into his bathroom to scrub off the ink so he had a clean slate to write on.The green sharpie stayed, a few gaps between her words.

He dried it off as quick as he could so the ink wouldnt run before grabbing his crayola marker again to ask what her name was and where she was from and how old she was.He was laughing, a few tears falling from his eyes.

She was alive and she was out there and she was talking to him.He frowned when she didnt answer immediately but at least he knew that she was alive and well enough to write.That was a start.

(Y/N)

“Max!Now they’re asking more questions-im over this.”You placed the sharpie back down, seeing more marker spread across your arm.Max frowned, wanting to see the questions that they were writing before you covered it back up. 

“Well that sucks but that doesnt mean that JJ Maybank is like that!Lets at least try talking to JJ-maybe they wont ask as many questions.”Max replied, giving you a pout as they fluttered their long eyelashes at you.

You glared at them for a moment before finally giving in, typing the number from your arm into your phone. “What do I say?I cant exactly be like ‘oh yeah im your soulmate’ like thats so weird.”You sighed, staring at the screen.

They bit the inside of their cheeks, making a fish-like face. “Why would that be weird?They wrote their number so it only makes sense.”Max explained, getting up with the beer in their hand as they leaned over your shoulder.

You:Bitch.

Max smacked your arm. “Really?Come on!This is the person you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with and thats the first thing you’re gonna say to them?”They asked, sighing.

You couldnt understand why they cared so much about what you had to say to your soulmate when they couldnt even bring themselves to talk to theirs. “Yeah, it is.If we’re truly meant to be they’ll find it funny.”You shrugged, watching the screen and waiting for an answer.

JJ

JJ laughed at a stupid joke John.B had made, taking a sip of beer when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.All of his friends were here and their phones were nowhere to be soon so who on earth was trying to talk to him?His eyebrows knit together as he pulled out his phone, unlocking it and seeing a message from an unknown number.

The pogues noticed his silence, watching him. “Guys-guys!”He exclaimed, standing up. “What?”Pope asked, not understanding what was going on or if he had somehow missed something. “I think my soulmate just texted me.”The blonde replied, staring at his phone.

Shouts came from the group, none of them really making sense but more of just excited squeaks and screams. “What’d they say?”John.B asked, grabbing JJ by the shoulders in attempts to see the phone. “They called me a bitch!”JJ exclaimed, jumping up and down.

 “ANSWER IT!”Kiara shouted, grabbing JJ’s wrist.He laughed, cheeks bright red.He typed quickly, deleting half of what he wrote before deleting the whole thing. 

“What are you saying?Use proper grammar and dont mess up!”Pope exclaimed, joining in on the attack on his friend, trying to see the screen past John.B and Kiara. “Is this my soulmate?”He sent it before his friends could judge his life choices, waiting anxiously for an answer. 

“Idk.Guess.”Was the answer he got. “What’d they say?”Kiara shouted, hurting his ears a bit. “Here!Read it!”He exclaimed, showing her the screen. “I wish mine would answer that quick.”Pope sighed, looking down at the silver ink across his wrist that hadnt gotten a reply yet. 

“Aww, dont be like that!They’ll answer eventually, took mine like five months to answer and I still dont know who the hell they are.”John.B patted his friend on the back. 

“I think you are.”JJ typed quickly, checking it over a few times before sending it.He saw a read reciept, three gray dots floating across his screen before a message finally came along with a slight vibration of his phone.

 “Then you’re right, Maybank.”He smiled at the message, sighing softly before sitting back down, all other things that he had been thinking about had quickly been forgotten. 

“So you know my name so can I know yours?”He typed quickly, not even caring about grammar.It made enough sense for someone to read it and understand the question.

(Y/N)

You showed Max the message, trying to figure out what to do.The way this one wrote was a lot better, not jumping straight into a ton of questions.Max was a grinning mess, watching as you typed. “(Y/N).”You typed back, heartbeat quickening as you sent it.

You waited for a reply, feeling a bit sick as you saw that they were typing. “Cool.So how are you?”They asked.You laughed, sighing.Every single day since you got your mark they had told you their name and their first question was to ask how you were.

It was pretty funny.But then again they could be just like you and not really care that much. “Are you gonna reply?”They asked, hugging you from behind.You sighed, looking up at them. “Im not going to now just to spite you.”You replied, feeling them squeeze you harder. “Thats such a dry question.”You replied, biting your bottom lip. 

JJ:Sorry lmao

JJ:If you could fly or breath underwater which would you choose

That was a much better question.

You:What makes you think I cant already fly?

Max was reading over your shoulder, brown eyes moving quickly. “Ask them their gender or for a picture of them or something.”They offered you a sip of their beer.You huffed, thinking about it.

Maybe one of your soulmates was a boy and the other was a girl or something like that.Could that even happen?Max would probably know but you didnt want to them to start ranting about every soulmate story and all the possibilities and percentages and death rates and theories.

JJ:Can you?

You:Nope.I’d rather breath underwater.

JJ:Why?

You thought about it.Neither really seemed like good options.The only superpower that would really matter woud be mind reading.That could get you everything you ever wanted and more.

You:Because swimming with whales and turtles would be fucking awesome like you could swim forever and get a fake mermaid tail and just vibe and sleep underwater and talk like imagine that though

JJ

“What are you guys talking about?”John.B asked, trying his best to keep up with the situation while Kiara started to make a whole pinterest board of first date and wedding ideas.

The pogues would all be lying if they said that they thought that JJ’s soulmate would ever answer.They were sure that they would be dead or something like that.But now that they were alive and well it changed everything.

 “Superpowers.”JJ replied, typing quickly. “right but if you can fly then you can go wherever you want whenever you want and your skin wouldnt wrinkle up like a raisin and when you got tired you could just catch a ride on a dragon or a plane or a hot air balloon or something and you would never have to worry about being on a plane and crashing or car crashes off of a cliff”he typed, hoping it wasnt too morbid.

He took in a deep breath, thinking of all the questions he had always wanted to ask.Where did they live?Did they like dogs or cats?Did they know how to surf?Did they prefer movies or TV shows?He didnt want to ask too many questions too fast. 

“But mermaids.”They replied.He simply smiled, letting out a soft sigh.He still knew pretty much nothing about (Y/N) but every relationship had to start somewhere.He was already thinking of nicknames to call them, trying to picture them in his mind.

Were they a boy or a girl?How tall were they?Did they have freckles or pierced ears?What kind of clothes did they wear?Would (Y/N) like him if they had just met him before knowing that they were soulmates?What was their type?Did he fit their type?Would they be dissapointed when they finally met him?

“Can I ask a quick question?doesnt matter if you answer or not just curious”He sent the message, tapping his foot nervously.His phone vibrated, bringing his attention back to the device.

 “just ask the question.”(Y/N) answered. “What’s your gender and pronouns”he typed back.He had always assumed his soulmate was a girl but he didnt want to be rude or disrespectful towards the person he was going to marry some day.

(Y/N)

You smiled at the message, showing Max. “Yeah, this one wins.”You told them, typing back. “She/her and I identify as a girl.You?”You typed back.You were still hoping for a girl but you could accept anyone who could respect gender and pronouns.That was a good sign.

 “He/him and I identify as a dude.Sorry if im not what you expected.”he typed back.It was pretty cool that he didnt just assume that you were a straight girl. “I was hoping for a cottagecore lesbian ngl.”You typed back, biting your fingernail with a stupid love sick smile.

You already liked him.He seemed pretty great so far.You just had to hope that he wasnt putting up a front. “Im sorry lmao I can learn to bake bread and put on a dress if you want.”He replied.You were a smiling mess as you read the message, showing it to Max.

 “See!I told you it was a good idea!”They grinned, pulling off their jacket before pulling off their shirt leaving them in just their binder and large jeans. “If its such a good idea then you need to talk to your soulmate and it’ll have a good outcome.”You answered, seeing them roll their eyes. “Dont contradict yourself, Max.”You replied, going back to typing. “We gotta live in a cottage at least.”You typed.

Rafe

He didnt know what he expected to happen.He always imagined it as the first conversation being perfect and meaningful and being able to say ‘i love you’ after a week and then meet up for a date.

He just wanted to know everything about her.He wondered what her hugs felt like or what her kisses would feel like against his neck or how she’d look in his clothes.

He thought back to the dates he had made up in his head every night before he went to bed.Going to midsummers together, going mini golfing or getting icecream together and eating it on the beach.

He just wanted to know what true and perfect love would feel like.Could he provide the love and care that she deserved?Was she meant to fix everything that was wrong with him or was she meant to teach him how to be the good person that he always wanted to be?

With a slightly shaky hand he dragged the tip of a pen along his skin, writing his phone number as nicely as possible.That would make things a lot easier for her.

JJ

By now all the pogues had fallen asleep inside of John.B’s house but JJ was still in the hammock, swinging back and forth as he held his hot phone, texting (Y/N) until the sun was rising and he couldnt get anymore answers.

That meant she was probably asleep and he should be too, letting the phone rest against his chest before slowly falling asleep.At earlier than 10 in the morning he was shaken awake by Kiara. 

“JJ!JJ!JJ!My soulmate wrote to me!”She exclaimed, showing her friend her arm that had a phone number and a name written on it in green highlighter.

@nas-marie-loves-u​ @28cnn​ @sexytholland​  @yuxsh06​   @ifilwtmfc​  @cherryobx​ @poguestarkey​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​  @poguestyleskye​ @judayyyw​  @sunwardsss @meaganjm​ @sarcasticsagittarius1998​ @jj-fic-recs​ @homophobicclownmoviestan​ @jj-iz-bae​ @natalie-kate-98​ @negativity4you​ @nxsmss​ @ofmaybankheart​ @broken-jj​ @joshy-obx​  @curroptbunnie​ @outerbnx-stiles​ @angelreyesgirl100  @hannahhh-marie​ @sadnessrehab @purple-vodka-99​ @annmariek8​ @harryswigss​ @imagines-07​ @pink-meringues​   @popcrone818​ @fttayla​ @cherryobx​ @drewstarkeyobx​ @jjtheangel​ @jj-iz-bae​@sunwardsss    @natalie-kate-98​ @nxsmss​ @broken-jj​  @prejudic3​  @outerbongs​  @copper-boom​  @httpstarkey​ @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl​  @simonsbluee   @jiaraendgame  @khiaraaa-in-spacee​  @on-socks-off​  @abbiesthings​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @i-love-scott-mccall​  @rae131415 

[celosiaa]

returning nightmares, only shadows

Summary: “Martin’s confused, he’s so confused, and Jon knows it—Knows it even, as he realizes with an unpleasant start that the Eye is drinking in all this fear and pain with absolute pleasure.”

Martin’s got a high fever, and Jon is there to comfort him through it.

(missing scene from between chapter 5-6 of "steady, love” but can stand alone)

(Jon’s thoughts are formatted in italics.  the EYE speaks in glitched text.)

Steam nearly chokes Jon as he steps from the bathroom, having run the water on the maximum temperature for most of his shower.  At this point, he’s willing to try anything to distract himself from the gnawing hunger that’s settled deep in his gut, leaving his body chilled down to the bone after a walk in the blustery Highland day.  He has to admit—the warmth of the water spilling over his aching shoulders felt like a blessed embrace; like some holy sign that he needs to heal, that they both need to heal.

If only I could get Martin down to the shower.

Martin still sleeps up in the loft, with no noise other than the occasional coughing fit or bout of snoring to interrupt the hollow silence of the main floor.  To pass the time, Jon has been reading some inane fiction book from Daisy’s shelf, all the while eyeing Martin’s notebook sitting open on the kitchen table.  The Eye constantly itches at the back of his mind, tempting him into Knowing the contents so incessantly that he’s had to slam the book shut and place it out of sight.  Better for Martin to show him than for him to read it without his knowledge.

I hope he will show me, Jon thinks as he curls back up on the sofa with his book.  He gets whisked away for a while by the loveliest thought—the two of them tangled together in their bed, Martin reading him the verses that spilled forth onto the page from his own mind, petting Jon’s hair as he plants soft kisses up and down Martin’s muscular arms—

THUD.

Jon is up and standing as soon as the noise hits, book flying across the room.

Oh god oh god oh god

“MARTIN?!” he yells, bounding up the stairs two at a time, stomach clenching as he imagines him on the ground, covered in blood—

He flings open the door to find him merely half-sitting up on the floor, in the midst of a coughing fit—planted in place where he had apparently fallen out of bed.  The tension leaves Jon’s body in a rush so powerful that his knees go weak.

“Christ, Martin,” he breathes, bracing himself against the doorframe and laying a hand to rest over his own heaving chest.

At the sound of his voice, Martin sits up straighter, back supported by the bedframe, and forcibly halts his coughs—the only remaining indication the constant fluttering of his chest.  Long strands of his mussed fringe fall into his eyes as he ducks his head, muttering something under his breath that Jon can’t quite make out.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks nervously, having recovered from the shock at last and approaching him tentatively.

Martin does not reply to this, merely continuing his muttering.  Leaning closer, Jon can just barely make out the words:

“M’sorry mum, m’so sorry I woke you, I didn’t mean—”

Jon’s stomach flips over once again.

Oh god.

How high is his fever?

Brow furrowing, Jon kneels slowly in front of him, trying to catch his eyes.

“Martin, listen.  It’s me, it’s Jon.  It’s Jon,” he repeats, patting at his arm gently to gain his attention.

Hearing his voice again, Martin looks up—fever-glassed eyes meeting his own, unhealthy flush coloring his cheeks, sheen of sweat over his entire being as he stares at Jon in confusion. 

“It’s only me, darling,” he says softly, rubbing a hand up and down Martin’s forearm.

At last, something about this seems to get through to him, as he shakes his head like a dog that’s just been swimming.

“God, sorry,” he mutters before choking off into the remainder of his stifled fit, lips closed around the awful congestion rising to the surface.

The audible weakness in his chest sends the first warning bells ringing through Jon’s mind.

I don’t think this is a cold anymore.

Maybe it never was.

“What happened?” he asks as the fit comes to a close.

Martin does not reply, staring instead into the middle distance.

This is not good.

Furrowing his brow in concern, Jon slides a bit closer to him in order to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.  Are you with me?  What happened?”

“Mum…needed to help her,” he replies at last, breaths still coming in pants.

Oh, Christ.

Okay, stay calm.  You need to stay calm.

“Right.  Erm…did you—did you hit your head?” Jon stammers, fighting to keep his voice low and soothing.

“Dunno.”

“That’s not…comforting,” Jon murmurs as he begins to search through Martin’s curls for any sign of bleeding or bruising, but ultimately finding nothing.

When he pulls away, Martin gives a little whining noise of displeasure, having closed his eyes against the soothing feeling of Jon’s hands in his hair.

“Okay, let’s get you back in bed then, alright?  Come on—” he encourages gently, pulling at Martin’s upper arm in an attempt to drag him at least to half-standing.

With significant difficulty, Martin manages to follow his lead, collapsing backwards onto the bed as soon as he’s up.  Anxiety spikes in Jon’s chest again at the renewed pallor of his face, at the heaving breaths with wet crackling behind them, and at the fact that he has to swing Martin’s shaking legs up onto the bed for him.

Stay calm, stay calm, it’s just the fever.

He’s just confused.

Bending over him for a moment, Jon pulls the light blankets back over him and reaches behind his head to fuss at the mountain of pillows on which he’s meant to be propped up.  As soon as he does so, Martin’s shoulders begin to shake violently.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a hoarse sob as tears begin to flow in rivulets down his cheeks.

The sight of it breaks Jon’s heart.

At once, he lowers himself to sitting on the side of the bed, taking Martin’s hand from where it has reached up to rub at the raw inflammation of his nose.

“For what, darling?”

Martin does not reply, instead squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his brow, straining to understand anything that’s happening around him.  He’s confused, he’s so confused, and Jon knows it—Knows it even, as he realizes with an unpleasant start that the Eye is drinking in all this fear and pain with absolute pleasure.

STOP IT.

He’s not yours to Know.

Trying to focus on what’s in front of him—that is, Martin desperately needing his attention—he reaches toward the nightstand to pluck a tissue from it, swiping it as gently as possible beneath Martin’s sore nostrils.  Something about this motion must stir some awareness back into him, for as soon as Jon finishes, the coughing resumes—his lips still closed around the horrible damp echo of it as it pulses through his lungs.  It’s obvious to Jon that he’s focusing his efforts on holding it back, on keeping it soft and just bubbling under the surface.

“You sound dreadful, Martin. Why don’t you just let it out?” he asks softly, running a hand up and down his forearm.

“Sorry, sorry, m’so sorry—” he mutters in response, his breaths coming in shortened gasps.

Jon grips his hand even tighter.

“Why?  Sweetheart, please tell me why.”

At the gentleness, another sob tears its way out, nearly choking him as he begins to apologize at full volume.

“I’m sorry, mum, it’s so loud, it’s so loud, I’m sorry—”

“Martin—”

A bit panicked now, Jon places his hands on either side of Martin’s scorching face.

3͓͛9̓̔.͓̰5̘, the Eye tells him.

Jesus.

“I’m sorry I woke you—”

“Martin, listen to me.  It’s Jon.  Your mum…” he trails off for a moment, measuring his words.  “…your mum isn’t here, darling, I’m so sorry.”

All he receives in reply is a watery stare, blinking at him uncomprehendingly.

“It’s just me, it’s Jon.”

At last, something about his tone manages to break through his fever-addled mind, and he closes his eyes—hand traveling up to pinch at the bridge of his nose and exhaling wetly.

“God, Jon.  I’m sorry.”

Frustration at the repeated apology blossoms in Jon’s chest, but he shoves it down with all the force of a hurricane.

“Are you alright?” he asks in as soft as voice as he can manage.

“I just need—” he’s choked off by another cough, which he stifles vigorously behind his lips.

“What do you need?”

“The cough suppressants,” he whispers, pressing a hand into his lower ribs to rub at them painfully, breathing still unnaturally quick.

Jon’s heart sinks into his stomach.

“You need to cough, Martin; you need to get it out,” he replies in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Martin is fully panting now, ragged and burbling.

“It’s too loud, it’s too loud, you shouldn’t have to—”

“Stop, stop.”

Jon takes his hands into both of his own, pulling them down from where he had been wringing them in distress.

“Listen to me,” he demands, meeting his eyes with as much intensity as he can pour into them.

“It’s loud, and it’s alright.  It’s loud, and it’s alright—I promise, darling.  Please…let yourself get well.”

At his plea, Martin’ eyes immediately well up again—chest still fluttering with effort before he squeezes Jon’s hand back. 

Jon can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face.

Martin then takes a deeper inhale than any in the last ten minutes, shuddering and strenuous, and allows the force of the coughs bursting from his chest to pitch him forward—bracing over his pajama-clad thighs.  Rolling out over the blankets, spilling between the creaking floorboards is that same thick fog—the Lonely pouring from him in billows.  All Jon can do is listen to the agonized churning, rubbing at his back in what he hopes is a comforting motion as he tries desperately to make a path for oxygen to flood his lungs.  Nearly a minute goes by before it stops, Martin folding weakly back against the pillows in its wake, panting.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks again, not liking the color of his cheeks.

“M’sorry, Jon I—” he breaks off to inhale.  “I can’t seem to—heh—”

He rubs painfully at his nose and sinuses for a moment before continuing.

“—my head’s not right, I don’t know why.”

“It’s the fever, sweetheart.  You’re alright.”

I hope you’re alright.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asks, patting his knee where it lies beneath the blankets.

Distinctly not looking at him, Martin pauses for a moment, considering.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers at last, guilt flooding his face.

Jon quirks up a smile in comfort.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Seeing the lightness of his expression causes Martin to mirror it, lips turning up gently at the corners despite the weepiness of his eyes.  He brushes his lips against the back of Jon’s hand, over the burn scar and down, turning his palm gently to kiss the sensitive skin over his pulse point.  It’s enough to send sparks of lightning through Jon’s body, and he immediately feels the heat rushing into his cheeks.

“You’re too good for me,” Martin murmurs, eyes drooping closed as he drops Jon’s wrist.

Shaking his head with a smile, Jon steps out of the room to collect his book, fully intending to spend the remainder of his evening curled up by Martin’s side.

I must be the luckiest person in the world, he thinks, the love buzzing through his head forcing the static of hunger far, far away.

[nereol]

I’ll Be Your Animal (4/8)

Next part of my Val / Emmerick fic!

You can read this on AO3 or on my WorldAnvil page (with pics, music and other stuff).

“How are you?” Claire sounds worried while looking at Val. “Do I look that awful or why does everyone ask me that?” Val sits down on a bar stool and frowns. “You...” Claire hestitates. “...you look like you haven't slept in days.” “Mhm...” Val shrugs. “Maybe. What day is it?” She smirks, like she always does - but without the spark in her eyes.

This’s the Hurt/Comfort chapter: collapsing (but still stubborn) Val, kinda soft Emmerick

It has been one week, maybe two, since her breakfast with Emmerick. Now Val enters the Afterlife like usual - she opens her jacket, takes off her aviators and puts it into the front of her top. The loose neckline's pulled down a little bit and shows more of her chest-piece. Emmerick smirks slightly as he sees her and today he is the first who says something. "Hey", he says, unusually friendly, as if him greeting a costumer isn't unusual enough.

But Val pays no attention, just answers mechanically: “Hey.” She doesn't look at him and has almost passed him when Emmerick asks frowning: “You okay?” Val stops, now standing besides him and turns around a little to look up to him. “Why?” she asks defiantly.

Now as he sees her up close she seems tired and exhausted. He looks at her with a frown. “You look tired.” “Yeah, thanks.” She turns away and shows him a finger over her shoulder while she passes the door.

---

“Hey, V!” Claire greets her as Val walks over to the bar. “Haven't seen you in a while.” But now Claire can see her up close and the dim neon lights making the dark shadows under her eyes even bigger. “How are you?” Claire sounds worried while looking at Val. “Do I look that awful or why does everyone ask me that?” Val sits down on a bar stool and frowns.

“You...” Claire hestitates. “...you look like you haven't slept in days.” “Mhm...” Val shrugs. “Maybe. What day is it?” She smirks, like she always does - but without the spark in her eyes. “Seriously, you should take care of yourself. You need a clear mind in your biz.” Val groans and rolls her eyes. Claire adds quickly: “And I'm not tryin' to tell you what to do.” She takes Val's hand in hers for a moment. “I care about you.”

Val sighs but her face becomes softer, less aggressive. But this way she looks more tired, too. “I know... just... gimme somethin' with caffeine. Lil' more work and I can get some sleep.” Claire still looks worried and Val adds: “Just talking, no gig.” “Okay...” Claire hands her a cola.

---

Two or three hours later Val leaves the Afterlife. She doesn't pay attention to Emmerick but he eyes her carefully. She walks slower than usual and she doesn't swing her hips like all the other times his gaze was drawing to her bottom.

At the first staircase Val winces. “Oh, shit...”, she gasps. Then she stumbles and falls at her naked knees, trying to hold herself with one hand at the wall. A few other customers are looking, but Emmerick is faster. “V!” With a few long, quick strides he's at her side. With his arms around her shoulders he holds her and helping her to stand up. She leans forwards, eyes closed, heavy breathing, looks like she's in pain. He can feel her shiver.

Emmerick has no idea what to say. “You okay?”, he asks carefully. What a gonk question. “No!” Val's voice is quite but defiant, almost aggressive. She opens her eyes and looks up at him. So much pain in her eyes. Then she's gasping for air, turn away from him and coughs in her sleeve. Breathing heavily she lowers her head and he can see blood at the sleeve of her jacket.

“You should see a ripperdoc.” He sounds worried. “My ripper knows about it.” Val tries to get rid of him, but is to weak to shake him of. “Just let go... just some air and I'll be fi...” And then Emmerick feels how she gets limp between his hands. “Oh no, you won't” he says firmly. Then with calm voice, almost caring “...come here...” and he picks her up without any effort. One hand at her butt, one at her back he holds her close to his torso.

In every other kind of situation Val would've enjoyed this. His big hands, his strong arms, his hard chest. But now there was no time to enjoy anything. She needs all her concentration to just breath. Breath and try to ignore the pain in head and chest. A new wave of piercing pain in her head. “Fuuuck”, she swears with faint voice. Squeezing her eyes shut she leans her forehead against his shoulder while he carries her upstairs. He can feel her shivering and cold sweat at the skin of her naked legs.

Upstairs, Emmerick sends a few people away so that he can set Val down on the unused steps going up. “You should've not...” Vals voice trembles. She sits on the stairs with head down and forearms leaning on her legs. “It's part of my job...” He leans against the wall and looks down at Val. 'His job... as bouncer... of course... what was she thinking...' Val closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

And then she can't breath anymore. She coughs and Emmerick sits down next to her, lets one of his big hands rest an her back. She doesn't try to get rid of him. Then she spits out some blood at the floor between her shoes. She closes her eyes and concentrates on her breath again.

“You need somethin'?” He eyes her worried. She shakes her head. “Just a few minutes and I'll be fine.” Her voice is weak, but no longer trembles. She raises her head but she's not looking at Emmerick, just straight ahead. “If it were serious, I would've passed out by now.” He can see a small grin at her face.

“So this happens more often?” Now he sounds really worried. But Val shrugs just. “Really don't need anything?” He stands up and looks down at her. She shakes her head, still heavy breathing and doesn't look at him. Then she sees that some data being sent to her. Contact data. “Just gimme a call if so.” And then Emmerick walks down the stairs again.

Johnny appears glitching where Emmerick just stood. “Might have gotten his number easier...” “Oh, just shut up!” Val's shouting at him through her thoughts. Then she stands up. Her legs, already weak from being up for way to many hours, are trembling. She walks a few steps and leans against a railing to breath in the fresh air deeply. Well, as fresh as air in backyards of Night City can be.

---

Ten minutes later she sends a text.

I'm on my way - so not your problem anymore. V.

[offical-dystopiantale]

*Chapter 2: Talk to me..*

Ink: Age 16

Error: Age 17

Part 1

Ink sighed, leaning back against the large oak tree behind him. Error, who sat beside him, looked up from his own math textbook, adjusting his red framed glasses. “You good?”

“My brain hurts.”

Error hummed, closing his book and tossing it aside. “We don’t have brains.”

Ink groaned and rolled his eyes, earning a snort from his friend. “Since when have you cared if something was accurate or not?”

“Since just now.” The taller skeleton took off his glasses, placing them into their special case. “The sun’s gonna go down soon. We should probably head back.”

The two boys were about half an hour out of town, at a small hill with a tree at the top; they found out about the place when they were younger, when Winter had taken them out for a picnic. Once they had gotten their driver's license, it became one of their regular hangout spots; along with Ink’s room.

… Speaking of which, it suddenly occurred to Ink that he’d never actually been in Error’s room. Or his house in general.

“Hey, earth-to-shorty.” Error gave him a gentle push, Ink blew a raspberry.

“Don’t call me that, you jerk.”

Error snorted again, leaning over to rest his arms on his knees. He gave Ink a wink, making the smaller skeleton’s ‘stomach’ do a flip, and his cheeks to flush. “It’s not my fault you’re only 4 feet tall”

Ink sank into his turtleneck sweater, efficiently hiding his ever growing blush. “I’m 4’11, not 4 feet.”

Error scooted closer to him, poking his cheek. “Aw, come on. Don’t be mad, I was only teasing you.”

That’s the problem, you idiot…

Ink had known for a while now that he had feelings for his taller friend. When they first started grade nine he started noticing he enjoyed being with Error more than just a friend would, and he’d get moments where he just wanted to hug him, or cuddle him and fall asleep curled up to his chest, or hold hands as they walked together.

Or kiss him.

He really, really wanted to kiss him.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, he pushed Error’s hand away and stuck his tongue out. “Not all of us were blessed with incredible height”

.”Awe, you think I’m incredible?” Error wiggled his eyebrows as Ink’s blush darkened.

“Screw you!”

The ebony skeleton erupted into laughter, rocking backward. “You’re like an angry kitten, oh my god!”

Ink huffed, throwing a pencil at his friend, and gathered up the rest of his stuff into his bag. “Oh, whatever. Let’s head back, you big Glitch.”

Error gave a weak chuckle at his nickname, standing up to follow Ink to their car - since the two of them were almost always together, they decided they would buy the car together, and take turns driving.

“Do you want to hang out at my place for a bit? I think my mom was planning on baking cookies today.”

“Oh hell yeah, her baking is the fucking best.”

Ink slid into the car’s passenger seat, laughing and rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you say you were going to work on not swearing so much?

Error started the engine, and it made a whirring noise as it came to life. “I lied. I’m here for a fun time, not a long time, so I’ll say whatever shit I want to.” Ink giggled quietly, but there was a part of that sentence that made a lump form in his throat.

The ebony skeleton switched on the radio, an upbeat song suddenly filling the silence. Ink felt his worries wash away; things were good, they only had one more year of high school after this, and nothing bad was really happening in the world.

And he had Error.

The small monster felt himself relax, singing loudly and happily to the songs on the radio.n Eventually he got his friend to sing as well which only made his cheeks bloom with colour once again.

*****

Error grabbed another one of the still warm cookies off the plate in the middle on Ink’s bed, listening to the smaller monster ramble from the other end of the bed.. He always enjoyed being with Ink in his room; obviously not only because he was with his friend, but because the room was so colourful, cozy, and so very ‘Ink”.

The walls were painted baby blue with a soft gray carpet covering the floor. Above his plush bed - that was easily big enough for the both of them to sit (or lay) on at the same time - was Ink’s rainbow flag. In grade ten, during their school’s pride day, all the students were encouraged to wear rainbow items, or anything that supported the LGBTQ+ community. Ink managed to get Error to wear two buttons- one with the pan flag, and the other one with a rainbow - since he didn’t own any pride items himself, and the smaller skeleton has decided to tie his flag around his neck and wear it like a cape all day.

The poor monster had been bullied ruthlessly by a lot of their classmates because of it, and it came to the point that Error debated beating the shit out of them. He didn’t though, per Ink’s requests.

Now the flag stayed in his home, behind closed doors.

It pissed Error off to no end. He could still remember the way Ink’s eyes had drained of their sparkle when the flag idea backfired.

At least Winter was accepting of her son.

Unlike some people Error knew...

He shook his head, slipping back to the moment at hand.

Next to Ink’s bed was a side table with a glass of water and a lamp sitting on it. Next to the lamp was a framed photo of Error and Ink taken when the where 10 and 11, during their first summer as friends. Error remembered once asking his shorter friend why he decided to frame that photo, and not one that was more recent. The white skeleton had smiled and explained that that photo was extra special because it was taken so soon after they met; and that it meant a lot to Ink that they became friends.

Error didn’t know why someone like Ink cared about him, but he was thankful nonetheless.

“Error?”

The ebony skeleton snapped his eyes away from the picture and focused back on his friend, his cheeks turning blue. He’d completely zoned out, and had no idea what Ink had been saying.

The monster giggled, cheeks coming to life with a dusting of colour. “You got kinda distracted there, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Uh, sorry, can you repeat what you were saying?”

Ink giggled again, making Error blush harder: it was such a soft sound… it made him want to hold the smaller monster close to him, to find other ways to make him make that sound.

… wait.

What the hell has gotten into me?!

It wasn’t necessarily the first time he had thought something like that, and it always made him do a double take on himself.

He wondered what it meant.

“ I was talking about how I get my braces off in a few months!” He smiled widely, showing off the brackets and wires that covered the surface of his teeth.

Error hummed, then said, “I still don’t understand why you wanted to get those in the first place. The teeth gap was cute.”

Ink’s eyes widened, his blush darkening immensely. He covered his face, grumbling. “No it wasn’t… it gave me a lisp when I started getting older, especially if i was talking fast. Besides, Bylk and his friends said-”

“You shouldn’t listen to what those assholes say.”

“COme on, Error, they’re not that bad anymore…”

Oh, sure. They weren’t ‘that bad’ because Bylk was absolutely terrified of Error, all because he beat his ass back in fifth grade. Truth be told, Bylk was also only 5’6, while Error was a towering 6’0. Not that he was complaining about it, he liked that Ink wasn’t getting harassed as much anymore, but the griffin’s little gang still took jabs at the small skeleton when he was alone (since Error and him only had two classes together this year).

At least they knew better than to actually lay a finger on the skeleton now.

“Whatever, they’re assholes.”

Ink huffed, leaning back against his pillows. “It’s getting late.” He said after a few minutes.

Error groaned, turning to his phone. Sure enough, it was almost 10:30.

Fuck

“Guess I should head home then.”

“Mm… yeah, I guess so. Oh! That reminds me. I’m not going to be at school tomorrow morning!”

“What? Why not?”

“Another doctor appointment.” Ink rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. For as long as Error knew him, Ink had always have to miss at least a day of school every two months for a ‘doctor’s’ appointment. From what the small skeleton had explained, all they did was take a look at his soul, make sure his magic levels were good and somehow they checked to make sure he was feeling things normally.

… Error didn’t really understand it.

“Do they bother you?”

“Eh, not really. They used to make me kinda uncomfortable but, you know. I’ve had so many, they’re normal now.” He let out a small laugh. “That being said, they are pretty annoying.”

The ebony skeleton couldn’t help but wonder what that must be like for Ink; what goes through his head when he really thinks about it.

“I...should be going” Error stood up, grabbing his school bag off the floor.

Ink waved. “See ya, Error!” He called after him as he waved and left the room.

He gave a short goodbye to Ink’s mother - who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through some papers - and thanked her for the cookies before exiting out into the chilly night air. A wave a dread hit him as he stood at his front door.

Sucking in a breath, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open; praying his father was passed out.

Light from the TV in the living room eerily illuminated the dining room and front entrance. The stairs in front of Error looked like a tunnel, leading into a dark abyss. The seventeen-year-old pulled off his shoes and silently leaned into the living room. His father, Cyber Sona, sat spralled out on the reclining chair, empty beer cans and bottles littering the tables and some floor space around him: some were old, and others were new.

Error’s nose scrunched up in disgust and he quickly left the room; trying to be as quiet as possible as he went upstairs to his room, careful not to wake up his dad. Closing the door, Error sighed, sinking down onto his bed and dropping his bag carelessly onto the floor.

His room wasn’t anything like Ink’s; while his friend’s room was colourful and full of life, his was dark and gray. His bed was pressed against the wall next to the window and pointed towards Ink’s room - there had been many nights where they’d both sit by their windows, talking to each other through their phones. On the wall adjacent to his bed, he had a wooden desk covered in grade school assignments and writing utensils with his laptop sitting on top of it all. He also had a closet for clothes and such, but that was about it.

The house was deathly quiet, aside from the mindless chatter of the TV and occasional snore from the sleeping monster downstairs. Rolling over on his bed, the skeleton plucked his earphones off the cluttered side table next to his bed and plugged them into his phone.

He pressed play on a playlist, setting his phone down beside him, and stared up at the ceiling.

A recognizable numbness washed over him as the music made the house disappear around him, leaving only him...all alone. The feeling usually came when he got home from Ink’s, though sometimes it wasn’t so bad. Some days it was worse. Sometimes it lasted for days at a time, and he could barely bring himself to drag his ass out of bed.

Most days the numbness evolved into a deep and desperate sadness.

He rolled onto his side, pulling his comforter up and over top of him and burrowing his face into the pillow and blankets. He knew that sleep wouldn’t come to him, not yet at least, but the warmth gave him at least a little comfort; like a leash, keeping him tied to the real world and protecting him from falling into his thoughts completely.

Things always got worse when that happens.

[btsangstisallicanwrite]

Happy Now?

Summary: You’re a rising singer, friends somehow with the seven members of BTS. Secretly more than friends with a one Jeon Jungkook, until your falling out before his tour sent you straight to the lyric notebook. Now your new EP is out, and everyone’s expecting your new single to be about the mysterious boy you loved but would never name. Yeah, the song’s about him. Yeah, you wouldn’t name him. But you’d sure as hell let everyone know how he hurt you, and no one’s prepared to hear that, especially not Jungkook. 

A/N: Hello ARMY, I’ve never published a BTS fic before so this is my first. I hope y’all like it!!

CWs: light mentions of weed, alcohol mentions, I think that’s it? Angsty angst. Also, the song used in this fic is Happy Now by Zedd and Elley Duhé, I do not own the song or rights, I just had this urge to write a fic to this song. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jungkook-ah, did you see, Y/N is releasing a new EP! You think it’s about you this time?” Hoseok waggled his eyebrows at an unsuspecting but unimpressed Jungkook. The truth is, the last EP was about him, but the public couldn’t know that. Y/N was a rising singer in the United States, and he was a famous idol in South Korea; the narrative just didn’t mesh. Besides, the world wasn’t ready for the Golden Maknae to be off the market. That being said, saying that your relationship together was purely work related or platonic like you did in the papers, that’s just not true either. But like you agreed, no one could know. Minus the boys, they kind of knew everything. 

Everything, minus the fact that he’d broken up with you (he used the words “take a break”) before their last tour. 

All the diving he’d do towards his phone, holding it away from the boys when they’d try to see, they all thought he was talking to you. He wished he was. The dives were driven by hope, the fact he realized he made a huge mistake by letting you go because of your “busy schedules;” you both knew it was bullshit but neither of you would say it. If anything, you both knew heartbreak sold records. 

Namjoon pats him on his shoulder, leaning in to show him a little bit of affection and reprieve from the laughs of his hyungs. “Aw, leave him be, I’m sure we’ll all find out tonight when she performs it at that event tonight, right, Kookie?”

Oh. Shit. He didn’t escape Yoongi’s concerned eye when he launched to grab his phone, checking the date. He looked down, a selfie y’all took on your last date lighting up his vision as he unlocked it. He should’ve remembered. He’d seen your tweets about it for the last few months, how you were so excited to perform at this show and that your new single was something your fanbase wouldn’t expect. Jungkook really didn’t know how to take that. He hadn’t tried contacting you (yet) but you hadn’t reached out to him, either, so it really couldn’t be that bad if it was about him, right? 

“Uh… yeah, I’m sure we will!” He gulped and nodded his head at Namjoon, who seemed to be fine with his response. Hoseok and Taehyung went about their business talking about whatever had their attention for the next ten minutes. Jimin and Seokjin were deep in debate, leaning over their cup noodles to bare teeth as an attempt to intimidate one another. Yoongi, on the other hand, was staring dead at Jungkook, still. He watched him as he walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink, leaning back in his chair as he watched Jungkook take it without a flinch. That was the glitch in the matrix Yoongi needed to prove something was awry, so he took a seat right across from Jungkook in the small booth on the bus. 

“Hyung, tell me why you just downed that shot like you’re ready to forget your name when you’re supposed to be happy about seeing Y/N tonight.” 

Jungkook gulped, swirling the last few drops left in his cup while trying to avoid eye contact with his hyung, “do me a favor and... make sure I’m doing okay tonight, will you?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N! Are you ready for tonight?” Your best friend busted into your room as if your door was a figment of your imagination. This was her first fancy music festival, and your first performance at one, so it goes without saying that you were nervous. It wasn’t even that big of a show, it was almost like an exclusive concert style, with the low-watt blue lighting and only standing room in the audience for each performer. Normally, that’d ease your mind and your nerves, but not tonight. 

Only the record producers had heard the song you’re releasing tonight. You hadn’t told a soul... maybe one or two... about what really happened with Jungkook. You’d felt ashamed and stupid that you fell into one of those stupid fanfiction tropes, falling for a man that was well beyond your reach for anything more than a good fuck. Well, that’s a little harsh. It was almost like you had been dating, which is the funny thing about all your feelings. You’d sneak over to the apartment and watch movies with the boys in your pajamas. You spent your birthday with them playing drunken card games at your place because none of your friends were in the city and they didn’t want you to be alone. He did all the things boyfriends do, and as much as you wanted to hate him and talk mad shit, you couldn’t. You’d never believed in that “right person, wrong time” figure of speech until you walked out of their apartment that night, the night he broke your heart. 

“I can’t wait to hear some more sappy Jungkook shit,” your friend came up behind you as you sat at your vanity criticizing yourself and all your life decisions up to that point. “You might not even need blush tonight, babe, it’s already all over your face.” She squished your cheeks together before you had the opportunity to stop her, making you feel a little bit of something other than despair in your stomach. 

“You wanna take a hit before we start doing our makeup?”

“Say no more,” you said sadly, feeling the hit pull between your lips. You weren’t famous enough yet to have a makeup squad, so it was just you and your bff swapping brushes and blunts until you either looked good as fuck or didn’t care anymore. She rolled backwards onto your bed, looking for some shoes or something, and you stole another hit, hoping it’d give you the encouragement you needed to seemingly let everyone you loved down tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All he wanted to do was get so drunk that he didn’t make it out the door. That’s really all he wanted, and he didn’t know why that was too much to ask. But alas, with the boys talking nonstop about what your new single could be about, and a concerned/slightly pissed Yoongi breathing down the back of his neck, Jungkook knew he’d have to suck it up and make it to the venue. 

It looked just like he remembered. Last time he was there, he’d been sneaking around with you in the dim purple lights. All the walls were painted black with thick velvet curtains draping from corner to corner on the stage. The boys came in through the back entrance as to avoid being seen (as much as they could) so they’d come in as the staff was setting up some of the props for the performances tonight. There was a singular barstool that sat just left of center stage and he grimaced. You’d been telling him that for your next album, you really wanted to focus on the acoustics and just sit on a stage, on “one of those really worn leather barstools,” he practically heard it in your voice. But maybe he was wrong, and the stool had nothing to do with you. It seems he’d just have to see; there’s nothing better in his mind to do than hide back here and hope he’d be ready to see you on that stage.

And just having to see, whether that stool was for you, whether he was even ready to see you, more and more things he wasn’t ready to think about, these were all things he’d (at least attempted to) make his peace with. That was on the premise of “for hours from now.” Hours from now was plenty of time, yeah? Hours from now was not right now, not standing right in front of him. He’d put his nose in his phone to check the time, when he didn’t check where he was going and ran straight into you. 

“Y/N… I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He ran his hand through his hair and down along the length of this neck, trying to avoid eye contact so you couldn’t see how distraught he was. 

“Jungkook. You say you didn’t see me... but I believe,” you grabbed his phone and clicked the unlock button, illuminating the photo of the two of you together, “you saw me, right there.” You looked at him blankly as he managed to disguise his immediate sadness with a cough. He sincerely can’t tell if you’re playing around or if that sharpness in your voice wants to slice through him like he feels it does. 

“Y/N, can we talk? Please?”

He swears he almost saw you crack. Maybe you had, maybe he’s just wistfully hoping, but it seems he’d never know, because before you could get a word out, Jimin had flung himself on you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N!! Oh, how we’ve missed you! Why haven’t you been around since we got back?” Jimin pouted as you leaned your head on his, still making direct eye contact with Jungkook. He’d almost made you break, and you’re sure he knew it. What surprised you more than that was that he hadn’t told any of the boys, or changed his wallpaper. Do you tell them before you perform and ruin this little dream scenario that Jungkook still apparently had them believing in? You took a second to rub your lips together, breaking your gaze at Jungkook to close your eyes and sigh. “I’ve just been working really hard on this EP, rehearsals and things,” you said and then sent out a soft chuckle “Not all of us have the rehearsal experience that y’all do.” 

“You’re a natural up there, Y/N, don’t stress about it.” Seokjin matched your laugh with a heartier one, wrapping his arm around your other shoulder. “You’re gonna go up there and show us something crazy, yah?” 

“Oh yeah,” you glance back up at Jungkook, whose gaze never left you. You watched it travel from your feet, up the rest of your body as you locked eyes, both wearing the same sad expression. Your breath was a little ragged, which didn’t help, as your silence sat in the air a little longer than you expected it to, “It’ll be something else, alright.” 

“Well, we have to go find good standing room since the show starts soon. We wouldn’t want to miss the exclusive look at your new single! Good luck, Y/N!” Namjoon nods at you with a smile. You return it, a nod to all the boys. Jungkook lingers, fighting with Yoongi to be the last in line. “Good luck, Y/N, I know you’ll do well.” He nods his head and scampers off behind his hyungs. You could’ve sworn you saw him look a little teary eyed as you made eye contact once the boys found a spot. He was leaning on the side of the stage, far too close for your comfort considering you’d be singing a song about how he broke your heart. At least he didn’t know that, yet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jungkook, I need to tell you something.” 

Jungkook wanted to be told nothing. He wanted to hear nothing, he wanted to be nothing. He had glanced up at you once he found a comfortable spot off the side of the stage, and the look on your face told him that he should fully expect what’s coming. He’s not ready to hear it on his own, much less with the boys. At least Yoongi was going to look out for him. He turned to the aforementioned man, taking a shot off a tray floating around, and nodded. 

“I kind of have an idea of what’s about to happen.”

“How do you kn-- what do you think you know?” 

“Welcome to the show, are you all ready to hear Y/N’s new single?” The host of the show sauntered onto the stage, the glittery train of her dress almost distracting Jungkook from the absolute panic that invaded his body at the words of his hyung. “Well, you’re in luck, she’s our opening act for the night! Everyone welcome her to the stage, give it up for Y/N!”

You walked out on the stage in an outfit far different than the one he saw when he ran into you. You seemed a little flustered, almost, sad but confident as you grabbed the microphone and introduced yourself. You scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the boys. Taehyung and Jimin were screaming so loud that it looked like you might have almost forgotten about Jungkook completely, until your eyes met his. 

“I had a whole speech… this whole plan, this whole other outfit I had on backstage and I was ready to show y’all the happy, go-lucky version of this song, because that’s what I’d originally made it for. But, I’m gonna need y’all to bare with me, because… because I can’t sell that to you right now when I can’t feel it.” You’d started to walk off stage, immediately taking the crowd by surprise. 

“Listen Jungkook, I’ve seen the song she’s about to sing--”

“You WHAT?” He didn’t believe what he’d just heard. He knew Yoongi said it, but he guessed he needed to add that to the list of things he hadn’t (or rather, couldn’t) make peace with. “Before I ask why or how you’ve heard it, does she--”

“See, that’s the thing,” Yoongi looked up to you and then back to him. “I know what she tells me, and I know what the song says. I know you still love her.” Jungkook exhaled with such a force that Namjoon made a pointed glance his way. He looked up at Yoongi, expecting to see something, anything other than the piercing gaze he was met with. “I know she still… feels some way about you, Jungkook.”

‘Feels some way about you’ rung in his ears even harder than his eardrums had been doing so before. He immediately looked around and grabbed a shot off the nearest tray and downed it. He looked back over with tears fully in his eyes (not like earlier, those weren’t full tears, right?). Yoongi seemed like he was trying to be delicate with him, but he was getting fed up with Jungkook, and they were now both aware of it. 

“Jungkook!” Yoongi whisper shouted, “she’s not ready to talk to you, not until you hear what she has to say. Quit taking those shots and hear her out.” 

“What do I do, how long have you--” 

C L U N K 

He barely heard the loud wooden thud over his own heartbeat, but it was enough to distract him and Yoongi. He looked up to the stage and saw you dragging out that leather wooden stool, and he knew he was in for a night. 

“Sorry… sorry that was so loud y’all.” He watched you take the deepest of breaths, hands shaking as you held onto the microphone and sat on the stool. “I’m gonna just go off-script here, is that okay?” The crowd cheered, creating a small smile on your face. “I don’t want to say I knew this would happen, but my loving team and my ghost producer backed me up when I wanted to record a second version of this song. They’ll play the upbeat one later, once we’ve all had some drinks in our system, yeah?” The crowd cheered again, whereas Jungkook could only gulp.

“Yoongi, did you--”

“She asked me to ghost produce this EP before we left on tour, Kook.”

“She… she what? How long have you-- what do I do?” He was full-on in tears at this point, doing a decent job at hiding it from the other members, but Yoongi saw right through his “I wear leather coats and am a Virgo so I can’t cry” facade that he tried to put up whenever he got sad. He pulled Jungkook into a tight side embrace, right as you looked down at the two of them. 

“I know I’ll need it,” you mumbled, “so here we go, hope y’all like it.” 

“You’re a world away, somewhere in the crowd. In a foreign place… are you happy now? There’s nothing left to say, so I shut my mouth. So won’t you tell me, babe, are you happy now?”

“Shit. Hyung…” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re the only one who can up and run, leave me just as empty as the day you came. And you hold all the cards, all the broken hearts, strung over your shoulder ‘til it’s all in vain. And only you know the strength in your teeth, the wash in the weight of your pockets so deep… and lonely.” 

You’d made a list, made a plan. You weren’t going to look at any of the boys. Your subconscious was screaming “LOOK ANYWHERE BUT THE BOYS.” But you mentioned you were already off-script. Knowing that, your eyes couldn’t help themselves. 

“In the palm of your hands, you can make me dance, spin me around in circles until I’m wrapped in string.”

It doesn’t seem like they’ve processed it yet. You scan the line, seeing scrunched brows and confusion in a continuous line as if you’d written it across their faces yourself. Namjoon looked concerned. Seokjin had a face of granite; for once, you couldn’t read his face. Taehyung and Jimin were staring, eyes wide, and you couldn’t help but try to smile.

“You keep on talking sweet”

Hoseok had his hand reaching for Seokjin, eyes locked with yours. It’s not often that Mr. Sunshine himself can’t bring you joy.

 “‘til your fingers bleed,”

Yoongi had the face you expected him to have. You could see he was proud. He was seemingly less confused, but still looked hurt. You’d understand if it had to do with you, but you’re hoping it’s because of the man next to him, whom even thinking about made you growl through your next lyric.

“but don’t you dare ask me how I’ve been.”

After that, you really shouldn’t want to look. It might make it obvious, blow your whole relationship (or crumbled lack thereof) into the public eye. But the shouldn’ts are falling by the wayside as the crowd cheered on your emotive tone. Maybe it was a little harsh. You shake your head and blink out some tears. You’ve got to stop telling yourself you’re being too harsh. He broke your heart, didn’t bother to call, and had the gall to wish you good luck? He deserves to know how it feels. 

“Now only you know the strength of your teeth, the wash in the weight of your pockets so deep... and lonely! You’re a world away, somewhere in the crowd. In a foreign place, are you happy now? There’s nothing left to say, so I shut my mouth...”

You’ve managed to avoid it, and you can see it on the members’ faces that they’re catching on. Namjoon, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi.

“So won’t you tell me, babe…”

Shit. Here we go. The voice has cracked, the tears are OUT. You wipe your tears and hold your sleeve to the side of your face, making eye contact with the last member, the one you love the most.

“are you happy now?”

[jungshookz]

How about Y/N decides to take care of Android Yoongi for a week instead of the other way around since I’m assuming that’s what Yoongi does all day when Y/N is out since that’s what he was made to do? I’m not a writer so I hope that’s enough for a drabble!

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: android!yoongi, fluff!, yoongi’s extra cuddly when he’s sick, uhhhh kinda crackheady kinda smutty, tae is a moron and he loves talking about his greatest creation aka yoongi’s penis 

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ note: i switched your request up a little!! i hope you don’t mind :-)) i loved writing this yoongi is so cute 

(gif isn’t mine!)

logically, technically, physically, and literally speaking

dis shit don’t make sense

yoongi, or Y00NG1 if we’re being realistic here, is a robot

so how is it possible that he, a robot, managed to get sick

he has a cold

the common flu

like a weak human being

“sorry, bud. i guess a little bug managed to sneak its way into your latest update. my bad!” namjoon winces as he takes a look at yoongi’s disheveled state “i probably shouldn’t have programmed your update while being drunk off my ass… we were celebrating hoseok’s birthday, remember??”

he’s lucky he’s face timing yoongi and not actually physically in the bedroom because it looks like yoongi wants to strangle him

and namjoon is well aware that yoongi has the capability to do so

“Yes, I faintly remember you programming one of your newer bots to serve us birthday cake.” the tiny little inferior servant robot ended up flinging cake all over the place and yoongi had to clean it up because all of you were too drunk to do anything  

“i thought your system would be strong enough to override it but apparently i was wrong.”

“Apparently you were.” yoongi scoffs sarcastically and reaches over to grab a tissue

namjoon winces again when yoongi blows his nose obnoxiously  

the poor bot

he has bags under his eyes

there’s the occasional glitch of 1’s and 0’s that appear under his skin

a couple screws are loose inside of him which explains the leakage of fluids from his nose

his voice is all gross and nasaly and sometimes when he coughs he coughs out tiny pieces of metal

“look, i’ll see you later, alright? don’t you worry, i’ll get you back into shape!”

“You better. Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to zap you with my laser eyes.”

“…i told you that’s not going to become a thing.”

“You people can give me a vibrating penis but you can’t give me laser eyes?”

“vibrating-? taehyung!!!!!”  

“it was just for valentine’s day!!!!!!!! it doesn’t vibrate anymore it’s back to normal!!”

“oH my god you freak-“

yoongi promptly hangs up because the bickering is starting to make his head pound

he tosses your phone aside and lets out a huff as he flops his head back against the headboard

“feeling any better?” you pop into the bedroom and shut the door behind you as you approach yoongi

“Not since the last time you checked up on me… which was ten minutes ago.” you plop down on the edge of the bed and yoongi reaches over to yank on your wrist “C’mere.” he pulls you over so that you’re sitting on top of him with your legs on either side of him

“aw, my poor baby.” you coo mockingly as yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your chest

“Don’t patronise me.” yoongi murmurs and you can’t help but giggle because you hear the pout in his voice

you stroke the back of his head and yoongi sniffles

“You think if I overcharge myself I’ll end up frying the bug inside of me to death?” he props his chin up on your chest and looks up at you with bloodshot eyes

you scowl

“don’t even try it, you moron.”

“Don’t have enough energy to walk myself over to the pod anyway.” yoongi huffs and smooshes his face into your boobs again “Mm, I feel better already.”

“shut up, you little perv” you snort and plant a kiss on the top of his head

you don’t fckin know how to take care of sick robot

he’s not even supposed to be sick!!!!

he’s a robot for christ’s sakes

usually when you’re sick you just stay in bed all day and mope about how sick you are and yoongi dotes over you like the caring boyfriend-bot he is

he makes soup for you and tricks you into taking your medicine (he shoved your pill into a chunk of brownie and you fell for it like a damn fool)

he snuggles up with you in bed and turns on his internal heater so that you’re nice and warm

you ended up drooling all over his chest which was kinda gross but it was an endearing kinda gross

but you

you don’t have an internal heater

you could make chicken noodle soup for yoongi but u both know that it’s just going to go strAIGht through his system and he’s going to leak soup all over the sheets

yoongi doesn’t have any pills to take because he’s a robot for christ’s sakes so like

you don’t know what to do

namjoon said he’d stop by later with some ‘medicine’ for yoongi (it’s a little chip he’s going to insert into his neck in an attempt to eradicate whatever bug is floating around in his hard drive) but for now it’s up to you to take care of him

which is just odd because usually he’s the one taking care of you

you know what though

there is an upside to yoongi falling sick

you can finally relive your old life

and by that you mean you’ve been eating like a shiT ton of junk food because yoongi’s been unable to connect to your bracelet

ordering an XL pizza and dunking it in italian garlic dip after yoongi charges up for the night has been the absolute highlight of your week

although you will note that there was a little bit of regret the next morning because you were sO bloated you felt like you couldn’t move

“alright, how are we feeling??” namjoon claps his hands together as the others continue wheeling machines and monitors into the bedroom

yoongi sits ups against the headboard and lets out a breath

“Nothing has changed since I called you two hours ago. I have more a migraine now because someone in here is wearing far too much Axe body spray.”

everyone immediately looks towards jungkook

“well i think it smells nice so-”

“let’s get this show on the road, shall we??” namjoon nudges jungkook to the side to get the monitor

“what… exactly are you going to do again?” you peek over his shoulder and all you see are 1s and 0s so you honestly couldn’t even guess what namjoon was going to do

namjoon pulls a case out of his back pocket and waves it in front of your face before unzipping it

he rifles through the case before pulling out a small blue cartridge

“well, i’m inserting this chip into the monitor and then i’m going to hook yoongi up to the machines and his database should successfully download all the brand neW files that should override his old ones.”

okay

seems simple enough

“oh! okay, well i can help hook yoongi up if you need help.” you offer and yoongi wraps his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back a little before he’s intertwining his fingers with yours

you glance down at him and ruffle his hair

“don’t worry about it, i got it! now lemme just- ah hEre it is!” namjoon pulls out a particularly thiCK looking wire and that plug has to be like an inch thick which is vEry thick compared to his usual charging cord

that’s

that’s very intimidating looking

suddenly u don’t want yoongi to get better if that thing has to be shoved inside of his neck

“step aside, y/n” you immediately stand in front of yoongi protectively and namjoon gives you a pointed look “oh, cut it out. i’m not going to kill him.”

“and if we do kill him we can always just make you a new one!”

“Hey!” yoongi scowls and jimin shrugs because it’s.,.,., well it’s truE

namjoon nudges you to the side and yoongi lets go of your wrist reluctantly before sitting up a little straighter

“alright, and we just-“ namjoon shoves the plug into yoongi’s charging port and-

bZT

yoongi’s head drops and his entire body slouches over

you yelp in surprise and immediately scramble over to him

u know what this is giving you PTSD to the incident and you weren’t worried before but noW you’re worried

“what did you do!!!!!!!!!” you push yoongi up before getting on top of him and giving his shoulders a shake “yoongi??? yoongi!!!!” you cup his face and squish his cheeks together and he’s still unresponsive

“i-i don’t know, maybe i fried a wire?? i probably should’ve performed a trial test before-“

“you didn’t test this?? i thought you were supposed to be smART”

“don’t yELL AT ME” namjoon’s punching a bunch of buttons on the monitor and-

bZT

yoongi’s head shoots up and his eyes pop right open

you watch as his pupils constrict and expand and he blinks quickly

“…you okay?”

“I-“ you hear another small bzt and yoongi twitches before his expression shifts

he places his hands on your hips and gives you a squeeze before you’re suddenly aware of sultry gaze he’s giving you

“I’m more than okay, baby.”

ok

a little odd but

well at least he’s back

“that’s good! i was worried for a sec-“ yoongi buries his face into the crook of your neck and starts to plant kisses on your skin “-ond…?”

“Mhm, yeah.” yoongi purrs and a hand slides to your front and he gives the waistband of your sweatpants a little tug

you immediately swat his hand away and turn to look over your shoulder at the boys

“are we sure he’s okay?” you yaNK yoongi’s hand out of your pants and turn to glare at him “cut it out you weirdo”

“everything seems to be running normally…” namjoon keeps an eye on the monitor and scratches the top of his head

taehyung peeks over at the monitor before his eyes flicker over to yoongi (who is currently trying to get you to kiss him but you keep dodging his mouth and scolding him)

“hyung just out of curiosity which chip did u put in”

“the- the one that i use specifically for yoongi-“ namjoon pauses and narrows his eyes at taehyung “…why do you ask?”

taehyung clears his throat before inspecting his cuticles

“weLL the thing is-“ he lets out a sheepish laugh “i uhhhhhhhhhh i was working on a little side project, and uh, i might’ve used one of your chips because yours are so much more fancier than mine and anYWays i might’ve used your chip to-“

oh my god

“what did you do”

“well you know it’s reaLLY not as bad as you might think-“

“taehyung-“

“and you know if you think about it you should be flattered because i was inspired by you-“

“sPIT IT OUT”

“it’s a seX BOT CHIP OKAY” taehyung winces

“oh my fucking-“

“oW” yoongi bites down on your shoulder before laving his tongue over the sore spot all while his hips are bucking into yours and he went from zero to a hundRED in the span of like 3 seconds

and you know what while this would be nice in private it’s not as nice when there are six other mEN in the rOOM and also yoongi is being very very rough

his fingers dig into the your bum and you let out a squeak because heLLo OW  

“I wanna fuck you I wanna feel you I want you so bad and I-“ his arms are beginning to wrap around your waist like a boa constrictor around its prey and it is noT a pleasant feeling

jungkook and jimin rush over and proceed to pin yoongi’s arm back which doesn’t seem to help because now he’s angry and horny and he looks like he wants to deVOUR you

you’re about to scramble off of yoongi’s lap because this is terrifying but-

“take the WIRE OUT TAKE IT OUT NOW” namjoon is freaKing out because what is HAPPENING TO HIS BABY

you reach over and yank it out of yoongi’s neck before you’re flinging it onto the floor

yoongi immediately slumps over and jungkook and jimin both let out breaths of relief

“i forgot how strong he was” jimin is wiNDED and he’s definitely going to have to lie down for like ten minutes after y’all sort this mess out

“i think there might be a couple glitches in your chip, tae.” you pant and press a hand against your chest

“okay, now let’s put in the actual chip-“ namjoon sends tae a glare and tae smiles sheepishly

he inserts it into the monitor and it lets out a happy chirp before you hear the fans beginning to whir

“you wanna hook him up y/n?”

“y/n has to do it because i don’t want yoongi humping me”

“me neither”

“ya same lol gross”

“very smooth movement in the hips tho”

“wait what”

“what”

bZT

yoongi shoots straight up and he blinks furiously

once again his pupils are dilating and expanding at an abnormal rate and you start to worry again until he wrinkles his nose which is a very yoongi-like habit

“That was quite an unpleasant experience. I would not like to experience that again.”

ah

it’s good to have yoongi back

he yanks the cord out of his neck and drops it onto the floor and you roll off of him and watch as he reorients himself with everything

you jump in surprise when your bracelet beeps twice and buzzes on your wrist

yoongi freezes before turning to glare at you over his shoulder

“Did you seriously eat an entire XL pizza last night?” You’re going on a green juice cleanse for the next two days to flush out all the toxins in your body. I’ll go make a smoothie for you now.” he pushes past the boys and leaves the room but continues to talk “And why haven’t you done the laundry yet? I- Oh, god, look at the state of the living room!”

you let out a huff and roll your eyes playfully “…is it too late to bring sex bot yoongi back”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

[currentlylurking]

A Bucket of Flour and a Paper Crane

(Written for Phic Phight, crossposted for World Building Week Day 1: Sandbox Characters)

"Danny decides that he has no choice. He must find a way to prank Clockwork, or at least make him laugh. Clockwork finds this supremely amusing, but he is determined not to lose." - Phic Phight prompt by fiverivers

-

The tower was peaceful. The soft but rhythmic ticking of clocks filled any uncomfortable silence, and the occasional whoosh of a mirror shifting its view provided a nice variety to the background soundtrack. The fabric of Clockwork’s gloves rubbed against itself as he placed a hand on a mirror, and provided the perfect amount of friction between his movements.

In all, it was quite concerning.

A floorboard behind him creaked and Clockwork raised his staff to block the hand filled with white foam before it could reach his face. “I’m going to have to request that you don’t do that.”

Danny Phantom pulled his hand back with a scoff and started to lick the whipped cream out of his hand. “I almost had you that time.”

He really hadn’t. Clockwork had been wary from the moment Danny had stopped snickering in the other room. “If you insist,” he said vaguely. “I believe you still have English homework to do.”

Danny pulled a face. “Fine, fine.” He tried to clap Clockwork on the back - again, Clockwork blocked the assault with his staff, and flipped it around to see the piece of paper proclaiming ‘free hugs!’ the boy had tried to tape to his cloak.

“If you really want to trick me, you shouldn’t lump these all together after you’ve already been caught.” Danny pouted, and Clockwork removed the tape before depositing the paper back into Danny’s hands, now folded into a slightly lopsided origami crane. “If you spread your efforts out, you’ll be more likely to find success.”

Danny huffed and slipped the crane into one of his pockets. “Yeah, yeah, don’t patronize me. I’m not making this easier for you.” He pointed a finger at Clockwork, who shifted to his elder form. “I’ll get you one of these days.”

“Of course,” Clockwork said, “as long as your homework is done.”

Childishly, Danny stuck out his tongue before he flew off. Clockwork waited approximately ten and a half seconds before he called after him.

“Oh, and Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Please remove the bucket you’ve propped up on my door. I wouldn’t want you to have an accident.”

Danny’s groan and his elder form’s beard were perfectly adequate cover for both Clockwork’s smile and his amused snort.

.-.

“Hey Clockwork,” Danny said, some days later.

“Yes, Danny?”

“If you fly backward are you flying clockwise?”

Clockwork hummed and put on a thoughtful expression. “I suppose. I don’t often fly backward.”

Danny crossed his arms, and Clockwork switched to his elder form. Danny had grown bored with pranks and switched to clock puns. Many, many clock puns. It was genuinely impressive how many he had.

“Fair, I guess. Does it help you unwind?” He wiggled his eyebrows. Clockwork cleared his throat.

“Generally, I find knitting to be a more relaxing hobby.”

Danny stared at him for a good twenty seconds before he shrugged. “That’s fair, actually. I’m not going to tease you for that.”

Clockwork frowned and returned to his adult form. Pity, that could have been an interesting train of puns. He returned his attention to the Timeline: Danny floated beside him and rested his chin on Clockwork’s shoulder. For a few peaceful minutes, the only sounds were the ticking of clocks, their cores vibrating, and the fabric of Clockwork’s gloves brushing against itself.

And then a door was thrown open with absolutely no effort to knock whatsoever. “CLOCKWORK!”

Danny jumped. Clockwork did not. He spun around and pulled Danny behind him. “You don’t need to shout,” he called, “I’m right here.”

The two Observants stormed in through the door Danny had left open, and slammed it behind them hard enough that the doors swung back open a couple of inches into the hall. Clockwork frowned as the bucket Danny had precariously positioned on it wobbled but did not fall.

“What is that doing here?” One snapped and pointed to Danny.

“As I’m sure you remember, given that you were the ones who insisted upon it, he is my ward now.” Clockwork said. A bit of irritation dripped over his words. “Is that enough of an explanation?”

“Do not use that tone with us,” Two hissed. “There are important matters to discuss. We will not stand for this abomination distracting you.”

Clockwork’s scowl grew as behind him, Danny whispered, “Rude.”

“He is simply observing,” Clockwork said dully, “it is no more of a distraction now than it is when you do it.” He turned his back to them, and carefully tried to guide Danny farther behind him. “What did you need from me?”

“Do not turn your back on us,” Two said. Clockwork sighed and turned back around. “Show us respect.”

Clockwork didn’t bother to answer that demand. “What do you want?”

They both narrowed their eyes. “There are matters to discuss,” One said. “Plasmius has continued to cause dangerous ripples throughout our realm with his experiments, and the false hybrid has hidden herself from our view. This can not continue. They must be eliminated!”

A quick glance confirmed Clockwork’s suspicion that Danny had started to glare at the Observants. He placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Dani hasn’t done anything wrong,” Danny snapped.

The Observants glared right back. “Beings who are blameless do not cause the timestream to glitch around them.” Two said a bit smug, like that was some huge revelation that would turn the tide of this not-an-argument in their favour.

“Of course,” Clockwork replied, his voice as dull and bored as was physically possible.

“So we’re ignoring that if someone’s using the Infi Map or natural portals to travel through time the timestream gets confused for a bit, then?” Danny matched his tone perfectly. Clockwork blinked in surprise and squeezed the boy’s shoulder.

“Do not involve yourself in this!” Both Observants snapped.

“He’s right, though.” Clockwork said.

“Be silent!”

Danny continued. “And Vlad would stop messing with the Ghost Zone if you let Clockwork go get the Crown of Fire back from him.”

“Absolutely not!” One hissed.

“We will not endorse an act of treason!” Two added.

“Treason against who?” Danny pressed.

“He’s still right,” Clockwork said.

The Observants glared at Danny for a moment longer before they both pointed a finger at the door. “Leave.”

Danny huffed. Clockwork gave him a small sympathetic smile and pulled his hand back. Danny switched to his human form and walked through one of the Observants on his way to the door, which he passed harmlessly through as well.

“The boy must be dealt with,” Two said.

“You doubt me far too much,” Clockwork replied, and focused on his staff now. “He doesn’t come here to run wild, he’s playing catch up on the knowledge his circumstances denied him for too long. Have some faith for once. Everything is the way it’s supposed to be.”

The Observants narrowed their eyes. “Do not use that phrase with us,” Two said, “each time you say it, you cheat our orders and weaponize our trust in you.”

“Then I am unarmed.”

The Observants didn’t deny it. They glanced at each other, then back at him. “We will return,” One said, “and we expect the problems to be dealt with.”

“Of course,” Clockwork said dryly and turned his back to them. “Mind the door, by the way.”

He heard the Observants scoff and heard them shove the door open. He turned just in time to watch two buckets fall on their heads. Water dyed blue soaked their robes and coloured the flour that now caked their forms. Danny stood only a few feet away, still human, still annoyed.

A little paper crane slipped off the top of the door, landed on One’s head, and slipped down their back as it unfolded. The piece of paper proclaiming free hugs! found its place stuck to the back of the Observant’s robes.

There was a long moment of stunned silence.

“I did warn you,” Clockwork said.

“YOU!”  The Observants dove for Danny. He was still human. They passed harmlessly through him - they did not pass through the wall behind him, however, and two dyed-blue flour outlines of Observants pressed themselves into his walls.

Clockwork’s facade cracked, and a smile broke through his deadpan expression as he floated over the mess. “Don’t blame Danny for your refusal to listen to me.”

Danny’s face lit up. Behind him, the Observants picked themselves off the ground.

“You have betrayed us for the last time, Clockwork.” Two said.

Clockwork turned his snort into a cough. “I warned you. I made an effort to stop you from making fools of yourselves.”

One pointed a dripping, challenging finger at him. “Yet this amuses you!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Clockwork replied. He bit his bottom lip. “We can continue this argument after you have cleaned yourselves up. You are making a mess.”

The Observants gave him a damp scowl and turned to glare at Danny. “We will return,” they said. They left a trail of wet flour on the floor as they flew off.

Clockwork took in a deep, long breath he didn’t need. He was calm. He was fine. The mask was back on, and he was in control of his emotions once more.

“Aw,” Danny said, and picked up a stained piece of paper between two fingers. “They dropped the free hugs sign.”

The mask shattered into several million pieces and calming breath came out in a choking wheeze. Clockwork bent forwards, gripping the stained door frame to keep himself at least somewhat upright. The staff slipped from his grasp and hit the ground with a splush that turned Clockwork’s wheeze into snorts.

Danny approached slowly and looked horrified. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay. Are you allergic to food coloring? Or flour?” A pause, “Are you allergic to water?”

That did not help calm Clockwork’s laughter. Wheezing and snorts turned into the sound reminiscent of a terrified donkey screaming for help, and Danny gave Clockwork a few awkward pats.

It felt like a long, long time before Clockwork had calmed down enough that he stopped laughing. He picked up his staff and let damp flour stain his gloves. He placed that hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Danny,” he said, “you are my favourite hybrid.”

Danny glanced at his now stained shoulder and copied the motion to shove the free hugs sign onto Clockwork’s shoulder. “Clockwork,” he said in the exact same tone, “you have the dumbest laugh I have ever heard.”

They stayed like that for a moment before they both pulled their hands back, snickering. Clockwork didn’t bother to hide his smile as he tapped his staff on the ground, and let it shift into a mop.

“Seriously,” he said, “don’t ever do that again.” He dropped the mop in Danny’s hands and wiped the smile from his face. “Next time they won’t let you off so easily.”

Danny frowned at the mop for a second before he shrugged and reached down to grab a bucket. “It was worth it to see you laugh.”

[inkyardpress]

Excerpt: Don’t Read the Comments by Eric Smith + Giveaway!

Divya

“Mom. We’ve been over this. Don’t read the comments,” I say, sighing as my mother stares at me with her fretful deep-set eyes. They’re dark green, just like mine, and stand out against her soft brown skin. Wrinkle lines trail out from the corners like thin tree branches, grown over a lifetime of worrying.

I wish I could wash away all of her worries, but I only seem to be causing her more lately.

“I’m just not comfortable with it anymore,” my mom counters. “I appreciate what you’re doing with…you know, your earnings or however that sponsor stuff works, but I can’t stand seeing what they’re saying about you on the internet.”

“So don’t read the comments!” I exclaim, reaching out and taking her hands in mine. Her palms are weathered, like the pages of the books she moves around at the library, and I can feel the creases in her skin as my fingers run over them. Bundles of multicolored bangles dangle from both of her wrists, clinking about lightly.

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asks, giving my hands a squeeze. “You’re my daughter. And they say such awful things. They don’t even know you. Breaks my heart.”

“What did I just say?” I ask, letting go of her hands, trying to give her my warmest it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. I know she only reads the blogs, the articles covering this and that, so she just sees the replies there, the sprawling comments—and not what people say on social media. Not what the trolls say about her. Because moms are the easiest target for those online monsters.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that sign in your room with your slogan regarding comments,” Mom scoffs, shaking her head and getting to her feet. She groans a little as she pushes herself off the tiny sofa, which sinks in too much. Not in the comfortable way a squishy couch might, but in a this-piece-of-furniture-needs-to-be-thrown-away-because-it’s-probably-doing-irreversible-damage-to-my-back-and-internal-organs kind of way. She stretches her back, one hand on her waist, and I make a mental note to check online for furniture sales at Target or Ikea once she heads to work.

“Oof, I must have slept on it wrong,” Mom mutters, turning to look at me. But I know better. She’s saying that for my benefit. The air mattress on her bed frame—in lieu of an actual mattress—isn’t doing her back any favors.

I’d better add a cheap mattress to my list of things to search for later. Anything is better than her sleeping on what our family used to go camping with.

Still, I force myself to nod and say, “Probably.” If Mom knew how easily I saw through this dance of ours, the way we pretend that things are okay while everything is falling apart around us, she’d only worry more.

Maybe she does know. Maybe that’s part of the dance.

I avert my gaze from hers and glance down at my watch. It’s the latest in smartwatch tech from Samsung, a beautiful little thing that connects to my phone and computer, controls the streaming box on our television… Hell, if we could afford smart lights in our apartment, it could handle those, too. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m., which means my Glitch subscribers will be tuning in for my scheduled gaming stream of Reclaim the Sun at any minute. A couple social media notifications start lighting up the edges of the little screen, but it isn’t the unread messages or the time that taunt me.

It’s the date.

The end of June is only a few days away, which means the rent is due. How can my mom stand here and talk about me getting rid of my Glitch channel when it’s bringing in just enough revenue to help cover the rent? To pay for groceries? When the products I’m sent to review or sponsored to wear—and then consequently sell—have been keeping us afloat with at least a little money to walk around with?

“I’m going to start looking for a second job,” Mom says, her tone defeated.

“Wait, what?” I look away from my watch and feel my heartbeat quicken. “But if you do that—”

“I can finish these summer classes another time. Maybe next year—”

“No. No way.” I shake my head and suck air in through my gritted teeth. She’s worked so hard for this. We’ve worked so hard for this. “You only have a few more classes!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this.” She gestures toward my room, where my computer is.

“And I can’t let you work yourself to death for… What? This tiny apartment, while that asshole doesn’t do a damn thing to—”

“Divya. Language,” she scolds, but her tone is undermined by a soft grin peeking in at the corner of her mouth. “He’s still your fath—”

“I’ll do my part,” I say resolutely, stopping her from saying that word. “I can deal with it. I want to. You will not give up going to school. If you do that, he wins. Besides, I’ve…got some gadgets I can sell this month.”

“I just… I don’t want you giving up on your dreams, so I can keep chasing mine. I’m the parent. What does all this say about me?” My mom exhales, and I catch her lip quivering just a little. Then she inhales sharply, burying whatever was about to surface, and I almost smile, as weird as that sounds. It’s just our way, you know?

Take the pain in. Bury it down deep.

“We’re a team.” I reach out and grasp her hands again, and she inhales quickly once more.

It’s in these quiet moments we have together, wrestling with these challenges, that the anger I feel—the rage over this small apartment that’s replaced our home, the overdrafts in our bank accounts, all the time I’ve given up—is replaced with something else.

With how proud I am of her, for starting over the way she has.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.”

Deserve.

I feel my chest cave in a little at the word as I look again at the date on the beautiful display of this watch. I know I need to sell it. I know I do. The couch. That crappy mattress. My dwindling bank account. The upcoming bills.

The required sponsorship agreement to wear this watch in all my videos for a month, in exchange for keeping the watch, would be over in just a few days. I could easily get $500 for it on an auction site or maybe a little less at the used-electronics shop downtown. One means more money, but it also means having my address out there, which is something I avoid like the plague—though having friends like Rebekah mail the gadgets for me has proved a relatively safe way to do it. The other means less money, but the return is immediate, at least. Several of the employees there watch my stream, however, and conversations with them are often pretty awkward.

I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, I’d get to keep this one thing. Isn’t that something I deserve? Between helping Mom with the rent while she finishes up school and pitching in for groceries and trying to put a little money aside for my own tuition in the fall at the community college… God, I’d at least earned this much, right?

The watch buzzes against my wrist, a pleasant feeling. As a text message flashes across the screen, I feel a pang of wonder and regret over how a display so small can still have a better resolution than the television in our living room.

THE GALAXY WAITS FOR NO ONE, YOU READY D1V?—COMMANDER (RE)BEKAH

I smile at the note from my producer-slash-best-friend, then look up as my mom makes her way toward the front door of our apartment, tossing a bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back around ten or so,” she says, sounding tired. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” I promise, walking over to give her a hug. It’s sweet, her constant reminders to be careful, to check in, especially since all I generally do while she’s gone is hang out in front of the computer. But I get it. Even the internet can be a dangerous place. The threats on social media and the emails that I get—all sent by anonymous trolls with untraceable accounts—are proof of that.

Still, as soon as the door closes, I bolt across the living room and into my small bedroom, which is basically just a bed, a tiny dresser, and my workstation. I’ve kept it simple since the move and my parents split.

The only thing that’s far from simple is my gaming rig.

When my Glitch stream hit critical mass at one hundred thousand subscribers about a year and a half ago, a gaming company was kind enough to sponsor my rig. It’s extravagant to the point of being comical, with bright neon-blue lighting pouring out the back of the system and a clear case that shows off the needless LED illumination. Like having shiny lights makes it go any faster. I never got it when dudes at my school put flashy lights on their cars, and I don’t get it any more on a computer.

But it was free, so I’m certainly not going to complain.

I shake the mouse to awaken the sleeping monster, and my widescreen LED monitor flashes to life. It’s one of those screens that bend toward the edges, the curves of the monitor bordering on sexy. I adjust my webcam, which—along with my beaten-up Ikea table that’s not even a desk—is one of the few non-sponsored things in my space. It’s an aging thing, but the resolution is still HD and flawless, so unless a free one is somehow going to drop into my lap—and it probably won’t, because you can’t show off a web camera in a digital stream or a recorded sponsored video when you’re filming with said camera—it’ll do the trick.

I navigate over to Glitch and open my streaming application. Almost immediately, Rebekah’s face pops up in a little window on the edge of my screen. I grin at the sight of her new hairstyle, her usually blonde and spiky hair now dyed a brilliant shade of blood orange, a hue as vibrant as her personality. The sides of her head are buzzed, too, and the overall effect is awesome.

Rebekah smiles and waves at me. “You ready to explore the cosmos once more?” she asks, her voice bright in my computer’s speakers. I can hear her keys clicking loudly as she types, her hands making quick work of something on the other side of the screen. I open my mouth to say something, but she jumps in before I can. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on mute once we get in, shut up.”

I laugh and glance at myself in the mirror I’ve got attached to the side of my monitor with a long metal arm—an old bike mirror that I repurposed to make sure my makeup and hair is on point in these videos. Even though the streams are all about the games, there’s nothing wrong with looking a little cute, even if it’s just for myself. I run a finger over one of my eyebrows, smoothing it out, and make a note to tweeze them just a little bit later. I’ve got my mother’s strong brows, black and rebellious. We’re frequently in battle with one another, me armed with my tweezers, my eyebrows wielding their growing-faster-than-weeds genes.

“How much time do we have?” I ask, tilting my head back and forth.

“About five minutes. And you look fine, stop it,” she grumbles. I push the mirror away, the metal arm making a squeaking noise, and I see Rebekah roll her eyes. “You could just use a compact like a normal person, you know.”

“It’s vintage,” I say, leaning in toward my computer mic. “I’m being hip.”

“You. Hip.” She chuckles. “Please save the jokes for the stream. It’s good content.”

I flash her a scowl and load up my social feeds on the desktop, my watch still illuminating with notifications. I decide to leave them unchecked on the actual device and scope them out on the computer instead, so when people are watching, they can see the watch in action. That should score me some extra goodwill with sponsors, and maybe it’ll look like I’m more popular than people think I am.

Because that’s my life. Plenty of social notifications, but zero texts or missed calls.

The feeds are surprisingly calm this evening, a bundle of people posting about how excited they are for my upcoming stream, playing Reclaim the Sun on their own, curious to see what I’m finding… Not bad. There are a few dumpster-fire comments directed at the way I look and some racist remarks by people with no avatars, cowards who won’t show their faces, but nothing out of the usual.

Ah. Lovely. Someone wants me to wear less clothing in this stream. Blocked. A link to someone promoting my upcoming appearance at New York GamesCon, nice. Retweeted. A post suggesting I wear a skimpier top, and someone agreeing. Charming. Blocked and blocked.

Why is it that the people who always leave the grossest, rudest, and occasionally sexist, racist, or religiously intolerant comments never seem to have an avatar connected to their social profiles? Hiding behind a blank profile picture? How brave. How courageous.

And never mind all the messages that I assume are supposed to be flirtatious, but are actually anything but. Real original, saying “hey” and that’s it, then spewing a bunch of foul-mouthed nonsense when they don’t get a response. Hey, anonymous bro, I’m not here to be sexualized by strangers on the Internet. It’s creepy and disgusting. Can’t I just have fun without being objectified?

“Div!” Rebekah shouts, and I jump in my seat a little.

“Yeah, hey, I’m here,” I mumble, looking around for my Bluetooth earpiece, trying to force myself into a better mood. This is why you don’t read the comments, Divya.

The earpiece is bright orange and yellow with white outlines, inscribed with the logo from the game Remember Me, a kick-ass sci-fi adventure with a lady protagonist that I adore. I don’t care if the series got canceled; I wear my earpiece to show my solidarity.

I will remember you, Nilin, you underrated heroine. You deserved better.

“You were really zoned out for a second,” Rebekah says. “Let’s go. It’s time.”

I hear her tapping a few buttons, and suddenly her little screen goes quiet, the video stream of her now bearing a circled microphone with a line through it in bright red. I can still see her, but she’s muted. She won’t appear in video on the stream, preferring to stay behind the scenes for personal reasons that belong to her.

I chuckle as she reaches off-screen and her hand comes back gripping a giant clear Starbucks cup with a huge froth of whipped cream on top, the beverage most definitely filled with pure chocolate and sugar. “Game fuel” she likes to call it.

I swivel in my chair to make sure my room’s door is closed and take a quick peek at my window. Curtain drawn—check.

We’re good to go.

For a minute, I debate breaking out my Oculus. It’s way more fun to explore the universe in Reclaim the Sun when you’re using the VR feature, but then I’d have a giant virtual reality headset covering up my face, hiding my expressions while I’m playing. And all of that, blended with the gameplay, is part of the point of this. Plus, I want to see Rebekah in her side window. Maybe I’ll plug it in later, when I’m gaming solo.

I look up at my webcam and shift around, trying to find the perfect angle for where I’m sitting, the old camera wrestling to adjust the light balance within the room. I keep my outfits on the stream simple—today I’ve got on a dark green T-shirt with a bright white Halo logo in the center, which makes my green eyes look even greener on the camera. Perfect.

I hit record.

“Hey, lovers and dreamers and streamers!” I exclaim, plastering a bright smile on my face. “It’s D1V, coming to you live from the vast universe of Reclaim the Sun. Today we’re going to be exploring the galaxy and seeing what we can find out here in the cosmos. Hopefully, as I’m out adventuring, I run into some of you! Feel free to hit me up on the Reclaim the Sun messaging network at letter ‘D,’ number ‘1,’ letter ‘V’ and join the Armada as we claim planets for our own.”

“As always, the fantastic and talented and beautiful Commander (Re)bekah is on the stream with us.”

I point at the camera. There’s an audible click, and the video stream switches to Rebekah, who gives a faux salute to the camera for just a second, and then switches back to me. Even in that quick clip, you can’t see her face. She saluted while looking down. She’s not a huge fan of the attention and prefers to stay behind the camera, even though she’s got tens of thousands of followers on her various social networks from working on this little show of ours. She mostly posts pictures of her coffee, her cat, Gipsy Danger, or books. She’s big into bookstagram, making beautifully artsy arrangements to photograph and showcase her current reads.

And no matter what game we’re playing, if there’s a customizable vehicle, she’ll name it after a book she’s really into. I’ve seen her share screenshots with authors on social media, and they always seem over the moon thrilled.

“She’ll be on deck running around with us in her brand-new vessel, the Heart of Iron, and recording our exploration from another angle to catch all the action. You can flag her ship, as well as mine, the Golden Titan, and track us as we travel the universe—and, of course, please feel free to join our fleet! Though be warned, if you fire on us, we will be forced to unleash upon you the fury of a thousand suns, as well as the fury of the thousand fans who are traveling with us. Your ship won’t survive against my darling Angst Armada.”

I glance over at Rebekah on the screen and catch her giving me a smile. She’s the one who named our quickly growing fleet, which largely consists of teenagers like us, eager to do a little exploring outside the real world we’re trapped in. And a lot of venting sure does happen on our hashtag and in the game, almost none of which has anything to do with video gaming. School. Breakups. Parents. The usual.

#AngstArmada it is.

Rebekah’s been working on getting patches and pins done up for when we make our appearance at GamesCon later in the summer. She says we can potentially make a ton of money, even if we’re only selling them for a few dollars at our table. I wince at the thought of it—not the patches or pins, which frankly sound awesome and what I’m all about, because how cool would it be to see someone randomly in the mall rocking our fleet badges? And extra revenue to put away for college and help Mom? Yes, please.

But manning the table. Being in public. Sitting in one place where people can come up and talk to me, shake my hand, take pictures. The trolls and their emails and messages… They get so brutal. And the idea of being someplace in real life as D1V and not just as me, Divya, is terrifying.

But if Rebekah can be brave enough to do it, so can I. She’s been through far worse than I have.

“Turn up the enthusiasm,” Rebekah murmurs from her little window, on mute for everyone playing with us and for the stream, but still audible to me. “You sound like you don’t want to be here today.”

She’s awfully perceptive.

“And…we’re in!” I shout, lifting my hands up in the air, fingers wide and open. I beam directly into the webcam.

“Alright, alright, dial it back there on the performance.” Rebekah snipes, and I grin, putting my hands back on the keyboard and mouse. The universe of Reclaim the Sun welcoming and beautiful on my massive screen, an expanse of sprawling black dotted with faraway stars, each a destination that’s possible to fly off to. The fact that there’s no beating this game, no end goal—that it’s just nonstop exploration—makes it all the more fun. There’s no real competition here, unless you’re looking for a fight. We’re all in this together.

I look down at the controls on my ship and take quick stock of what’s on the readouts. I’m still feeling a little bitter that I can’t have my Oculus headset on, as I have to navigate everything with my mouse instead of just physically looking at this stuff. I click on the little video window that contains Rebekah’s floating head and drag it over, placing it atop one of the more useless control screens, there mostly for decoration. Seeing her there makes me feel like she’s my real navigator and in this ship with me. And really, she is—without her, there wouldn’t be a proper show with sponsors and actual revenue or any of that. It’d just be me floundering around in front of an audience, one that wouldn’t be nearly as big as the one we have now.

Or maybe I wouldn’t be doing this at all. I’m not sure what I’d be doing right now without Rebekah’s help, what with Mom and our finances the way they are.

I give my friend’s video window an affectionate little click with my mouse and turn back to the open universe.

“It’s that time, Angst Armada! Our coordinates are as follows… Quadrant Seti Six, 51.7, 92.2, 62.7, in the Omega Expanse. We’ll wait here for approximately five minutes, and then take off and try to find an undiscovered planet. With any luck—whoa!”

The radar screen goes haywire, and Rebekah’s video screen next to it shows her looking far more excited than I’ve seen her in recent memory. A smile explodes on her face, and her voice erupts in my headset, though her video is getting choppy as she talks.

“O-Oh my God, -ere has got to be like, a thousand ships in he—” she screams in my ear, making me wince. “How’s your la-? I swear my sys- go- to cra—”

I check the latency bar, which monitors our connection, and it looks like everything is holding up okay on my end, even as vessel after vessel warps into view in front of my ship. Rebekah’s video stream cuts in and out, her voice getting garbled and then clear and then static again. Spaceships of all kinds and shapes and sizes thunder in out of warp from wherever they were before in the cosmos. Bright neon colors contrast with numerous ships with cold metallic shades, some colored so black, so dark, they practically blend in to the open space. Ships of gold and silver shimmer from the reflecting light of a nearby star, and my radar screen is full to bursting with small glowing dots, each representing a nearby player.

The Angst Armada has arrived.

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[damadorias]

Breaking apart

Dreamswap belongs to Onebizarrekai Warning for violence, swearing and character death previous

Next

Dream took in a shuddering breath, finally losing his impassive composure, allowing a flood of emotions to suddenly rush through him. The sadness felt like a tidal wave that struck his soul in seconds, as his eyes blurred with tears.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Nightmare, watching as the other lay sprawled across the floor, a puddle of blood staining Nightmare’s clothes crimson. His eyes were still open, though he was not staring at Dream, instead, staring out somewhere behind where Dream stood. Nightmare made what sounded like a confused noise shortly before his eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowing until it came to an abrupt stop and his body went limp.

Dream’s legs suddenly gave way and he dropped to his knees, now sobbing loudly as he was struck with regret at the realisation that he would never be able to hear Nightmare’s voice again. He mumbled apologies as he trembled uncontrollably, at first not even noticing the sudden hungry fire that had ignited just behind him, or the rumbling that echoed and shook the ground. It all faded into the background as Dream sobbed.

He only lifted his head when the sound of muffled screaming through the walls caught his attention. He forced himself to stand up and turned, flinching when he saw the blazing fire that seemed to grow larger despite the lack of flammable objects to fuel it. “What? How did-” He was sharply cut off by another scream echoing from outside the room. Turning his head in the direction that the screaming was coming from.

In a panic he left the room and rushed over to see that somehow, not just the room he was in but the entire hallway had also been engulfed by flames. A young cat monster who had been working as a guard was desperately trying to extinguish the fire that was quickly cooking his fur. A Toriel came rushing in shortly after tightly holding onto a bucket of water. She glanced over to Dream briefly before approaching the burning cat monster, tossing the bucket’s contents over him. The flames swiftly died down and the cat monster sighed with relief, whispering thank yous to Toriel as more monsters and humans entered with water buckets in hand.

Dream was about to question them on what on earth had happened when another rumble shook the ground. Everyone in the room fell silent. Toriel broke the suffocating silence with a sharp gasp and pointed to the wall. Dream’s gaze followed where Toriel was pointing and his eyes widened as he watched a crack as it snaked its way down the structure, followed by more cracks that ran up and down the wall.

Another rumble.

The floor beneath their feet began buckle causing a few of the guards to lose their balance and stumble to the cold, hard floor. Dream couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he couldn’t understand why JR was suddenly breaking apart right before his eyes.

“Lord Dream we need to evacuate, it’s not safe here.” One of the guards spoke up, gesturing for Dream to head for the elevator. Deep down he didn’t want to leave, the death of Nightmare along with JR suddenly breaking apart was too much for him. He’d worked so hard for so long to build up his organisation, to create a better multiverse. Seeing all of his hard work suddenly collapsing around him was heartbreaking, and it happened right after he had brought his once childhood friend’s life to an end. His chest felt heavy with negative emotions, he couldn’t understand why he was still feeling them. Nightmare was dead, so why did he feel so awful? And why was everything suddenly collapsing around him? It didn’t make sense.

“Lord Dream please, you must leave this place!” The guard yelled as the floor continued to buckle until it split apart leaving gaping holes. Having no other choice, Dream begrudgingly followed everyone else into the elevator, using his wings to propel himself over the gaping abyss-like holes. As he entered the elevator he folded his wings tightly behind his back and made them intangible so as to not take up too much of the cramped space.

It was then that the question abruptly entered Dream’s mind. Did Nightmare’s death somehow cause this?

—–

“Uuuuurgh, can you just keep quiet for a second?” Ink grumbled as Cross continued to sob uncontrollably. Error glared at Ink “Shut up Ink, can’t you see he’s distressed?” Error growled, wishing that he was in the same cell as Cross to comfort him.

“Why should I care? I can’t feel shit.” Ink crossed his arms as he spoke, wearing a bitter expression on his face. Error just huffed and let himself fall onto the cot in his cell, he was so sick of hearing Ink bitching about Cross.

Cross’ sobbing slowly became incoherent mumbling, he curled into a ball and sat at the very edge of the cell. He looked like he was slowly going insane. He started to claw at his hair, ripping out clumps and letting it all fall to the floor around him. Seconds later his eyes twitched. “NIGHTMARE!” He yelled. His voice strained and went hoarse midway through his yelling, causing him to fall silent as his voice died in his throat.

“Finally, he’s shut the fuck up.” Ink said in an agitated tone, glaring at Cross as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Cross merely whimpered and fell back against the walls of the cell, letting his body slide down so he could sit. He sniffled as he sat there and huddled against the wall, squinting his eyes shut as tears continued to stream down his face.

The room was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Cross. Ink sighed and stared impassively at the floor. Finally some peace and quiet. He didn’t like the fact that Dream had specifically asked him to guard the two for them, especially when Cross was a loud, sobbing mess.

At least they were both silent now, it made things a little easier to put up with.

Ink blinked and focused his eyes when he heard the sound of something rumbling, followed by the sensation of the ground vibrating beneath his feet. “What the fuck?” he whispered to himself.

Error sat up and stood from the cot in his cell, looking just as perplexed as Ink at the rumbling. Cross stared down at the floor as he felt the room shake. He stood up and walked closer to the cell bars. “The fuck was that?” He asked in a raspy voice, still straining a little from all the sobbing and yelling. “I don’t know, it’s probably nothing.” Ink responded, though his expression seemed to look vaguely concerned. “Probably nothing? The ground just shook, that’s a pretty big nothing if you ask me.” Error said as he gestured to the floor.

The room shook once again causing Error to fall to the floor. He groaned in pain and growled a little when Ink snickered. “You’re such an asshole, Ink.” Error muttered as he stood back up, only to pause when he heard a loud noise from behind. He turned to see crevices slowly forming in the walls, getting larger and larger with every second. “Oh shit that looks dangerous, I’m outta here. I’m sure boss will understand.” Error’s eyes widened in shock and he rushed up to the cell bars “W-wait Ink! Can’t you at least give us the key so we can escape before this place collapses?” Error asked in a panicked tone, but Ink had already left the dungeon.

Error started trembling and glitching, tears sliding down his face as he turned to face the walls. He watched as each chip became a new crack that stretched across the wall, further weakening it. “I can’t believe he just left us here,” Cross mumbled, even through his raspy voice, Error could still hear the sorrow and hopelessness in his tone. Error sighed sadly, wandering up to the wall next to Cross’ cell. He tentatively lifted a hand up to the wall and touched in, pressing his forehead against it as he did so. “I wish we were in the same cell, at least we could comfort each other a little more before…” he shakily exhaled as the words died in his throat at the grim thought that they would probably die soon.

Both of them fell silent for a while, not even knowing what was worth talking about. Ten minutes went past without a sound from either of them, the silence occasionally being broken by the sounds of the walls crumbling and the ground shaking. Both of them lifted up their heads as they heard the shuffling of feet coming from outside the dungeon, clearly they were evacuating everyone. Everyone except the people locked in cells, after all, why would they bother to save criminals?

Error sighed as the shuffling of feet grew more and more distant, he sat himself down on the floor with his back leaning against the wall that separated him from Cross. The silence continued for a few more minutes. “Look on the bright side, at least we’ll get to be reunited with Nightmare. Then we can terrorise all of the other ghosts in the afterlife.” Cross chuckled hollowly as he spoke, sounding miserable yet still trying his best to lighten the mood. Error also chuckled a little, though he soon started to break down and sob.

Chunks of the wall broke free and fell to the ground below shortly after Cross and Error had fallen silent again. Both of them braced themselves as the rubble began to pile up. They listened as the roof above finally caved in, the sounds of wood splitting and glass shattering echoing as each floor above them collapsed. Error and Cross drew in one final breath before they saw the burnt and twisted floor boards bend and snap as the weight of bricks fell on top of them, pushing through the ceiling and crushing the dungeon below.

—–

“I-I did this… This is my fault.” Dream whispered through tears. In the distance, screams could be heard along with the sound of crackling flames as it cooked flesh and burnt entire forests to the ground.

Ink stood beside Dream, silent. He didn’t have anything to say. He didn’t even attempt to comfort Dream. He didn’t want to comfort Dream. He only stood silently watching as the ground in the distance split and gave way beneath unsuspecting people, causing them to fall into the magma within and watched the ash slowly choked out the sun as everything around them was seemingly breaking apart.

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Reality // Colin Ritman X Reader

A/N: As I promised, there is more ‘Bandersnatch’ fics to come, so here’s is my latest! But if you guys want, I will make this one shot into like a mini series. But just let me know what you would like :))

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: No

Warnings: Some profanity but I don’t think there’s much

PART 2  PART 3

Not my gif!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

Growing up, you and your brother always loved playing video games. To this day, you still played them together. It was like sibling bonding time for you both, since the two of you and your father had become distant since your mother’s death. Although, you and Stefan were close.

Since Stefan got the job, he’s been telling you all about the building, games and  people he has met. Your twin had become one of Tuckersoft’s best programmers, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit jealous of him for it. Although, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, there was one main reason you desperately wanted to work there for.

Colin Ritman

Colin Ritman has been your’s and Stefan’s idol for years. He worked for Tuckersoft as well, so getting this job would mean meeting your number one idol. Stefan had already met him, claiming he was one of the best people he’s met.

He’s also pretty attractive as well

To make sure you landed the job, you worked tirelessly on your game ‘Bandersnatch’. It was like an adventure game but the choices you make affect the path you take. You based it off of the book your mother had of the same name. You wanted to make your game as closely related to the book as possible and give the player a lot of choices, but it’s lately taken a toll on you. You hoped it wouldn’t really affect you while you were making the game.

There were still many pathways to do, but Tuckersoft’s creator, Mr. Thakur, wanted to see the demo you had. You were ecstatic of course and today is the morning that you would show the. Stefan had already left this morning to go to work, saying he would be there to support you and your game once you’ve arrived to show it.

You were on your way to the company building itself, after having yet another awkward breakfast with your father of explaining the book a bit and taking your pills your therapist, Dr. Hanes, prescribed you. Stefan used to be her patient as well but gradually got better and stopped going. You on the other hand, were still forced to go by your dad.

Later, once you finally arrived at the tall building, you put your headphones and tapes away and you couldn’t help but stand in awe at it. It was pretty tall, taller than some buildings you’ve seen before. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You were very anxious, but none the less, you finally stepped into the building.

You made it to the area filled with people and desks added with computers where you thought you would be able to find the company’s creator. Passing by a woman at a front desk who was answering and talking into the phone, you made your way farther into the building.

You then noticed a slightly large man wearing a stripe patterned suit walking around the area talking to some people. You recognized him as Mr. Thakur, the owner. He was talking to another guy while you slowly, but gradually made your way over to him. A few moments pass by and he finally noticed your presence.

“Ah! You are....Kaela!” He said.

“Actually, it’s (Y/n). I’m Stefan’s sister.” You corrected.

“Yeah right! Sorry, mate!” Mr. Thakur apologized and smiled brightly, although his smile seemed rather a bit...fake. You assured him it was fine and looked around.

“Sorry for the mess, we just moved in not too long ago!” He says, noticing you were taking in your surrounds.

You listened to what he says when you stopped and noticed the poster on your right on the way. It displayed the words ‘Metal Head’ with some of the letters in a different order. Mr. Thakur followed your gaze and saw your interest in the poster. He pointed to it and said his next words proudly.

“That’s Colin’s new one.” Hearing what he said, you immediately looked at him in a bit of shock.

“Colin Ritman?” You questioned, getting closer to him to make sure you heard him right. He nodded.

“Yup. That’s him over there. Talking to your brother.” He motioned over to your left where you saw your idol and your brother talking casually over a computer. Your face lit up with excitement. Colin looked just as cute and hot as you thought he would.

“He’s my idol. It’s crazy, I’ve played all of his games with my brother!” You almost squealed.

“Well let’s go say hello, then!” Mr. Thakur suggested. You looked at him with confusion.

“Are you sure he won’t mind? He’s working—“ Mr. Thakur interrupted you before you could say anything else.

“No no it’s fine.” He said as he gestures for you both to go over to him and your brother. He motions for you to be quiet and goes up behind Stefan and says in his ear which startles him.

“What’s this? Kajagoogoo?” Mr. Thakur laughs as Stefan jumps slightly. Stefan rolls his eyes at his boss.

“You wish.” Colin retorted back as he takes out another rolled-up cigar.

“Can you believe him? He’s made enough this year to buy a Lamborghini and he still smokes roll-ups.” The company owner said, leaning down to get into Colin’s face, who was sitting on the chair.

You lightly tap on Stefan’s left shoulder and he turns around to confront the person when he notices it’s you with a small smile on your face. He mirrors the smile in delight and hugs you tightly.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Your twin says.

“Hello Stefan. How’s work going?” You asked. Stefan shrugged slightly in response and turned around to introduce you to Colin.

“Colin, this is my twin sister.” He pointed towards you. You awkwardly smiled and put your hand out towards him as he lit his roll-up. 

“(Y/n). (Y/n) Butler. I-I’ve played all your games with my brother. All of them! Except for the commodore ones. W-we don’t have a commodore.” You say.

You cringed internally at your words and hoped you didn’t come off too desperate. Colin looked at your hand before looking back to you.

“I’m Colin, yeah?” He responded, shaking your hand. You blushed and grinned at him before being pulled back by your brother in a protective manner. You almost rolled your eyes at his actions.

“This is my latest.” Colin fixed his gaze back onto his computer screen. His computer showed a title screen of a colorful game with the title ‘Nozedyve.”

“Colin was introducing me to his new game. It’s called ‘Nozedyve’.” Stefan told you, pointing to the screen.

The title screen scrolled down to a transition to a sprite game of a mini man falling through a few buildings while dodging some clothes on clothing line. You looked at the game in amazement while Stefan grinned at the developer.

Colin looked over to you while he played it and smiled over to you, happy he made you impressed. You couldn’t help but feel something bubble in your stomach when he smiled at you. You could physically feel your face burn up from his staring.

Just when Colin looked back at the computer screen, the game started to glitch before it crashed completely, changing to a white screen. Colin cursed before pressing some buttons to fix the game. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s that?” Mr. Thakur asked, just as confused as you were.

“It’s a buffer error. The eyeballs have overrun the video memory.” Colin explained. You looked at the screen in fascination.

“Oh yeah yeah yeah. Video memory. Yeah...I was gonna say that.” Mr. Thakur said, trying to explain himself. Stefan rolled his eyes again.

“So (Y/n), you’ve something to demo for us?” Stefan changed the subject. Colin looked over to you, his roll-up in between his lips, and smirked. This is gonna be fun, he thought. 

A few minutes later, you, Stefan, Colin and Mr. Thakur went into the game company’s owner’s office to try out your latest demo. While going through it, you showed the others what was happening and explained the whole thing.

“See, it’s a like an adventure game. You choose the path.” Just as you explained it, one of the characters, Pax, showed up on screen. Two choices of ‘deny or worship Pax’ displayed on the screen, marking a choice point in the game.

“L-Like right here, we’ve come to a choice point and you have to pick between two choices and it affects what path you take. And he’s Pax, he’s the demon. You can choose between two choices. You’ve got ten seconds.” You said, still a bit anxious. You gestured toward the character on the screen.

Stefan gave you an impressed look, smiling at you and you copied it. Colin and Mr. Thakur look at the game in fascination.

“Worship him.” Colin told you as he shrugged his shoulders.

“N-no! Don’t do that! He’s the ‘Thief Of Destiny’! I-In the book at least.” You stuttered. Colin took the copy of ‘Bandersnatch’ that you brought and put on the table and glanced through it.

“I’ve got a copy of this at home. Never got a chance to reading it, though.”

“You should! Jerome F. Davies was a genius!” You informed him.

“Didn’t he go bonkers and cut his wife’s head off?” Colin questioned, placing the book on the desk.

“Well, yeah. Besides that.” You looked at Colin and he smiled at you in admiration, which caused you to blush. Stefan switched glances between the two of you and shook his head, not liking the looks you gave each other.

Suddenly, Mr. Thakur took the small game controller from you hands and moved the joy stick to go to ‘worship Pax’ and pressed the red button next to it. The screen flashed from black to white saying the words ‘OUT OF RANGE’. Mr. Thakur looked at it in confusion.

“W-what? What’s happened?” He asked.

“Well, I-I haven’t programmed that pathway yet.” You informed him.

After putting the controller on the desk, Mr. Thakur made a proposition for you. He said that you could write the game there at Tuckersoft and he would have a team work with you, Colin and Stefan included as well. While making your decision, your mind switched back and forth from yes to no.

Yes // No

Finally, you managed to accept it and push the other option away. Mr. Thakur clapped his hands in victory and Colin made a face of disappointment while Stefan clapped you on the back with a bright smile on his face.

But then, your new boss said that things were going to have to be changed in the game. Saying that they can’t fit 48k into a game, meaning they were going to have to shorten the game down by a bunch. Your grin disappeared and you looked down at your lap in realization at what you’ve done. 

You’re whole mind was screaming that you made the wrong choice.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize that Colin had come up to you until he put a hand on your shoulder and your gaze followed up at him. He squeezed your shoulder lightly in assurance.

“Sorry, love. Wrong path.” Colin winked at you, grinned at you then exited through the door. You didn’t notice your brother’s slight glare at Colin’s actions, as you were too focused on Colin’s body leaving the office.

~Five Months Later~

It was now Christmas and you, Stefan, and your dad were sitting on the couch together watching the telly. Christmas had now come around and with decorations all around your house, you and your family watched as ‘Microplay’, the show where a kid rates the newest games that had just come out, came on to give their verdict on your game, ‘Bandersnatch’. 

“And that’s how ‘Bandersnatch’ works. But did it ‘snatch’ your respect?” The lady on the screen turned towards the kid who was standing next to several telly’s.

“I’m afraid not, Leslie. As you may know, this is the Tuckersoft’s first team created game but it’s the fact that the game is just way too short. Like someone just went halfway through it and released the quickest and fastest version they could.” The kid explained.

“I see. And your verdict?” The woman asked.

“No stars out of five. Terrible.” The kid confessed.

As the lady said something on screen, you replayed that first meeting in your head, thinking what choice you could have made to fix everything. Your hand was grabbed by Stefan’s in reassurance and he gave you a pitiful smile. Your dad turned off the telly and looked over to you.

“That kid knows nothing.” He tried to console you. You paid no attention to your brother or father.

“I should try again.” You said, mainly to yourself, and stood up. You walked out of the room and started to march your way up to your bedroom.

“(Y/n)—“ Stefan tried to talk to you but you interrupted him.

“I’m trying again!” You said looking back at him for a slight moment, a bit agitated at the moment.

That night, you went to bed and fell asleep. Trying to figure out what choice you could have made to make things better.

...

...

“Can you believe him? He’s made enough this year to buy a Lamborghini and he still smokes roll-ups.” The company owner said, leaning down to get into Colin’s face, who was sitting on the chair.

You lightly tap on Stefan’s left shoulder and he turns around to confront the person when he notices it’s you with a small smile on your face. He mirrors the smile in delight and hugs you tightly.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Your twin says.

“Hello Stefan. How’s work going?” You asked. Stefan shrugged slightly in response and turned around to introduce you to Colin.

“Colin, this is my twin sister.” He pointed towards you. You awkwardly smiled and put your hand out towards him as he lit his roll-up. Suddenly, Colin looked over to you in confusion. 

“We’ve met before?”

Let me guys know if you want to make this into a mini series! I’m pretty sure I will but I just want your opinion on it :))

[sleepyfan-blog]

Recue Sci

fandom: Undertale multiverse AU

First part of this series is here. Previous is here. 

characters: SF!Sans, FS!Sans, Fell!Sans, Ink, Science!Sans, Dr. Alphys, W.D. Gaster

warnings: cursing 

word count: 3,152

Summary: The Fell Squad and Ink go to rescue Sci.

“Ink you better not have left the nerd in the ass end of some shit AU.” Red growled, his voice a low, bass rumble of protective irritation.

The creative guardian sighed a little bit and shook his head, before realizing that he was talking to Red on the phone and said “Sci should be fine. As far as I know, he's in his home timeline. I’ve gotten similarly irritated messages from Razz and Blackberry. Just what do you three think is going on with him?”

“... Did you not receive the text message from him less than five minutes ago asking for help? Or do you just not care?” Red snapped, irritated at how disinterested the bastard sounded.

“Hmm? Oh that. Yeah I saw that - I checked on him. He’s fine! I popped my head in to see where he was. He’s taking a nap on an exam table in Hotlands.” Ink answered with a shrug that the other Sans couldn’t see “He was probably just trying to avoid falling asleep - you know how he often overworks himself. There’s also a chance that he was trying to type something else and his phone autocorrected. He had it in his hand still.”

“... Is his Gaster still alive?” Red demanded after a moment, sounding even more worried than before.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ink asked, curious and confused as to why that mattered at all. "But yes, he is."

"Because the Gaster I knew was an unmitigated bastard who experimented on me an' my bro for years before we managed to shove that old bastard into the heart of the Core? And the nerd's Gaster has decided that it's time to torture him? I know you have the whole 'I don't interfere with the running of timelines' thing but you take us in and out of our own and help each other with things all the time. And if Sci is all traumatized all to shit, then he's not going to be able to help you with science-y shit." Red growled "So come get me, Razz and Blackberry. We'll punch Gaster in the face for you and rescue Sci. All you gotta do is get us there."

"Hmm... In exchange for...?" Ink pressed, a small smile on his face, curious as to see if he could get anything out of the irritable monster.

"Ugh. Next time you gotta deal with Error's bullshit, call me up and I'll drop everything I'm doing to help you. No questions asked and no complaining." Red offered with a scowl.

Ink brightened up - getting this promise from Razz and Blackberry as well. He didn't necessarily need their help to deal with Error, but it certainly made the fight easier to contain the potential extra damage that Error could do to a timeline before they chased him off. And the fights didn't take as long before the destructive glitch decided that it wasn't worth his time to fight all of them at once - especially as the others had gotten so much better at dodging his strings. “Great! Thank you Red. I’ll be in your timeline in about five minutes or so - Razz and Blackberry want to see Sci as well. I’m sure he’s fine, and you three are overreacting a bit.”

~

Six minutes later, and the four of them were standing outside of The Labs in Sci’s timeline, with all three Fell Sanses glowering at the door. “So why didn’t you just ‘port us in to where you saw him last?” Red demanded.

“Ah, you see - while I was able to open a portal to see where Sci was, they’ve managed to rig something that keeps me from actually entering the labs without being allowed in first. I’m not sure if Dream’s portals are blocked as well, or if they’ve figured out how to keep just me from popping in whenever I want.” Ink answered honestly, shrugging a little.

“Wait… Since when does Dream have -you know what? We’re going to table that comment for later. For now we need to get this stars-damned door open.” Razz hissed, stomping over to it and banging on it loudly “I THE MALEFICENT SANS DEMAND THAT YOU OPEN THIS DOOR. YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN.” He took two steps backwards, arms folded over his chest. Ten seconds passed by very slowly, and with absolutely nothing changing.

“VERY WELL. SINCE YOU’VE DECIDED NOT TO COMPLY WITH MY DEMAND-” He paused for a moment, summoning a blaster and aiming its’ maw at the door, the blaster’s destructive ruby magic collecting between it’s bifurcated lower mandibles “I WILL BE OPENING THE DOOR RIGHT NOW.” He gave the scientists another three seconds, in case someone smart and cowardly decided to act. When they did not, Razz caused his blaster to let out a short, quick burst of destructive magic - Red and Blackberry summoning floating bone attacks as well.His blaster destroyed the door and only a small portion of the outer wall. It scorched a bit of the white tiles and sent debris flying further into the building, but all in all it was a very neat, well controlled burst. Alarms started blaring as the four of them walked onto the first floor.

Red hit the call button for the elevator, having teleported over to it as soon as the smoke had cleared and there were no enemies immediately in sight. He froze for a moment when he thought he heard a nervous squeak from the half-floor above him, and then smirked. He teleported up and spotted a small yellow lizard-monster who looked like the Alphys of this world. He stalked towards her, knowing that he would loom above her and rumbled “Hey there Alph. Now unless you’re doing something wrong there’s no need to be scared. I just want to talk to you for a little while, understand?”

“I-I… Y-You’re really… P-Pointy?” The nervous lizard monster stuttered, scrambling backwards, edging for the other set of escalators, aware that there were other hostile Sanses and terribly confused as to what was going on. The only ones they’ve met before have been kind and curious beings “W-Why are you he-here?”

“We’re looking for your Sans.” Blackberry called out, casually wrapping an arm around her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head “Now, we’re well aware that most Alphys tend to be very shy and curious monsters, and while you can get drawn into awful and tawdry affairs, you generally mean well. The Sans of your world is a dear friend of ours, and you wouldn’t happen to know why he’s currently passed out on an examination table, would you?”

“I-I… N-No I d-do-don’t. Th-The last thing I-I know, h-he was going to b-be running some te-tests with… W-With another S-Sans.” Alphys stuttered as she went completely still, her eyes wide and terrified. Her breathing was fast and she kept clenching and unclenching her hands “H-He said something about the o-other being sick… Th-The other S-Sans I think was named… S-Something with a D? He was wearing blue and had ye-yellow gloves and a cape. Wh-why was he wearing a crown? I-Is that S-Sans royalty?”

“Ink! Get your apathetic ass up here right now. Did you know that Dream was going to be visiting Sci today? He’s here too, apparently.” Red yelled, his eye lights briefly shrinking to pinpricks. If that fucking asshole did anything to either The Nerd or the Adorable Healer, he was going to pay with his life. Very slowly and painfully.

The Creative guardian appeared in a flash of paint, a little bit of a frown appearing on his face as he stared steadily at Alphys, one of his eye lights a green circle, the other a violet question mark “What did you say about Dream coming here because he was sick? I hadn’t known that he was feeling off.” both of his eye lights turned into swirls - though they were in opposing patterns “Did any of you know that?”

All three Fell Sanses shook their heads, Blackberry speaking up after a moment “I was under the impression that it was almost impossible for him to get sick - like you - because he’s a guardian as well and a lot hardier than the three of us.”

Ink frowned a little bit and answered “As far as I know that assumption is correct he does get me here in timelines that have low positivity due to the nature of his being, but I've been careful to avoid such places while traveling with him after finding that out. I found Sci asleep in an empty room on an examination table. These three have rather… Unpleasant experiences with Gasters in the past and are concerned for Sci's and Dream's safety. Just where are they? I am also very much interested in where some my dear friends are.” He’s leaning on his paintbrush and has an easygoing smile on his face… But one of his eye lights is a purple exclamation point, and the other is a red target.

“I-I d-don’t know wh-where they m-might be o-other than in the l-labs down be-below. B-But Doctor Ga-Gaster wasn’t w-with them during the tests to s-see wh-what might be affecting your f-friend.” Alphys managed out, taking in a couple of deep breaths, clearly trying to calm down and succeeding to some degree. She was very clearly nervous of the four powerful and rather hostile monsters surrounding her.

As if summoned, Gaster called out from below after a moment, sounding incredibly confused and slightly disconcerted “Why is there a giant hole where the door to the labs used to be?”

The four Sanses teleported in front of the Gaster, the still slightly trembling and terrified Alphys in the middle of them. Ink’s smile - which seemed a little bit sharper than it had been seconds ago - broadened a little as he stalked towards the much taller skeleton - his eye lights are still purple and red - one of them has concentric circles, the other a larger target “Where oh where are Dream and Sci? I know that you wouldn’t have been able to resist the opportunity to study a being from a different universe - particularly one as unusual as Dream is… So, where are they?”

“As far as I know, Sci is still running tests on Dream. You are all aware of the fact that he’s been losing MP steadily despite not actively using his magic or battling constantly, yes? He’s not physically injured, and from what I was able to observe of his behavior, it is quite likely that he has some sort of soul damage - which he’s been suffering for months if not much, much longer.” Doc G responded, folding his arms over his chest as he stares down at the creative guardian. Showing fear would be a supposed sign of guilt, and he’s done nothing wrong.

All three of the Fell Sanses swear violently at the same time, and the royal scientist has to teleport to dodge their combined attacks, sighing a little and sending a pair of his summoned hands to grab Alphys - not wanting his intern to get dusted by an overzealous alternate of his older son due to a misunderstanding. Ink, however, simply grabbed his brush and spun it, the paint hitting Gaster square in the chest exactly where the other had teleported him to, the momentum of the deceptive liquid slamming the esteemed scientist into the wall with enough force to rattle the other’s bones. “That’s not what I asked, although it’s concerning that Dream may have gotten injured in such a way, we do fight an enemy who can cause pain to someone’s souls if he gets his strings on a person’s soul, so the idea that he could also damage a person’s soul is not out of the realm of possibility. Where are Dream and Sci?”

“Sci is right here, and very confused. What’s going on? Why are you attacking Da… The doc? When did you four show up?” Sci asked, looking incredibly confused as he ran over and reached out to Ink.

“You texted all of us for help… Is Dream alright? What does he need in order to heal?” Ink responded, one of his eye lights turning into a blue teardrop, the other a purple swirl. “Is he still in the lower portion of the labs, then?”

“I have no idea where Dream is. He hit me with a sleeping spell… And I… I promised that I wouldn’t tell you all what was going on. He did ask me to give you a message, though. Dream said that if he never shows up again, it’s not because he doesn’t want to, but because he has no other choice. Also, he mentioned someone by the name of Nightmare… Do any of you know who that is?” Sci answered, looking both very worried and concerned.

The Fell Sanses shook their heads, frowning a little “Huh … Did he say at all who this Nightmare was?” Red asked for a moment, curious and reflective.

“I… he did but I… I’m pretty sure it’s related to the thing that I promised Dream I wouldn’t tell anyone else about.” Sci sighed, rubbing his face a little

Ink paused for a moment, reflecting “Occasionally while he’s asleep, he’ll call out for someone named Night or Nightmare. Usually he’s pleading in his sleep for the other to stop doing something. I’ve tried to ask him about it but he always avoid the topic. The name makes him flinch and very unhappy, so I don’t push.”

Sci went very quiet for several moments, his eye lights dull. He cleared his nonexistent throat and asked “Err, Ink? Would you mind getting dad down and fixing the wall please? The royal guard patrol is going to be swinging by soon and uhh… I'd rather not have to explain the giant hole… Or all of you, because fully grown monsters just don’t randomly appear in the underground. Especially skeleton monsters.

“Oh! Yes, that would be rather difficult to explain - and I wouldn’t want to cause more disruption to this timeline than I already have.” Ink murmured with a bright smile, teleporting over to where the hole was, readjusting his grip on his brush as he recreated the door and parts of the wall, adjusting the color slightly to make sure that it looked indistinguishable from the original. He then went over to Doc G and freed the other from his magical paint, ensuring that the other’s lab coat wasn’t stained either. Ink was pretty sure that if Dream was there, he’d make them apologize for attacking an innocent monster… But as Dream was apparently off being mysterious and secretive, they didn’t have to. He really wanted to know what it was that Sci was keeping from all of them and sauntered over to the younger skeleton “Mind if we talk alone for a bit, Sci?”

“As… Fascinating as your visits are, Ink, I really must insist that the four of you leave - we are in the middle of working on a very delicate replacement part for some of the older sections of the Core, and I need his help in order to do so.” Doc G murmured, walking forwards and gently pulling Sci to his side. “I am unsure as to how long all of this will take, but once started, it will require his full concentration.”

Ink sighed, rolling his eye lights a little as they changed shapes and colors quickly. He could just fix whatever minor issue was wrong with their power supply on his own - and then he’d be able to talk to Sci about what it was that Dream was keeping from him - but the Gaster was looking really stubborn and probably wouldn’t take kindly to him messing about with such things and irritable Gasters were annoying to deal with. “Fiiiine. Good luck on your boring project Sci! I’ll pop back later to see how you’re holding up.”

“Thanks Ink.. Uhm… Have you ever been to Dream’s home timeline?” Sci asked curiously, as if unable to help himself but to ask the question.

“Nope! I’ve wanted to, though. But Dream says that I wouldn’t find his home very interesting.” Ink said with a shrug. “It’s another one of the things that he really doesn’t like talking about, so I don’t pester him about it. Mostly because if I try he hides for a while and I don’t like it when he does that.”

“... What and you never thought that was weird at all?” Red grumped, glaring a little. He didn’t like the rather ominous message that Dream had asked Sci to give to Ink. Why and how would someone be able to trap Dream in his own timeline, when the other had the ability to travel on his own? “... And are you sure you’ve never been to Dream’s timeline before?”

“Well, for the longest time I thought that he was an outcode, like myself, Error or… Someone else.” Ink responded, not wanting to mention Fresh’s name - as he didn’t particularly want to gain the parasite’s attention right now. Mostly because Fresh liked having strong hosts - and the three Fells he was currently with were fairly strong for mortal beings and he’d rather not lose one or all of them to Fresh’s periodic need to switch hosts. “But I asked one day and he said that he’s got a home timeline… Somewhere. But I’ve never found any other Dreams before so… I guess he’s from an AU where there’s only a singular iteration? Which I’ve never seen before. There are always copies, even if they are few and far between. It’s really fascinating! And a new concept, at least as far as  I know. Dream keeps more secrets than we’re all aware of, from what I can tell. Dream’s a fascinating puzzle I hope to solve.”

The four mortal sanses shared looks with one another, frustrated that Ink said something like that, but unsurprised. The other was a soulless asshole - but Dream being around made him a bit of a better person. Or at least he pretended to be, which at least counted for something. Blackberry just sighed and rubbed one of his temples a little and grumbled “We should probably get moving then. Thank you for your time and information, Sci… As for you, Doctor Gaster - the attack was a bit… Premature - but if you ever so much as think of harming a single member of this Underground I will personally make your last moments agonizing.”

“Duly noted.” Doc G responded. He looked like he was torn between saying something more and staying quiet, but Sci gently tugged on one of his sleeves and shook his head a little. The head royal scientist nodded and sighed quietly as he followed the other into the elevator into the lower levels.

[plaguedparadox]

Continuing off the Doctor Who one, what if Anti got captured by Sam and Dean? (Sorry just REALLY love the idea of SuperWhoLock being crossed over with the egos 💙)

Oh boy, it’s been a long time since I’ve even seen Supernatural so forgive me if the boys are OOC or act like the young versions of themselves. Also, I know this probably is for what would happen after they captured him but I just had to write how they met. I’m pretty sure if I wrote what happens afterwards it would be over the 2000 word limit I’ve set myself for these oneshots. Either way, enjoy.

The air crackled with static as the sound of heavy boots made its way across a dingy alleyway, the walls were wet with rain and whatever residue the residents in the area left it with. The traveller didn’t want to know, his arms being practically glued to the side as he had to remind himself that he was only walking to conserve energy. That there was a reason he was in America, so far away from home. He hated it when the people he messed around with began to travel as it usually meant he’d have to wait at home for them to get back or he’d have to hunt them down all over again and he simply didn’t have the patience to keep waiting around. A problem arose from that situation, however, as he knew little to nothing about America or rather how to navigate the area efficiently. He knew the UK and Ireland like the back of his hand, thanks to his prey having lived in both places. A glitched sigh left him as he walked, his feet dragging slightly behind him. Voices caught his attention, two guys arguing over something and, usually, that wouldn’t make him pause to listen in but as soon as the word ‘demon’ was mentioned, he knew he had to listen in. A cracked chuckle left his now grinning lips as he allowed his invisible code to pour into one of the duo’s phones, granting himself access, like a rogue app, to the microphone so he could listen in.

“Listen, Sammy. A demon is a demon, we’ve faced plenty of them before. I doubt this one is gonna shock us.” The shorter of the duo spoke up, his gruff voice dismissive as he checked over his car. “So what if it’s got a few little ticks and tricks we haven’t seen before. All we have to do is find its weakness and go from there.” He didn’t want to sound too smug but everything his little brother had told him about the wandering demon that they were hunting just left him a bit underwhelmed. Sure, they had never faced a glitch demon before but what was a bunch of rogue coding in a human form really going to do to them that a regular demon couldn’t. Dean appreciated Sam’s concern but the younger brother often aired on the side of too much caution, a good contrast to his throw caution to the wind attitude that did get the man into quite a bit of trouble. Dean threw his brother a quick glance, noticing the pained expression on his face as his eyes scanned the phone he was reading from. “What is it?”

Sam glanced up at his brother before dragging his eyes down to his phone, his breath a tad unsteady as he read through the post that seemed to detail facts of the demon. “It says that it has a tendency to mess around with it’s prey, making them face their worst fears before possessing them and making them it’s puppets.” Facing their worst fears. They knew what that meant all too well but it still unnerved the younger Winchester to read it. “Shouldn’t we, at least, get Cas to help?” Dean didn’t respond, too busy looking at his own phone, confused as to why the screen was beginning to play up. He was sure that he didn’t download anything that could break the silly thing. “What’s up?” The younger brother asked, trying to grab his brother’s attention, his own eyes just noticing the weird green glitching. Green. Glitching. Sam quickly looked down at his own phone, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he hurriedly scanned across the post. Unfortunately, it was a lost cause as the glitching soon took over his own phone causing him to drop it in shock. “Dean, it might have found us before we had a chance to find it!” He exclaimed, backing away from his phone, unaware that his brother was doing the exact same. Both brothers were more than shocked as the glitches seemed to seep out of their phones like viscous fluid, combining together and slowly taking a grotesque skeletal shape before eventually bulking out and looking as if it could be a human trapped inside the gunk but the glowing green eyes that never seemed to blink stopped them from being fooled. This was the demon.

Scratchy laughter that seemed to jump and crack like it was a corrupted audio file left the creature as the dark liquid faded to reveal something that looked very human if it weren’t for his eyes, one almost entirely black and one that looked as if it could be normal if it wasn’t for the green sclera, and the huge torn up slit in the creature’s throat which bled but it didn’t seem to bother the creature in the slightest. “Ah, so looking for me, are you?”  It spoke through gritted teeth but the Irish accent couldn’t be hidden. “What makes you think you can stop me?!” It hissed, parts of it glitching away before reappearing. “I AM ETERNAL!” It stood its ground, knife suddenly in hand as it bared its teeth at the brothers. Dean, being the ever so cocky one, demanded to know its name after making a quiet comment about how the way it spoke made the phrase ‘I am eternal’ sound an awful lot like ‘I’m a turtle’, which made Dean’s voice bounce around as he struggled not to laugh. “My name? Antisepticeye. But most just call me Anti, or Master if they’re my puppet!” Anti grinned, showing off his teeth more, his face twisting far more than a human could. He could care less if he was giving himself away, the idiots in front of him weren’t his priority, they weren’t his prey. He just needed to find that stupid Ego that ran off, he wasn’t going to let someone else pull what the doctor had done.

The knife flicked around in Anti’s hand, more than ready to plunge it into the humans that were foolish enough to think they could take him on but he was going to wait, his grand entrance drained a decent amount of the energy he had left after he teleported across the ocean. Anti wasn’t afraid to leap before looking but it did leave him with disadvantages that he found annoying. “So, you’re the big bad glitch that makes puppets out of people?” Dean scoffed, rather amused by the shorter Irish demon. Out of all the horrors he had faced and people were scared of Anti? It was ridiculous. Thing was, Anti loved when people underestimated him, it motivated him to show them what he could really do. Red strings, invisible to the humans, began wrapping around his fingers as he got ready to turn one brother on the other. All humans are the same. Anti thought to himself before lunging for the shorter brother, not anticipating him to leap out of the way and point a gun at him. “Not so fast!” Dean announced, reaching behind him for something as a Latin word left his lips but he quickly froze as he noticed Anti staring at him with a questioning look.”Why didn’t that work?” He mouthed towards his brother who exclaimed the same thing after trying the word himself.

“You done?” Anti asked, his knife now just loosely being held by his side as he watched the brothers try to take him down with tactics that they assumed would work. “I’m not a regular demon, y’know!” He feigned insult before starting to fiddle with his knife, his more sadistic side yearning to come out and finish this pathetic game. He was becoming very impatient and his glitches spoke for him as they became more aggressive

Sam’s eyes lit up as he connected the dots. A glitch was coding or something that needed electricity but if you pumped too much electricity into something that relied on it, it would fry. He quickly gestured towards his brother to distract the glitch while he rushed off, seeking out and finding a power box. The younger Winchester called to his brother, letting him know where he was. Moments later, Dean sprinted out of the alley way and made his way over to the power box, a fully enraged Anti in pursuit behind him. The demon became frenzied after the older hunter made one too many turtle jokes. Just as Dean was about to hit the powerbox, he jumped over it and watched as Anti collided with it, the glitch being electrocuted and blacking out after a few seconds of being pumped full of electricity. It didn’t kill him but the brothers used the quiet time to take him somewhere secure and lock him up. Jokes just falling out of Dean’s mouth as they went on their way making Sam roll his eyes.

Anti woke up after an hour, groggy and confused but energised. Oh, so energised. It felt as if he had been chugging energy drinks and strong coffee for the past ten minutes. His glitches sparked around, no rhyme or reason to them as they used up small chunks of Anti’s over energised state. His now heterochromic eyes, white scleras but one iris blue and the other green, danced around the room as he tried to work out where he was even with his blurred vision. Rage slowly filled him as his memories from today played in his head causing his glitches becoming more erratic, allowing him to phase through and stagger out of his bindings. His nails scrapped against his palms, his claws becoming more evident. Plans crossed his mind, his sharp toothed grin growing wide as the sadistic images became darker and visceral.  

Oh, he was going to cause them a world of pain.