#two art posts in one week? unfathomable

[delta-orionis]

I have blorbo disease, which means that if I don't draw my special little guy at least once every couple of weeks I'll shrivel up and die (...maybe not, but it sure feels like that).

An assortment of Simons from my sketchbook, as well as some brainstorming. I've included transcriptions of my notes as well as some additional thoughts under the cut:

Second image:

I was brainstorming what Simon might look like with a more severe WAU "infection", based on this piece of concept art. The idea was that Simon would become visibly more "infected" with WAU growths depending on how often the player chose to use WAU nodes.

[Transcription]

WAU modules are noticeably larger

WAU growths typically wrap through and around like plant roots or mycelium. Can also harden into scales, with softer “roots” poking out underneath.

Simon 2:

”veins” growing up Simon’s helmet

some WAU growths are scaly, with large nodules and “hairs” beneath the scales

scales (most visible poking thru the neoprene) [in Simon’s suit]

Structure gel growths are breaking out of Simon’s suit, like plant roots in a root-bound plant

Simon 3:

The power suit is more rigid, so the WAU growths poke out in places where the pieces connect (namely the shoulders, elbows, wrists, and especially the hands)

”veins” wrap around the more rigid structures of the power suit

scales form near the wrists, forearms, and triceps

Third Image:

Various doodles of Simon 2, 3, and 4.

[Transcription]

I've always liked the idea of Ark Simon having a laurel halo [like the Pathos-II logo] (along with the other Ark residents)

Like I noted in my sketchbook, I like the idea of Simon 4 (Ark Simon) having a halo that distinguishes him in appearance from Simon 1. It would be cool if it looked like the laurels in the Pathos-II logo. Laurel wreaths were often used in ancient Greece as a symbol of victory, which I think fits because Simon 4 completed his goal (of getting on the Ark). It also would double as a halo, to show how Simon has ascended to the afterlife (if the Ark could be considered that). Also I just think it looks cool. :]

Bonus tiny Simon as a reward for reading the notes:

[iamthekaijuking]

The God children of Ana Q&A

Fun facts I never got a chance to share

I always imagined Locolichi civilization and infrastructure to look something like slave zero and Bogleech’s mortasheen. A world irreversibly polluted and covered in sprawling ungodly huge several mile high cities.

Melalo’s two heads are actually false heads, as his central brain and mouth is located between them, and the false heads have ganglia instead of actual brains. They are also boneless and move much like octopus arms and elephant trunks. They’re really closer to arms or eyestalks in function!

Tcaridyi doesn’t look too hairy but that’s because she’s covered in a layer of more normal sized hairs! Admittedly I should have illustrated it like that.

In the original legend Poreskoro is a self fertilizing hermaphrodite, and I kept the hermaphroditism in the god child version (minus the self fertilization), but I also took the opportunity to insert some more lgbtq rep. So I also made them an enby. So diversity win! The giant biological god of disease who has caused unfathomable suffering is non-binary. Poreskoro is also probably the least horrible person of the god children, as they don’t actually want to cause harm and were essentially roped into their circumstances after their creation.

This entire thing was actually inspired by @evolutionsvoid’s 2022 kaijune! I really liked it and thought “I wanna do a kaiju short story about disease generation monsters of Romani legend”, so I did.

Q&A

Anonymous asks: “How come the art for the Locolichi and Keshali is shaded, but you didn’t you shade the god children?”

I technically could have, but didn’t for 2 reasons. I was already putting a ton of effort into the illustrations with the line and color work and wanted to get one done at least once a week (before the huge break after part 6). The second is that guardians are luminescent, and I don’t know how to illustrate colored light reflecting off bodies or how that would impact normal shading.

Anonymous asks: “Why do all the god children have stuff in their eyes?”

They were meant to sort of be eye trails to convey movement like Nargacuga, and I made them slightly electric by making them wavy and have sparks to convey power. In hindsight I should have just stuck to a tapering line. Oh well.

Anonymous asks: “I was reading the guardian doc and I got to the one about strength so I’m wondering how powerful are the strongest guardians?”

Have you seen that clip of Omniman setting the Flaxans back to the Stone Age? Or One Punch Man?

Anon asks: “The story isn’t very subtle.”

Well I’m not one for subtlety in my writing. I live in America and critical thinking and media analysis are skills that are very hard to come by here, so unless you beat the audience over the head most Americans aren’t going to realize stuff. So that’s what I do. The audience WILL understand the message I’m conveying. They don’t have a choice.

What’s next?

I’m mostly going to be taking things slower now that I don’t have a self imposed deadline anymore. Just slowly chipping away at a to do list of mine, and once it’s done I can actually start writing a book. I’m still of course going to be providing art and occasional comments to Unnatural History Channel, and being a writing consultant for some of my friends like @dappercritter. I also might do a few commissions soon too.

As for what specifically I’m going to do next. I’m going to write a short story and post it to my patreon, revisit and redo character overviews for Gigabash, read a book I promised a follower I’d review, and then maybe make a Humans B Gone fanart.

Anyways thanks to the like 10 people who read the god children!

[raaorqtpbpdy]

My minibang fic is mutichap so here we go for Invisobang 2022! For the minibang I was partnered with the fabulous and talented @astravis whose art will be posted along with the sixth and final chapter on Friday, so stay tuned!

(Chap two) (Ch 3) (ch. four) (five) (and 6)

BREAKING: NASA Lands Earths First Manned Spacecraft on Mars!

The creepy Fenton kid and the town's resident ghost hero go missing on the same day, and for weeks Amity Park is all abuzz about it. If the timing is suspicious, the doctors Fenton don't think anything of it. But Sam and Tucker think they can find Danny and bring him back. In fact, they're certain of it.

On a cold, steel table, in a certain lab, in a sprawling, labyrinthine, top secret facility, there is a boy named Danny.

[A tragedy following the wake of Danny's disappearance and the strange set of circumstances revealed between five points of view. But how did he get caught in the first place? And where did he go?]

Chapter 1: Space Case (Read it on AO3)

[Warning: dissection/vivisection, dissociation]

On a cold, steel table, in a certain lab, in a sprawling, labyrinthine, top secret facility, there is a boy named Danny. He is strapped down tightly with electrified restraints, his chest and abdomen cut wide open to make his insides easily accessible to the scientists examining him, a large needle lanced through his temple into his brain. Any other boy would be dead in Danny's condition. However, Danny is only half dead, and more importantly, he is half alive.

The situation he is in has lost all of its novelty to him. Though he has no idea how long he's been there, maybe days, maybe months, maybe longer or less—the horrific has become mundane. Where once he felt indescribable pain, he now feels nothing. Where once he screamed, he now is silent. Desensitized to the agony, absent from his senses, his mind wanders—as it often did before being ripped from his ordinary life, and brought here—to space. None of this would be happening to him if he was in space, he thinks.

Space is unfathomably enormous. So big, he's heard it said, that in the time it would take for one to finish describing its vastness, it would already have fucktoupled in size. The thought would once have quirked his lips up in a smile, but now his lips are stone. Space is home to trillions of planets, and trillions of stars, and trillions of other celestial bodies, and based on those numbers, it's statistically impossible that humans are the only intelligent life in the universe.

However due to the gargantuan nature of the universe, it is equally unlikely that humans will ever meet other intelligent life forms from across the many galaxies, light-years upon light-years away. Danny has always taken that as a challenge. He is going to go to space one day. No matter how much the odds are against it, he wants to discover alien life-forms. Even if he doesn't, he thinks, he'll fail among the stars, and that's a whole lot more interesting than failing in the dirt.

Before all this, Danny always kept up with the latest advancements in space travel and astronomy, and he wonders how much he's missed while trapped here. He used to try to escape, but now he's just tired. At least he has plenty of time to think now. Since he was four years old, he's been studying to be an astronaut. If research and development go smoothly, according to his timeline, he thought he'd be an astronaut in time to join the first manned mission to Mars.

That doesn't look as likely now.

No Mars Rover engineer ever cut open a fourteen-year-old. At least, he's pretty sure. And in space there are no ghosts, and no suffering, and no grossly unethical science. He could still do it, he thinks, as though he is not on a table, in a lab, in a top secret facility.

It's hard to be present in his own body now, to feel, to see, to taste, and hear, and smell. It's easier to forget where he is, who he is. He can't tell if he's Fenton or Phantom anymore. He can check, open his eyes, force his blurry vision to focus long enough to see if the hair falling into his face is black or white but... which belongs to which? He looks down and sees a slimy pink organ being roughly jerked upwards, out of his open torso.

Fenton then. Phantom doesn't have any of those, he thinks as he feels himself floating upwards, looking down on himself, and the scientists, watching everything, but at the same time not really paying attention. He hasn't moved, but he's not there anymore, not as far as he can tell.

He can remember some of the discoveries in the first day or two, the feeling of foreign fingers sifting through the ectoplasmic goo in Phantom's chest cavity where Fenton has a heart and lungs, the dreadful, icy feeling when a gloved fingernail brushed against his core, and he froze the whole lab and everyone there in an instant, defending his ghost half's only vital organ. They have the technology to clear the ice quickly, though they decided to put off experimenting with his core to a later date.

As Fenton, however, there is no soft bubbling and fizzing of ectoplasm, instead the sloshing and squishing of flesh and fluids fills the air, along with the smell of antiseptic and raw meat. The sensation of someone else's hand, reaching inside him and pulling out foot after foot of intestine where in his ghost form there is only green fog and ghostly swamp sludge.

"Subject continues to regenerate lost organs," says a male voice which Danny has grown familiar with, though he still has not been able to put a name to it. The man is referred to as Dr. H, and nothing else. "Thus far there does not appear to be an upper limit to the subject's healing factor, even when deprived of oxygen. According to our sensors, the subject has not taken in oxygen in the last six days and nine hours, approximately."

Has he really not breathed in over six days? Danny wonders. He hasn't even thought about it, but in retrospect, that seems right. Breathing hurts—everything hurts—so he stopped doing it. He doesn't try to breathe. He doesn't hurt anymore, doesn't feel anything.

A door opens. The door. There's only one door in the room as far as Danny is aware, and no windows. He remembers checking when he first got there, but it takes him a few seconds to remember why. It was probably the getting nabbed and strong armed into ghost proof bonds that put him off to the idea at first, but the clinical laboratory, suspicious vials of colored goo, and medical equipment that looks like torture devices, didn't ease his worries.

"Ah, Miss Fenton," Dr. H greets. "I was hoping to get a quick evaluation of the subject's psychological state. It hasn't screamed in over a week, and hasn't been breathing lately. It doesn't appear to be in danger of destabilizing or dissolving, which would put a halt to our research, but I am worried that it may be in danger of turning into a full ghost and losing its human attributes if it cannot maintain its humanoid psyche."

"Danny?" It's Jazz. Jazz is here! She's here! Why... why does that matter? "Are you there?"

"Somewhere," he responds, voice floating out of his mouth with no force behind it. To speak without breath always felt strange to him in the past, but he's not thinking about that now. He's excited to see his sister, though he can't remember why. He's angry, or maybe he's afraid. Maybe he feels nothing at all. Should he?

She smiles at him, a sad, pitying smile, but there is horror behind her eyes, and he vaguely wonders why. "Are you in pain? How are you feeling?"

"Dunno... should I be?" he asks. "How can I be?"

"Well?" Dr. H cuts in. "Can I continue or not?"

"I believe his body is fine." She sounds relieved. Her voice is wracked with guilt when she speaks again. "In my opinion, he seems to have entered a severe dissociative state. He is aware of his situation, but his brain has disconnected itself from everything to protect him, so he may feel as though he does not exist, or as though he is watching what's happening like a movie, rather than experiencing it."

"Excellent," says Dr. H, as though that's the best possible answer she could have given. "That means the subject is complacent, and in an excellent state to be moved for the next stage of experiments." A radio crackled with static. "Agent Q, ready the ecto-repulsive vacuum chamber, over."

"Affirmative, Dr. H, over and out," a voice hissed back through the radio.

"I do not believe that's the best—" Jazz tries to say, but she doesn't get to the end of her sentence before Dr. H cuts her off dismissively.

"Thank you Miss Fenton, that will be all. I have to stitch it back up before we can begin experimenting in the vacuum chamber." After a moment, the door opens and closes again. "Activating subject's spectral transformation to increase the speed of its healing factor and thus the likelihood that it will be able to withstand vacuum chamber experiments." Dr. H tweaks the needle in Danny's brain and as the white rings wash over his body, he is hypnotized by them.

They are like the rings of Saturn, thin and white and cold, made of ice and rock and space dust, a hundred and seventy thousand miles across, and only thirty feet thick, circling the gaseous planet like fan blades. He knows it's unlikely, but Danny hopes to see them in person one day, too. Maybe as mankind encroaches further outward into space, they'll send a manned mission to Titan, or Enceladus. Maybe he can be on it.

By the time Dr. H and Agent Q transfer Danny into the vacuum chamber, his mind is long gone again, in a vacuum of its own, marveling at the beauty of Saturn's rings as he looks down from one of its moons. Outer space never ceases to amaze, and Danny is struck dumb by its radiance.

[fandomn00blr]

Sunday Snippets, Anyone?

Back from inescapable travel hell and getting ready for mandated post-travel quarantine...time to write!!! and/or doodle!!!

Here’s part of some messy background writing for my Dark Sprawl AU that I’m reading over/polishing up to be posted as a one-or-maybe-two-shot prologue for the other stories I’ve got set in this AU (Linked being the most developed of them, set a few years in the future and featuring the DA2 crew). This is Neria Surana in the Facility for Linked Individuals (it’s the Circle, okay), messing with Cullen, who is her assigned Counselor (Templar, fine, gosh!)...right before she gets scooped up by the Four-8s (the AU Warden equivalent...so look...).

(Warnings: this is not a romantic pairing, but it is a bit fucked up, because forced institutionalization and power dynamics and Cullen being sort of well-intentioned-but-clueless, and other stuff...)

“Come on…” Cullen groans. “You know you can’t tell me this stuff. Unless for some unfathomable reason you want me to send you down to Security for questioning?”

“You’re such a narc…” Neria laughs, knowing from her years of boundary-pushing that this threat coming from him is mostly an empty one. “Aren’t you Counselors supposed to be on our side? Good cops to Security’s bad cops?”

“That’s not how it’s meant to work at all and you know that. We’re all here for your protection.”

“You mean containment.” She snorts. “It’s a prison, Cullen. Why do we have to keep pretending it’s anything else? We’re both stuck here.”

“Because there are prisons. And they’re much worse. And they’re for criminals, people who break the law on purpose and try to hurt other people, not — ”

“Freaks like me?”

He shakes his head. “You’re not going to get me to say anything like that. We’ve known each other for how long?”

“Two years, five months, 23 days, 3 hours, and 12 minutes…” Neria rattles off, rolling her eyes at him. “You want the seconds?”

Cullen shakes his head again, a fond smile creeping across his face. “When have I ever called you a ‘freak’?”

“But I don’t mind being a freak. It’s fun! I can do stuff like this…” She closes her eyes and envisions the vast branching network of energy and information she is connected to, searching for something special, just for him.

“Neri!” he snaps, his skin prickling into goosebumps from the sensation of raw energy being pulled and concentrated in the empty space in front of him. “Cut it out!”

But it’s too late to stop her, he knows, and he sees, hovering in front of him, an ephemeral projection of an all-too-familiar runty-looking mastiff pup yapping to be picked up and coddled. He has to stop himself from instinctively reaching out and scooping the little wretch up into his arms. He knows it isn’t real. Just a harmless trick. One she’s performed for him plenty of times before — visions of his parents and siblings, childhood companions, a massive robot, all things she had somehow searched for and plucked from the collective consciousness of existence and presented to him. To show off. To get under his skin, more like. Because it is her own weird and inappropriate way of reaching out to him. To anyone. He knows she craves connection, it’s part of her condition, but being in the Facility has necessarily deprived her of that for most of her life. For her own good. And for everyone else’s, as well, he has to tell himself.

But the family dog, really? This is a low blow, even for her.

Yeah, so what’s everyone else working on? Writing, art, just surviving? Maybe even thriving? Not sure about all the tags I’ve missed in the past week or so, so I’m gonna go ahead and tag the usual people and hope I don’t forget anyone! If I do, feel free to snatch up this always-open invitation to share with the class!

@noire-pandora, @blarrghe, @cleverblackcat, @paraparadigm, @polymorphic-basket, @serial-chillr, @funkypoacher, @sarsaparillia, @pinkfadespirit, @gothkimmyschmidt, @zuendwinkel (hey hi hey! your name just showed up in my notifs and i got super excited to see it again!), @laniardraws, @untouchable-face, @whatsherfacewrites, @barbex, @dafan7711, @moss--and--bones, @genginger, @juniper-tree, and everyone else!

[richincolor]

Banned Books Week - Day 5

In support of Banned Books Week, all of us contributors shared a favorite challenged book and why we loved it so. If you missed any of our postings, you can click on the link or support these authors by purchasing their book.

To learn more about Banned Books Week, visit the ALA Banned Books website.

Jessica chose This One Summer by Mariko Tamaki.

Every summer, Rose goes with her mom and dad to a lake house in Awago Beach. It's their getaway, their refuge. Rosie's friend Windy is always there, too, like the little sister she never had. But this summer is different. Rose's mom and dad won't stop fighting, and when Rose and Windy seek a distraction from the drama, they find themselves with a whole new set of problems. It's a summer of secrets and sorrow and growing up, and it's a good thing Rose and Windy have each other. In This One Summer two stellar creators redefine the teen graphic novel. Cousins Mariko and Jillian Tamaki, the team behind Skim, have collaborated on this gorgeous, heartbreaking, and ultimately hopeful story about a girl on the cusp of her teen age—a story of renewal and revelation.

Audrey chose Stamped: Racism, Anti-racism, and You by Jason Reynolds & Ibram X. Kendi

A remix of the National Book Award-winning Stamped from the Beginning for ages 12 and up. A timely, crucial, and empowering exploration of racism--and antiracism--in America. This is NOT a history book. This is a book about the here and now. A book to help us better understand why we are where we are. A book about race. The construct of race has always been used to gain and keep power, to create dynamics that separate and silence. This is a remarkable reimagining of Dr. Ibram X. Kendi's Stamped from the Beginning, winner of a National Book Award. It reveals the history of racist ideas in America and inspires hope for an antiracist future. Stamped takes you on a race journey from then to now, shows you why we feel how we feel, and why the poison of racism lingers. It also proves that while racist ideas have always been easy to fabricate and distribute, they can also be discredited. Through a gripping, fast-paced, and energizing narrative, Jason Reynolds shines a light on the many insidious forms of racist ideas--and on ways readers can identify and stamp out racist thoughts in their daily lives.

Crystal chose Krik? Krak? by Edwidge Danticat

At an astonishingly young age, Edwidge Danticat has become one of our most celebrated new writers. She is an artist who evokes the wonder, terror, and heartache of her native Haiti--and the enduring strength of Haiti's women--with a vibrant imagery and narrative grace that bear witness to her people's suffering and courage. When Haitians tell a story, they say "Krik?" and the eager listeners answer "Krak!" In Krik? Krak! Danticat establishes herself as the latest heir to that narrative tradition with nine stories that encompass both the cruelties and the high ideals of Haitian life. They tell of women who continue loving behind prison walls and in the face of unfathomable loss; of a people who resist the brutality of their rulers through the powers of imagination. The result is a collection that outrages, saddens, and transports the reader with its sheer beauty. 

K. Imani chose All American Boys by Jason Reynolds & Brendan Keily & The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

All American Boys

Rashad is absent again today. That’s the sidewalk graffiti that started it all… Well, no, actually, a lady tripping over Rashad at the store, making him drop a bag of chips, was what started it all. Because it didn’t matter what Rashad said next—that it was an accident, that he wasn’t stealing—the cop just kept pounding him. Over and over, pummeling him into the pavement. So then Rashad, an ROTC kid with mad art skills, was absent again…and again…stuck in a hospital room. Why? Because it looked like he was stealing. And he was a black kid in baggy clothes. So he must have been stealing. And that’s how it started. And that’s what Quinn, a white kid, saw. He saw his best friend’s older brother beating the daylights out of a classmate. At first Quinn doesn’t tell a soul…He’s not even sure he understands it. And does it matter? The whole thing was caught on camera, anyway. But when the school—and nation—start to divide on what happens, blame spreads like wildfire fed by ugly words like “racism” and “police brutality.” Quinn realizes he’s got to understand it, because, bystander or not, he’s a part of history. He just has to figure out what side of history that will be. Rashad and Quinn—one black, one white, both American—face the unspeakable truth that racism and prejudice didn’t die after the civil rights movement. There’s a future at stake, a future where no one else will have to be absent because of police brutality. They just have to risk everything to change the world. Cuz that’s how it can end. 

The Hate U Give

Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil’s name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does—or does not—say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life. Inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement, this is a powerful and gripping YA novel about one girl's struggle for justice.

[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TWELVE 2.0

I started the last two chapters, happy to have something of substance to talk about, me being at home, improvements I was seeing, maybe even some rightful disappointment at some people’s lack of care in their actions…but like clockwork the beginning of the week brought in new developments and my mind drifted focus. My fingers lost the spark to write about feel-good situations when the chaos in the world seemed to extinguish the flame.

I was in Texas just two weeks ago but it honestly feels like forever, as if time is confused on what pace its on. The USA seems to be confused as well.

Theme parks across the nation are opening up. Some flights are back to full capacity. The world seems caught on a pendulum of thought: “Are we good enough to pretend and pass like we can go back to normal?”

Meanwhile, people are still getting sick. People are still dying. Protests are still happening, although it apparently doesn’t serve the media to still be airing that. Justice has still not been served for those we’ve lost: Breonna Taylor, Vanessa Guillen, Elijah McClain, and so many more. The media and internet is ablaze with people ridiculing, attacking, or making fun of each other, on top of everything going on.

I wonder if I’m a part of that sometimes. While I still think protesting for “bar lives” is unfathomable and tone deaf, while it was so easy to ridicule because it was so insanely insensitive to compare to the BLM movement, did I help to further a narrative full of spite? Did I egg on anger and divisiveness, did I unintentionally help create arguments online? Did I give a platform that I don’t agree with more attention by calling attention to it?

I’m all for the hard but important conversations. I love them, to be honest. My family and I had many thought-provoking conversations when I was home, about what they’ve experienced with racism, about our opinions on all sides. It was wonderful to expand our ways of thinking using past and present! I think we all walked away with more rounded backing to our opinions, me included, and I’m thankful to have a family that can be so open and willing to discuss.

Yet, those conversations can’t be condensed into however many characters can fit in to a tweet. The art of negotiating is not all about winning, it’s also about empathizing. It’s about explaining and getting the opponent to understand your side and school of thinking; if you just tear them apart for their lack of understanding or different opinion, how can they ever fully understand or want to, especially if you are the one trying to teach them something not in their wheelhouse?

Racism, of course, is non-negotiable.

Everything else, and it’s a lot, that we have encountered in the last few weeks (mainly dealing with COVID) feels like it’s cumulatively driven us to a breaking point, to a point where I don’t really feel like I live in the “United” States of America. I feel like we are now all pitted against each other, immediate to defend our point, and jumping to 10 because honestly we are tired of the bullshit.

I get it. I do. But in the last few days while I’ve watched coronavirus cases develop, “Karens” making a fool of themselves in public places and endangering people’s lives with their sense of entitlement, while watching Hamilton for the first time and seeing good and bad critiques, Kanye running for president, while I’ve cried over Vanessa and what happened to her only to have someone try to belittle my reaction compared to others we’ve lost, I realized something.

Chaos. All chaos.

How can we make real change when we are all just screaming? How can we move mountains when we are pushing from two opposing sides? And while we have made progress, will we have the sensibility to keep with it or will our boiling frustrations overrule and distract us from our end goal, lasting and transformative change for the betterment of BIPOCs and everyone?

I’m not hating on our progress. And I’m not vilifying people’s reactions to things not in your school of thought, albeit insanely frustrating things. I’ve been there and am there. The amount of Facebook posts I’ve written novels for, the shock I feel on a daily basis for some people, is all still there. Yet, my sadness for this world and how to heal it has crept in and bated me.

What can “I” do to make a difference?

Hating and bashing things is our new normal, our humor has become intertwined with it so much that we ridicule and make jokes out of everything. Click-bait headlines only stoke the flames. Coronavirus is still surging every day, and you know what, some people can’t pretend to go back to “normal” amongst it all.

The entertainment business, for example, won’t be back up and running for… who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if Broadway was closed for longer than a year. We rescheduled our tour in hopes that we would be able to go, but with the way things are looking I can’t help but feel distressed about the outlook for the entertainment industry/shows all around. So many people’s “normal” won’t come back at all until we get a headway on this virus, and it’s gonna take us all coming together for that to work as well. We have to truly be THE UNITED states of america.

As a side-note, Pentatonix has never been this stationary since we started…and that’s bittersweet too. Never take anything for granted, guys.

So while I dissolved into a puddle over Vanessa and how I don’t even know how to help mediate the world anymore, with people at each others throats literally and figuratively all the time, with good people and bad people on every side, I returned to a very old school of thought for myself. 

Be kind. 

What can “I” do every day? 

Yes, use my platform as a strong voice of advocacy, try to filter through everything to make sure I’m posting facts and not scare-mongering or leading anyone astray from what they should be seeing.

I’ve protested. Signed petitions. Written emails. I tried to raise awareness and bring everyone along with me on my journey as I learned, which I thought was helpful.

But I forgot about the most important thing, the thing that’s been ingrained in my head since I was a child for better for worse, the one thing that even though practiced vehemently, never always comes back guaranteed.

Be kind.

I lost that somewhere along the way, a bit. I could feel my soul hardening at how cruel some people can be, I felt how easy it was to smite and bash people’s names who have done far worse. I felt my eyes cloud with hate.

For a long time I thought the battle was human vs earth and I was always so sad to see how easily we destroyed such a precious gift. 

Now I know at its core that the real problem is human vs human: how to one up each other, how to be more successful, how to win, how to be MORE all the time. That feeling has been slowly poisoning us and our empathy and compassion towards others. That feeling is not about bettering oneself, it’s about greed and it spreads like cancer. 

For a long time, I didn’t want to “be kind” like a Disney princess anymore. I was tired of trying to use kindness as a shield as if people’s actions did not hurt me. I was mad at my kindness for blinding me and letting me get hurt. I thought the phrase “kill them with kindness” was stupid, because I was the one that kept getting hurt.

But my kindness did not do that to me. I did not do that to me.

People did. Hurt people. Confused people. People that had problems within themselves that were in no way a reflection of me. People with opposing views. Those people are not my fault. Those people don’t get to have their anger bleed in to my life, they don’t get to poison my disposition with their greed and animosity.

What can I do?

Every day, I can make a point to not be divisive. To not so easily make fun of things, belittle, call names, etc.

I can tone down my “complaining” online. I can not get so upset and rush to attack people that would be hard to get my point across to anyway online, so I don’t work myself up for hours about one internet troll when I could be doing other more important things. Why lose sanity over someone only wanting to argue? Why revert to the name bashing, why invite more stress and anger in to my life, even though there’s enough anyway with what’s going on in the world?

As I uncovered more history, had more awakenings and understandings, and dealt with my own personal stresses, I felt my strength oscillating and now I know why. I was so hardened with hate and disbelief, I felt like a fool living in a world that said it was something else. And...I left my best ally behind in my own rush for MORE.

Kindness. 

Empathy. Understanding. Patience.

So for July, I’ve decided to take care of myself a little more. Take care of others. Make sure that I am not contributing to anyone’s pain, and only being an ally to amplify voices that need to be heard. 

There’s a kinder way to say everything. There’s a kinder way to live. Amongst all this chaos, maybe if we were all a bit kinder, we could ease the waves of tension and calm the storm. Maybe if we could see past ourselves, we could make a lasting change for us all.

I changed my bio the other day. We must be like the sunflowers, pulling toxicity from the ground and air. Nature’s helper. I said I would be like that.

They don’t contribute anything negative, they just stand tall and strong, a mediating force in a world that needs purifying. 

So, I will armor myself with my strength, knowledge, and kindness. 

And see about tomorrow. 

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 30th, Monday 19:12

Jens was nervous.

They had booked the train tickets to Utrecht this afternoon. And that meant that Jens would not only get to see the city his boyfriend came from, but also meet all of his friends for the first time. People he only had heard about in stories and seen through the few posts and chat messages on instagram, that Jens had been shown by Lucas here and there.

He hoped he would fit in, make a good enough impression on friday. Especially with Isa, the girl who was one óf his best friends and was going to pick them up, as well as let them stay over at her place. Lucas was already so very excited to go, talking about little else since saturday.

The fact that they had to bring Lotte, didn’t seem to bother his boyfriend at all. Which Jens was really grateful for. He had hoped that Lars would be able to take his little sister for the weekend, but unfortunately he could have only watched her on sunday. So his sister would come with. It probably would be fun for Lotte as well and with the 5th happening on saturday, Jens was actually happy to have her there too. He had bought her some special set of coloured pancils that Sander used and he knew she wanted so badly too. They were only the base six colours, because holy shit were art supplies apparently expensive. How the hell did Sander afford this? Parents for sure.

Lucas also had planned to come out to his friends, the second he would set a foot in the city, which would mean that they could just enjoy their first trip together as a couple. And wasn’t that the best thing to look forward to?

Considering all, it was a good nervous feeling. More equaling excitement.

Jens smiled as he sat at the table, watching his boyfriend sway in rythym to some song, that Jens would assume was soul, it resembled the style of one or two songs of Lucas’s playlist for him last week. Lucas was swining to the music instinctive, while washing the pots and pans in the sink they had used for dinner. Lotte was upstairs watching something on her switch, simply leaving the boys to clean up on their own.

Lucas had put on a playlist before he had started. A playlist he had created the second after they finished Queens Gambit yesterday So of course it included an unfathomable amount of songs from the 60s and 70s, and his boyfirend was living for it. Right up his ally, as he already had vibed to every single one of those included in the soundtrack while watching.

His head was bobbing up and down, his foot tapping on beat with the drums, as he moved his shoulders and hips from left to right. He was definitely dancing as he rinsed of the soap from a pan and placed it on a kitchen towl to dry next to him. If Jens listened closely, he could even hear his boyfirend very faintly sing along.

Was it even possible to fall any harder in love then he already had at this point?

Apparently, as Jens felt his heart could explode at the sheer sight of Lucas enjoying himself.

Who obviously had to spin around just that moment to greet Jens with an overly charming, yet gleeful grin on his lips, as the playlist jumped to the next song.

One that Jens knew, and he already hated it, as much as he loved it.

„You are the worst. I hate you.“

„You fell for me the second I stepped in your life. This song is you, so much. “

Of course it wasn’t. Jens didn’t really believe at love in first sight. Never had. Not with Britt, nor with Jana. Attraction. yes. Love, no.

„It’s not. I didn’t even know you, I just thought you were hot.“ Jens therefore stated smirking. He had told Lucas about his exact thoughts he had had that morning on the school’s courtyard. How mesmerised he had been by Lucas’s blue eyes. How he had waited impatiently the next day for the lunch break to see him, his now boyfriend, again. A bit cringy perhaps, but hey, it worked out perfectly well in the end.

„Same thing.“ 

Lucas shrugged, snapping his fingers to the beat, while laughing at Jens snorting. The older boy only shook his head way too happy on a monday evening. His silly boyfriend, before just faintly whispering under his breath, now full on singing along as the chorus hit. Thank god no one was around to see Jens look at Lucas. The adoration he felt was definitely embarresing and definitely showing on his face.

„Not a trace of doubt in my mind

I'm in love, I'm a believer!

I couldn't leave her if I tried.“

Lucas wasn’t a great singer, that was for sure. At least he hit most of the notes. But damn, did this boy have the energy and passion for it, as he gestured for Jens to come over and join, absolutely delighted, carried away by the music alone.

Jens would strongly blame the lack of actual parties in the last month, as he found himself getting up from the chair and actually moving over. He started to sway slowly to find the beat and rythym his boyfriend was somewhat dancing to.

The last dirty pot was forgotten in the sink behind the two boys. Who only had eyes for each other in that moment, busy to get the words right, between giggles and catching breathes. Jens took hold of his boyfriend’s hand, to pull him closer and spin around on his feet, catching him with a stolen kiss, before he pushed him back gently. Only to do it all over again. __ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots So, in our house we sing and dance a lot. I always put music on to clean and cook, so do my sister and her husband. I love these moments the most, when all of us stand in the kitchen for our private, spontaneous karaoke sessions. I had to include it in a clip. Probably gonna do it again. Oh well. Hope you are having fun right now too. Out on some music and sway along.

[joycecarolnotes]

Inside a fog

Here’s a little thing I wrote a while back but never posted. It’s pretty much a bummer, set during SV season 5.

--

Since you lost her, you exist inside a fog. Your joy comes from difficult places. It’s been months since you have really seen a bird.

You eke some small pleasure from the words “I find him intimidating.” Words that have never been spoken—not about self-effacing, accommodating Jared! not about you, that is to say—before. It is a novelty, this being feared by someone, and it thrills you the way all new things have. Like telling your first joke (age 19), your first Halloween costume (age 26), the first time you swore in front of someone (age 33, and certain you’d be struck dead on the spot). It feels good, transgressive, dangerous.

It is short-lived, though, this hot spike of joy, alight like a brief candle. Then, back to wringing your delight out of an old, bone-dry dishrag. A taste in your mouth like dirt.

--

“And you are the applicant’s... grandson?”

“No relation,” you amend. “I’m a friend.”

“A friend!” Mr. Dodson chuckles. He leans back in his chair and rests his feet up. Easy, casual. The room reminds you of many others you’ve spent time in: the psych 101 textbooks, generic motivational art, the lovely crocheted doilies. “I’ll be frank with you. We don't get too many of those around here. Friends, I mean. Not lobbying the way you are.”

You see an in here, a sign, something only you might see, something almost imperceptible. “If you'll forgive me, I don't mean to sound too forward, but whatever it takes to get Muriel into your facility... I’ll beg if I have to. It’s just - gosh, you come so highly recommended. If there's anything I could offer. If there's anything I could do. Sir,” you say (you know they like that). “Anything.” 

You pause there, feeling foolish, feeling your face flush as it is studied and considered. Perhaps you’ve been too long off the corner, perhaps you’ve gone too far, presumed too much, overlooked some crucial sign or gesture.

Mr. Dodson sets down his clipboard. He reaches a hand up and loosens his bowtie. “You’d beg, huh? You sweet thing.”

Yes, yes. Relief courses through you. So you still know what power looks like, in the hands of a man who would abuse it. At least you have that in your favor. 

Muriel wasn’t like the others. She never tried to take anything from you, didn’t want to see you give any more of yourself away. From the moment you met—the lobby at the cardiologist’s office, where she pointed out your copy of the National Audubon Society digest—you and Muriel looked after each other.

She wouldn’t like it, if she knew how it was she got bumped up the waitlist. But do you regret it? No. A part of you has always liked this, and a small part of you likes it now. You like giving. You like sacrifice. You like the rugburn on your knees. Nothing feels quite real until you’ve lost for it.

--

You catch yourself in Richard’s doorway, hanging around, waiting for scraps like a hungry dog under the table where you’re not wanted. How you long to tell him all the things on your mind. To talk about your fears, your dreams, to talk about Muriel, mostly. It’s a disgrace, you know: this selfish impulse to prattle on about yourself. The way you’ve never been able to stop telling these stories. As if sharing fragments of them will somehow make you whole.

You miss her. You miss him. You miss the taste of friendship, savored like chamomile with honey on your lips. You miss being a friend to someone, having something to do with your feelings, a target to focus your friendship on. You miss that maybe most of all.

--

With so little left to love, your love hardens into something harder.

You see Holden across the room. You watch with disdain as he struts around the office, as if he believes it’s already his own. You hate how little he seems to care, how little he has worked or lost for, how little he appreciates the unfathomable opportunity that’s fallen straight into his privileged lap.

This could be your chance: to find out if you have power, if confidence could ever be a color that suits you, in spite of what your fourth grade teacher said. You try them on, the harsh words and withheld compliments. You even put on a splash of the cologne that Gavin wore. The scent turns your stomach. It puts you in the proper mindset.

--

“We’re going to need some additional support staff. At least a couple more folks in operations, marketing, government relations.”

You’ll take care of the interview process, you say. The on-boarding, an extensive, three-day affair you’ve been excitedly planning for weeks now, replete with all the team-building exercises and safe space charades and trust falls usually reserved for your most decadent fantasies. The new hires will report directly to you. That much, at least, you as COO can happily take off your diligent captain’s already over-full plate.

“Yeah, ah. Jared. About that.” Richard glances around the room, careful not to make eye contact, as if he’s searching for an emergency exit, for some sort of shortcut out. 

“Yes?” you ask. Sometimes that’s all it takes, you know. A gentle prod. A little course correction. It’s so easy with Richard. You rest your hand on his delicate shoulder and nudge him the right way.

“They - look - the HR department. They said they can't have you involved with all that.”

You laugh—“ha!”—a squawk, joyful and full-throated. “How silly! And what did you tell them? Why on earth would they say a thing like that?”

Richard scratches at his neck. You can sense he’s nervous and, with that, panic begins to rise inside your chest. “There’ve, well. There’ve been complaints. About the way you were with Holden. Jared, you’re just - I’m sorry, man - you’re not a good supervisor. And we’re gonna need to, uh - to keep you away from the new hires.”

Not good. Not good, Donald. You feel the blood in your ears. Your heart hammers. Not good not good not good.

“Are you saying”—you pause here, breathe and swallow, your fingers twitch into a fist—“that indolent - slothful - that Holden issued a complaint against me? Because I swear to god, Richard, I - ”

“No,” Richard says. “Not Holden. I did.”

--

It used to frighten you so, to think that you might become one of them. Perhaps if you let your guard down, failed to be sufficiently vigilant, if you let the darkness creep just a little too far in. You hadn’t meant to do it, not exactly. But perhaps you were always going to do it either way. Violence was a seed planted inside you, putrescent and rotten. Over years and in the thrall of different leaders, it took root. Chipping and chipping away, just as you were chipped and chipped away at, all the wounds and cuts and scrapes. The thing that lived inside you, put there by someone else. 

--

Your hand is shaking. Your voice is shaking. You feel your face about to crack in two, in spite of your valiant effort to prevent it. You fall onto your knees, onto the floor in front of Richard. Your soft cheek rests against the rough of Richard’s jeans.

“Oh Richard,” you say, and it feels good, at last, to confess it. “How I resented him! How he got to be close to you when I didn’t. I was so lonely. Muriel, Gloria. Goodness, I missed you so much. I couldn’t bear to see it, how ungrateful he was, how he didn’t even know how lucky he was to serve you!” You sob, miserably, into Richard’s slender thigh.

“You know,” Richard almost laughs, “that’s not what everyone wants here? To ‘serve me’ or whatever, right?” He clambers, indelicately, out of the CEO chair and joins you on the floor. 

You feel him draw close. You nod, press your eyelids closed, and await the punishment that must be duly meted. You deserve them now: every back that will turn toward you. And you would almost enjoy it, yes, it might almost feel good, knowing you could spin this—like straw into gold—to be about your grief and then, in turn, punishment for your selfishness. 

And do not resent his rebuke, you think.

Your foster mother used to say that.

“Do you see now,” Richard says, “how trying to practice ‘emotional abstinence’ or whatever on me didn’t help? Fuck, Jared. It hurt us.”

“I’m so sorry, Richard.” You wipe your nose, indelicately, on the back of your large, pale hand.

“Jared,” Richard says, and you expect to hear get out of my office, to hear you're fired, to hear you selfish, treacherous, treasonous ingrate, I never want to see you again.

“Can I hug you,” Richard says, instead. 

Outside, a bird perches on the windowsill. The fog begins, slowly, to lift.

[moviegroovies]

so i know i’m breaking like, this unspoken vow of silence re: the movie by making this post but this IS a movie blog and i did watch the last airbender. and can i just say. holy fucking shit.

y’all know i like a lot of bad movies. knowing that, take me seriously when i say: this is a BAD movie. and not in a good way. i went into it with no expectations except morbid curiosity and i was STILL let down. i wanted to hate watch it, and yeah, i hated watching it, but it wasn’t even fun to hate. i just hated it. 

don’t watch the last airbender.

if you’re like me and you just wanted to know exactly how bad it was, please benefit from my mistakes. read my fun funky rant and then never think of that movie again. put it out of your mind. rewatch boiling rock. love yourself.

anyway.

pretty much the one and only thing i knew about why it was bad going in was that it was whitewashed; that’s like the only thing anyone ever mentions in conjecture with this movie, when they mention it at all. knowing this, going in knowing full well that the casting department did crimes against humanity, i was still shocked and disturbed at the sight of white katara and white sokka. literally... that casting choice was a hate crime. look them up (or check out my last post) if you need to see it for yourself... it’s bad y’all. somehow i had braced myself for white aang, but before i saw it with my own two eyes i couldn’t believe that they would actually whitewash katara and sokka, And Yet. the really stupid thing is that it’s not even “””justified””” IN UNIVERSE; most of the members of the southern water tribe are played by asian actors, meaning that they didn’t even pull a pan and make the WHOLE southern water tribe white, they just made sokka and katara mysteriously “special” in a spectacularly poor judgement call.

actually, that’s another thing. outside the northern water tribe (which is also mostly white... i’m wondering if sokka and katara are white because gran gran--a white woman in the movie--is from the north? anyway it’s a moot point either way because none of them should be white, there are NO WHITE CHARACTERS IN THE SHOW AVATAR, jesus FUCKING christ), most of the extras and background characters are played by actors of color, particularly asian actors, which would be accurate to the show’s canon. maybe m night shyamalan or someone else involved in the making of this shitshow of a movie thought that this would somehow absolve the whitewashing of the main characters, but in reality i’d argue that it makes it even worse; by having characters mostly played by people of color continuously being saved by three little white bitches, the movie goes HARD on the white savior trope, and also just generally uses these actual, living people as exploitative, orientalist set dressing for this 1 hour and 43 minutes of special hell.

with one notable exception: prince zuko is played by an actor of color--specifially, dev patel. (who is himself miscast, considering how zuko and the fire nation are japanese-coded, but the second they opened on that veruca salt looking ass bitch calling herself katara any hope that the makers of this movie gave any consideration to the racial coding avatar introduced went right out the window.) which adds Another layer of racism to this already inconceivably bad fuckup of a movie; how strange, that the movie’s racebending made all three heroes white, but the primary antagonist (as well as the secondary antagonist, zhao, and the mostly-off-screen-but-still-present ozai) is a man of color. what an odd coincidence. hmmmm.

i hate this movie. i do want to note, though, that dev patel’s inclusion was the only thing that actually got me through the whole thing; i have no idea why he was in this film (he’s FAR too talented for the content he was given and no one else in the entire cast went even one sixteenth as hard as he did) but he was its one saving grace. still, though, even he couldn’t save it. he was so cute and he did his damn best with probably the worst script in the history of film... but he was still in THIS film. since the release of this movie, patel has spoken out against his role in it and the world of hollywood blockbusters in general, and to that i say... good for him. 

i was going for zuko though. this time it was like YES baby CAPTURE that avatar. full stop.

so yes, it was horribly miscast, whitewashed to hell and back, and went with a racist white hero/villains of color cast as a backdrop. all of these things, in themselves, are enough to completely condemn the movie, and my work here might as well be done... except to end it there would be to leave one million other glaring flaws unexamined. and i refuse to let any rock be unturned.

because, like, it’s NOT just bad because of the whitewashing. the whitewashing and the other racist elements are huge PARTS of why this is a bad movie, but even if this movie was made with an accurate and un-whitewashed cast, it would STILL be a bad movie, and i need you all to know this. 

starting from the top: they ruined katara and sokka. 

well, they ruined them the second they cast them the way they did. but again, let’s say they cast someone else. let’s say they cast appropriate actors for the rolls, but the level of acting skill and the script they used was the same. even in this case, they would have RUINED katara and sokka. none of the characters in this movie are 100% recognizable (and i’ll keep repeating it: the casting DID NOT HELP), but katara and sokka got hit the hardest and the worst. the things that sokka should have brought to the table (his goofy attitude, his intelligence) were erased, and the “sokka” we were given instead was a jerkass buzzkill who might have occasionally been the butt of a joke, but was never actually intended to be funny in his own right. reflecting on the series, it’s kind of as if we got his characterization from the first episode (before sokka got any development and was, i guess, kind of a jerkass buzzkill) and never strayed from that, which would be bad enough, but i think even episode ONE sokka was more fun and dynamic than White Sokka™. mistakes were made.

but it was even WORSE for katara. katara’s righteous anger was all but erased. SOKKA was the one who broke the avatar out of the ice, and only because they accidentally happened upon him--katara didn’t get to be angry at sokka’s jerkass sexism and unconsciously fuck up an entire iceberg. katara NEVER got to be angry. in fact, most of katara’s moments were taken and distributed between aang and sokka; aang, for instance is the one who inspires the earthbenders to break out of prison. we don’t even see katara train with master pakku, and SHE was the one who actually became a waterbending master when they went to the north pole. in this movie, katara mostly existed to talk about ~hope~ (very ember island players, lmfao) and hug aang when he went into the avatar state. 

by the way, that prison? it’s not the metal platform in the middle of the ocean we got in the show. it’s just... an enclosed village. surrounded by dirt and earth. and the earthbenders never tried to break out until aang came along and told them to? hmmmm.... 

Unfortunate Implications™, but what did you expect. 

other than that, idk. the writing was so fucking bad, y’all. a significant chunk of the plot relies on the “as you know” trope, in which characters have an expository discussion about something everyone present should already be aware of and wouldn’t need to get into. this normally wouldn’t bother me THAT much, if i noticed it at all (exposition is essential, after all, and you only have so much time in a movie, so i guess it makes sense when you’re trying to compress an entire season of a show into one), except like... it’s ridiculous. i couldn’t ignore it, they just hit the hammer so hard. “as you know, this is what the avatar is. as you know, zuko was exiled after fighting an agni kai with his father. as you know...” 

bleh.

after that, i guess all my complaints are a little more pedantic. some smaller things that made the movie unwatchable: the bending motions were super weird and i think sped up? there were perfectly good martial arts moves right there waiting for them, and shyamalan fucked even THAT up in an effort to... what? make it look more “mystical?” bitch i’ll kill you. also, for reasons completely unfathomable to me, some of the names were pronounced oddly despite being said one million times in the show. “aah-ng” “ee-roh” “soh-ka” “ahvatar.” literally... why.

i’ve been thinking “soh-ka” in my head for like two weeks. hideous.

and one last thing, which really DOESN’T matter in comparison to what they did to the human characters, but like... what fucking happened to appa?? why did they do that to him?

don’t watch the last airbender.

[kitkatwinchester]

Okay! So!  SOMEHOW, I have had yet to share the links to my favorite fics that I bookmarked from the Irondad Big Bang, and that is a CRIME, because the work that these authors and artists put in and the way they came out is BEAUTIFUL!!! Plus, it breaks my rule of “share any story you bookmark”. So! I’m gonna fix that. 

That said, I want all of them to get credit, so I’m going to put all of them on one post so that stories don’t get overshadowed by the most recent post or anything, because they ALL deserve ALL of the credit, because these stories are AMAZING!!! 

To avoid this post being too long, I’m not gonna put warnings or anything, just the summaries and number of chapters, so make sure you read any and all tags before you actually start the stories, just in case! :) 

These aren’t ranked or anything. I’m just putting them in alphabetical order. :)

P.S. All artists are credited in the stories--they deserve recognition too, because their art work is beautiful, so make sure you check them out with the links provided!! :D <3  

Come, My Darling, Homeward Bound by @i-am-irondad Chapters Posted: 7/9 Updates: Sunday and Thursday 

Peter and Morgan have been imprisoned in an eleven-by-eleven foot shed, for almost five years. Morgan celebrates her sixth birthday, still under the naive impression that the shed, is the only place that exists. Peter is weighed down by his guilt of allowing her to live a lie.Set after Homecoming (Not an Infinity War or Endgame Compliant)

Friendly Fire by @jolinarjackson Chapters Posted: 9/12

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

Great Power, Greater Responsibility by @starjargon Chapters Posted: 15/16

King Anthony Stark isn’t a proponent of the debt-slave laws, but he’s not exactly opposed either. However, when he acquires a boy who needs his protection, he suddenly finds a reason to take a stand. And for the first time in his life, to care about someone else.

Ohana by @jen27ny Chapters Posted: 7/8 Updates: Sundays and Wednesdays

“HYDRA?” (The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a chill runs down his back. He dismisses it, thinking it’s because of the cold metal bedframe.) “Yes, HYDRA. Our home.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Tony recruited Spider-Man during the debacle of the Sokovia Accords, he never thought it would lead to anything else but a mentorship; giving the boy a suit and a few pointers here and there. He never dreamt that Peter would charm his way into Tony’s life, claiming a spot right next to Morgan. For a while, it looked like the universe finally gave Tony a break.

Until Spider-Man suddenly disappears.

For two years, Tony doesn’t stop looking for him, doing everything in his power to bring the boy back. But to no avail. It’s like the earth opened up and swallowed him, leaving behind nothing but a Peter-shaped hole in Tony’s heart.

Then, during one mission, they meet a HYDRA agent who can stick to walls and has a very familiar face.

once upon a Reality by @the-reverse-mermaid​ Chapters Posted: 4/4

A supernatural stranger appears in Tony’s house to make him a deal: Peter has been taken, but if Tony can locate him in each of a series of fiction-based alternate universes, they can have each other back.

Along the way, they work a couple things out.

(Crack taken seriously, pretty much; based around the children’s story, “The Runaway Bunny”, featuring 6 different AUs)

no matter what (you keep finding something to fight for) by @rejectedmarvel​​ Chapters Posted: 3/24 Updates: Wednesdays and Fridays

Since the apocalypse graced the world, Tony Stark was no stranger to pain it unleashed. It was a second skin at this point, a looming presence weighing him down as he tries to make his way through a world gone mad. Tony likes being alone, not being too close to anyone. He can’t lose anyone else, never again.

But in this new world, the universe seems to keep sending people his way. Now, stumbling into the care of a wise-ass kid with Bambi eyes and a messy mop of brown curls, Tony is thrust into a new side of the apocalypse. Now on the race to a possible cure and the bubbling friendship with this kid, Tony may just have to face his many demons to make it out this journey alive.

Or

~ The Last of Us AU ~

North Star by @unfathomable-universe​ Chapters Posted: 5/13  Updates: Mondays and Thursdays 

They came in the middle of the night.

The signs were all there. His mother sewing their valuables into the lining of their coats. Photos and papers being burned in the fireplace. His father not returning from work that evening. Later, Peter would realize that the signs were there. Later, Peter realized his parents intended they escape.

They did not escape. They were arrested.

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

An Irondad au of the book Between Shades of Grey by Ruta Sepeteys

The Lightning Strike by @booksxtvxsupernatural​​ Chapters Posted: 1/1

The day Thanos snapped his fingers, Peter was far, far away, surrounded by strangers, and with no hope of getting home. He could do nothing as the last infinity stone slid into place on a gauntlet covered hand, and could do nothing as Thanos disappeared from the face of the Earth.

He could do nothing as one by one, the heroes fell around him. He could do nothing as Tony Stark fell to his knees and crumbled before his eyes, cradling Peter's head in his hands.

No, Peter could not do anything then. But he could do something now. And maybe that would be enough. To bring everyone back, to save his aunt and friends and hero, he would stop at nothing. Time and space be damned.

This time, he would be right here, and he would fight to the bloody end before he let the universe take anything else from him.

That would have to be enough.

Let me just say: my comments on these people’s stories are...LONG as ALL HECK, because there are MANY EMOTIONS that come with these stories. I have to warn you of that now. For most of them, you’ll definitely want a box of tissues. 

Thank you to these amazing writers and artists for contributing to the Big Bang! I’m really lucky to have been able to read your stories, and for those that are unfinished, I’m so excited to see how your stories continue and eventually finish off!! You’re all amazing and I love you all!! <3 <3 

[jacob-harger]

COVID & Clubbing: How Coronavirus has allowed the Tories to pricetag culture

COVID-19 has - unless you’re in the 1% of course - been, to varying degrees damaging to all our lives whether directly through sharply rising unemployment or indirectly through the mental impact of our previous day-to-day existence becoming something dangerous and unpalatable. Millions have suffered, and based on the government’s unfathomably negligent policymaking, will continue to over the coming months. Faced with the plurality of issues facing the UK therefore, it might seem remiss to focus on one area as particularly suffering during the crisis: the so-called ‘nighttime economy.’ Of course, if we were to prioritise our concerns based on the government’s concerns, then clubbing would be in last place. Despite persistently replying to every plea from the live music industry with a blasé response that the government was providing emergency funding to businesses and that the furlough scheme was ensuring continued incomes for individuals during the crisis, the reality was that clubs were for some time ineligible for cultural funding. Equally, musicians, ¾ of whom are self-employed, were like most self-employed individuals left out in the cold faced with minimal government support. 

Following a sustained and widely supported campaign, Let Us Dance, led by and supported by both significant individuals and companies involved in the UK’s nightlife, the government finally committed to including clubs as recipients of £257m of the £1.57bn Cultural Recovery Fund package. However following the commencement of payments earlier this month, only a handful of clubs received support, and the list of recipients was dominated by London, and to a lesser extent Manchester. Some of the largest recipients included Ministry of Sound which scooped up £975,468, Studio Spaces (owner of E1) with £500,000, and controversially, music journalism and ticket vendor Resident Advisor with £750,000. Smaller venues were not completely forgotten, with spaces such as Electrowerkz, The Glory and M.O.T. also receiving funds. Of course, there are numerous notable absences, whether in the form of Queer spaces in the capital, or of course clubs equally in peril outside of London or other major cities. Even in the capital, established locations such as Printworks, Studio 338 and Egg were denied money. Printworks makes for a particularly concerning example, not least as the venue is a clear example of how intertwined clubs are with freelance workers: it employed 34,000 of them last year. If even these established and household names can’t attract government funding, it doesn’t leave much hope for smaller venues with smaller profit margins and smaller audiences. More money is in the pipeline over the coming weeks, so it is too early to judge whether the distribution of funding is fair and effective. However, it is important to note that applicants to the scheme were not just required to demonstrate their importance as cultural institutions, but also that they were financially viable pre-pandemic. It is this second criteria that not only demonstrates the soulless, calculating approach the Tory government has inflicted on culture but also that taps into issues that have plagued club culture, particularly in the capital, for far longer than the last year. 

Quietly over the last 15 years or so there has been a subtle transition from references to club culture toward a far more insidious term: the nighttime economy. The commercialisation of the arts has a history that stretches back decades, and spans many different artforms: art itself is the most dramatic example. However, for a space that was in its origins so vocally committed to the levelling of individuals, escapism, and freedom of expression as the nightclub, this transition should be especially troubling. Long before the pandemic, rising ticket prices were freezing out the very people that club culture was designed to bring in, and smaller venues that bravely attempted to buck the trend and pursue a more authentic vision of inclusivity were being closed down to make way for flats that, thanks to London’s soaring house market, were far more profitable for landlords and investors than noisy hedonistic clubs whose existence rebelled against their profit-driven perspective of the world. Inclusivity gave way to VIP culture as the same inequality that people fled to the club from found its way into those very spaces. Gentrification and the sterilisation of culture that it brings with it is a familiar story to anyone living in London, and increasingly across any UK city, as vibrant and expressive collective individuality is steamrolled by a constant influx of cold, indifferent money. This is an old story, but in many ways what the pandemic has done is exacerbate and possibly catalyse this narrative. The government’s criteria that nightclubs be financially viable as an enterprise automatically betrays the lack of government interest in meaningfully sustaining culture. There are numerous spaces, in London and beyond, that have consistently prioritised their cultural contribution over their financial viability. Numerous spaces that promote underground music, provide safe spaces for marginalised communities, or provide a platform to young creatives have already struggled against the odds to eke out a continued existence in the capital - and of course, many have lost that battle. Yet now more than ever, the government is pursuing a policy of pricing up those cultural institutions, and those spaces which don’t price up right have been left to fend for themselves. It’s not exactly surprising that a Conservative government is continuing its longstanding policy of suppressing and delegitimising youth culture; after all, similar repression defined club culture in its infancy. However, over the last two decades countless individuals and collectives have striven to establish spaces, against the odds, that not only celebrate youth culture but also provide refuge for marginalised groups from governments that claim to act in their best interests but consistently prove otherwise. The perseverance of these spaces against immense pressure has been part of what has made them so special, so vital and has also contributed to London’s truly unique cultural output, recognised globally. The Tories want to talk about London as a global financial hub, but young people the world over see a global cultural hub, and that is in no small part thanks to exactly the kinds of spaces which, in refusing to bow to commercialisation, have served as beacons of authentic cultural diversity and inclusion. These are exactly the places that are directly threatened by the government’s policies.

Of course, we’re all complicit in this price-tagging of culture, in embracing the ‘nighttime economy.’ Popular Instagram posts that circulated in support of funding for arts and culture predominantly sought to leverage the financial value of these sectors. The Let Us Dance campaign also sought to leverage its financial value front and center in its campaign, in an effort to prove its ‘worth’. Of course, this is done with the absolute best of intentions, and you can easily see why faced with the immediacy of the emergency facing these institutions, playing by the Tories’ rules in the short-term is an effective and sensible strategy. However, it points to a problem that has deep roots. Moreover, the price-tagging of nightlife distracts attention from the vital cultural ecosystems that these places are both participants in and pillars of. Recent research by Help Musicians UK revealed that 55% of musicians had earned no money since the onset of the pandemic, a troubling sign that without venues to act as platforms, not only musicians but the variety of auxiliary staff needed to execute live music events are really struggling. With the government set to supply just 20% of self-employed individuals’ wages moving forward, an already dire situation appears set to become even worse. 

All this points to the way in which venues, particularly nightclubs, operate as far more than simply venues. Apart from being invaluable communal spaces for groups which aren’t as easily able to congregate in different locations, nightclubs are vital to the electronic music scene. Aspiring young producers, by sharing demos with established DJs, often find their first proper exposure on the dancefloor. DJs looking to initially establish themselves on the scene hone mixtapes to distribute to venues. Promoters, at their best, refine concepts that tie together producers, DJs and communities in one place to create memorable and unique nights. A quick google of advice for young DJs looking to kickstart a career reveals that the unanimously advised best option is to get down into the clubs, to build networks and to persist in the search for an opportunity to get behind the decks. COVID-19 has rendered that completely impossible, and whilst the internet offers a great platform for established DJs to continue to connect with their audiences in a different environment, what is lost is that opportunity for lesser known DJs to demonstrate their capabilities, in the warm-up slots for example that have served as a key means for up-and-coming DJs to make a name for themselves. Producers continue to create productions, and DJs at all stages of their careers continue to mix and refine their skill, but for those lower on the ladder, having these venues taken away has cut off their means of climbing the ladder. Those higher up can at least, via live streaming, radio or simply self-releasing, continue to promote themselves with an eye on bookings for when, if ever, we can return to something resembling normalcy. Therefore it is perhaps not overdramatic to hear of several top DJs share their concerns of a lost cohort of talent going forward, a situation that would only worsen the longer this situation lasts.

Of course, this situation is not easily addressed, and individuals as well groups associated with nightlife will no doubt have to be creative in finding solutions - and no doubt they will be. However, it does demonstrate the particularly acute difficulty facing artists and DJs associated with electronic music, part of the far more systematic problem facing the UK’s creative art and cultural scene as a whole during this period. What it also demonstrates is that nightclubs are far more than simply businesses, something lost on a Conservative government that conditions its support foremost on economic viability. Alarmingly they also are supplying funding allegedly on the condition that venues which do accept grants are required to post positively about receiving that funding on social media channels. This disturbing development only reinforces an image of a Tory government leveraging financial support as a means to enforce cultural conformity, as well as to project an image, falsely, that the government is meaningful about supporting culture.

As noted before, it’s still early days for the grant program, and how fairly distributed funding will be is something that will become clearer over the coming weeks. However, the initial signs are worrying, with the criteria for and conditions of accepting grants suggesting that the government is more interested in preserving commercially viable culture than in really engaging with affected communities to ensure that the spaces that act as their second homes are able to make it through the pandemic, no matter how viable a business they may be. For a government that never ceases to surpass our expectations of its incompetence and cold indifference toward the population at large, the grant scheme for nightclubs just serves as another example. But for the marginalised groups and musicians who had already been fighting against the odds to survive in a gentrified London, the potential for the government’s policy to do lasting damage to their world is very real. 

[akinnie75]

The Tale of a No Body

Pair: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy, Mildly Tragic, Pinocchio!AU

Word Count: 25.3k

Summary: Would you still fall in love with Taehyung, even if he isn’t the real one?

Note: Taehyung is the FAKE one, and V is the REAL one.

There never was a normal way to describe what kind of person your father was, so it was always the most difficult question to answer whenever people ask. Even till this day, it’s complicated pinpointing exactly who he was, and the reason why you feel conscious is because you know what kind of face they’ll make when you tell them that he’s a self-acclaimed black magician who is obsessed with V from BTS.

And when you do respond that he’s simply a black magician—because mentioning his unhealthy fascination over V would be too strange to bring up in any conversation—either they’ll have no idea who he is, or they’ll call him ‘the guy who made the hoax video of reviving a dead mouse.’ He wanted to prove to everyone that black magic exists and became blinded by the possibility of fame, so he killed a mouse for the sake of returning it back to life and posting a video of it onto the internet.

What he was not expecting was the excessive amount of negative reactions. Though the experiment was a success, no one believed him. Your father was the face of mockery for weeks, scientists rejecting his beliefs without giving him a proper chance to express his side of the argument, and people tore down his video, making their analysis videos/articles explaining why your father is a hoax. Others focused on the animal rights aspect, putting him down for animal cruelty by killing the mouse for the sake of his own personal gains. There was even a petition for your father to be put to jail, but fortunately for him, there were no police actually involved with the situation.

With all of this unsupportive feedback, your father became more reclusive by hiding himself in his basement. You two have hardly ever say a word to each other for years, and it’s partly because you became too conscious being around him, especially after what the general public has made of him. You two barely speak that you can’t remember the exact day when he first asked you about V.

What you do remember is coming home one day to find him waiting for you by the front door. There were no greetings, just a ‘I hear a lot about V from this Korean music group, BTS. Do you know anything about him?’ You didn’t think too much about the question back then. Almost everyone knew who BTS is, so it’s not a surprise that your father would eventually find out about them. However, you’re not as much as a hardcore fan compared to the other girls in your school, you’ve just heard about them from your classmates.

Since then, he would ask you to research more about V by befriending fans and searching on the internet. He began printing dozens upon dozens of photos of V, pasting them to the wall and admiring him as if he is a work of art. Whenever he brought up V, it was always about how gorgeous he is. His physical appearance was perfect in your father’s standards, ogling V more than he ever did with your mother before she left him.

Had you known what your father had in store, you would’ve done anything to stop him. However, you wanted nothing to do with your father, so you never bothered talking to him unless it was about V. It wasn’t until in high school when there was something off about him. He’s always been a strange person, but that day specifically was peculiar. Despite that, it took you days to realize that there was a horrid stench protruding from the other side of the basement door, so out of curiosity, you finally decide to see what was happening downstairs. Opening the door only release the unfathomable smell that you’ve never smelled before.

Pinching your nose and taking one slow step down at a time, you were face-to-face with your father’s lifeless body decaying on the cold, cement floor. His eyes are still open, but they’ve sunk deeper into his eye sockets, and his lips as pale as his white skin, absent of blood.

The sight of your father’s body is enough to make you forget that he smelled of rotting flesh, having lost all strength in your knees and collapsing due to shock. But that wasn’t the only horrifying discovery in the basement—two wide eyes stare at you behind the shadows of the other wall. The eyes reflect a clean shine that you knew that they were no ordinary human eyes.

A deep voice croaks out from the shadows, getting louder the longer those artificial-like eyes stare at you. You cover your ears, your entire body trembling with the thought that there hides a monster. The stairs are next to you, but you’re too frozen in fear to move your feet. The voice only groans louder, the sound of the unknown monster moving closer to you.

A loud clatter rumbles, making you flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. You peek one eye open to see that the monster had been lying on a metal table and fell off in an attempt to reach out to you. Rather than a monster...it was something else. The hand that tries to reach out to you has plastic ball-joints that helps curl its fingers. It’s a lifesize body is made of vinyl, with the joints in the elbows and knees made of plastic balls to make the rotation of the limbs smoother.

Watching it stare at you with its artificial eyes, you can see its bottom lips moving up and down ever so slightly as if calling out to you. And that was the moment when you realized that your father’s years of obsession over V was for the sole purpose of replicating him into doll form. The resemblance was spot on with the exception of his body being to closer being that of a ball-joint doll.

That day, you learned that conducting black magic has its consequences: enabling black magic is the manipulation of the spiritual forces around you. Whoever bends what is originally natural in exchange for your own personal desires will receive negative karma. And that discovery you found is the result of your father’s selfish desires to prove that he truly is a black magician in exchange for bringing a doll to life—a doll who looks just like V.

------

Your shift has finally ended, so you stand up and grab your bag. It’s already late into the evening, and there aren’t that many people left in the office. Unlike the rest of the desks that are filled with Christmas-themed decorations, there isn’t much in your cubicle other than your computer and office supplies, so you never worry about forgetting anything. You walk out to the elevator to go down to the main lobby and leave.

Just after you press the down button, you hear a male voice calling your name. You turn around and see three of your coworkers, two females and one male. You’ve been working with them for a couple of years now, but you still have trouble remembering their names.

“(Y/N), were you just heading out?” The male asks.

You nod, staring down at the ground. “Y-yea, I am.”

“We were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us. We’re going to that Mongolian grill place just off the freeway.” One of the female asks.

“I’m okay. I have to head back home.”

“Aw, your boyfriend waiting for you?” The male asks teasingly.

“No.”

The sign above the elevator lights up and dings as it opens.

“Good work today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You enter the elevator with your head down as you don’t want to see their faces. Your negativity plays with you when you see their faces. You were never really good at reading expressions in the first place ever since you were a child and you were always conscious that everything you say will upset the other person. Because of that, you could never find yourself to get along with your coworkers. Confrontation was something you were never really good at.

But that isn’t the only reason. You feel anxious whenever you’re out of the house for too long, that foreboding feeling crawling up your skin as your paranoia mixes with your imagination. Restlessness overwhelms you if you don’t head straight back home after work. So no matter how much you isolate yourself, it doesn’t matter because there’s something more important than making friends.

------

You enter your home through the front door, letting a peek of the winter breeze inside before shutting it off from completely blanketing your home. You take off your shoes and coat, sighing as you felt like you were about to freeze outside. Winter is no saint, and if you had stayed longer, then you wouldn’t be able to feel your fingertips anymore. You breathe hot air into your hands and rub them together to get the blood circulating again.

“Taehyung.” You say in a light voice.

In the living room, Taehyung turns his head around when he hears your voice. He sets down his journal and pencil that he was just using then approaches you. The first thing he does is wrap his plastic-like arms around you, just as he always does as a greeting whenever you finish work. You return the hug, then he pulls himself back.

“Welcome home. How was work?”

“Fine. What were you up to just now?”

“Journal entry.”

You set your bag down and take off your shoes before walking to the living room. You sit on your knees in front of the coffee table as you flip through Taehyung’s journal. The latest entry is just like any other—he was looking through the window and watching people and animals passing through the neighborhood. He wrote all the people that he saw, including the old woman who walks her five dogs every morning and that one kid who’s always ditching class to be by himself.

In the last paragraph, Taehyung says that he came across a stray cat in the backyard. He said that he tried playing with it, thinking that it’d be like those playful cat videos. However, the cat ended up being frightened by him and scratched him.

“A cat scratched you? Where?”

Taehyung rolls up his sleeve and reveals numerous scars all over his forearm. He points to the newest scratch mark, three thin lines from his elbow down to this wrist. You take him by the hand, stroking your index and middle finger down the mark as you stare at his past scars.

“I need to replace your arm soon. It’s starting to wear out.”

Taehyung nods, wrapping his scarred hand over his other arm. Unlike the first arm, this one is completely wooden, not the same one that your father previously gave him. You look up at his crystal eyes, noticing some smudges and dusk in it. You grab cotton cloth from nearby and begin wiping the, and he doesn’t blink at all when you clean them.

“How can you see with your eyes that dirty? You’re lucky there are artificial limbs nowadays to replace, but what am I going to do when you lose an eye?” You scold him with a soft voice. “How come you never clean your own eyes?”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change—just the same stoic expression he’s always had since the day you found him. The only things that ever move are his eyes when he’s observing something or his mouth moving up and down when he speaks.

“Because I like it when you do it.”

You heave a sigh and smile at his innocence. “I know, but you have to learn how to take care of yourself sometimes too. There are going to be times when I’m not there for you.”

He doesn’t say anything, only staring blankly at the carpet. Because his face can’t make expressions, you can never read what he’s thinking. But you do know enough about Taehyung to somewhat have an idea of what he might be thinking about.

To make the mood lighter, you decide to change the subject. “Did you let the cat inside?”

He nods. “I tried, but it left when it saw me.”

“That’s too bad.”

It’s been eight years since your father created Taehyung. Shortly after finding him, you held a small funeral. A few number of people on the internet made fun of his death—saying that he probably killed himself because he thought he could revive himself while others say that he deserves it for being an insane person.

However, that was the least of your worries because you had Taehyung to worry about. In the beginning, you were terrified of him because you didn’t know what he was capable of, whether or not your father created him to become a destructor or a peacemaker. You quickly learn that he’s tame as he didn’t even know how to control his limbs or how to speak any language. You had to teach everything to him from scratch, and luckily he was a fast learner. He caught on to things rather quickly, and he was interested in learning.

For most of his existence, Taehyung has been holed up into your house. You don’t know how the public would react if they saw a life-size doll that looks just like V wandering, so you warned him to never go outside. You were his source of outside information, but when you were out of the house, the television and books would be his teachers. Taehyung was always hungry to learn, but he tried his hardest to keep it within the barriers of your rules. You feel bad for restricting him of his own freedom, but you think that it’s for the better—for Taehyung and for the world. At least, for now.

------

After washing up for the night, you head to your bedroom to find Taehyung sitting by the edge of your bed reading a book. You sit next to him, looking over his shoulder to find him reading one of his favorite books, Pinocchio.

“Again?”

He nods his head slightly. “Yea, I really like the story.”

You weren’t familiar with the story of Pinocchio prior to Taehyung. When he was still just learning to speak, you went to the bookstore and bought classic fairytale books for him to practice reading. Though he’s read all of the fairytales at this point, it’s always been the tale of the boy puppet that Taehyung can’t help but bring himself to reread.

You don’t need to ask why Taehyung is so drawn to the story; it’s about a puppet who will become a real boy if he proves himself to be a kind and unselfish person. Though Taehyung has never directly stated that he wants to become a human, you can somewhat tell based on how much he reads the book. He’s always interested in learning about humans and their culture, so it’s no wonder that he wants to join them too.

“Hey, Taehyung,” you start off. “I was able to get a few days off of work a few days after Christmas. Maybe we can do something.”

He rotates his head to you, staring his lifeless eyes into yours. “Really?”

“Yup, it’s to make up for not being able to spend that much time with you last Christmas. You must’ve been lonely while I was working.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t lonely because I know you work hard for both of us...and that no matter how long you’re gone, you’ll always come back.”

Taehyung leans over and rests his head on your shoulder, his hair made of synthetic fiber tickling your cheek. His glossy eyes stare at his lap, quietly contemplating something to himself. Taehyung has almost never retaliated against you before, listening to everything you tell him to do. It almost feels as though he puts 100% of his trust on you, but you don’t particularly mind it.

“I know you say that you don’t mind, but I still want to spend Christmas with you. I wanted to see you open your present last year, but couldn’t. Now that I took a few days off, I get to see your reaction.”

“But...I can’t change facial expressions. You’ll just be disappointed.” He raises his head up from your shoulder, waiting for you to respond.

“Well, if you can’t convey it through your face, then you can always tell me.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

You yawn, seeing as it’s almost your curfew. You stretch your arms outward, allowing your exhaustion to take ahold of your body.

“Taehyung, tell me a story.”

“Which one do you want to hear?”

You contemplate for a couple of seconds, tapping your index finger on your cheek. “How about Pinocchio?”

“But I always tell you that one. Don’t you get tired of it?”

“I’ll get tired of it when you do.” You grin.

“...Okay.”

You settle into bed, pulling the blanket over you as Taehyung closes the book. He’s read Pinocchio countless of times that he knows it like the back of his hand. He waits for you to get comfortable before he begins.

“Once upon a time, there was a woodworker who’s always wanted a son, so he made a marionette that resembled a young boy. He named that puppet Pinocchio. That night, a young fairy granted his wish and brought the marionette to life. However, Pinocchio did not turn completely human, as the fairy said that he would have to prove himself to be truthful and unselfish in order to become a real boy. But Pinocchio easily fell for tricks, and whenever he got in trouble, he would lie. Every time he lied, his nose would grow longer.”

Taehyung can see that you’re already beginning to fall asleep. Still, he continues the story.

“No matter how hard Pinocchio wanted to become a real boy...he would easily fall into temptations. He was a young boy who wanted to know the world as it was, and the world that persuaded him was not a forgiving one.”

As you fall deeper into your slumber, Taehyung brushes your hair from your forehead, gazing at your tranquil expression.

“But with the help of his guardian, the woodworker was able to guide him the right away by never shaming him and still held his hand until he was on the right path, and in return, Pinocchio cared for his father figure. So much so that he was even willing to sacrifice himself for him.”

Taehyung caresses your cheek with his artificial hand. He feels the pressure when he touches your cheek, but he doesn’t know how your skin feels like. With his fake hands, he can’t feel temperature, materials, or pain. No matter how many times he tries touching your skin, it all feels like nothing.

Seeing as you’ve fallen asleep rather quickly, Taehyung assumes that it was another tiring day at work. You talk a lot about working, but he doesn’t know exactly what ‘work’ is. Whatever ‘work’ means, he doesn’t like it because you always return home looking exhausted. If he could, he would do anything to make sure that you’d never have to work again.

Once you’re in a deep sleep, Taehyung gets off of the bed and walks to the windowsill. He slides his fingers down the glass as he stares at the full moon, spending yet another eight hours without you.

------

You’re wandering alone in the middle of an abyss. You see nothing but black with the exception of your reflection on the floor. With nothing else to do, you proceed to walk forward, thinking that walking will help you find your way out of the dark void. Though your legs move, the setting that surrounds you doesn’t, making it feel as though you’re not moving an inch.

After walking for quite a while, you finally notice something in the distance. You can’t make sense of it yet, but once you moved closer, you realized that it’s a figure. Though you tell yourself to run towards it, you only continue to walk in a slow pace., but it didn’t feel like it took you a long time to get to the figure.

Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s Taehyung, curled up into a fetal position and burying his face in his knees. Taehyung lets out haunting cries that echo throughout the empty space. You reach out for him, but before you do, Taehyung suddenly stops crying.

“...(Y/N)...why do you lock me up in your home?”

You open your mouth, but no matter how hard you try, your voice doesn’t come out. You touch your throat, using all your might to scream. With his face still hidden, he rolls up his sleeves to reveal his wooden arm and his scarred arm.

“Is it because you think I’ll get hurt like last time?”

Now your body has become stiff to the point where you can’t move. You try to lift up your hand, but even you can’t do that.

“Or...are you afraid that everyone will see me as a monster?”

You try to shake your head, but your head doesn’t move.

“You think that everyone will see me as a monster, just like how you saw me as one, right? Like that night when you found me with your father’s dead, cold body.”

You can feel a surge of tears welling up in your eyes, your heart pounding with fear as you so desperately want to deny those accusations. However, no matter how much you want to move, you can’t.

Taehyung gets up with his head still facing down. He drags his feet to you until he’s inches away from you.

“But I think what you’re afraid of the most is being called a freak…”

“Just.”

“Like.”

“Your.”

“Father.”

Taehyung lifts his head up to reveal his empty eye sockets. They’re just as dark as the void around you, but his sockets felt emptier. He croaks as you stare deeply into the absences of his eyes, letting the black world soil you with doubt, paranoia, and terror.

------

Your eyelids shoot open, waking up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat. Your room is dark with the exception of two glaring eyes staring at you from the side of the bed. It’s Taehyung, sitting on the carpet as he observes you while you slept. Waking up to someone staring at them would’ve definitely scared anyone, but you know that Taehyung doesn’t have any malicious intentions; he’s just curious about how you sleep.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks.

You sit up, turning on the lamp next to your nightstand. Taehyung doesn’t flinch at all when you turn on the light.

“No,” you rub your eyes and wipe your forehead with your forearm. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“I didn’t want to take up the space on your bed.”

You sigh as you smile, scooting to the opposite end of your bed to give Taehyung space to sit. You pat the empty spot to grant Taehyung the permission to take it. Taehyung stares at it blankly before accepting your offer. He sits with his back straight and legs criss-crossed.

“Your face is wet again.”

You wipe the sweat from your chin. “Oh, I just had another nightmare.”

“A nightmare? But you said that those are scary dreams. Why do you keep having them if they’re scary?”

“Dreaming...is not easy. Sometimes you dream about things you think a lot about or you have in the back of your mind. Some of these thoughts are hard to get rid of so they haunt you in your dreams where it’s most vulnerable.”

“That...does sound scary. I don’t understand why humans have dreams.”

Because Taehyung is literally a soul stuck in a lifesize body of a doll, he doesn’t need to sleep, eat, or rest. He can barely close his eyes, so of course it wouldn’t make sense why he doesn’t know what it’s like to dream.

“To be honest, me too…” You mumble.

“But...if I did dream, I’d like to only dream about you.”

Hearing Taehyung saying it with such an innocent tone makes you forget about your nightmare. You can’t understand why you had that dream in the first place. Of course you were scared of him in the beginning because you had no idea what your father created, but now you know Taehyung won’t even hurt a fly.

“You wouldn’t want to. You see me every day already, so definitely seeing me every night too is going only make you tired of me that you’d want to leave.” You chuckle.

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes his hand and brushes a lock of your hair in between his fingers. One strand gets tangled with the joint of his index finger, but he was able to smoothly pull it off.

“I’d only leave when you don’t want me anymore.”

He said it like he meant it, which broke your heart. You pull him in for a hug, making sure that there will never be a day where you’ll abandon him.

“I’d never leave you. The day I saw you in that basement...I knew that I was never supposed to leave your side.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how to process your words. In a way, it sounded like you were destined to be with him for the rest of your life, but Taehyung doesn’t particularly dislike that idea. He hugs you in return, wishing he could smile.

------

It’s another morning like any other. You wake up, prep yourself in the bathroom, and get dressed for work today. While preparing a small breakfast for yourself, Taehyung is in the living room watching TV. Though Taehyung is glued to the screen, you’re too focused on waiting for your waffles to pop out of the toaster. That’s when you hear something that captures your attention.

“International K-Pop group, BTS, has just landed safely and are currently exiting the airport today at 9 A.M., December 23rd, 20XX. Hundreds of fans gather around the airport, holding their hands and almost what looks to be a clear path for the boys, with a few of them holding banners with purple hearts. Even after five years after their last world tour, their fans are still dedicated, which is remarkable.”

You turn your direction to the television, watching the seven Korean musicians, security, and their managers pace their way out of the airport. Rather than be screaming fans, they were surprisingly polite and all shouted ‘welcome BTS.’ The members are all wearing bucket hats, sunglasses, and face masks. They don’t acknowledge the fans, at most simple waves to the crowd. But it’s understandable since they must be jet lagged.

Now drawn to the screen, you lean on the side of the couch that Taehyung is sitting on and watch as the camera pans to each individual member. Due to your father’s obsession with V, you had to become his spy and learn about the band. He knew that it was bizarre for a forty-something-year-old to be oddly attracted to a man who’s twenty years younger than him, so he had you gather all the information because it was more acceptable for someone your age to be interested in him. Because of that, you’re practically familiar with all of the members, even after eight years of ending your endeavors into their world.

Out of all the members, V is the one who stands out the most. While they still look just as young as they were during their prime years, V definitely is the one who looks stunning with his messy hair and tucked in collar shirt with slacks. Comparing V with Taehyung, your father was spot on with V’s features eight years ago. You look at Taehyung for any change of mood when the camera cut to V, but he was staring at the screen like it was any other mediocre thing. But then, it isn’t like Taehyung can change his facial expressions.

“The news reporter said that they’ll be staying in the city next to us.”

“Oh really?”

You look at Taehyung to see if he looks the slightest bit interested in wanting to see them in person, but you can’t tell by his stoic expression. Judging by how much he’s staring at V, he must have some interest in meeting him.

“They’re going to be here during Christmas before performing at the stadium.”

“Oh...that’s really sad. They won’t get to spend time with their family. Speaking of Christmas, today is my last day, so I’ll be able to spend Christmas Eve with you too. We should stay up until midnight!”

Judging by Taehyung’s lack of words, he might be excited for it as well. Usually when he speaks, it’s about how he doesn’t want to bother you with anything, so perhaps he’s just as thrilled for it like you. You look forward to the end of your shift and return home to Taehyung.

------

You wanted to buy a real tree for Christmas, but your budget didn’t allow you to, so you had to settle with the fake tree from last year, not that you mind it particularly. Taehyung helps you decorate the tree with ornaments that you kept in the back of the closet just for this time of year.

You aren’t much of the type to cover your entire house with holiday decorations, but you do enjoy Christmas music. You have a playlist of winter songs on your phone, letting the musical notes dance around the living room. The Christmas tree is shorter than you, so it didn’t take long to hang the ornaments. You and Taehyung sit on the floor, mesmerized by the artificial plant.

“Looks the same as last year’s, huh?” You ask Taehyung.

“Yea...but I like it like this. We only get to see it for a week.”

You nod your head. You thought about how strange it is to make the effort of putting up a tree only for it to be taken down a few days later.

“I’m glad we put up the tree on Christmas Eve. It kept us busy at least.”

Taehyung nods his head. He’s staring blankly at the carpet again, meaning that he’s thinking about something.

“And then in a few more days, isn’t it Mr. V’s birthday?”

It was strange for him to suddenly bring up V. Was it because of the news report yesterday morning?

“Yea...it is. I’m surprised you remember.”

“...It’s not that hard to remember his birthday. He’s the model your father used to make me, and his birthday is after my favorite holiday.”

Your smile fades away, recalling that fateful day. “Right…”

Because Taehyung brought up your father out of the blue, the mood has become serious. Neither of you say a word, only the jolly music that plays in the background.

“I wonder what kind of person Mr. V is.”

You only knew of V whenever he was in front of the camera. You didn’t know who he truly was behind the lenses or when he wasn’t being constantly watched. The V that you knew was very kind toward everyone and had a creative mindset. He always thought differently from the rest of the members, and he had that aura whenever he was on stage that captivated everyone. Whenever he was off-stage, he was very bubbly and chatty. For a time, even you were attracted to his charisma.

One thing about V you notice is how he is very good at expressing his emotions. If he was sad, then he would rarely smile and not a word would come out of his mouth. When he was happy, he’d be the liveliest person in the room. On the other hand, Taehyung is very calm. He’s limited in making expressions because his face isn’t made of muscles. But you don’t want to compare them because they each are their own person, even if Taehyun is a doll.

The clock on the wall finally hits midnight. Thinking that this is a good opportunity to change the subject, you crawl to the coffee table and take out the present that you kept hidden under the table. It’s in the shape of a rectangle, and it’s a little bigger than your hand. It’s also wrapped in purple wrapping paper with a red bow on top. Taehyung watches you move back to him, extending the small present to him.

“Merry Christmas, Taehyung!!” You exclaim.

Taehyung takes the present from you. It looks so pretty that he doesn’t want to tear it, especially the glitter sprinkled on the bow. But since his present is under the paper, he tears it, but carefully enough so that it doesn’t create that big of a mess. It’s a white box, and when he takes off the top, it’s a pair of snow gloves.

“I hope you like them.”

“I’m thankful, but I can’t feel the cold with my body. So why…?”

“They’re not only for the cold,” you take Taehyung by the hand. “You must be tired of being cooped up here...so I thought that you should go out a little to get fresh air.”

“Outside?”

You nod. “At least to the backyard or front yard. I’m sure people are going to give you a weird look when they see your hands.”

Your father gave each joint in the fingers a ball to make it easier for Taehyung to grip onto things with his hands, but it made it obvious that he isn’t human. Each part of the finger has a small gap in between, which makes it easy to see the ball-joints.

“You can blend in with other people when you wear these gloves. That way, you can go out whenever you want.”

You thought long and hard when considering to let him go out and explore the world. You still don’t think he’s ready to face the outdoors, or at least it’s better that you help Taehyung take each step before he can walk on his own. There would be no reason for him to be alive when all you do is lock him up in your home.

You put the gloves on his right hand, then you open his palm to press your hand onto it. You flat your hand out and align your fingers with his, realizing just now how large his hand is. You smile while tilting your head to the side.

“See? Now we don’t look all that different, do we?”

Taehyung looks at your hand, then his. He never knew that wearing a glove could make his hands look so...normal. He folds his fingers in, intertwining it with yours.

“Thank you.” If he could, then he would smile to show how grateful he is for this wonderful gift.

You continue to grin to let him know that you understand. You look out the window to see that many of the lights in the neighborhood are turned off. It might be a rash decision, but you want to do this just once.

“Wanna build a snowman?”

“What?”

“Let’s do it. I’ll go get my coat on and build one.”

------

Unfortunately, your backyard is elevated in a way where there is no flat ground for you two to have a snowman to stand, so the front yard is your only option. Luckily, everyone is asleep around this time, but even if people are awake, it wouldn’t be that completely strange for two people to be building a snowman on Christmas. Besides, Taehyung will be covered up in winter clothes so anyone passing by will think he’s a human.

You head out first, and Taehyung stands right by the door frame, a bit nervous to step outside. He holds onto the frame, staring at the snow as he debates on whether or not he should go outside.

You extend your hand out to him. “It’s alright! You can do it.”

Taehyung takes your hand, and you hold onto him tightly. He extends one leg first, his foot pressing down on the white puffs. He flinches when his foot fell through the snow, not expecting snow to be this fragile. He takes his other foot out and it also falls into the same fate as the other foot after stomping on the flakes.

You walk backwards, both hands holding onto his as you guide him out of the front porch. At first, Taehyung dragged his feet in the snow, letting it pile up in front of him before he catches note of you lifting your feet out of the snow to move. You giggle witnessing his first experience in the snow, resembling that of a child and their first snow.

Once he gets used to standing on his own, you get down on your knees and take a handful of snow. With both hands, you mold it into the shape of a sphere. Taehyung watches, presumably with a look of awe as he watches what was at first a clump of snow turned into a perfect circle.

“Let’s start with a really small one first, then we’ll make a bigger one.”

Taehyung nods his head.

After an hour, you two were able to build two large snowmen, though it was you who did most of the work. Taehyung tried to make snowballs, but he was having difficulties controlling his hands while wearing gloves. He isn’t used to using his hands with something wrapped around it, so you told him to just gather snow for you to build the snowmen.

Once that’s done, you two stand back to appreciate the work that was put into it. Although the snowmen weren’t in a perfect sphere shape, you were proud of both yourself and Taehyung. You haven’t built a snowmen in many years, so it was fun to do it again.

You drop to the ground, and not knowing what else to do, Taehyung does the same. You exhale, letting the warm fog form around your mouth. Taehyung gazes at the fog, wondering how you’re able to do it when he can’t. He also notices how your face changed colors—your nose and cheeks turning as red as cherries.

“So?” You turn to Taehyung. “How’s it like being outside again?”

He looks down, using his index finger to draw three circles, attempting to draw the snowmen. “I feel the same. The only difference is that there are no walls.”

You thought he’d be more excited about it, especially after refusing to let him out since the incident a few years back. However, his tone is still the same as any other day. You think about the dream you had a few nights ago. It pushed you to let him go out for once, and you thought he was feeling suffocated, but you were wrong.

You let out a disappointed chuckle, worrying for nothing. “I’m surprised you’re so calm. I thought you’d be jumping with joy.”

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it. I felt the same because you’re with me, and I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

You blush slightly. Everything Taehyung says or does is always for you, as if his entire world revolves around you. While it is a bit obsessive, you don’t hate it. You’ve spent all your life being abandoned and neglected—your mother leaving, your classmates ignoring you, and your father dying. Sometimes it feels nice to have that relationship where you can rely on Taehyung, and he can rely on you.

You rest your head on his shoulder, smiling as you close your eyes. “Taehyung, I’m glad you’re with me. I want to remember this moment forever.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting him to say anything. Instead, he snuggles his face into your shoulder. You make eye contact with Taehyung, and you notice snowflakes in his glass eyes. You imagine that it must be annoying having frozen water stuck in your eyes, but Taehyung doesn’t care. Amidst the snow in his eyes is you—the one and only thing that matters the most to him.

“Getting to spend time with you is already a gift…(Y/N)...I’m really happy right now, and I’m really happy that when I woke up in this world, you became the first person I saw, my first teacher, my first caretaker...and my first friend.” If he could, Taehyung would be smiling and crying tears of joy.

For a while, it felt like time stopped for you two. Taehyung gently holds onto the sleeve of your coat, wanting to hug you. While you two sit silently next to each other, it feels like no one else existed in each other’s world, just you two. You feel your heart race whenever Taehyung is honest about his feelings. Whenever he speaks, you know that you can trust him. How can you ever think of Taehyung as a monster? You’re afraid of what people will think of Taehyung, but no matter what, you’ll never leave him.

------

While you’re asleep, Taehyung keeps staring at the snowmen from your bedroom window. Unfortunately it started to snow, so you and Taehyung had to return inside. Soon after that, you got ready for bed, and Taehyung has been staring out the window since. He keeps replaying the time he spent making the snowman with you, having that fluttering feeling when he was with you.

Taehyung keeps looking down at his imperfect hands, one being wooden and the other being scar-filled. The size of the wooden hand is smaller than the other, but the fingers are longer on the wooden one. He folds his hands together, trying to imitate when he holds your hand. He always thinks about how you hold his hand so casually when you have many opportunities to hold normal hands. It makes him happy that you always choose him over anyone else.

When he looks back at the snowmen, he noticed that one of them has toppled over due to the strong wind. He’s sadden to see one of them has fallen over, thinking about how all that hard work is going to waste. It’s not yet the time for people to wake up yet, and you did mention that if he were to wear enough clothing, he can hide his body. He puts on his coat, scarf, snow pants, and boots. Just as he was about to head out, he returns to grab his new pair of gloves.

Taehyung scoops piles of snow in his hands, trying to do what you did and make the snow into a ball. But whenever he tries, one side would be bigger than the other side. The ball that you created earlier has become a lumpy oval. He doesn’t know any other way to solve this other than matting it with more snow.

He’s worried about taking too much time trying to fix the snowmen, otherwise other people will wake up to find him. Either that, or you will spot him outside and hate him forever for going out without your permission. To shorten the time to make it, he decides to grab more snow. He has his hands dig deeper until it hits the ground. He tries his hardest to pick up the snow, but his vinyl hand gives in to the weight, bending his hand backwards at an inhumane angle. Despite that, he doesn’t feel pain whatsoever; he didn’t even realize his hand bent backwards at first.

Taehyung drops the snow to look at his hand. He takes off his glove and rolls up his sleeve to find that he ripped an opening in his wrist right below the palm. He traces the hole, seeing how his arm is aging due to the excessive amount of times he’s been using this arm. Pretty soon, he has to tell you that he needs another arm. But, how is he going to tell you that he made this hole because he snuck out during the middle of the night? He’s afraid that you’re going to get upset, and he doesn’t want to bother you anymore about his accidents. For now, he rolls his sleeve back up and decides to keep it a secret.

That’s when he hears a voice call out. He tilts his head up, shocked to see a man standing in front of him. He’s wearing a long, tan trench coat and circular glasse. His hands are in his pockets, protecting them from the cold. Taehyung has nothing to say to this man because he’s never spoken to another human before, but it’s not only that. This man looks just like Taehyung...or rather, Taehyung looks just like this man.

------

It’s nearly three in the morning, and you hear quick stomps in the hallway. You raise your head up, eyelids still heavy with sleepiness. The footsteps gets louder until it reaches to your bedroom. You manage to open one eye to see Taehyung standing in the middle of your room. It’s too dark for you to exactly make out the details of Taehyung, but you know that it’s him based on the outline of his body.

“Taehyung? What’s wrong?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. You thought that he didn’t hear you the first time, but he was just trying to collect his thoughts. You sit up, but when you do, Taehyung scurries to you, putting one hand on your knee and the other on your back as he kneels down.

“I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

“What? No, it’s fine. You seemed like you were just doing something. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

Taehyung gently settles his hand on your stomach and slowly pushes you down so you can return to your slumber. If you were fully awake, then you would’ve continued to ask him more questions, but you were too tired to pursue. You don’t pay too much attention to this, so you head to sleep.

When you close your eyes, you didn’t think too much about how nearly for the entire night, Taehyung was holding your hand. You never noticed that Taehyung is missing one glove.

------

You hear the sound of your doorbell ringing. You groan, checking the time as you don’t see the reason for someone to be visiting you on Christmas day. When you sit up, Taehyung is nowhere to be found in your bedroom. You thought that he would be getting the door, but the bell keeps ringing. You slide off of bed, yawning as you walk down the halls and to the door.

When you open the door, your heart nearly stops beating at the surprise. You wipe your eyes, making sure that who you’re looking at isn’t a hallucination. The person standing before you is none other than V. Your jaw drops, and seeing as that is a common reaction that V has seen a dozen times before, he lets out a radiating smile.

“Good morning. Do you speak Korean?” Taehyung asks with a Korean accent.

You’re too shocked to let out a word, so instead you shake your head. He was already expecting you to answer with a ‘no,’ but he wanted to give it a try. He extends his hand out for a handshake.

“Hi, I’m V from BTS. Nice to meet you.”

You shake his hand, your eyes not once off of this man’s face. You can’t believe that he’s standing in front of you. You haven’t even shaken a real hand in so long that you almost forgot what it feels like. Just like Taehyung’s hand, V’s hand is nearly twice as big as your hand, nearly devouring yours when greeting you.

You finally break out of your trance, realizing that this is no dream. “Excuse me. Sorry for my rude behavior. My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice meeting you, (Y/N). Mind if I come in?”

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink profusely. You thought you didn’t hear that right the first time. Why would he feel the need to come inside? Why is he here during Christmas in the first place? You have no idea what’s going on and what his purpose is for being here.

“I’m sorry, but I just woke up. If you need anything, then you can tell me here.”

He continues to smile with an underlying meaning, and it’s unnerving. “Okay. Do you have other people living here too?”

‘Other people?’ You immediately thought of Taehyung. Now you’re worried that he spotted you and Taehyung out last night playing in the snow. Internally, you beat yourself up because you might’ve dragged Taehyung into potential danger. But you still don’t understand why V would be out so late, especially since he’s a celebrity with a tight schedule.

Suddenly, you feel nauseated the longer you stay with V. Being with him brings back bad memories that you don’t want to remember, such as the time when you found your father’s dead body.

“No, it’s just me.” You let the lie flow right out of your mouth.

But Taehyung is sharper than that. He doesn’t need to get familiar with you to know that you’re lying.

“Last night there was a person here. He dropped this.”

Your eyes widen once you saw what he had hidden in his pocket. It’s one side of the glove that you bought for Taehyung. You look up at V with your eyes asking how he got ahold of it. Did he drop while you two were returning back inside?

You take the glove from his hand, crossing your arms and avoiding eye contact as you feel defensive. In your mind, you’re in panic mode, not sure how to get rid of V, or even where Taehyung is at.

“I-it’s just me. You must be mistaken. Now please, do you mind leaving me alone? I’m sorry.”

“I know someone lives there too. I would like to meet him and talk to him,” He beams. “Merry Christmas.”

V walks off, and you close the door behind him, questioning what just happened. Immediately, you thought of looking for Taehyung and ask him what happened. He was behaving strange last night, and it wasn’t just your imagination.

“Taehyung? Where are you?”

You continue to call out his name, and eventually, you find him at the end of the hall, hiding in one of the spare rooms. He’s peeking his head out, and you’re unsure if he’s trying to hide in fear that you’re furious with him or if he was trying to hide from V.

You walk toward Taehyung at a leisurely pace, tilting the upper half of your body to the side while smiling to let him know that you’re not upset. He’s inside the room that you set up for him a few years back. You thought that Taehyung would want his privacy, but after a few nights, he eventually stopped going to his room. He once said that it was because he didn’t feel comfortable at night without you.

“Hey, Taehyung. What are you doing in there?”

Feeling a bit more secure, Taehyung steps out of his room, but his head is still pointing down with guilt. Once you’re close enough, you cup his cheek and raise it high enough for you to look at him in the eyes. However, he averts his eyes away from you, giving in to the shame to brought upon you.

“I’m sorry...I went out without your permission when you were asleep. I thought it was safe to go out because it was only the front yard but…”

“Hey, I’m not mad at you. If anything, I’m relieved that you’re okay.”

Taehyung was bound to be spotted by another person, especially since you brought him out. Though you were not expecting that other person to be V, you knew that this day would come eventually. You remove your hand from his cheek and take him by his wooden hand. You place the glove in his palm.

“Don’t worry about it. I told that guy to leave, so hopefully he won’t come back anymore. Let’s go make some breakfast. After that, let’s plan what we want to do today.”

You turn around and head to the opposite end of the hall. When you notice that Taehyung isn’t following you, you twirl around and wait for him.

“That man...he’s really Mr. V, isn’t he?” Taehyung clenches onto his glove.

You can’t imagine what’s going through his mind right now, meeting face-to-face with the man responsible for his existence. You want to know what happened and if there were any words exchanged, but you don’t want to pester him about it as he still might be processing it. Besides, it’s Christmas, and you don’t want it to be about V, but about you and Taehyung.

You march right for Taehyung and take him by the hand, dragging him with you to the kitchen. “It doesn’t matter if it really was him or not. Let’s go make breakfast after I brush my teeth.”

------

You thought that V would leave after you had him to leave, but he hasn’t left your front yard since this morning. For a celebrity, he definitely has a lot of time to be loitering around your lawn. Every time you look out the window, V would perk up a smile and wave. You try to forget about him since he hasn’t rung your doorbell since the morning, but you can’t when all he does is stare.

Once again, V’s standing by the sidewalk, hands in his pocket. By this point he should be freezing because he’s been standing there for hours. You initially wanted him to leave because he was disturbing your peace, but now you’re concerned that he’ll catch a cold if you don’t somehow get him to leave.

Taehyung is sitting in the living room, writing another journal entry as he stares at you staring at V. You’ve been looking at him longer than you normally have, which makes Taehyung stop writing and observe you with curious eyes.

“Is Mr. V still out there?”

“Yea...I wonder why he won’t leave. He’s going to get sick.”

“I’m...sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Taehyung. You don’t have to apologize.”

One habit that Taehyung has garnered is his excessive need to apologize whenever he feels like he’s done something wrong to you. He’s afraid of you being disappointed in him, though you’ve never gotten upset at him before. You’ve done so much for him, so it’s no wonder that he has those kinds of worries.

“I think Mr. V wants to talk to me...Maybe that’s why he won’t leave.”

How much does V know about Taehyung being a doll? Does he even know that he’s a doll? Whatever the amount of information he has, you don’t want him talking to Taehyung. Your instincts tell you that you should protect Taehyung at all costs.

You decide to make a move. If you don’t do anything, then V will be standing there stubbornly until you let him talk to Taehyung. You pace to your bedroom and put on your winter clothes, followed by you putting on your boots by the front door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a small chat with him.”

Taehyung stands up to stop you, but you raise your hand to tell him to stop. You let him know that everything will be alright and that you’ll only talk to him. You open the front door, closing it behind you before V gets a chance to get a peek inside.

“Good evening!” V exclaims.

He approaches you, hands still in pocket. You can see him shivering and his teeth clattering upon closer inspection. You start pitying him for leaving him out here alone to freeze.

“What are you still doing out here? I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t you have other things to worry about?”

“My manager said that we can do anything we want on Christmas.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with your friends?”

V smiles, staring into the distance while lost in his own thoughts. “...It’s okay. I want to know you better and become my friend.”

He extends his hand out for another handshake and once again, you take it. His hand is so cold that you feel like your hand could get frostbite if you held his hand any longer.

“Thanks...but I think it’s better if you go back. What if other people start to get suspicious about you standing here all day?”

“Suspicious?” He tilts his head, puzzled.

Assuming that he doesn’t know what ‘suspicious’ means, you try to explain. “People will think you’re a bad guy…”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a bad person. I want to talk to you and another person inside your house. I met him last night.”

V is still determined to see Taehyung, which makes you uneasy. “...What exactly did you see last night to make you think that someone else lives with me?”

“...I saw myself.”

Your shoulders are weighed with anxiousness.

“Well, he looked just like me. But he didn’t look scared. He stared at me like how I stared at him. I thought I was looking at a mirror. Everything about him looked like me...except...more beautiful.”

There’s a look of pain in his face as he stares at his hand. You don’t know anything about V and what he goes through, but you still pity him. You were aware about how V and BTS are open about their struggles, but there is a large portion of it that they’ve kept hidden.

“I just...want to talk to him. My English is not that good yet, but I would still like to meet him.”

You thought that V might have evil intentions if he ever met Taehyung, but after hearing a bit more, you realize that he’s desperate just to see Taehyung once more. There’s an unresolved conflict within him most likely, and he thinks he might find closure with Taehyung, which makes you hesitant in responding.

“I’m...sorry, but I can’t.”

You quickly try to flee from the situation, but V grabs you by the hand, his cold hands sending signals throughout your body.

“Please?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, otherwise you’d regret turning him down. This is for Taehyung’s safety, so it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry, but you should go back.” You pull your hand away from his grasp and walk back instead your home.

------

You close the door behind you, and Taehyung was waiting by the door this entire time. He was worried about you, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to go out. Immediately, Taehyung hugs you out of concern, and he has no idea how relieved you are to feel his rigid body wrap around you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did he want to talk about?”

“You’re right. He...wants to talk to you.”

Taehyung goes quiet.

“I don’t think he’s a mean person...but I’m not sure what he wants to talk about.” You peek through the window and see that V still hasn’t left.

You feel bad for leaving him out there, and you debate about whether or not you should bring him something warm to drink. However, you think that by doing so, you’re inviting him to come inside, thus putting Taehyung in danger. You knew that you shouldn’t have brought Taehyung outside. You were just excited about the thought of him experiencing the outdoors on Christmas, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate this quickly.

You turn to look at Taehyung, and he won’t stop staring at V. Though Taehyung can’t change facial expressions, you do know that if he stares at something for a long time, he’s thinking about what to do.

------

“(Y/N)?”

You’re sitting by the window in the living room, watching V sitting by the curb of the sidewalk. You were amazed by his endurance, being able to stay out there for so long without having to eat. To your surprise, no one in the neighborhood has recognized him, but then again it is Christmas and everyone wouldn’t want to go out at this time. Not only that, but your neighborhood is pretty isolated as well, only a few houses in this area.

You’ve been sitting there for hours that you’ve fallen asleep by the time Taehyung checks up on you. It’s late at night, and Taehyung is surprised to see that V is still sitting out there with great determination. Taehyung knows you well enough that you must feel awful for making him sit out there, but it’s always him that comes before anything; it makes Taehyung feel guilty—guilty that you make sacrifices for him, even if it means making others sacrifice as well.

He gets on one knee to be eye level with you. He strokes the back of his index finger on your cheek, wondering if you’re dreaming right now. There are so many things he doesn’t know about the human body, some of which he wishes that he can have as well. That way, at least he’d be more similar to you, and no one would have to be scared of Taehyung if he ever went out.

Taehyung looks out the window once more, knowing full well that V will not leave until he talks to him. Last night, Taehyung ran inside before he got the chance to say a word, but he knew that his identity was discovered the moment they made eye contact. However, during this entire Christmas and seeing V stand out there and having a chat with you, it doesn’t seem as though V was to harm him. V genuinely wants to talk to him.

Taehyung can’t sit any longer, he has to do something. You do so much to protect him, even when it’s his fault, you still do whatever you can to fix it. He wants to become responsible—he wants to protect you as well. You tell him that he can always tell you how he feels, but no matter what, he can never properly convey how important you are to him.

He stands up, closing his eyelids, pecking you on the forehead. Though he feels the pressure on his artificial lips, he doesn’t feel the texture of your skin. Since it’s been almost a decade, the pink color on his lips are fading away, but whenever he stares at your lips, they’re always pink. You said that skin typically feels soft, so maybe one day, Taehyung would be able to know how that feels. But that is merely a faraway dream that’ll never come true. After all, Taehyung isn’t real—he’s just an imitation of V.

Taehyung puts on his coat and scarf to hide his doll-like body. On the kitchen counter are the gloves that you bought for him just for this occasion. He takes them and walks out the front door, heading straight towards V.

------

You can’t remember when you fell asleep. One moment you were watching V from the window, and the next you found yourself sleeping. You raise your head, checking if V is still there. However, you lose all sense of sleepiness when you see Taehyung sitting next to V outside. You jump out of your chair, grabbing a blanket and slipping in your sneakers before running out without a coat.

“Taehyung!”

Both Taehyungs turn their heads upon hearing your voice, and you freeze. You look at both men, and it seems like you interrupted their conversation. Taehyung must’ve gone out when you were asleep again. In V’s hands is a steamed bun and Taehyung is wearing V’s thin-rimmed glasses.

Taehyung stands up, wobbling towards you while still wearing his glasses. His vision is perfect, so you don’t understand why he’s wearing them. Once he gets close to you, he pats you on the face to make sure that you’re really there.

“(Y/N), why do people wear glasses? I thought they were supposed to help you see better.”

You take them off. “It’s because your eyes are already healthy that you don’t need them.”

V approaches you and Taehyung. He smiles as he watches you two interact. His stare makes you uncomfortable, so you consciously bring yourself to stop talking. You feel guilty about making V stand out in the snow all day—you were just afraid that V was going to hurt Taehyung.

“Taehyung went inside and gave me a steamed bun, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. We’ll both be going inside. I’m sure there are people looking for you.”

But right before you head inside, Taehyung holds onto your hand. You turn around to see that he isn’t moving from his spot.

“Can we let Mr. V in?”

You want to ask him why, but you thought it’d be too rude to say it aloud. You turn your attention to V, who doesn’t seem all that excited nor desperate to come inside; he’s simply waiting for your answer.

“I promise Mr. V isn’t a bad person. He lets me use his things.”

You decide to trust Taehyung’s intuition and let V come inside.

------

You serve V chamomile tea at the dinner table while Taehyung gives him a tin pan filled with various kinds of Danish cookies. You and Taehyung sit across from V as he sips the warm drink. He lets the tea heat up his throat, balancing well with his cold skin.

“Tastes great.” He compliments.

You nod slightly, unsure of how everything came together just for this moment where you are in the same room as the two Taehyungs. V can sense that you have a lot of questions to ask, so he sets the tea down and prepares for a long chat.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt Taehyung. We talked for a long time, and he’s a very kind person,” V clears his throat. “I also caught on as well...Taehyung isn’t human, is he?”

You jolt.

“Is that why you kept telling me to go away? You didn’t want anyone to find out that he’s not human?”

Sweat forms on your face. He has a sharper eye than you thought. All those years you spent watching V, you always assumed he was the kind of person who’ll space out and not think too much about things.

“I thought he was mannequin when I first saw him, but when he ran inside, I was confused. I wanted to make sure that what I was seeing wasn’t a dream, so I kept bothering you to let me see him. Is he a robot?”

Do you answer him truthfully or not? How will you explain to him about your father’s undying love for him and how he used black magic to bring Taehyung to life? While lying might be the safest in the moment, building up lies after lies will eventually topple over. So what is the best option in this situation?

“You’re right...Taehyung’s not human. He was created by my dad many years ago and I took care of him since.”

You keep your head down, fearful of his reaction.

“Wow, that’s cool!”

You’re surprised by how well V is took that information. You thought he’d be like any other person and be frightened by Taehyung. Then again, V and Taehyung spoke for quite some time, so all that talking might’ve mellowed the shocking revelation.

“Taehyung is really smart. We talked for hours, and he loves learning about many things. He also tells me he knows how to write? That’s amazing.”

“...You’re not freaked out about this?”

He shakes his head. “People made weirder things of me before. Taehyung is the most normal.”

You find that amusing. If he just hears about your father’s reasoning for Taehyung then this will definitely be on the top of his list. But if creating a replica of him is considered ‘normal’, then you try to imagine what it was that took the cake as the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. Humans do have endless creativity, some of which might be better if it doesn’t exist.

You turn to Taehyung to find him still playing with V’s glasses. One of the few mistakes your father made in trying to make a copy of V was that he made Taehyung have perfect vision while the real V needs prescription glasses.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Eight years.”

“Wow...it makes sense. Taehyung looks like how I did a little under ten years ago.”

V is well into his thirties now. Though he looks roughly the same as he did eight years ago, there is no doubt that his face has changed. He’s become more masculine, even growing a stubby mustache, though not obvious from first glance.

An hour goes by, and the three of you have been chatting. It turns out that you were just paranoid—V is actually a lot nicer than you initially thought. You just haven’t spoken to another person besides Taehyung in a long time that you forgot that there are people out there who have good intentions. Although you still don’t know why V wanted to talk about with Taehyung, V seems sincere.

V checks the time on his watch and realizes he overstayed his welcome. He stands up and takes his coat from the chair. You get up from your seat as well, wrapping your thin blanket around you as you walk him out the door.

“It was nice meeting you, (Y/N). You too, Taehyung.”

Taehyung nods his head. You keep staring at the ground, that small doubt still wandering the back of your head. V can sense that something is wrong with you, so he waits for you to tell him what you’re thinking about.

“You won’t...tell anyone about Taehyung, right?”

V smiles to reassure you. “Why would I? You worked hard to make sure that no one else knows, so it would be rude if I told everyone.”

You sigh in relief, though that doubt still lingers in your head.

“Also, I’m sorry about making you stay out there all day...I wasted your Christmas.”

V chuckles. “You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who chose to stay out there, even after you told me to go away many times. You were just trying to protect Taehyung.”

You nod slightly as V waves goodbye and walks off. You turn to Taehyung, who’s still waving goodbye to V too. Once he’s gone from your peripheral, you close the door and sit on the couch in the living room.

“I’m sorry...I went outside without your permission again. I saw how stressed you were about him so I wanted to do something about it.”

You chuckle. “What did you two even talk about?”

“I told him to leave, but he looked really happy to meet me again. I wanted him to leave...but I wanted to talk to him at the same time, so we kept on talking. I was scared that he was going to be afraid of me, but he accepted me...just like how you did.”

You look down at your feet, feeling awful that Taehyung truly believes that you were accepting of him. Is he trying to deny what happened in the beginning, or has he forgotten about it? It took a long time for you and Taehyung to get into the stable relationship that you two are in now, so now it may seem like a distant memory to Taehyung. But to you, it’s still as fresh as yesterday’s memory because there were things you wish you could’ve changed.

“Yea...it’s been a long day, shall we head to sleep, now?”

------

Ever since Christmas, V has been coming over to your house for the past couple of days. Though he greets you, he mainly comes to talk to Taehyung. They’re always in the living room, chatting for hours without breaks. Even Taehyung seems excited whenever V comes over. It almost seems like they’re twins.

It does make you a little jealous when you see them having fun. Whenever Taehyung talks to you, he always speaks in a calm tone, but with V, his tone is always as if he looks forward to meeting him. You try not to let your jealousy get the better of you since V is his first friend from the outside world. However, today is a little different.

“You’re not coming tomorrow?” Taehyung asks.

Taehyung and V are sitting together in the living room while you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes when you happen to be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Sorry, I wish I can, but I’ll be busy. The members want to spend time together because…”

“...It’s your birthday tomorrow.” Taehyung finishes the sentence.

V nods.

Because V has been coming to this place often, you had completely forgotten about his birthday. When you think about it more, you thought that it’s odd that V has been staying here longer than he should. You thought that they were on tour, so he should’ve left long ago.

“It’s okay...you’re busy, so I understand.”

You lean over to look at the two men, and V doesn’t look all that excited about his birthday. He isn’t smiling or laughing about it—just a serious expression.

“So do you celebrate your birthday on the same day as mine?” V asks to change the subject.

“...We don’t know exactly when I was born, so we always celebrate it on January 1st.”

“Oh, that’s not far from my birthday! Maybe after my performance then we can celebrate.”

“But...what about your job and the members?”

“No, I don’t think they would mind. Besides, I think they would be tired by the time we finish our schedule.”

When you look at Taehyung, you can’t tell whether he’s happy about that or not. Perhaps he is a bit happy about it because he’ll be able to celebrate his birthday with someone else.

“I know! My performance tomorrow will be filmed live, so it’d be nice if you and (Y/N) would watch it and support me.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s been a while since we had our comeback, so I feel a little nervous. We’re going  to be performing on the CNL Show at 8 P.M., so please tune in.”

V checks the time on his watch. Seeing that it’s already the evening, he gets up from the couch and heads to the front door. You and Taehyung follow him from behind.

“I have to get going now. I’ll see you two soon.”

You and Taehyung wave goodbye as V walks off. You’ve never seen V get picked up by a car or know where he walks off to, so you do get a bit worried, especially since he’s a celebrity and might get recognized by the public. It is a good thing that your neighborhood is rather isolated with the exception of a few homes.

You also found it odd that V has a lot of free time. He doesn’t stay all day, but he comes during the evenings and talks for a few hours. Unlike the same V that you knew eight years ago, he’s much more calmer than how he used to portray himself, but it could also be that he’s grown up and doesn’t have the same kind of energy he had when he was still in his twenties. He seems very down to earth, and he claims that his English isn’t that great, but he speaks fine. 

“You must really like V, Taehyung.” You nudge his arm playfully.

“Yea...I can see why people like him so much. I was scared to talk to him at first, but he’s a lot nicer than I thought.”

You nod. “Yea, V always had a way of charming people whenever he spoke.”

You remember the time when BTS was still fresh to you and how V always stole the spotlight even when he didn’t intend to. There were times when you couldn’t get your eyes off of him because he was that stunning. It wasn’t until your father’s death that made it hard for you to look at him the same. Every time you saw V on TV, your father’s dead body would flash through your mind, and then you’d feel the need to vomit. That was the same for Taehyung as well.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Are you tired?”

Recalling all that unwanted memory is making you space out. You comb Taehyung’s hair with your fingers. Because his wig isn’t made of real hair, the tips tend to stand up on its own no matter how much you brush it.

“No, I’m just thinking about how you two look really similar but have contrasting personalities. To be honest, I think it’ll take me awhile to get along with V compared to you.”

“Why? You don’t like him?”

“It’s not him, it’s just me,” you get up and walk to your bedroom. “I should be heading to bed. Let’s go, Taehyung.”

------

You toss and turn during the middle of the night, and despite the frosty air, you still feel sweat forming on your skin. Whenever you try to fall asleep, this lump of anxiousness would jump out of nowhere and attack you. Your mind is muddled with worries that it’s been preventing you from sleeping properly these past few nights.

You feel something cold being pressed against your arm. When you open your eyes, you see Taehyung’s silhouette sitting by the side of your bed and his wooden hand on your arm.

“You keep moving around. Another nightmare?”

You shake your head. “No nightmare. Just...can’t sleep.”

You haven’t been able to sleep since V started visiting, and there has been this feeling of uneasiness growing inside you. There are so many questions you want to ask, such as how V is able to have consecutive visits to your place without getting in trouble or being seen by the public. So far, V has been treating you and Taehyung kindly, but there’s just something unnerving about now knowing V’s exact intentions that makes you unable to trust him immediately.

Taehyung breaks the tension by putting his hand over yours. “Has something been bothering you?”

You feel conflicted about whether or not you should tell him about your concerns. On one hand, you know that withholding your thoughts from him will only bend your relationship with him, but telling him might hurt his feelings, especially since he really likes V. You personally don’t know how to answer him.

Taehyung brushes your bangs behind your ears, mesmerized by the gaze in your eyes. “I wish I can somehow jump into your brain and get rid of all your problems. That way, you don’t ever have to worry about anything anymore when you wake up.”

You chuckle at his heroic words. “You don’t need to do that. Just you being with me is already enough to keep me sane.”

But your smile fades away quickly, thinking about the beginning of Taehyung’s life and how you rejected him coldly. You would’ve never thought that Taehyung would ever become important in your life, not in a million years.

“Hey, Taehyung...do you remember how we first met?”

He nods. “You found me in the basement.”

“...Yea, and when you tried reaching out to me, I ended up running away and locking the door behind me. I left you in there with my dad’s dead body for a few days...Weren’t you upset with me?”

You two had a rough start, and you were constantly scared of him. After discovering what your father had done in the basement, you wanted nothing to do with Taehyung.  You were even considering to run away from this mess that your father left behind.

“...No, I’m not upset. I never was to begin with, because in the end, you still chose to open the door and reach your hand out to me, even if you were scared. You gave me a chance to live.”

Once a few days went by, your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to check the basement. Even after all those days, Taehyung barely moved from where he fell. He was still, staring into nothingness while you kept him in the dark. It wasn’t until he reacted to the light coming from the door, and there you were—half of your body peering into the dusty room.

When you found him in the same spot, something in you knew that he wasn’t a monster. You steadily approach him, kneeling in front of him as he reached his hand out as a last attempt. This time, you extended your hand and accepted him, and since then, you’ve been responsible for him. He was like a baby who had just been birthed and had yet to learn about the world, so you knew that it was your responsibility to teach him of that world. You vowed to watch over him and that you would never make him a monster.

Once again, you chuckle at Taehyung after recalling your first meeting, all that fear that you had before is now gone, and whenever you hold onto him, you only feel comfort. You were a hopeless girl eight years ago—going to school, avoiding people, despising your father, holding a grudge against your mother for leaving you with him. All those times being neglected has caused you to naturally feel the need to push yourself away from others before they can push you away, and this goes to V as well.

“How do you honestly feel about V coming by?”

“...I really do like talking to him. It’s like he introduces me to a new world that I’ve never heard of. It’s nice that he comes by often...but…”

“But…?”

“Mr. V is...a very great person...but I’m worried that…” Taehyung trails off.

“Worried about what?”

“...Nothing. I think I’m just being ridiculous.”

It’s rare for Taehyung to change his mind like that and be doubtful of himself. He’s always open about telling you the conflicts he’s dealing with.

“Keeping it to yourself isn’t going to solve itself. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“...Do you think he’s a great person too?”

You wonder what Taehyung defines as a ‘great’ person. Of course on cameras V’s considered an extraordinary person, and now you know that behind the scenes, he seems just as great as he is when he’s being watched.

“V didn’t think much about you not being human...so I think anyone who accepts you for who you are is definitely a good person.”

Or at least that’s what you like to think. There are a lot of people who’ll use Taehyung for their own self gain or to ‘further science’, but you want nothing more for Taehyung than to live a life no different from other humans, even if it is entirely impossible to reach that goal. Whenever V came, he never pestered him for information about how Taehyung is a living doll, but treating him like any other person. You were preparing yourself for the worst, but you’re somewhat glad that the first person Taehyung met is his reflection.

------

“I forgot what channel he said he’d be on.” You mumble as you go through all the TV channels with your remote.

“I think CNL should be on channel 150.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

You flip to channel 150, and you made it right when the host is introducing V’s band and their latest album. Cheers from teen to middle-aged women can be heard in the background, waving their ARMY bombs. Once the music starts, the fans do the iconic chant where they shout everyone’s names right before the first member sings. Since this is their first performance in a while, they’re a bit stiff—constantly avoiding the cameras and looking down after finishing their lines. But after the first few verses, they eventually became naturals on stage again.

They became the performers that they were once before and a rush of nostalgia runs through your brain. You remember all the hours you spent sitting in front of your laptop and watching all their recorded concerts. Though you weren’t a massive fan, your jaw would still drop at how they would execute dance moves that you can never accomplish. Even after their long hiatus, they truly are natural-born performers.

You keep glancing at Taehyung, whose eyes are glued to the screen, specifically on V. You notice his eyes tracing in every direction that V moves to, not once blinking throughout the entire song. Neither of you say a word, letting the television being the only one with sound playing in the house.

However, seemingly out of the blue, the music stops and everyone stops dancing. V looks the most confused, while the six other members are breathing heavily from the dancing and singing. The fans starts singing the happy birthday song, including the members. One of the members comes with a birthday cake with three, lighted candles in the center. V still looks confused, but it finally hits him that they’re celebrating his birthday.

That’s when V’s eyes begin welling up with tears, and the crowd’s screams become louder. Various people in the audience spout sentences such as ‘it’s okay V’ and ‘we purple you’. V covers his mouth, bending over with his arm wrapped around his stomach to comfort himself. Seeing him break down makes the members feel the need to hug him, so they gather in a circle with their arms around each other with the exclusion of Jimin who’s still holding the cake but patting V on the back.

Jimin wipes V’s tears away with his thumbs, mouthing something in Korean but it’s inaudible. V blows out the candles, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and everyone cheers for him. Soon after, he looks at everyone in the audience, holding the mic close to his mouth to give a speech. He speaks in Korean for a good period of time, and once he finished, RM takes the spotlight to translate his words.

“I wish I could say everything in English, but right now, I feel like it’ll translate better if I say it all in Korean. We were gone for many years and were fearful that our fans have moved on with their lives, getting married, having successful careers, everything. While we are happy that our fans have blossomed into beautiful flowers, we could not forget about our fans because they created who we are today and still feel indebted to them. There are no words to describe how much you all truly mean to us.

During our long hiatus, we were all thinking about how we would make a comeback and surprise ARMY again to express our gratitude for the unforgettable memories we made with them during our primetime. We were scared that we weren’t going to live up to the expectation, and that took a toll on us. Every night was a sleepless night for me, and I cried every time I thought about disappointing our fans. I was so nervous that fans wouldn’t like me anymore because I’ve grown stale, even to the point where I talked to my fellow members about not participating in the comeback.”

The whole crowd begins wailing and screaming at his confession.

“But standing before my fans and performing on stage one more time made me realize that all my troubles were just me overthinking things. Even if all my fans moved on, I will never forget everything that you all have done for me, helping me get back on my feet when I needed it the most and hearing the cheers from thousands of people. So in exchange, I’ll keep on helping my fans get back on their feet even when I become old and wrinkly. Right now, despite our language barrier and different cultural backgrounds, we still had the opportunity to perform to you all again. Thank you for celebrating my birthday!”

The crowd cheers even louder, and everyone hugs V to comfort him. The host of the show takes over and congratulates V on his thirty-second birthday before plugging their album one more time and transitioning to commercial break.

Based on his tone and expressions alone, you can tell that this will be an unforgettable moment for V. Every single one of his words felt authentic. All those days he came by, he’s been harboring those emotions and conflicts to himself, finding it more comfortable talking to Taehyung about everyday life than about his life as a musician.

“Aw, I wasn’t expecting a heartfelt surprise! I almost teared up.” You comment.

However, Taehyung doesn’t answer you back. Instead, he stares off into space as a commercial runs, advertising the latest model of a vacuum. What Taehyung had seen must’ve definitely left a mark on him as well, though you’re unsure whether it is a positive or negative one.

“...Don’t you think it’s strange that millions of people loved V at some point? So many people are willing to sacrifice themselves for him even though they don’t know the true him. They only know the persona that he plays out on camera...” Taehyung rotates his head to you. “Do you think we know the true Mr. V?”

“I think...no matter what, we’ll never know everything about a person. Sometimes, we don’t know ourselves, so knowing another person is even harder. But there’s something that feels accomplishing when we know things about the ones we love that others don’t know.”

Taehyung returns back to the television screen once the show returns. Now, they’re introducing each individual member before the host asks them a series of questions.

“Look at all those people...they all came to see them. Some of these people travelled miles away just to see seven people perform one to two songs.”

“Well, it’s because they’re a band with a historical legacy. People would do anything to have a once in a lifetime experience.”

You don’t know what Taehyung is thinking about. He continues to stare blankly at the TV but not paying attention to the content that’s going on behind the screen. That’s when he rolls up his sleeves to his scarred arms. There’s a gaping opening in his wrist that you never noticed before—that time when he snuck out to fix the snowmen and accidentally ripped a hole in his arm.

“So even after they die, their legacy continues on?”

“Yea...but Taehyung, let me see your arm.”

You extend your hand out and take his forearm. You observe the hole, looking at it from different angles to see how bad it is. Taehyung’s skin color on his arm is starting to fade away, so much to the point where you can see the original color of his arm: white.

“I think it’s almost time to replace this arm. How did you get this hole?”

“I tried carrying the snow, but my hand gave in to the weight and I accidentally tore my wrist.”

“You gotta be more careful. Scratches are okay, but holes are definitely bad. Small things can find its way inside, and it’ll build up.”

On the television, V is saying something, but you’re too focused in finding methods to close the tear. While there are millions of eyes on V, Taehyung can’t help but feel a little happy knowing that there’s at least one person who has their eyes on himself, not on the real V.

------

“Happy birthday!” You exclaim.

In the dining room is Taehyung, V, and you sitting around the table after surprising them with a birthday cake. Since you celebrate Taehyung’s birthday not too far from V’s, you decided to buy one vanilla cake for the both of them to share. In the center of cake it says ‘happy birthday to the Taehyungs’. Since Taehyung doesn’t have lungs, V is the one who blows out the candles. You clap cheerfully, and V claps along with you while Taehyung stares blankly at the two of you.

You slice a piece of cake for V and Taehyung, even though Taehyung can’t eat. You feel that it’s better to have Taehyung be included by giving him a cake.

“V, are you sure you’re fine with spending New Year’s with us? Why not with your friends?”

“It’s alright. Anyway, it’s not about me. What did you wish for, Taehyung?”

It’s strange how dismissive V is about his friends, but you try not to worry about it nonetheless. You and V turn to look at Taehyung, but he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“...If I say it out loud, then it won’t come true.”

You laugh, though Taehyung doesn’t understand what it is that you find comical. “Okay, we won’t ask. Instead, I’ll give you your present.”

You take out the present from under the table, and unlike the Christmas present, it’s bigger. He unwraps it with the same amount of care he had when opening the other present, and it’s a box. He takes off the lid and it is revealed to be another wooden prosthetic arm.

“I’ve been meaning to find another replacement but just didn’t have the money. It was also hard to find an arm that’s your length too.”

Taehyung doesn’t reply immediately, nor does V.

“I guess it was a good thing I bought it because your original arm is starting to wear out. Want me to help switch arms out?”

You proceed to move toward Taehyung before he answers. But as you move closer to him, you notice that he keeps eyeing V.

“It’s okay. We can do it next time. Thank you.”

You were a bit taken back as he usually lets you fix him up. He keeps his head low, not saying another word. You worry that you might’ve done something to upset him, but you keep wearing the smile on your face.

“O-okay! Just tell me when you want to, but don’t do it right when your hand falls off.”

Taehyung nods his head faintly to acknowledge you. He’s always been one to be lost in his thoughts, but you can never exactly pinpoint what he’s thinking about. Whatever he may be thinking right now, you hope it’s not bothering him too much.

------

You spot V sitting by the side of the curb, staring at the night sky. Since everyone is cooped up in their warm homes, you decide to keep V company outside. You wrap yourself in a thick blanket and walk outside. V can hear you approach him, but he doesn’t look away from the sky. You take a seat next to him, sighing as you adorn the blanket to protect your shoulders from the freezing temperature.

“How are you not freezing? I already feel like going back inside.”

“It’s hard to see the stars with windows blocking the way.”

“Are you not afraid of being recognized in public?”

“Do you think people are outside during this time of night?”

“...You never know.”

He smiles, exhaling a single breath of laughter, thankful for your concerned but finding it unnecessary. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s inside, writing another journal entry.”

“I notice that Taehyung really writes a lot, but why does he have to write every day?”

You avert your eyes, pausing temporarily. “...It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

You look at him, checking to see if he’s serious. He grins, challenging you to give him the story that you claim to be too long. You chuckle.

“There are a lot of reasons, one being that I want him to learn how to write, and another so that I have an idea of what he does when I’m not home.”

V raises an eyebrow out of confusion.

“He’s still not good at conveying his feelings, and it’s partially because of the limits that his body gives him. I try to have him practice expressing how he feels on paper since his face doesn’t allow it.”

“...Isn’t it kind of obsessive?”

Obsessive? You never thought of it that way because you would excuse it as you protecting him.

“Taehyung is his own person. He didn’t exist just to be locked up.”

You brush your hand through your hair, sighing. “I know...but it’s just that…”

“Are you afraid of how the world will see him?”

“Of course. Not everyone will be understanding. How do you tell people that I have a V look-alike and that he’s not human?”

Only silence roams as V doesn’t respond, but the silence is what pushes you to talk more.

“...Believe it or not, but I used to be terrified of Taehyung. I didn’t know what he was capable of, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him alone after my dad made him. The first few years with him was rough...He barely knew how to walk, speak, or even use his arms properly. I had to teach him everything from scratch, and it was very frustrating. For many nights, I locked the door to my room because I was scared he was going to kill me. Even then, I would still have these random anxiety attacks, the paranoia creeping up on me, and I would suffer from insomnia. To me, Taehyung was a monster.

“Then one day...I got tired of him. I wanted to return to my life where I didn’t have to take care of anyone or anything. So I left the front door open in anticipation that his curiosity would get the better of him and he would walk out on his own, and he did. It was a celebratory moment, like I was finally able to breathe. But...it didn’t take long for me to start worrying. By that point, it was almost two years since I found him, so while I didn’t like having him around, it felt weird without him,” You turn your head to your right, staring at the neighborhood that goes down for a few more miles. “I went out and found him a few blocks down...being attacked by a bulldog.”

V’s eyes widen.

“We had a neighbor a few years back who treated his dogs poorly, so because of that, his dog became aggressive. And while he was being attacked by the dog, the dog’s owner’s children were watching with gleeful eyes. They were even throwing rocks at Taehyung and their dog just so it can become more agitated with Taehyung. But what shocked me the most is that Taehyung didn’t fight back. He just stared blankly at the dog while it bit his arm to pieces. And I think...that’s when I realized...after seeing him defenseless, Taehyung isn’t a monster...He didn’t even know how to defend himself.

“Before I knew it, my feet moved before I could even think, pushing the dog off of him. I also got bitten by the dog, but nothing else mattered as long as Taehyung was okay. Eventually, the children fled, and I had to drag Taehyung with me back to the house before the pitbull could get inside. I didn’t even notice that he was missing an arm. I remember hugging him, so relieved that he was okay, but upset at myself that I made him go through that.”

You remember staring at his missing arm, torn from the shoulder. There was a thick layer of saliva dripping from the tips of his torn skin. You took off his clothes, you saw the dents that the rocks made after the kids threw them. When you moved back to get a full view of the condition that Taehyung was in—one less limb than before and a damaged exterior that can’t be fixed—staring at you with eyes of innocence, you threw yourself onto him.

You cried, apologizing over and over about how you shouldn’t have been careless. You had forgotten about the bite on your forearm, letting the blood trail down and smear onto Taehyung’s vinyl skin. You held onto him to let him know that you won’t let go a second time, and when you held onto him long enough, Taehyung wrapped his single arm around you. You spent two years of being afraid of a threat that never existed.

“Since then, Taehyung and I started getting along. Whenever I taught him something, he picked it up pretty fast. He’s really good at imitating my moves, and I think he’s really smart. It’s sometimes just disappointing that no one else may never see how great Taehyung is,” you smack your lips, deciding to change the subject from you to V. “By the way, how are you so calm about Taehyung? Are you really not freaked out that he’s a living, talking doll?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen weirder things that fans have done. This is still unbelievable, but not the most unusual.”

“What’s weirder than this?”

V tries to list the things in his mind, chuckling as some memories that he comes across. “There are fans who have stalked me, others have fetishized me nearly to the point that I became a god to them, and there are even some slash fiction and audio edits that I wish I never came across. Some were funny, but others not so much. Back when I still had to complete my military service, a fan found the location to my dorm and started cutting herself.”

Your jaw drops.

“She told me that if I left, then she’ll kill herself.”

You knew that fans go to the extreme for their idols, but some of the stories have been exaggerated beyond the point of realism that they’re nothing more than passive stories attempting to get the spotlight. However, hearing personal experience makes it all too real.

“What did you do?”

“I froze. How do you react when a stranger tells you that you’re going to be the reason that they’re going to kill themselves? Luckily there was security to pull her away...but it’s something that I can never get out of my head. I couldn’t never understand what her intentions were. Was I really that important in her life, or was that her threatening me?”

V curls his knees up and rests his cheek on them, chuckling as he thinks about his short but fun time with Taehyung.

“Maybe that’s why I really wanted to talk to Taehyung. I don’t think it’s hit me that he’s not human, and that’s because he’s the most humane person I’ve met in a long time. It’s nice talking to him without my pessimism telling me that he only wants to talk to me because I’m famous. I learned pretty quickly that the more popular you are, the less real you look in other people’s eyes.”

You and millions of other people will never truly understand what V goes through, no matter how descriptive he is. Due to his image, he can’t even talk about this with fans or the public without the concern of backlash. Surely there will be people who will support him, but others will come out and criticize him for not taking immediate action. It’s easy to put someone down when you’re not the one stuck in the situation.

“...Thanks for telling me this.” You mutter, twiddling your thumbs.

He chuckles. “Why are you thanking me?”

“It must’ve been hard to talk about this, especially since we don’t know each other that well. Kinda shows that you trust me and Taehyung.”

“No, I’m only telling you because you told me a secret that nobody else knows,” V stands up, exhaling as he pats the snow off of his pants. “Today was actually the last day I’ll be in your city.”

You had forgotten that V came here for work. For the time that you two spent with him, V made it feel as though he were a longtime friend who came to visit. Despite the short period, you felt like a bond was built with him, and it feels like it was just yesterday when he first came across your neighborhood. Whenever you look at him, you thought about high school when his band meant the world to many people. You don’t exactly feel nostalgic, but a new door opening.

“Taehyung might be looking for you. We should go back inside because you must be cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar. Your nose is red and runny.” He laughs.

You jolt, lowering your head and using your index finger to rub your nose. You’re so embarrassed that he had to see you in this condition that you blush. When you look at V, his face is as clear as the sky—no bumps, no facial scars, nothing. He must be wearing makeup to cover it, so it’s no wonder you can’t see any flaws on his face.

From the window of your living room stands Taehyung, watching as you interact with V. He’s never seen you interact with anyone other than himself, so seeing you blushing and smiling with V makes him feel uneasy. This emotion that he’s been feeling these past couple of days are becoming too much for him, and each day it just builds up more and more until he can’t bring himself to look at you. He presses his fingers on the window, questioning his own self-worth as he continues watching you converse with the real V.

------

Before the night ended, V gave you his phone number just in case either you or Taehyung felt like talking to him. He said that he’d like to continue with this friendship because every day felt pleasant, so of course you accepted his contact information. From what it seems, Taehyung is okay with it as well. He didn’t directly tell you if he wanted to talk to him again, so you assumed that he wants to.

One of the most dreadful things about starting the New Year is returning to work after a long vacation, so it was hard for you to go back to the usual schedule of leaving the house. As per usual, you tell Taehyung that you’re leaving, and you head off to work.

“I’ll see you later today. Maybe when I come back, we can watch a movie.”

Taehyung nods his head. “Okay.”

Ever since V left, Taehyung has been somewhat distant from you, but you think that it may be because he misses V. You know that if you were to pry more, then he would be more inclined to not answer you, so you let time heal his temporary ache in the meantime.

When you leave through the front door, you felt this eerie vibe from out of nowhere. You can’t quite explain it, but you definitely feel it. What you feel are two, dagger eyes on you. You look around, initially thinking that it was Taehyung being stare-y again, but the atmosphere didn’t feel the same. This stare felt...dreary. But you thought that it was just you, and you decide to ignore it, thinking that it might all in your head.

As Taehyung watches you walk out of the front door, he notices something strange from the corner of his eyes. He rotates them to what caught his attention, but it hid in the bushes before he got a glimpse of it. He found it unusual, as it’s not common for anyone or any animal to be scurrying around the neighborhood, and there was something from the corner of his mind, telling him that it may not be good.

And that feeling never went away for both you and Taehyung. Every day before and after work, you feel these heavy eyes on you, watching every move you make. You try to play it off as you being paranoid and didn’t tell Taehyung about it, but it’s getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore it anymore; there’s no doubt that you feel a third presence. It can’t be V because he and his band moved on to the next city, so you can’t think of anyone else.

Today you return home, and Taehyung does his usually greeting of hugging you and welcoming you back home.

You hug him back. “How was your day, Taehyung?”

“Good. I was writing in my journal again.”

“That’s great.”

You take off your shoes, tossing your purse to the couch and walking to the kitchen. Taehyung follows you, staring at you while you make yourself a cup of orange juice. You two talk amongst each other about trivial topics, and while chatting, you two move to the living room. Just like every year, you feel as though this holiday was too short, almost as if you barely had any time to be with Taehyung.

You sit by the couch where you’re positioned to see the window to the front yard. Taehyung sits on the couch opposite of you, listening to every word that comes out of your mouth. While talking, you notice someone peering into your front window. At first, you thought it was a passerby, but they don’t move from their spot. This young girl begins taking photos of your house, gidding at each picture she saves.

As strange as it seems, you try to ignore it, thinking that she’ll eventually go away, but it only gets worse when her friends show up. They huddle amongst themselves, cackling about something. They take more pictures, and it unnerves you. Noticing that you’ve been staring out the window for quite some time, Taehyung turns around and sees the girls.

“Taehyung, stay here.” You get up from the couch, not letting your eyes off the girls.

Taehyung almost stands up, but your raise your hand, signaling him not to move anymore than this. You put on your shoes and walk out of your front door. When they hear the front door opening, they begin squealing under their breaths, and you raise an eyebrow as you get closer to them.

“Hello, is there something going on here?”

The girls mutter to each other in low voices, huddled in a circle like in American football games. Eventually, the girls push one of them toward you. The girl in front of you looks flustered, hands behind her back and cheeks red.

“H-hi there...w-w-we were just wondering if V from BTS lives in that house.” The girl stutters out.

Your eyes widen at her question, and that feeling of foreboding resurfaces similar to when V came here. This time, you don’t know if they’re talking about V or Taehyung, but either way, it’s not good that they spotted him.

“I’m staying in my grandparents’ house down the street,” one of the girls points to her left. “And I kept seeing V going in that house.”

“Can we take a picture with him?”

With your jaw hanging, you shake your head, taking each step backwards slowly. “N-no. I’m going to have to ask you girls to leave.”

You turn around and dash back inside, slamming the door from behind. You lean on the door, staring blankly at the carpet as Taehyung runs to your side.

“Are you okay?”

You look up at Taehyung, unsure of what to tell him or where to start. Your worst fear is coming to life, and you might’ve put Taehyung into danger. You look through the hole on the door, and the girls have left. He blinks, and you try to compose yourself.

“I’m going to call V.”

------

V falls silent on the other side after you explained everything. You wait impatiently for him to respond, hoping that he won’t leave you hanging. Taehyung is sitting next to you, his head tilted and confused.

“(Y/N)...I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean for this to happen to both you and Taehyung. I can send you security or have you stay at a nearby hotel or…”

“I think we’re fine now. I just wanted to let you know. They might’ve thought that you were still here.”

“Alright, if anything else happens, then you have to tell me as soon as possible.”

You hang up the phone, and you sigh. Earlier definitely scared you a lot because you thought that the situation was going to escalate. Now that you had some time to think, those fans might’ve come to the realization that V is in another city. But you can’t shake off that anxious feeling, especially since one of the girls is staying at a house nearby.

Taehyung scoots closer to you, closing the gap between you and him. He must’ve sensed how worried you are, so he wraps his arm around you and pulls you in for a hug. Your face lands on his chest, and since his chest isn’t soft, there was a thump sound. It’s been a while since you two held onto each other like this, so it’s soothing.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up. “For what?”

“You called Mr. V because I’m not reliable enough to protect you…”

“What?!” You pull yourself back. “No, it’s not like that!”

You called him partially because you wanted to let him be aware, but also because of what he said about his fans taking things to the extreme. You thought that he would understand, that’s all.

“V knows about how to deal with fans better than we both do. It has nothing to do with you.”

However, Taehyung doesn’t seem all that convinced. “But I still want to protect you. You’re always the one doing everything for me.”

There’s something off about Taehyung, and it’s starting to make you worry. “You’ve been quiet lately. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You give him an intense stare, dying to hear his answer. It’s so rare for Taehyung not to tell you anything, so it’s making you think that he no longer trusts you. You want to do anything you can to fix that.

But before he can give you an answer, your phone rings, which startles you. You look down to see V’s contact number. You glance at Taehyung, letting him know that you have to take this call. He nods, and you accept the number. Although, the moment you cut off Taehyung to answer V, you feel you’ve just distanced yourself from Taehyung even more.

------

You were too naive thinking that that would’ve been the only time you experience strangers standing around your house. Within a few days, it’s escalated to the point where there’s a bigger group of people in your front yard. You can’t even walk out through the entrance anymore because you’ll be enclosed in a circle of unwanted attention, asking to see V.

Today is a weekend, so luckily for you, you don’t have to go to work. However, there’s an even bigger crowd since not many people work on Saturdays. You watch them through the window with your curtains down, biting on your nails as you anxiously wait for them to leave. It’s mainly teenage-to-young adults by your front lawn.

You update the situation with V, and now concerned for you and Taehyung’s well-being, he said that he’s going to do something about it. However, with his tour that’s still going on, V can’t exactly be there to help, but he’s going to try and bring some security. To avoid more attention and increase the chances of putting Taehyung in danger, you decide not to call the police, as it would also affect V as well. The crowd is not large enough to where it’s a hindrance, at most, seven or so people loiter in your area. But still, you don’t feel right letting them stay in your place.

“(Y/N), you should sit down.” Taehyung comments, watching you nervously pace back and forth in the living room.

You stop and smile, but you return to your anxious walking. Seeing as you won’t listen to him, Taehyung takes you by the hand and pulls you down to sit with him. Though he was rather aggressive, Taehyung knew that if he didn’t do anything then you wouldn’t have listened.

“This house is our safe haven, right? That’s why you kept me in here for so long,” Taehyung brushes your hair behind your ear. “So they won’t trespass.”

You chuckle, relieving from the stress. “You’re right...and if they do, then I’ll definitely call the police.”

You don’t like this amount of attention from strangers. It took you awhile to get used to V, so the sudden appearance of a crowd is too much for you to handle. You wish you never welcomed V inside your home. If you didn't, then you wouldn’t have gotten stuck in this situation. Because of your simple decision, it brought you and Taehyung unwanted attention.

You try your hardest to fight off the tears, but you feel so hopeless. Instead, you embrace Taehyung, letting your body fall onto him. Despite his hard exterior, you feel the same amount of comfort you’d feel when hugging any other person. You actually don’t remember how it feels to be in the arms of another human. It’s always been Taehyung. He claims that you’re his first everything, but he’s also your first everything. That feeling of being loved by another person was something you haven’t felt in years. Taehyung may be imitating the ‘love’ that you give him in return, but it’s better than nothing.

“Taehyung...a part of me is worried because they might do something to you, but at the same time, another part of me doesn’t want to share you with the world.”

You hide your face in his chest, finally confessing a bit of your selfishness.

“I’m scared that they’ll see you as a monster, but I’m also scared that you’ll find something better out there. You always say that you don’t do enough for me, but...keeping me sane is the best thing anyone can ever do for me,” You snicker in a distant tone. “‘Sane’...I think I’m as obsessed with you just as my dad was with V.”

You pull yourself back, and Taehyung cups both of your cheeks. He stares back with those dreamy eyes of his. He’s always observing with those eyes, and perhaps you’ve stared into those eyes for so long that they don’t look like glass eyes.

“I don’t mind. I’ll be yours forever if you want me to...and if you want me gone, then I won’t hesitate to do so. If anything I…”

Your phone goes off, and it’s V’s number. You leave Taehyung alone to pick up the call. “Hello? Yes...yea, we’re fine...Yes, yes. Oh, will that be fine? I mean, I think so...but…” You turn to look at Taehyung. “I’m not sure...yea but...okay...I understand. Thank you so much, V.”

You hang up and put your phone back in your pocket.

“V said that after tonight’s concert, if the people are still here, then he’ll have some people come over and tell them to leave.”

You sigh in relief, dropping your entire body onto the couch. You’re glad that this will be resolved tonight because you couldn’t stand going to work with the girls trying to ask if V is in your house.

“What did he say?”

“He sent security to tell the people to go away. They should come tonight.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything immediately. You thought that he’d be relieved too, but he doesn’t say or do anything to express what he’s feeling.

“Okay.”

------

Just as V said he’d do, the security eventually came and swept the people away. Some retaliated, but when the threat of police came into the conversation, that’s when they decided to leave you two alone. It’s nice seeing your front yard being vacant again, and now you can sleep peacefully.

You crawl into bed, finding Taehyung once again reading Pinocchio by your bedside. He hasn’t been reading lately because of V, but it’s not a surprise that he goes back to the book that he loves the most. You lean over to see him reading the page where Pinocchio and the woodmaker are stuck in the mouth of a whale.

“You know what, Taehyung? You’ve read the book a million times, but you’ve never seen the movie.”

“It’s fine. I like to use my imagination and picture everything in my head.”

“You’re always watching documentaries and news, but you never watch movies and cartoons. Why is that?”

“...I...don’t know. I think I like seeing things that feels real. Movies and shows don’t feel the same knowing that they are fake stories created by people just imitating to be real. Books make me think, and at least it makes me feel the most human,” Taehyung flips to the next page. “But whenever I read Pinocchio, I never understood how the fairy was able to give him a personality and everything. Pinocchio knew how to speak and walk without having to learn. He came to life because of fairy dust. When I look at myself...I struggled with all of that. I couldn’t grasp anything easily like how Pinocchio did. Even now, I still struggle with using my hands.”

Taehyung stares at his hand with the open wrist cut. You can tell that he detests his own hands because of how unrealistic they are compared to a human’s. But you take his hand, holding them gently to let him know that you never thought of his hands as disgusting.

“Pinocchio is a made-up story, and you’re real. In real life, people struggle a lot, and sometimes it takes years for them to fix themselves. If Pinocchio was based on a real story, then the book would’ve been thousands of pages long.”

“(Y/N)...”

“Yea?”

“In the story, Pinocchio died saving his creator, and after that, he turned into a real boy. But what would happen if he didn’t sacrifice himself? Would he have remained a puppet for eternity? Or would the spell fade away eventually, and he would become an ordinary doll again?” Taehyung looks up from the book and at you.

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind. It’s something that you never stop to wonder. What if he didn’t save the woodmaker?

“I don’t know.”

Seeing that you don’t have an answer to his question, he returns to the page, tracing his wooden finger down Pinocchio’s face. “To run out of time and return to being a lifeless doll, or to surpass the life expectancy of the one who cares for you...either way, they’re both scary thoughts.”

Taehyung closes the book.

“Either I’m going to fade away or my body is going to fall apart...I’m scared.”

Taehyung has never once said that he was scared of anything, and maybe the reason why nothing has ever scared him is because death scares him more than anything. Years ago when he was attacked by the dog, the time when he was scratched by a cat, and those strangers standing by your lawn, none of those scare him because there was something scarier crawling on his back, and that was his unpredictable ending.

“Don’t be scared! If a body part breaks, then I can fix it. And...if it makes you feel better, my father once told me that souls are those who are looking for another body to reincarnate into. We were all once souls that belonged to someone a generation before us, we just happen to forget who we were in our previous lives because we don’t have enough space to remember everything.”

“But...what if either of us disappears and forget everything?”

“Hmm...then somehow and some way, we’ll return to this home! After all, this is our permanent home. We may not remember ourselves, but when we feel or see something, it’ll bring back memories. By the way, I never got to fix your hand. How about tomorrow, let’s do it?”

Taehyung nods, thinking about your words. You always find the right words to make him feel better, which is why you’re precious to him. To not be able to see your smile every day will tear him apart, and he would rather be mauled by a dog a thousand times than to be separated from you.

“About Mr. V...I…” Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but he shuts it quickly. “Never mind. It’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

He gets up and turns off the lamp to let you sleep. Rather than sit on a chair to watch you sleep, he heads downstairs. You know there’s still something else bothering him, but he won’t cough it up. What else is there that he’s afraid of telling you?

------

Taehyung sits by the windowsill, staring at the full moon. By this point, you’ve already fallen asleep. He keeps thinking about the past few days, having so many things happen at once in a short amount of time. It felt as though V was barely even here, despite being the only other human he’s ever spoke to. Time flew by before he knew it, and now it’s returned to the ordinary life he lived with you.

He rolls up his sleeve to look at his worn-out arm, noticing that the hole has become bigger. There are also patches of dirt ingrained in his skin. Just seeing his arm makes him anxious that his arm isn’t sturdy enough to lift heavy objects anymore. Despite that, he still doesn’t want you to replace this arm, and it’s because it’ll remind him that his body parts can easily be replaced, just as he can be replaced for the real V. As hard as he tries to get rid of the image of you two sitting together, it can’t help but think how V is a better match for you, not some makeshift figurine like him.

To distract himself, he picks up his journal that he left on the coffee table. He flips through the pages to skim all the past entries that he’s done. Typically, whenever he finishes a journal, you would put them stacked in a box for safe keeping. One day, he’d like to go through all the entries he’s done and reminisce about the memories he’s made. He opens to a blank page and begins writing.

Suddenly, Taehyung is alerted by the sound of the backyard door unlocking. He shoots his head up, cocking his head as he wonders what could’ve resulted in the click of the lock.

“Oh my god, did you do it?”

“I got it, I got it!!!”

The faint sound of two girls squealing can be heard from the kitchen. He sets the journal down, slowly getting up from the couch and motioning to the source of the noise.

“It feels so weird that we’re in the same house as V! But do you think V is really here?”

“I’m sure!! I swear I saw him.”

The girls continue murmuring to themselves, oblivious to Taehyung’s presence. He stealthily walks towards them and can see a small circular light moving around, assuming that it’s a flashlight. The girls tiptoe while he closes the gap between them, and as he moves, Taehyung thinks of different scenarios in appearing in front of the two strangers. Will they accept him like you and V, or will they run away in fear?

Once both Taehyung and the two girls stand at the corner that divides the living from the kitchen, they both freeze. The three of them stand in silence, making sure that they can hear if there is potential danger that lingers on the other side of the wall.

“Do you think that lady is still asleep?”

“I’m sure. Who the hell wakes up this late anyway?”

“You’re right...I just have a gut feeling that there’s another person here, and it’s creeping me out.”

Taehyung thought he was quiet enough to where he is presence is invisible to the girls, but they felt his presence. He peeks over the corner and sees the two girls with their backs facing him. They don’t notice him whatsoever, so he stands still, figuring out what else to do now.

He becomes so focused in trying not to alert the girls that he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings. Taehyung accidentally hits his hand against a nearby vase, creating the sound of glass tipping over. He was able to catch it before it fell...but focusing on the vase was a huge mistake. Before he knew it, there was a strong force thrust against his cheek—strong enough that he falls to the ground. Typically, he never feels pain, but this sensation beneath his eye feels dented.

“Oh fuck…”

Both girls stare at Taehyung with wide eyes, one of them holding the flashlight with the light facing upward. The black color on the edge of the flashlight has been scratched off due to it having been used as a weapon and hitting Taehyung against the face. The girls look at each other in horror as the realization hits them of what they’ve just done.

The girl with the flashlight shines it on Taehyung’s face, but he’s too distraught at the dent in his cheek. He tries to blink, but the dent is preventing him from doing so. When they recognize Taehyung’s face, he isn’t met with squeals of admiration, but jaw-dropping silence that they’ve just injured who they think is their favorite idol. Taehung strokes the crater in his face, revealing his ball-joint hands. When he looks up, unable to get a good look at their faces due to the light blinding him, the girls see that this isn’t V, but a monster. They scream at the sight of his artificial face, running out through the back door.

Immediately, you jump out of bed at the sound of the girls’ screams and dash downstairs. You turn on the lights to find Taehyung on his knees, staring at the back door. You breathe heavily from the adrenaline and fear of not knowing what happened.

“Taehyung?!”

He looks up after you called for him, and you see the reason for the screams. He was hit hard enough that his cheek has been pushed inward...and his glass eye is cracked.

You run toward him, falling to your knees as well and putting both hands around his shoulders. You cup his cheek, pulling his head up to see the injury on his face and your expressing changing to horror as you see that the damage is near impossible to fix. There is nothing you can do to replace his face, and your expression says it all.

Taehyung wraps his hand around yours, seeing if he can find a way to soothe you. “I think I’m fine…”

“What are you talking about?! No you’re not!”

Whenever Taehyung’s body was harmed, he would look indifferent, but unlike before, he looks as if he can feel the pain on his face, especially in the eye area as he’s covering his cracked eye. You move his hand away, seeing as his iris is uneven, and in return, Taehyung has a difficult time seeing your face, as there’s a black line drawn across from his face and making your face crooked.

You stand up, pulls Taehyung by the arms to help him up as well. However, Taehyung loses grip and when he tries to stand, he falls back down. You try again, but fearing that you might rip his weaker hand off, you stop. He looks like he’s in a daze, unable to keep his eyes focused.

“(Y/N)...I can’t feel my fingers.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung...Everything’s gonna be alright...Just...let me help you to my room.” You try your best to remain calm, but something in the back of your head knows that this will not turn out for the better.

------

You were able to get Taehyung into your bed without him struggling. Normally, he would say that he’s alright and is in no need of rest, but with the damage to his head, it seems as though he’s too weak to even do that.

You stand in front of the room that you’ve kept locked for many years—the basement. Taking in a deep breath, you unlock the door with a key, opening it and revealing a dark staircase to Taehyung’s birthplace. You’ve avoided going to the dreaded basement as it would remind you of your father’s death. However, it is the place that your father keeps all of his books about black magic.

Because of the lack of presence in the basement, the light switch is buried in dust. The flip of the switch causes the particles to fly everywhere. You cover your nostrils with your sleeve, looking for the bookshelf. Being toppled with dust, you wipe it off to read the titles until you find the right book. Feeling too nauseous to stay in this room any longer, you run back upstairs and turn off the lights behind you.

Flipping through the pages of the aged book, the fonts are fading away. Thankfully, most of the pages are decipherial. You skim through the pages in hopes that you’ll find something that’ll help you fix Taehyung. After reading a few more pages, you found the page that might help, but you don’t feel too excited about it.

The sun rises by the time you finish reading. You return to your bedroom, and Taehyung turns his head to face you. However, his broken eye makes it hard for him to look at you, but he knew based on how silent you were that you did not come to bring good news.

“Hey...Taehyung, how are you feeling?” You try smiling, but the tips of your lips are trembling.

“I can’t move my fingers.”

You bite your bottom lip, sitting by the edge of the bed as Taehyung tries to reach out to you. The last time he struggled with controlling his body was when he first met you.

“I’m sorry Taehyung...because of me, I couldn’t protect you from those intruders. If only I had persisted V to take us somewhere safe then…”

“It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”

Your eyes begin to well up, but no tears fall. “Why wouldn’t I beat myself up for this!? Taehyung, I read my dad’s books, and it’s nearly impossible to fix you this time. Because I was being careless, you’re going to…”

Saying the words would make you break down, so you hold back that lump in your throat and remain calm. Brushing your bangs behind your ears, you clear your throat for the news that you never want to tell him.

“The eyes...are what kept your soul intact with your body, and they were the only body parts that I had to protect. If they are shattered, then there isn’t a barrier anymore and your soul will disperse. The only way to secure it again is if I find another body for you. Maybe a mannequin, or another lifesize doll, o-or even an actual human body…”

Your heart starts pounding at your dark thoughts, potentially tricking someone into giving their body to you, or go to the nearest store and steal a mannequin. In a moment of panic, anything seems possible as long as Taehyung is okay. He doesn’t even need to look like V.

Then...you start even thinking about taking V’s body. No one would notice that the old V is old, right? Besides, it’ll still be the same body that everyone loves, and this time, Taehyung would be able to do things his current body can’t do.

You feel something brush against your arm, and it’s Taehyung trying to get your attention. He knows that you’re the type to overthink things, and it’s painful seeing you struggle alone.

“Whatever you’re thinking...stop,” he pauses briefly. “I don’t...want you to find me another body. I don’t want you to meet the same end as your dad.”

That’s right—conducting black magic is like bending the world for your own desires, and for that, nature will punish you. Your father was killed for performing ungodly experiments, and it came back to him by taking his life.

“I don’t want to live knowing that my life brought another death, especially to someone who’s important to me. Besides...I don’t want to continue living in this body.”

“Wh-what?”

“It frustrates me that I can’t do the things that you can do, especially seeing how Mr. V can do it all that you don’t even need me.”

“Taehyung...don’t say that.”

By now, you can’t control your tears. You hold onto his hand tightly, despite him not even feeling it. It’s only been a few hours and his body has already drastically changed inside.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing that you have to constrain yourself to me. The only pain I felt was seeing you fix me, but I couldn’t fix you. So please...let me die.”

All you can do now is sob at Taehyung’s last wish. It was always rare for him to make requests, but whenever he did, it was always a difficult one. You hold onto his hand tighter, unable to stop your wails as you’re about to lose the one you love.

“O-okay…”

“I don’t know how much time I have left...but I’d like to spend it with you, (Y/N).”

------

“(Y/N)...I...I’m so sorry. I’ll come to your house as soon as possible.”

“No, V, it’s okay. This is Taehyung’s decision too, and we should respect it.”

“Do you really expect me to just sit still and do nothing?! Why did you wait to tell me this days later?? I’m the reason why he’s dying!!” You could hear the desperation in his voice.

“It’s...okay. There’s nothing we can do now, but I just wanted to let you know anyways because you were Taehyung’s only friend.”

“(Y/N), I...I’m so sorry...I should’ve been more alerted. I feel so stupid for putting you two in danger. I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you and Taehyung will be okay.”

You choke on your tears, wanting to believe in that hope, but knowing the reality that it’ll never come true.

“I did a little bit of research about souls, and it’s possible that once it leaves the body, it travels to another one. If I can somehow do that…”

“V, stop. I appreciate the help, but it’s not that easy. Anyways, I called you about that so...I have to hang up now.” Before you let him answer, you hang up the phone. You feel awful for closing off V, but you know you’ll break down while on the phone.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, all dressed up to go outside and play in the snow. His shattered eye has worsened to the point where he’s missing shards of it, revealing a dark void behind his eyeballs. You’re also dressed to go outside to the winter season’s last snow day.

You sit next to Taehyung, helping him put on the gloves you gave him for Christmas, and you see the arm with the hole in his wrist.

“I never got the chance to replace that…”

“It’s okay. I prefer this arm anyways. Reminds me of all the memories we made together.”

You can’t find yourself to smile anymore, knowing that with each passing day, Taehyung is become more and more distant. He no longer has control over his body and practically a speaking doll; not even his mouth moves.

You help him up by wrap his arm around your neck and lift him up. Luckily for you, he’s light enough for you to drag him to the front door. You don’t care if people see you two anymore, and all you want to do is be with Taehyung.

You set him down on the front porch while you start building small snowmen for him to see. The atmosphere feels dead—no more Christmas music, no giddy laughter, just silence as you fulfill Taehyung’s last wish of building a snowman with you.

Unable to bear with this quiet mood, you feel the need to talk. “Taehyung, can you tell me a story?”

You also asked him in part to make sure that he’s still alive. Taehyung pauses for a long time, until he finally thought of something.

“There once was a woodmaker who wanted to have a son, so he created a puppet and named it Pinocchio. Pinocchio was granted to live, but he wasn’t a real boy yet until he proves that he’s a selfless person. But...he didn’t know how to show it because he didn’t know what was right from wrong. He felt lost because the moment he was born...his creator was already dead.”

Your ears perk up, not remembering this part of Pinocchio.

“Then came a beautiful but frightened woman who was brave enough to take care of the naive Pinocchio. He was nothing more than a blank slate, not knowing how to speak or walk, but she was patient. When the naive doll walked out of the house and was attacked by a ferocious beast, the woman held him in her arms, relieved that he was okay. And...that was the first time he felt something. He didn’t know what it was, but eventually he learned that what he felt was love, his first ever emotion.”

You stop making the small snowmen, having your back facing him but too afraid to look at him.

“But what came along with love was jealousy, as he was always afraid that she would leave the doll for a better version of himself. The model his creator used was smarter, more charming, and charismatic. While he was a somebody, the doll was a nobody. He was afraid that he’ll be tossed aside for the shinier version, so the doll lived in fear that the woman would fall for him. But...she didn’t. She stayed with the broken, uglier version, and the doll is so thankful that he wishes he could cry. He was happy that out of millions of people, he had at least one person who would remember his story. (Y/N)...I’m sorry you didn’t fall in love with the real Taehyung. You were probably expecting to be with the real one, but you ended up being stuck with me. You may not like me, but even until my last moments, I’m glad I could love you.”

You turn around to look at Taehyung, and with an ounce of strength that he has left, he leans over and manages to give you a peck on the lips. He couldn’t feel a single thing, but that action alone made him feel happy that he was able to express his immense love for you without words.

“Even though I couldn’t become a real human, thank you…(Y/N), for showing me your world.”

And with that, the last of Taehyung’s soul dissipates, leaving you with an empty doll sprawled on the floor. Small shards of his glass eye trickle down from his eye, reflecting the moon’s illumination and resembling that of tears.

Taehyung was only there for a margin of your life, but he impacted you so much. Because of him you changed for the better, giving you the hope of finding one person that would understand you. You lived with so many regrets, as there were so many opportunities to prevent Taehyung from arriving to his short-lived life. However, he was never happy with his body from the beginning, so perhaps it was better that his life ended the way it did.

You continue to sob with the two small snowmen in front of you as Taehyung’s lifeless body falls off of your shoulder. Though his expression hasn’t changed, you could feel that he was smiling when he left his body, ending his tale that was not meant to exist.

------

Epilogue

You couldn’t stop crying after reading the journals—entries made by a doll who was in love with his caretaker but couldn’t express it, so he wrote it down on these very pages. The journals have not aged well as they are wrinkly and yellow, but they are still legible. You found this man’s life to be unforgiving, as he was a wandering soul forced into a poorly-made body for the sake of man’s obsession. But the young woman’s life is just as tragic, as she soon died of a broken heart. Just like the doll’s physicality, the woman’s mentality was just as shattered.

You find this believable because all your life, you felt as though there was something missing within you. Your mother always said that you were a crybaby, and no one could ever figure out why, not even you. At times, you would wake up while in tears, knowing that a dream was the source but not remembering what it was about. You kept searching for answers, but each lead led to a deadend.

It wasn’t until you ran into an old man while crossing the busy city streets. He grabbed your arm as if he knew who you were, and initially you thought it was strange. It wasn’t until he sat you down and introduced himself as a former musician of a band who is now a dollmaker. He told you the story of his two friends who were in love with his each other, but their lives caused them to separate at the early stages of their romance. He said that you just so happen to look like the girl.

Before he left, he gave you an address and a stack of journals. When you got home, you read all the journals and that was when you figured out what you’ve been missing your entire life. Your previous life never felt fulfilled, so you must’ve seeked for a more satisfying life but had forgotten about it. You knew that in that moment, you had to find Taehyung, even if he doesn’t remember you.

...You make your way to the address that the old man gave you, and it’s a dollmaker shop. You could tell that this place was once a home converted into a store, but this place also feels sentimental. You’re nervous about entering the shop, wondering what awaits on the other side. But standing still won’t resolve anything, so you force your legs to press forward until you inches away from the door.

It feels as though your heart will jump out of your chest from the anticipation, almost making you not want to open the door, but at the same time motivating you to do it. What will you do in the store? What if what you’re looking for isn’t there? What are you looking for? All of these questions hovering around but no answers, and the only way you’ll answer them is by going through the store.

You swing the door open, with the door hitting a bell just hanging from above. It’s a small antiquette-themed place. There are dolls of all sorts on the shelves and limb parts on cabinets with glass doors. The place is surrounded by the smell of oak wood. You peek your head to the side, inspecting the shelves of all the dolls from brand-named to the wooden kinds.

You hear the sound of footsteps coming from what looks to formally have been a kitchen but remodeled to be a backroom.

“Hello! How may I help you?”

You perk your head up to see a familiar man you’ve never met before walking to the cashier. Your jaw drops at the sight of him, knowing exactly who he is, despite looking different than before. Your bottom lip stutters as you try to comprehend the situation laid before you. There stands the man you’ve missed your entire life—that longing that you never knew you had is being fulfilled.

The man standing before you is no longer a doll, but a real human. You don’t know how that happened, but judging by the old man, he must’ve done something to transfer his soul into another body. Whatever the reason, it’s surreal to see him as a human, even though you’ve never seen how he looked like as a doll. You don’t even know how you looked like in the past.

After a wave of shock, you’re now experiencing fear, concerned that while you may recall bits and pieces of your past life’s memories, this man may be unaware. You feel choked up in the throat, but it’s too early to cry.

But that uncertain feeling is swept away once the man freezes and stares at you for a long period. Without a single word, you knew that he remembers you as well, and you feel relieved. There’s a strong signal between you two, but neither of you are saying or doing anything. It’s an unusual feeling of having felt as though you’ve known the other person, but at the same time, looking into the eyes of a stranger.

“T-Taehyung…?”

He chuckles. “Taehyung is the name of this shop’s owner, but he was also called V when he was still a singer.”

You’re disappointed and embarrassed that you mistaken him for someone else. You feel the need to run away after humiliating yourself.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“But...it’s been a long time since someone called me that.”

Your eyes widen.

“You must be (Y/N), right?”

You giggle, your eyes getting teary. “That’s not my name either, but that name is nostalgic.”

‘Taehyung’ cocks his head to the side, smiling as he gazes at you, falling in love with you a second time as you’re just as beautiful as you were before. “Well, I look a bit different, don’t I?”

Instinctively, you jump onto him, letting out all of your tears, feeling as though another being has taken over your body—this other ‘force’ being the person from your previous life being able to hold her loved one again. “Taehyung, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you...Even though I became a new person, I just couldn’t move on.”

Taehyung is puzzled, unsure whether he should hug you back. But when he feels the soft texture of your skin, he loses all composure and begins to cry as well. All the emotions he couldn’t express before is finally released, holding onto you as tight as he could and not wanting to let go. He never knew your skin felt this soft, had he known it was this soft then he would’ve never left your side.

Taehyung knew from the moment he was created, he would never turn into a human like Pinocchio, as the world is crueler than in storybooks. He knew...but he still tried being as selfless as he could. However, his determination to become selfless was selfish because he was driven to be with you for the rest of his life. He was scared that you’d fall in love with the real V and leave him for good, but seeing as you couldn’t even leave him alone in this world, he can’t help but be grateful that you’re the one he loves—in both his past life as a doll, and as a real boy.

In the end, Taehyung got his wish granted and became a human, and there is nothing else he can ever ask for.

“Welcome back…(Y/N).”

[End]

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this until the very end!!!!!! :D I was very iffy about making this story because technically you don’t end up with the real Taehyung...so I hope you all enjoyed it and please tell me whether you like it or not. ^_^

Masterlist

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “A Private Revolution”

On the eve of Revolution, when it seems his whole world is falling down around him, nobleman Killian Jones is given a wonderful reason to keep fighting for his life...

 { I first began writing this fic more than two years ago, during a summer hiatus event. The prompt was simply “French Revolution”. At the time, I just put together what struck me for a quick one shot, and though it’s short and dubious in its historical accuracy, I have a friend who loved it and kept asking for a sequel. Once I finally posted Part Two, I thought ‘Okay, now I’m really done with this.’ But then @kmomof4 actually made the above fic banner art for it for my birthday in August, and I just couldn’t really ignore the request for after such a lovely gesture! ;)  In honor of her birthday this week, there will be a new addition coming on Tuesday, since a suitable plot idea has at long last taken shape. So, for my Self-Promo Sunday contribution this week, here is the story as it stands so far. Enjoy! }

** Also on AO3: Part One and Part Two and on ff.net **

“A Private Revolution”

Part One

The knock at the door was so soft he almost did not hear it, and Lord Killian Jones tilted his head to listen curiously, unsure if the faint noise had been there at all or if he had imagined someone coming to him in his solitary moment of loneliness and ruin. Yet though the knocking sound was not repeated, he could hear a quiet scuffle as he listened closely, as if someone shy or hesitant to disturb were shuffling their feet just outside his chambers – and with that, the young nobleman felt quiet sure he knew who was waiting for admittance.

“Enter,” he called out, pushing confident assurance into his voice, despite the sensation of everything being unmoored, crumbling, trembling at the brink of downfall. He could not let his fear or his uncertainty show – his family name, his noble line must be upheld, regardless of his own personal doubt. It would not do to have some disloyal servant see him quaking in his shoes and to spread that news to the crass, militant rabble in the streets. Though if this was the person he expected, she would never dream of doing any such thing.

The door swung inward by slight degrees, until a flawless, pale and heart-shaped face was revealed, muted only by the glowing halo of flaxen curls piled out of the way atop this angel’s head, with tendrils escaping here and there to trail along her neck and shoulders enticingly. The huge door, ornate with whorls and loops of hand wrought carving and adding to the opulent white and gold leaf décor of his personal apartments could not hold a candle to this chambermaid with simple and quiet dignity. It had always been so, ever since their childhood on the estate together when they had laughed and played happily, much less aware of the difference in their stations. Her mother had been his mother’s favored ladies’ maid, and Emma Swan had been on this estate in his family’s employ since birth. It mattered little however that she was a mere housekeeper and assistant to the cook; he had always been in awe of her beauty, the way sunlight caught her hair and lit it aflame, or how the sparkling humor in her verdant green eyes could bring a smile and laughter to his lips no matter what had befallen him. He was tempted even now – as he had been countless times before – to touch an escaped curl of her luxurious mane and twirl it around his finger, to know what those soft strands would feel like against his skin.

“Emma,” was all he said aloud, giving a slight nod and beckoning her forward with crooked fingers. “Come in, please.”

She curtsied as she had been taught, and moved forward, graceful tread sinking into the plush carpet. Though he had tried as often as he could for years to convince her that such formality was unnecessary, she persisted for some unfathomable reason that remained beyond his grasp. His mother had been dead nearly a decade now – to the fever – even if her loss still ached in his breast, his father had already fled the country as Killian himself had been cautioned and advised to do, and his older brother Liam fought for the crown somewhere, surely trying to protect and keep the peace in the midst of a frightening Revolution. Killian has received no word of his elder sibling, his hero, in nearly two months’ time, and the horror and panic at the thought of what might have befallen Liam threatened to climb up his throat and choke him whenever he dwelt upon it too long…

“Milord,” Emma’s quiet voice – so unique, demure and respectful, but also husky, low, undeniably sensual – interrupted the thoughts that had begun to overwhelm him, and he clenched his fists against his thighs, hoping that his childhood friend, now servant to a decrepit manor falling around both their ears, would not see that he had begun to shake when she continued speaking. “Beg pardon, Monsieur, but do you not mean to depart for the country? It is no longer safe for you here, Sire.”

His eyes darted up sharply in order to search hers, their icy blue piercing her; he could tell by the way her perfectly shaped pink lips parted on a startled gasp. “You are the one who should leave, Mademoiselle,” he remarked, irked once again that she still refused to drop her guard and address him as someone she actually knew. He cast his eyes back down to study his fine trousers and the elaborate buckles on his shoes – all silly affectations of his class that seemed so pointless now – unable to meet her guileless eyes any longer. “Flee from here, tell no one from whence you came, blend with the oncoming mob and seek their protection from your oppressors. Why do you stay?”

Trembling herself, as if she could barely stand to be so bold, Emma drew closer to him than she had allowed herself since they were fourteen, since before his mother’s death and the weight of his position had fully fallen upon his shoulders, when they had been spinning under the open sky in a sunlit field of wildflowers until they had tumbled dizzily to the ground and in a moment of reckless abandon he had pulled her to his side, brushed her hair from her flushed face, leaned over her and kissed her. It had never been repeated, but in unguarded moments Killian could sense that neither of them had forgotten that one perfect kiss. This was one such time; it was clear in Emma’s open, pleading gaze as she tentatively reached forward and put her delicate fingers beneath his chin, tilting his face up to meet hers.

“Don’t you know, K- Killian?” she whispered, stumbling momentarily over his given name, a familiarity she also had not allowed herself in years. “It is you who keeps me here. You cannot remain to make yourself a sacrifice to these fiends. Mon Dieu! I could not bear it if -”

She broke off suddenly, wrenching her gaze away with a heaving breath, and withdrawing her gentle touch. But Killian pushed forward, emboldened for the first time in what felt like ages. Resolved in an instant, he took her hand in his, his face still burning pleasantly from her touch. The thought that she lingered for him, that she would not abandon him even for her own safety and a life of freedom, shook Killian to his core. ‘Even after all this time,’ he realized, so stunned it nearly stole his breath, ‘she still feels as I do.’ He might not have been willing to flee for the sake of his own hide, but for her he would go to the end of the world itself.

Bringing the back of her hand up to his mouth, Killian placed a fervent kiss to her soft, creamy skin. “Then upon my word, we leave at once. Emma,” he savored her name on his tongue like fine wine, “it will be as you wish.”

And so, that night, when the violent mob with their torches breached the gates of his chateau, Lord Killian Jones and Emma Swan had already vanished, disappearing as one into the night.

Tagging a few who may enjoy (if they haven’t already seen it): @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @let-it-raines @effulgentcolors @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @laschatzi @winterbaby89 @linda8084 @thislassishooked @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @bmbbcs4evr @aloha-4-ever @angellifedeath @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose

[prettywordsyouleft]

Through His Eyes - Part 11

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

He had done the right thing.

Whilst that wasn’t what Jaebum’s heart believed as he replayed your crushed emotions from the other night over in his head, his rationale continued to chant it over and over in his head as a well-versed mantra. In hopes, it would somehow make him feel better. That it would wash away his guilt.

Jaebum had panicked seeing you so easily in his practice space. When you first walked in, he thought he was day-dreaming, hallucinating you into the room as a way to shake off some of the exhaustion and stress he was experiencing. But he knew when Jinyoung suddenly stood up that you weren’t a figment of his imagination, your brightly smiling face was actually there.

For a second, he felt the warmth of that smile. He was comforted by the happiness you exuded. He could tell you had done something worth celebrating.

And yet he realised just how out of place you were just standing there.

You weren’t a part of the endless schedules, the dance practices, the business management of his career. And so Jaebum had grown too angry too fast, not having the energy to deal with something more than what he already was.

He had been rash, even if he felt he had been right. No matter how many triumphs you faced, eventually you had to find solace in your own accomplishments. You didn’t need him to tell you how well you were doing at each step of the way. He could already see how the return to your art was making you flourish within yourself again.

Soon, you wouldn’t even need him to hold your hand. You would be flying with your own set of wings.

Jaebum stared at your painting across the room and wondered just how you did it. The colours blended evenly, as if you had meticulously chosen each one and placed them side by side in harmony. It amazed him to know someone like you. Even though he had always believed in you, your painting was evidence that human nature was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

Sighing heavily, Jaebum climbed out of his bed, moving over to the painting and picking it up. When you had placed it down next to his possessions, he could tell it was something you had put a lot of effort in to. The hesitancy was evident in your posture on whether to leave it. He had been selfish to hope you would. And when you stormed out of the studio, this present was all he had to return to, staring at the simple brown paper packaging, wondering if he had the right to even open it now.

It had taken him two days to finally slide it out and when he did; his heart craved you more than anything. He longed to tell you just how much he loved it, how well you had painted it, how thankful he was.

But all of that would mock you and he knew that reaching out to you under that premise was a cheap shot. Especially since you had been silent towards him ever since your argument, Jaebum knew that when he saw you next, he couldn’t use the painting at a conversation starter. You would need more from him.

His head hurt every time he tried to figure out a way to seek you out.

“Maybe it’s for the best that you both take a break from each other,” Jinyoung mentioned over the phone as Jaebum made his breakfast, preparing for another long day ahead.

“You too?” he questioned heavily, shaking his head slowly. “Even you think Y/N doesn’t match me?”

“Match you? Hyung, is your relationship, well, have you finally established it?”

Jaebum frowned at the sudden urgency in his best friend’s voice, wondering what exactly he had said that alerted Jinyoung to react like that.

He thought over the question he just received and scoffed. “Establish what?”

“Oh, so it’s still at that level.” Jaebum couldn’t tell if Jinyoung sounded disappointed or not.

“At what level? I just thought you were agreeing with the others that I need to distance myself from Y/N instead of doing everything for her. The promotion has helped with that, of course, but I don’t know, I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You’re missing her.”

Jaebum sighed heavily again. “Yeah, I really am.”

It hurt more the longer Jaebum didn’t hear from you. He had faced breakups before, yet nothing had pierced so deeply within him like this. Sometimes Jaebum would laugh at himself, incredulous that he could even compare missing you like this to the aftermath of a relationship dissolving. You hadn’t dated him, yet this separation felt final as if you had once been his lover. Everything connected to you, memories flooding his system on the regular. How you scrunched your nose up at the smell of coffee, how you laughed like music, how the trees felt under his hand. Even his sanctuary, his studio, was full of you.

Jaebum couldn’t concentrate and his music was suffering.

He was incomplete.

It was a hasty decision to turn up outside your house. It wasn’t his first time driving all the way here, he had done that countless times now. But actually appearing in front of your door had been out of his reach until now. He wondered why he had hesitated, why it had taken him almost a month to do so. Jaebum should have come here immediately and approached his apology sooner.

The guilt was eating him up.

“Jaebum?” a voice called and he turned, seeing your mother before him. He bowed in greeting and then smiled weakly. She didn’t return the gesture, even though he could see in her eyes that she was relieved to see him.

Thankful there could be some progress.

“Is Y/N home?”

“She is, but I don’t think you seeing her would benefit her at all anymore.”

His hopes faltered then. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain. Actually, Y/N is adamant she doesn’t need you in her world anymore. She’s finally finding her rhythm again and for you to come back in and disrupt that… I just really can’t allow that to happen.”

“Did, did she struggle?” he wondered, not really wanting to know the answer. It would be natural, after the way he had crushed you like that, to feel some pain, yet he hoped it was fleeting, unlike his own. The idea of you crying for too long without his arms to hide within caused Jaebum to experience despair.

He should have come earlier.

“You are struggling.” He glanced away from his heavy thoughts to the mother’s statement, eyes wide at her conclusion. Words failed him and she toiled with wanting to protect her daughter’s feelings and reach out to comfort his. Jaebum realised this woman before him had constantly been a bridge between him and you, relentlessly withholding the brunt of your combined pain, of your worries. He choked up then, unable to figure how to say thank you for something so intricate.

“I warned you both from the beginning, yet you each thought you knew better. Feelings are complicated and connections are precious. You were so busy looking out for each other that you failed to recognise your own feelings and labelled yourselves as selfish when you did. For Y/N, breaking free from you was hard but necessary. You relied on each other to be safe, to feel wanted, cherished. She’s finding her own self-worth now, Jaebum. They say acknowledging how you truly feel deep down can help you understand the actions of others. Ignore your guilt; she is stronger than you think. My question for you is do you even know how you feel?”

“I miss Y/N.”

“Why?”

He didn’t know how to answer, standing there racking his brain for a reason. Why did he miss you? There was no definite answer and the longer he dwelled on it, the more confused he was.

The mother smiled softly. “It seems you have a lot more to consider before you turn up in front of Y/N again, Jaebum.”

Whenever things got tough for Jaebum, he would just work harder. If he was busy, he couldn’t think and when he wasn’t thinking, he didn’t need to know how he felt. He spent the next three weeks living each day in and out like that, waking up early, cramming as much as he could into his day so by the time he crashed onto his bed, he couldn’t stop to ruminate over you.

It wasn’t as simple as that, however. Jaebum still met with you in his dreams. Sometimes you would appear completely at random, smiling at him from afar, as if to let him know you were okay. That he could move on without you. Others, he wished you to appear, to hold his hand like you used to, to dive into his arms, to allow him to be your safe haven. His yearning for you in these dreams almost mimicked the growth of friends into lovers and on the odd occasion when he knew his mind was taking things too far, he would force himself awake, thumping at his chest that felt too restricted, all the air within it being sucked out as the tears fell from his eyes.

Why was it so hard for him to move on when you already had? He wondered if you had made new friends who supported you, who encouraged you forward. Did you have someone at your side who helped you see or were you doing that for yourself now too? Jaebum was convinced you now saw more of the world than he did. Although he had his eyesight still intact, he felt blinded by this internal emotional hell, unsure of what he felt anymore. Was it fiction or fact? Nothing made sense anymore.

When he dreamed of you in the way that was unfathomable for what you once had, he would stare at your painting until morning arrived, trying to decipher something within the way the colours mingled with one another, the brushstrokes, anything that could clue him onto how you felt when you made this piece.

Why had you painted this for him? What about it made you think of him? None of his favourite colours were prominent, and without any clear design element, he would often grow frustrated, the puzzle he needed to crack eluding him.

Mocking his inability to understand you.

“It’s all just layers,” he mumbled as he stared at it for the umpteenth time on his evening off work, his gaze still searching even after convincing himself it was a lost cause. “Layers of paint. Layers of colour. Just layers.”

Layers of you. From when he first met you as a fan. The smiles he gave you like everyone else. Recognising you in the crowd and tipping his head in acknowledgment. Grinning when he saw you that morning of the exclusive pass.

The accident. The loss, the pain. Those were layers you shared together as well. The trauma of knowing you would never see again. The constant worry if you were okay.

And then the time you spent together. They all stacked up on top of each other, creating a blend of your lives together over the last several months. How he would smile at your silly mistakes. When you made his heart beat faster without him expecting it to happen whenever he just looked at you. How he felt complete whenever he was with you.

Layers.

Jaebum lurched towards the painting, laughing at how stupid he had been all this time. He eyed everything in a new light, seeing the build-up of everything between you both for what it was. Picking it up, he smiled at the painting, the burst of understanding enabling him to take a deep breath.

The first of many.

It was then when he felt the bump sequence along the spine of the canvas, turning it to see your painting had extended there. What was the message you had made? Jaebum had taken an avid interest in Braille ever since it became a form of being able to communicate with you, yet he didn’t know how to read it himself. He had used apps to translate text to Braille or read Braille aloud for you in the past, and he stared dubiously at your hidden message before taking the painting back to his bed and reached for his phone. Sometimes the scanner could pick up on pieces that weren’t necessarily as well-formed as properly prepared Braille was, so it was worth a go.

“Come on,” he urged the app, waiting for it to read it back in real time.

Jaebum’s breath caught in his throat when the answer was relayed to him and he placed the painting down before racing out of his home, his heart thumping in his chest noisily. Had it been dormant all this time? With all his layers of confusion towards you, had he really misplaced the normal beating of his heart? It seemed like it was only thriving again now, beating in rhythm to his anxious desire to see you.

Nothing would stop him this time.

“She’s not home,” your mother mentioned at his frantic arrival on the front doorstep and before she could explain further, Jaebum nodded, fare-welling the woman before dashing back out to his car. The rain that had been drowning the city sombrely all day long had conveniently picked up, Jaebum laughing at its harsh way of falling from the skies.

“I know, it took me long enough,” he told the heavens, as he swung his car into a park near the art studio. He wondered why he was so confident that this was where he would find you, uncaring of the water bullets lashing down at him. He made his way inside Madam Cho’s art gallery and studio, only slowing down when he noticed the new artwork that lined the entryway. He eyed each and every piece that belonged to you. Jaebum needed this pause, to steady that heaviness the skies and his heart were labouring him with.

He also just wanted to remember everything about this moment.

When he saw you, it was from outside of the room, in the darkened hallway. You were surrounded by light however, painting alone in the brightest spot of the studio. It suited you to be illuminated that way and he slowly made his way into the room, watching your subtle changes.

You angled your head when the door opened. Your paintbrush stilled with his footsteps.

And then it fell to the ground when you sensed him behind you.

“Jae… Jaebum?”

Encasing you in his arms for the first time in what felt like forever, Jaebum was unsure if it was the rain or his emotions that dripped down onto your shoulder. He smiled when you didn’t immediately push him off.

“I’m sorry I’m late to receive your confession, Y/N. Will you accept mine?”

_________________

[Part 12]

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[biofunmy]

The best TV of the decade? It’s a lot to sort out.

Impossible, really — and, at first pass, my picks for best shows of the 2010s wouldn’t look much different from most other critics’ lists: “Breaking Bad,” “The Americans,” “Game of Thrones,” “Twin Peaks: The Return,” “Veep,” “The Good Wife,” “Transparent,” “Atlanta,” “Fargo,” “The Crown” — that’s 10, right? Hit “send” and let’s get on with life.

But perhaps there’s another way to approach this stretch of much-too-much TV, and instead categorize the shared qualities that separated the decade’s very best shows from the heap of mediocre ones. That way, we can talk about this extraordinary period of scripted dramas and comedies without starting one last argument about where they rank.

I know readers only have time anymore to read lists, but bear with me. Here are the best kinds of shows we watched over the last 10 years. Many of them belong to more than one category — a sign of their greatness.

Anxiety-makers

These would be your nail-biters, seen mainly on prestige cable, often on Sunday nights.

Why we gorge on these cliffhanging, often upsetting dramas on the night we most need to rest up for the week ahead, I’ll never know, but we went to bed desperate over characters and story lines we couldn’t control: In AMC’s “Breaking Bad,” probably the decade’s finest work of story engineering and execution (and yes, I’m aware it premiered in 2008), when will Hank Schrader (or Skyler White) finally catch on that Walter White is the meth kingpin of New Mexico? Some of those close calls (the train episode!) and slow-building conflicts were almost too hard to take.

The decade’s other great adrenaline-producer, FX’s “The Americans,” aired on Wednesday nights, where the panic attacks seemed more manageable. How long would it take FBI agent Stan Beeman to figure out that his friendly neighbors, Philip and Elizabeth Jennings, were deeply embedded KGB spies? How much does Paige know? Will they outlast the Cold War? Showtime’s “Homeland,” meanwhile, neatly bundled our post-9/11 anxieties with the mental problems of a CIA agent who thought she could save the world.

These are but three shows that gave America’s TV addicts a strong case of the jitters. Others tried and sometimes came close. I started out the decade worrying way too much about Rick and the other doomed survivors of AMC’s “The Walking Dead” (until I gave up on them entirely a few years ago), but the show’s success is notable for its stress-inducement, which was so strong that the network started an aftershow, “Talking Dead,” to help audiences cope with the latest gory developments.

Immersive portraits

These were some of my favorite shows, broadly defined by the word “dramedy” (because they were sometimes intensely funny), but better described as character studies, portraiture — of characters I’ll never forget: Amy Jellicoe in HBO’s “Enlightened,” followed by Hannah Horvath in “Girls.”

Many shows in this category can in some ways be regarded as selfies. Louis C.K., who quickly became persona-non-grata, nevertheless triumphed with “Louie,” which made it possible for similar shows to act as a mirror that not only reveals a personal nature, but a universal quality that potentially can be shared by the audience. I’m thinking here of Donald Glover’s “Atlanta” (FX), Aziz Ansari’s “Master of None” (Netflix), Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s “Fleabag” (along with “Catastrophe”) and Pamela Adlon’s “Better Things” (FX).

This genre also, at long last, helped television achieve the diversity it had for too long failed to produce. Issa Rae’s “Insecure” (HBO) is a triumph in the way it both inhabits its creator’s viewpoint as millennial black woman, yet welcomes viewers of any sort.

To that list add Hulu’s “Ramy” and “Pen15,” HBO’s “Looking” and Comedy Central’s “Broad City” — any show where a viewer potentially discovers someone unlike themselves: different age, different background, different race. Or, more importantly, a viewer at long last sees themselves in the main character.

Washington certainly saw its uglier self in Armando Iannucci’s gloriously foul-mouthed “Veep” (HBO), the true definition of comic relief and on-point satire at a time when politics grew unfathomably absurd.

Metaphorical profundity

The best dramas in the 2010s reflected a larger message about the society that watched them — sometimes obliquely, sometimes bluntly. Despite its notably weakened final season, HBO’s “Game of Thrones” has proper claim, I think, to be deemed the show of the decade, but not just because it grew so popular. It’s because how much of it seemed to eerily echo our surroundings: Climate change (and denial of it); shocking acts of violence; widespread social collapse; galling politics; extreme disparities in class and wealth; weapons of mass destruction . . . I could go on.

Timing is everything. Hulu took a 1985 dystopian novel — Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” — revved it up and released it just as the Trump administration began detaining, locking up and banning immigrants, appointed conservative judges and looked the other way at nationalist fervor. The metaphor there was almost too applicable; fortunately, the show was strong enough to withstand the hype.

Viewers learned how to find meaning in just about any show — the betters ones made it more compelling: AMC’s “Mad Men” was a beguiling search for the soul of the 20th century; CBS’s “The Good Wife” was a wicked running commentary on politics, technology and modern relationships; NBC’s “This Is Us” was (and still is) a fascinating rumination on the essence of what makes a family. (Note to all you Ancestry genealogy nuts: It’s not just DNA.)

Happy-snarky-sweet

Certain comedies just make us feel better (and also sharper, wittier — empowered, even) no matter how many times we re-watch old episodes. It’s in the camaraderie aspect, the life lessons, the archetypal arrangements, the snarkiness glossed over by group cohesion. It’s a continuation of what began in the best multicamera, studio-audience, ersatz-family sitcoms (“Cheers,” “Seinfeld”), rejiggered for a wired generation. Most of them aired on NBC: “Parks and Recreation,” “30 Rock,” “Community,” “The Office,” “The Good Place,” “Superstore” — now joined by “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” A few others aired on other networks, giving viewers a similar satisfaction: “The Big Bang Theory” on CBS; “Modern Family,”“Happy Endings,” “Cougar Town” and “Black-ish” on ABC.

Transformative tellings

In addition to finding new narrative styles and (quite belatedly) focusing on overlooked demographics, TV turned out to be an excellent venue for recasting an old story from a fresh perspective or enlightened distance.

I’m thinking here of FX’s “American Crime Story: The People v. O.J. Simpson,” a compelling departure from the way we popularly regarded that murder trial. It inspired others to dramatize previous events with a corrective, even courageous new viewpoint — such as Netflix’s “When They See Us,” about the unjustly imprisoned teens who were wrongly coerced into confessing to a 1989 Central Park attack on a female jogger.

Crime wasn’t the only subject in need of a remix. Both “Downton Abbey” (PBS) and “The Crown” (Netflix) succeeded because of the way they re-examine extreme privilege, without preventing us from enjoying the luxurious roll in it.

Some shows were revelatory in more subtle ways: Jill Soloway’s “Transparent” (Amazon Prime) masterfully wove a woman’s journey with the entirety of modern American Judaism, enlightening its audience to more than just the trans experience. And Showtime’s “The Affair” played with the very nature of truth, telling the story of marital infidelity from competing — and crucially different — perspectives.

Impossible puzzles and true art

If the decade in TV will be remembered for anything, it will likely be the complexity of some shows. The weirdness. The unexpected swerves. It turned its viewers into perpetual puzzle-solvers and conspiracy theorists. After beginning the decade with an unsatisfying wrap-up of ABC’s “Lost,” co-creator Damon Lindelof returned on HBO with a confounding take on “The Leftovers,” finally mastering the balance between befuddlement and momentum with “Watchmen.”

There are, finally, two standouts — and they challenged my ceaseless harangue about reboots. One was Noah Hawley’s expanded and wholly reimagined take for FX on “Fargo,” a Midwestern crime saga first seen in Joel and Ethan Coen’s 1996 film classic.

The other was David Lynch’s long-delayed but staggeringly beautiful sequel to his 1990 TV sensation “Twin Peaks.” Critics argued, somewhat pointlessly, whether “Twin Peaks: The Return” (Showtime) was a very long film or a strangely protracted TV series.

I can settle that: It was nothing short of pure art — unexpected, absolutely original and layered with deep, trippy meaning. Of all the TV I slogged through in the 2010s, it’s the show I most look forward to someday watching again.

Sahred From Source link Entertainment

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[zephyra-in-the-house]

A Wolf and a Leopard Walk Into A Store... Sounds Like the Start to a Bad Joke

Summary: Noanric is a continent known for its unique culture and freedom from most anything. The only problem is that the country is young and its rules fail to hold back the humans from trying to overthrow the demons. Without official protection, many demons are falling victim to experiments to decrease their power and influence from the world. In the midst of this place, Vanoss and his pack are asked by the country’s leader to liberate a group of demons from a human laboratory close to their territory. However, Vanoss has been warned of a loophole among this chaos. Can he lead his pack to safety and discover the blue demon from the prophecy? Or will he suffer the consequences of a past long forgotten?

Hello Tumblr! It is I, you’re provider, your liberator from school, your friend and your author for this fanfic~ My name is Zephyra. What you’re seeing here is a work in progress and I have been uploading chapters for this story since July of last year on Archive and Wattpad. So far, I’ve already gotten through 14 chapters and, as I have it planned out now, there should be 55 chapters by the time I’m done. It will take a while, so I hope you guys are in for the long haul. Enjoy!

Notes for this chapter: This is the first time I have posted any of my writing. This is not the first story or fanfic that I’ve written, but it’s the first one I’ve made public. For the past nine years, I’ve been writing several books that I created and the universe I’m using for this fanfiction is based in that Original Universe. With that being said, there are different rules for some things in this story that I will have to explain before each chapter wherever the rules apply.

I do have a random upload schedule. My writing habits are flawed to say the least, but summer is coming up, so hopefully I’ll have more time to write longer and better chapters. I try to get out a chapter every two weeks, but my readers from other websites know that I haven’t been maintaining that schedule since the beginning of this year. 

I encourage positive criticism and I would love to hear back on things that I could improve on or mistakes that I make.

This picture is my design for the Ev-Meister, the one and only VanossGaming. I do my own art and I will try to have cover photos for each chapter.

Thank you to the people who have chosen this fic.  Be prepared for the long haul because This Is Gonna Take A While~

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Most Recent Chapter: Chapter 3

Vanoss’ Perspective:

  The stars danced in entrancing circles across the sky as I slipped through the shadows of the night. I paused for a moment, staring up at them as they blinked at me.

   Around me, the forest shimmered to life. Shadows clung to every mossy rock and leaf. The slow breeze thrumming through the undergrowth sent shivers down my spine, making my fur puff out just a little more. The itch under my skin for dense rainforests and humid climates was tempered by the sounds of the night murmuring against my ears.

  It was springtime in Noanric and, thus, still cold from the previous winter, especially where we lived.

  Stretched from the northern tip of the world down to the hottest areas at the equator, there existed a continent known as Noanric. My pack and I lived somewhere in the middle where the trees were nothing but cotton or pine and the winters were sometimes long and harsh. Personally, the cold climate was the only regrettable part of settling down in this area. It was also the only compromise that everyone in the pack could make though.

  Despite most of the pack members being from the feline family, all of us had grown up in different environments. Each of us preferred something different for a place to settle in, whether it was hot, humid climates or damp rainforests. Eventually, we stumbled across the territory we lived in now and it suited many of everyone's requirements.

  Back when we all first met, having so many diverse people in the pack had caused a lot of arguments. On top of that, my alpha subgender caused a lot of authoritative issues, especially after I claimed the other two alphas, Marcel and Tyler. For a while, I was almost convinced that none of us could get along enough to be in a pack.

 However, since finding our new home three years ago, it was a rarity to find a pack member in a bad mood. Of course, arguments weren’t avoidable all the time. Sometimes, fights broke out. Trying to smooth out disputes was probably the most stressful part of my job as leader.

  I had always wanted to be a part of a pack, but I never saw myself at the head of it. For the longest time, I had even ignored the the itch for companionship that always crawled under my skin. Somehow though, I ended up being pack leader. Ever since then, I'd been even more anxious to serve my pack members to the best of my abilities. Yet, the stress still sometimes got to me.

  Occasionally, for reasons like this, being the leader got a bit overwhelming. Then again, too much social interaction never failed to exhaust me. It didn’t help that both of my preferred animal forms were solitary creatures.

  Luckily, because my pack was mostly feline, they were also solitary people. None of them minded it too terribly when I took these moments to step out and recharge my social batteries.

  A sigh escaped me as my gaze wandered from the stars in the sky above to the trees as another gust of wind passed through my fur. I hummed softly when I felt the animal in me wake up the longer I stayed in my shifted form.

  That night, I sported the fur of a black panther- A.K.A. a melanistic leopard. Normally, my fur was spotted and striped like any other leopards, but I changed it occasionally to suit my needs.

  Not everyone could do this, mind you. I’d only ever met one other shapeshifter like me in my life, and he couldn’t do half the stuff I could.

  Even though I knew I could shift into anything I wanted and make it any color I felt was the most appealing, I rarely used this ability. For the most part, I limited myself to my leopard form and, occasionally, my owl form. Other than that, I had no use for my shapeshifting abilities for anything besides races.

  That night was one of the only exceptions I made to my rule though. Being able to blend in with the shadows of the night came in handy when I didn’t want to be caught by anyone happening to take a midnight stroll like me.

  When I left the house, I had no real goal as to where I was going in mind. The only thing I wanted to do was to get away. Apparently, my subconscious had other ideas which I didn’t recognize until I glanced around to spot a familiar tree with gnarled roots nearby.

  With a smile, I lifted my head to scent the air.

  As I suspected, the first thing I picked up was the scent of the river that made up the eastern border of our territory. A thrill of amusement raced through me as I angled towards the smell and increased my pace to a light trot. Somewhere, I knew the scent would lead me to my favorite part of the river. The waterfall.

  The sound of it hit me before the view did. As soon as I broke through the tree line, I was greeted by a blast of mist. It was one of the most welcome feelings I had that night, despite the air around me dropping several degrees. The cold atmosphere only grew colder as I paced forward to admire the scene laid out before me.

  Just a few feet away from the treeline, the ground dropped away off the face of a cliff. Rivulets of water from the river rushed over the edge of the precipice and plummeted down to the pit below. From my vantage point, the waterfall seemed almost never ending. The sound of it was so immense that I couldn’t even hear my own breath over its roars. Even the ground below me trembled at its presence.

  Below me, the cliff dropped down to a pit of water thirty feet down. The top of the waterfall sat several feet away, formed into a half circle, spitting water over its edge with torrential force. The rocky edges of the cliff stuck out in some places which created miniature waterfalls against the main stream of gushing water.

  This part of the river and further down where the river meandered into our territory were my favorite spots to hang out, especially when I needed to be reminded of just how amazing life can be.

  The waterfall felt so terrifyingly vast that I simply sat in awe for a moment. A waterfall can take a person and dash them to pieces in all the worst ways possible. Yet, they can be so magnificent in all their power.

  The power vibrating through the ground was almost a comfort for me and, for once, I felt smaller than usual. For a moment, I wasn’t anything special or different. For once, there was something in the world with a power as terrifying as mine.

  A low growl rumbled through my chest as these thoughts crossed my mind. I shoved them away instinctively.

  Without thinking about it, I backed up to the tree line before launching myself across the stretch of open grass between me and the cliff. In one powerful motion, I flung myself off the cliff edge and plummeted towards the pit below.

  The plunge was unlike any other thing in the world. It reminded me of a hurricane or a hail storm. The mist from the waterfall slapped me in the face as I plunged downward, my tail streaming out behind me.

It felt like I fell forever. There was so much adrenaline in my veins that it made those moments spent dropping to the water below stretch into unfathomable lengths of time. I had gone cliff jumping here many times before, but I was still taken by surprise when my body hit the water and the air was knocked out of me. The fact that the water was probably only 50°F didn’t help.

  After a moment spent speeding through the water like a missile, I felt my front paws brush the bottom of the pit followed by the rest of my body. I stayed on the muddy floor for a moment before pushing off and propelling myself upwards. By the time my head broke the surface, the current of the waterfall had already pushed me out a ways away from where I had jumped.

  The ground wasn’t too far down near shore, so I could easily touch. However, instead of getting out of the water, I paddled back out into the pool, relishing in the water tugging against my fur. It was still somewhat cold but, between being acclimatized to the temperature and the nature of my body heat, it didn’t bother me.

  If Brian or Brock were around, they would look at me like I was crazy. Of course, their werecat forms had thick shaggy fur which dragged them down in the water so it was understandable that they didn’t like being in it for too long.

  After a while, a cold breeze swept across the water, chilling the top of my head. I took that as my signal to get out.

  With reluctance, I swam to shore on our side of the territory and pulled myself from the water’s clutches. I couldn’t stay in the water all night. Eventually, I had to return home and face my responsibilities.

  Shaking myself, I sat down on the river shore and looked up at the sky once more. Above me, the stars continued their watchful gaze over me and a full moon glowed over the treetops. The sight made me smile. These were the nights that I enjoyed the most.

  You could enjoy it more if you were actually doing your job. A voice whispered in the back of my mind.

  I frowned and twisted around to clean a wet patch of fur on my back.

  I’m just enjoying myself while I still have the chance. I argued.

  The world rippled around me as another gust of wind spread through the trees and the grass.

  Normally, I loved the wind and its playfulness. After jumping into the water in the middle of spring though, the wind was not as welcome as usual.

  With a shiver, I stood and walked away from the river’s edge to a giant boulder on the shore. This particular boulder sat like a huge chair which faced the border of our territory on the other side of the river. In the middle of it, a perfect bowl had been carved out. It was just big enough for me to curl up in with room to spare.

 Shaking myself off one more time, I jumped up and settled into the rock to clean myself.

  Personally, I appreciated the position of the rock since it meant that I could watch what happened on the other side of the border while also being comfortable. My pack and I were the only ones who could see what lay on the other side of the river. Anyone on the opposite side couldn’t see us. In this sense, the barrier resembled a one way mirror.

 The entire territory was designed like this. When we decided to call this place home, our physical boundaries were overlaid with tons of complex spells. These spells made them unaware of a mountain, or a river, or a waterfall just on the other side of the border. If they were careless, they could plummet to their death.

  On top of that, if someone survived a fall, there laid a spell that incapacitated any human or demon that came across our borders. This spell could encompass a person’s mind, restricting them until they became delusional or incredibly weak, or it could attack a person's nervous system and paralyze them. The person would then fall into a coma-like state, at which point we simply had to carry them back out of the territory. Only pack members, along with some roguish friends, were immune to these spells.

  There was only one spot that had no physical advantage on the other side of its border. It lay further north of the river. Originally, it was a hill, but we blew it out years ago to make a road for our vehicles.

  For the most part, the pack used their animal forms to get around. However, when we went shopping or needed to blend in with the humans in town, we usually took one of the six cars that we owned. It was an expensive venture to keep so many vehicles but, sometimes, having that much transportation back and forth is necessary.

  Despite having no physical advantages, the road exiting our territory was protected by our most advanced spells, some of which could immobilize any demon within seconds. No matter what, every part of our territory was protected in some way, shape, or form.

  Lui, Marcel, and Nogla had derived all of the spells we used from older spells they knew. Every spell was a modified version of something much older than us and we designed them to suit our needs.

  For this reason and many others, I held a great deal of pride for my pack. They were all ingenious in their own unique ways.

  All the more reason for them to be protected. The voice from earlier whispered again. I recognized the presence of the animal within me, his alpha instincts coming out to play.

  “I can protect them just as well by myself. Whatever she has to say is most likely irrelevant to their safety.” I growled back at the beast.

 The leopard bared his fangs at me and began pacing back and forth, his heavy footsteps echoing through the confines of my mind.

 You won’t know if it’s relevant until you talk to her. He argued. I shook my head and laid down on the rock below me.

  The leopard had a point. Instead of swimming around in the water all night, I should’ve been at my meeting, confronting my responsibilities head on.

  I didn’t want to though. The letter I received earlier in the week had me on edge. The way the whole thing was worded made me anxious. Their was something very important that would be discussed in the meeting that night, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

  That was part of the reason why I decided to take a walk. I was avoiding my meeting with her until the last possible second. Plus, I knew that I wouldn’t have nearly as much free time after I talked to her.

   Your responsibility is to your pack. The leopard murmured, his voice softening with sympathy. Situations where they are concerned take priority over your “personal time”.

  I knew he was right. Deep down, I knew I was responsible for the pack and that my meeting could have everything to do with them. I had to go back.

  With a frustrated growl, I stood and gave myself a rough shake before jumping off my boulder and heading back into the forest. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about being seen with fluorescent markings, like Marcel’s stripes, as I made my way through the undergrowth.

  As if the simple thought had summoned him, the wind shifted to drag a familiar scent across my nose. The barrier behind me almost seemed to flex inwards, signaling the passage of someone through our borders. I stopped and waited as some rustling off to my left kicked up.

  A moment later, a stocky white tiger came stalking out of the shadows. His fluorescent green and purple stripes slowly pulsed back to life to fill in the black in his pelt. His orange eyes were such a contradiction to his overall color scheme that I felt mildly surprised, as usual, when they too flashed in the darkness of the night.

  “What’re you doing out here Evan?” The tiger asked quietly, his body slowly releasing itself from the shadows.

  “Thinking.” I answered simply. The feline narrowed his eyes at me, his ears twitching with curiosity.

  “So, the honorable leader needs some alone time to think about how important his job is. What a surprise.” He purred, his actions exuding intense amounts of sarcasm.

  I scoffed and shook my head. “What are you doing out here Marcel?”

  There was a slight variation in the pulse of Marcel’s stripes but his expression remained neutral. “I was looking for you, o great lafaino.”

  The tiger lowered himself to the ground in a dramatic bow. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, my attention briefly catching on the shadowy bushes surrounding us as they fluttered.

  “You were looking for me." I mused as a thought occurred to me. The tiger raised himself up and met my gaze levelly. "On the other side of the border?”

  Marcel flashed his fangs at me in an animalistic smile. “Mini told me you might have been trying to find some tail out there.”

  I snorted and flicked my ears at him. “There’s tons of food already in our territory.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” The tiger huffed.

  I rolled my eyes and walked past him, into the woods. His tail flicked my shoulder lightly as I passed.

  “That’s exactly why I answered the way I did.”

  Marcel simply chuckled and followed me as I headed back to the house.

  Marcel was an interesting person- like most everyone else in the pack. I was fairly convinced that the tattoos on his arms were some symbol of royalty somewhere along the tiger bloodline. No matter how many times I asked though, he wouldn’t tell me what tribe he came from or if my suspicions were correct.

  Marcel came to the pack years ago, accompanied by Scotty, in search of people who were “like him”- whatever that meant. The tiger had an interesting sense of humor and a thrilling laugh that left people feeling giddy. Sometimes, he had a different way of speaking, but almost every single person in the pack had a slight variation of speech or an accent to their words. No two of us were alike.

  Marcel and Tyler both came to me in the search of being understood. The only unfortunate part about them joining my pack was that, because they were both alphas, they tended to challenge my authority more often than the others. Luckily, they complied in letting me be the leader of the group but I knew that, if they wanted, either of them could easily try to dethrone me.

  I still enjoyed their company though. No matter what, everyone who had come to me and joined my pack or simply stopped by to say hi as friends was appreciated.

 Smii7y, along with his mate, Kryoz, was one of those few random friends that stopped by every once in a while. Sincw they were our friends, our spells didn't affect them. I didn't know them all that well, but Mini and Panda spent a lot of time at their cabin just outside our borders. At least, they did whenever the two rogues weren't out of town on a mission.

 The main group, Mini, Wildcat, Terroriser, Moo, Lui, Nogla, Marcel, Scotty, Panda, and I, stayed on the territory for longer periods of time. Some of the others took moments of alone time like I did, but we all lived in the same two story white house in the middle of our large chunk of land.

 Seventy miles east of our territory lay the human city, Panlyog. It wasn’t my favorite place to be and most of the others agreed with me about that, so we kept to ourselves unless we needed something from the humans.

  I was mulling over the plans to make a trip into Panlyog the next day when the wind shifted and Marcel’s scent hit me full force. Normally, I didn’t mind, but there was an ever so slight variation in it that night. I couldn’t quite put a claw on what that variation was, but it was definitely different in an unsettling sort of way.

  I watched the powerful tiger carefully as he prowled through the undergrowth beside me. He was too busy scenting the air around us to notice my curiosity. Chalking it up to a flaw in my sense of smell, I shrugged off my intrigue as we continued towards the house.

  Our house wasn’t hard to miss if you knew what you were looking for. It stood on a hill, pearly white, two stories above the ground and a basement stuck halfway into the hill. The only thing that stopped it from sticking out like a sore thumb was the thick copes of trees surrounding it in a 10 foot radius and the giant canopy of branches overhead. The trees were so thick in the area that no creature had ever attempted getting through it. Even the roof of the house was designed to look like the ground to avoid aerial attacks.

  The only way in and out of the ring around the house was to go through secret passageways built into the bushes surrounding the area. The white building was our perfect escape, especially with Nogla’s collection of flowers planted all around the edges.

  Marcel and I wove our way through the bushes and into the clearing beyond. I glanced around briefly, my eyes catching on a light in a window on the second floor and another coming from downstairs. The second light was too dim to be from the living room, so I assumed it came from either the kitchen or the TV.

  As Marcel and I approached, one of the flood lights on the front porch turned on, revealing a wooden platform with three steps leading up to it. The porch stuck out a few feet from the front of the house with a table and several chairs sitting on top of it. Around it, several bushes and flowers of varying colors appeared.

  Once we reached the top of the steps, Marcel and I began transforming back into our human forms. My transformation was easy because of my shifter genes, but Marcel took his time to rearrange his body.

  For shapeshifters, transforming in a “puff of smoke” is the best description for a our transformations. Shifting is, for the most part, swift and painless for most shifters. Hence the name. Not everybody had it so easy though.

  It didn’t matter how skilled or fierce a demon was. Almost every one of them had some difficulty with shifting. Some people couldn't shift fast without experiencing pain and others couldn't physically force a shift.

 Whatever their reasoning, I didn’t find slow shifting very appealing, especially after listening to Marcel’s bones break, scrape, pop, and crack back into place for about thirty seconds.

  “Ya done?” I asked with mock impatience as Marcel finished.

  He rolled his eyes at me and chuffed lightly with his remaining tiger-like vocal chords. “Show off.”

  As soon as we walked in the front door, the sweet smell of beta wafted over my nose. Marcel and I followed the scent through the open area inside the front door into the kitchen. There, we found Mini leaning against the stove with a cup of water in his hands. His blue-gray eyes lifted as we walked in.

  “Hi Mini!” Marcel called to him softly.

  Mini smiled and responded in kind but with more exaggeration on the quietness. After all, it was one in the morning and nobody likes being woken up in the middle of the night.

  Marcel cupped a hand around his mouth and mock whispered, “How are you?”

  Mini copied him with a smile. “I’m fine. How are you Marcel?”

  “I’m good.”

  “That’s good.” The two of them laughed before Mini’s attention shifted to me and he smiled anew.

  “How’s the leader tonight?” He beamed while still keeping his voice low.

  I hesitated for a split second. It was an innocent question, but Mini’s beta scent meddled with my head.

  My first thought was to tell him the truth. I didn’t want to come home and go to sleep. I didn’t want go to my meeting. I didn’t want her in my head and, most of all, I didn’t want to take this mission. Everything that was about to happen gave me an awful sense of foreboding.

  I wanted to tell Mini all of this. What I didn’t want to do was explain myself in front of Marcel though. Call it a superiority complex or an alpha’s complex, but showing weakness to another alpha didn’t quite sit right with me.

   So, after a split second of hesitation, I responded with, “I’m good. How are you?”

   “I’m good,” Mini replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  When I didn’t respond with another “that’s good”, Mini raised an eyebrow and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Marcel plowed on without noticing my internal crisis.

  Fortunately, the tiger wasn’t really in the mood to give us a play-by-play about his adventures outside of the territory. Instead, he told Mini that it was quiet and that he hadn’t found anything interesting before giving us a tired wave and casting a “good night” over his shoulder as he walked away.

  Mini and I responded in kind and watched the alpha walk up the stairs. As soon as the tiger was out of earshot, Mini turned an inquiring eye to me.

  I sighed and sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I can’t sleep at night. You know that.”

  The beta across from me slowly nodded before rolling his eyes. “Strange. I was hoping to finally hear about this piece of tail you’ve been seeing.”

  I briefly glared up at him before turning my gaze down to my hands. “You know that if that was true, I would tell you or Moo.”

  At times like this, I felt bad for my two betas. They both wanted me to find someone to spend my time with and date, but I couldn’t give that to them. The people in my pack were too much like brothers and dating humans was forbidden by law in Panlyog. All of my options were sort of closed and everyone in the pack knew it, especially Mini and Moo.

  As betas, it was their job to look after my mental health. Betas are responsible for the mental and physical health of everyone in the pack. That’s why they are better at molecular regeneration and have a particular resistance to the illusions of their pack’s minds.

  I knew it was harmful for my alpha within me to spend so much time alone, even if I was surrounded by pack members most of the time. It was uncommon for a subgender voice to be as strong as mine. It just so happened to be even more uncommon that someone who had an unstable alpha like mine was ever put into a position of leadership. Having so many conflicting thoughts and instincts was dangerous for me.

  On one hand, I wanted to protect my pack. On the other, I wanted to find someone who could temper my demons. So far, I was having no luck with either option and that was bad news for Moo and Mini.

  “I’m sorry.” I murmured, looking up into Mini’s face. He gave me a solemn smile and sighed.

  “Don’t be. You’ll find someone. We have faith in you. We always do.” Mini responded easily, as he had done many times before.

  I gave him a small smile before staring back down at the counter top. After a moment, a cup of water was suddenly placed in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed the faucet being turned on. Ignoring this fact, I murmured a quiet thanks before taking a sip.

  “I don’t want to go to sleep tonight.” I admitted reluctantly.

  There was a moment of silence before Mini coughed. I reminded myself to add cold medicine to the shopping list for Panlyog the next day.

  “Why is that?” He asked in a slightly strained voice.

  I reached up with my hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with Ms. Evelynn tonight.”

  There was a flash of surprise on Mini’s face. To his credit, it only lasted a few seconds before his face went back to a generally neutral expression.

  After a moment, the beta nodded and took a drink of his own glass of water.

  “Let me get this straight…” He folded his hands together before gesturing at me and raising an eyebrow. “You are purposely avoiding a talk with the one and only Zephyra Evelynn?”

  I couldn’t help but give the beta a tired smile as he spoke.

  “Somehow, you seem to think that that will go without consequence?”

  I sucked in a breath to argue but stopped halfway through when I realized that he was right.

  “Of course there’ll be consequences.”

  Mini made a “duh” face and gave me wide eyes. “Ya think?”

  I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. “I just know that she’s going to give me some problem that I’ll have to figure out how to fix.”

  “Oh right. I forgot. Responsibilities. Your worst nightmare.” Mini mocked sarcastically.

  I glared half-heartedly up at him before making a face. He wasn’t wrong…

 “Obviously. But she keeps coming back. This time though, I get the feeling that this case is bigger than usual.“

 Zephyra Evelynn was the Kafaira, the continental leader, of Noanric. As the title suggests, the entire continent was subject to her jurisdiction.

  Since she had such a large responsibility, Zephyra never traveled long distances. Instead, she set up meetings in letters and visited people in their dreams in order to share messages. That was one of the many unfortunate things about meeting her.

 Meeting Zephyra in my dreams meant that she had access to my subconscious mind; in which case, it didn’t really matter whether or not I tried to hide any of my thoughts from her. She could hear everything I thought when she visited me. The only thing she couldn’t see was my memories, which is something I was always grateful for. No matter what happened, the powerful Demon-Wolf never failed to put me on edge.

  Mini sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. “I understand why you’re avoiding it. Still, you shouldn’t shirk your responsibilities.” The beta sighed, giving me a sympathetic look before his expression turned sour. “Plus, you more than anyone should know that your actions have repercussions, especially with someone as powerful as Zephyra.”

  Part of me winced at Mini’s implications, but the other part of me knew he was right in fearing Zephyra.

 There was a common misconception about Zephyra throughout, not just the continent, but the entire world. Most people heard tales of her power and her incredible military feats as well as her political prowess and they immediately assumed that she was an all-powerful being that held the world in her paws.

  Personally, I knew Zephyra wasn’t as scary as everyone made her out to be. Perhaps that came as a result of actually seeing her outside of the paintings and fairy tales though.

  “Yeah, well, at least I can choose the time that we meet. I could stay up for days and avoid the meeting if I wanted to.” I muttered as I chugged what was left of my glass of water. Mini rolled his eyes.

  “You’re such a child.”

  “Yeah and you’re a man baby. That’s right. I just owned you.” I leaned back in my chair with a playful expression as Mini shook his head.

  Smiling, the beta stood to take my empty glass and walked back to the sink. I scooted my chair out with a small hint of reluctance and followed him.

  All jokes aside, I was still a little agitated, not only because of my meeting with Zephyra, but because I was reminded of domestic problems with my pack.

  Mini was hiding something from me. He had been for months now, both him and Wildcat. I could feel that there was something wrong between them, but neither of them would talk to me about it. That secret was the only reason Mini would be up so late with such a tainted quality to his scent, and it was the reason he was sick at the moment.

  I huffed a sigh and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I can’t avoid it forever though. So, I might as well be a ‘responsible’ leader and go to bed.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” Mini chuckled as he turned around to face me.

  I smiled before reaching out an arm, waiting for the traditional warmth. As usual, Mini endorsed me in a short side-hug. I considered scent marking him but decided against it. Tyler would be pissed if I tried that and, after tonight, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have the energy to tease him in the morning.

 “Get some sleep.” Mini murmured as we released each other. I shook my head and smiled.

  “I doubt that’ll happen for me. That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen for you though.” I responded with a significant look at the beta.

  He nodded and ducked his head. “I know. I’ll try.”

 “Good night Mini.” I called as I turned to go upstairs.

 “Good night Evan.” Mini responded as I walked away.

  At the top of the stairs, there was a large open room that we used as a secondary sitting/study area. There were couches, TVs, and five desks crammed into the small space. On the left side of the stairs lay five rooms- each of which belonged to Wildcat, Mini, Basically, Panda, and Scotty- and a storage closet for blankets and sheets. The right side contained another five rooms- each of which belonged to me, Lui, Nogla, Terroriser, and Moo- along with the upstairs bathroom. All the alphas stayed closest to the staircase as a safety precaution. Therefore, I didn’t have to walk far to get to my room.

  As soon as I opened the door, I was met with a sweet vanilla scent. I looked over at the desk on the right side of the room to see a tiny flame waving at me from the confines of the glass around the candle.

  Moo must have visited. I thought to myself. With a smile, I glanced down the hallway to where his room sat. He knew me too well.

  With a satisfied hum, I stepped inside and quietly closed my door. It was dark in my room, but I had no trouble navigating my way through the darkness despite the piles of messes all over my floor.

 With careful steps, I walked over to the candle and gently blew it out before going over to my bed and flopping down. Admittedly, I was exhausted, so it was no surprise when I passed out almost immediately.

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed. I know there’s not a lot of plot related stuff right now but it definitely picks up speed here soon. This chapter and the next are mainly here to set the scene and do a bit of world building so, after that, it gets easier to read.

I need to explain a few things here. Firstly, most every demon has two seperate entities that live inside their head. They have the human side, split into a conscious and a subconscious, and the demon side. The demon side is pure instinct, containing every fight or flight response and all a person’s skill in everything related to survival. The human side is the rational side. Generally, the demon is less dominant and bows to the human in most cases. However, people who have anomalies in their instincts (i.e. subgenders or half breeds) tend to have a demon side that is equally as powerful, if not more powerful, than the human counterpart and that can sometimes be an issue. This is a common problem with subgenders because of the nature of how they were created, which I’ll explain at a later date.

In accordance to the dialogue that has quotations around italic marks, like whenever Marcel and Evan are talking in their animal form: I write these scenes like this because, when demons are in their animal forms, they don’t have a spoken language like humans. Their “speech” is actually a mixture of body language and sounds made in their throats (grunts, chuffs, and sometimes clicking of the tongue or teeth).

There are also two “need-to-know” terms which are: Kafaira and Lafaino. The first of these terms is simply a label for all continental leaders, of which there are seven in total according to each continent. The second refers to pack/tribe/clan leaders. The “o” and the “a” are relative to gender, just like certain words in Spanish. If either of the terms ends in “o”, it means the person is male. If it ends in an “a”, it means the person is female. There is also a third ending which is “e” for those who are genderless or both genders.

Thank you for reading <3