#from 2021 that was even that long ago LMAO??????

[heelcody]

looking thru my old Twitter account this video of me playing with a wild gopher snake I found in my backyard is insane.....why did I do this. i never got bit but WHY DID I DO THIS

[simp4konig]

"You drive me crazy."

Obsessed! Nikto x Reader

Word count: 2472

Nikto's POV! Sporadic uses of "Y/N" — otherwise, reader is referred as "You".

To say that Nikto is obsessed with you would be an understatement 😵‍💫...

Nikto's psychological state gradually deteriorates as you read!

Google Translate Russian lmao 💀,, please forgive any errors! 😟

Edit: Realising that this fic is darker than my usual works. Warning my readers for darker content!

Edit 2: Added the appropriate "dark content" tags. <3

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I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

I've lost my mind long ago. We're losing it as we speak. I've lost myself long ago and I have not known what to do with ourselves.

Of course, not all was lost. I was cleared for service. I can approach situations without hesitation or uncertainty — but most importantly, kill methodically.

All I need are targets. Just give me targets. Nothing else matters. Nobody.

But I found you. I found you. And you found us. Although there was nothing to find, you found us.

How? It's a mystery. An enigma. An unsolvable puzzle.

My name is Igor. Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich.

Игорь. Igor. I—gor. Two syllables. Four letters, in English. A not so common name in Russia, according to the statistics: in 1991 — the year of my birth — approximately 37 baby boys born were named as such. In 2021, only 17 baby boys born were named Igor. I would assume the number declines each year — maybe less than a dozen Igors were christened this year. Or a single digit. Nine. Eight. Seven. Or even less than five.

October 13, 1991 was my exact date of birth. I was born in Novgorod, when Russia was still the Soviet Union. I had parents. A sister…

…Yet that means nothing to me.

Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich? That is foreign. That is not anyone that I know of. I am Nikto. I am no one. Nobody to know, yet somebody that I know of. Not this… Igor. I am nobody. Никто.

When the voices are quiet, that's when I can silently mourn the man that I once was.

Though, can you mourn someone whom you don't know? Can you mourn the faceless person in the casket, whose face is unrecognisable? Can you mourn at a funeral that no one attended, and hadn't taken process?

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to repeat it, yes?

I knew it. We knew it. Everyone else knew it.

But you didn't. You. You.

You… remind me of someone.

They're dead now.

They were just a target. Too bad I can't remember who they were.

But you're not. You're more than a target.

You treated me with kindness when everyone avoided me like the bubonic plague. A Black Death following the death of the former Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich and the black, black blackness lingering — a reminder. But not anything that allows us to remember, or reminds us of who we once were.

I don't remember anything. I don't remember anyone. Photographs of my family before the torture are irrelevant. Documents stamping my existence could just as easily make us inexistent. Nobody exists any more aside from Nikto.

A cacophony of voices has infiltrated my brain. Our brain. We will never be me anymore. We are who we are now.

I am a broken man. I hear the voices of many men, who won't let me sleep, won't leave me be, won't give me peace. I was one of those men. Maybe all of the men are me?

But if all of them are me, and I am all of them, then who are we? What are we?

Then again… who I am is nothing. What I are is everything. What we are — crazy.

The pieces of the puzzle aren't fully there. Surely you must have been aware, my treasure?

You were doing your due diligence to arrange the puzzle pieces, so meticulously and with dedication, devoting hours of your time and wishing for the finished product to be cohesive, but you won't find that within us. How unfortunate.

Some of the pieces are missing. Some of them don't even fit. What you're left with is an incomplete picture — one which will never be completed.

No matter. You can be the missing puzzle piece, yes?

My fellow operatives named me Никто — “Nikto”, meaning “Nobody” or “No-one” in Russian — for… what did they say? My “uncanny ability to replicate other people and hide [my] true identity”? Ironic — seeing as replicating an identity is not the same as claiming your own, and being an individual. Having an actual identity, as opposed to being forced to think that being nobody can suffice.

Funny. I was apparently religious before all of this.

Have you heard of Orthodox Christianity? It's a branch of Christianity most often practised in Eastern Europe, in case you weren't aware. Orthodox Christians believe that Jesus redeemed humanity by sacrificing himself through crucifixion — unlike Catholics, who believe that Jesus sacrificing himself through crucifixion was all in an effort to redeem humanity.

Perhaps I was an altar boy in my childhood. Or wore a cross around my neck. Maybe I was devoted, and prayed in the morning, before a meal for grace, in the night, before a mission for mercy, during a mission out of desperation, and after a mission as gratitude.

Such bullshit.

Obviously, God doesn't exist — not in the ethereal, omniscient sense.

Oh no.

The God is You. You are my God.

Just like with Orthodox Christianity, and the salvation of humanity after the sacrifice of Jesus, your presence, your mere existence, was salvation. You brought redemption unto us.

Of course, following my torture, God became an abstract concept. How could the Holy Father abandon me? How could my prayers after the tortue be so wilfully ignored? Why would he actively play a passive role in my damnation, as I'm burned, as I'm beaten, as I'm bruised, abused, cut, and mutilated?

No one was born a sinner. Not even me, this nobody. So what kind of retribution was this — a disfigured face, ruined body, and voices which infiltrated my psyche, words equivalent to the evil of the Antichrist?

But You? You made it worthwhile. Your kindness. Compassion. Charity. It was all worthwhile. Even to gaze at You from afar.

Well.

For the most part.

We have repented for our sins: stealing Your dirty laundry, Your hairbrush, Your t-shirts, and other trinkets which we deem Holy Relics; using Your lip balm without permission, You none the wiser; committing sinful acts in the comfort of your own bedroom, only for You to return, oblivious. We apologise for that nagging paranoia, demanding You to turn around, to catch a glimpse of the eyes staring at You, but You not noticing us when we were camouflaged in the shadows. For stalking You and learning Your schedule. For hacking into all of Your devices and acquiring every little piece of information available from Your digital footprints.

But, You forgive us, yes?

Don't look so horrified, dushka. We left no trace, yes? No evidence. You said You have forgiven all of our transgressions. Think of this as a confession, nothing more. Besides, we never tampered with You belongings. They're all still with us. Just like you will.

You are our oxygen. Without You, we can't breathe. Our lungs suffocate without Your natural scent to fill them, to keep us alive. Our eyes go blind with time without the sight of Your face, Your body. We can't hear anything other than Your voice — our ears tune out any frequencies and wavelengths that don't leave those pretty little lips, yet wage civil war amongst ourselves, spitting curses that cut like knives and pierce like bullets. And Your lips. And Your eyes. And Your eyebrows, hair, hands, neck, God — everything.

You won't abandon us, yes? You wouldn't abandon us, would you, мое сокровище? You are our treasure. I treasure you — all of us do: your pretty little lips, that speak in the softest of tones to us; those eyes that stare in slight fright, yet crinkle in as genuine of a smile as you can manage; those eyebrows that furrow over your bright eyes in the subtlest of frowns, in sorrow or frustration, maybe vexation — and that's just your face. What about your hair? Your hands? Your neck? Your body? What is there not to treasure?

Боже мой, Bozhe moy, my God. Oh God, it's as if an angel has descended and granted us salvation, a merciful deity absolving us of our sins and cleansing our soul. And both the angel and deity are You — working in perfect sync, so benevolent and forgiving, taking pity on a creature so pitiful, so ruined, so unfixable.

We can't remember what some of those was.

Those puzzle pieces, of course.

Zakhaev’s torture stole some of the pieces to the jigsaw, and the puzzle won't ever be solved. We ourselves interrogate, torture, eliminate, kill. Sometimes we dissociate. Other times I am completely in control. Yet all the time, we are committing sins, sins, sins.

And You forgive them. Forgive us.

Every prayer is us praying for you, to you, about you. And each one concludes with your sacred name, whispered in hushed tones as the syllables are too precious to utter out loud.

Poor, poor thing. You probably didn't even know what you were signing up for, did you? You probably intended to be charitable. Sympathetic. And you were, sweet one.

But you were naive to have assumed that we wouldn't become possessive of you like an unwanted stay mutt of its only bone. So innocent — perhaps stupid — but we like to think that you were misguided in your intentions, yet guided by some God.

An ignorant God? If You're the God to worship, then are You an ignorant one? An innocent, naive, and unconditionally loving one? Yet, one that, despite Their obliviousness, can knowingly soothe with a simple string of words? With a caress?

What an oxymoron. It suits You. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Aw. Are those tears, dushka? Let's wipe them, hmm? Kiss it better, yes? You will like our lips on you.

Don't scream. Don't hurt those vocal cords. We like the sound of your voice. We want you to talk.

There there, little one. You look beautiful when you cry, but you look most beautiful when you're smiling. Smile, hm? Do it for us. Your Nikto.

You don't have to be afraid, you know. Don't be afraid, krasotka. We love you.

Here, put your hand on our chest. Feel how our heart is beating? It beats only for you.

Our abdomen, our stomach. You feel how toned that is, yes? You feel the muscle?

What about our biceps? The strength in our forearms? They're all for you. We're all yours, yours yours yours.

Our blood looks good on you, dushka. The blood really accentuates your nails. But please, stop. Stop.

You don't have to scratch us, or scream. You know that none of that will change anything. You know that we will love you, even if you tell us you hate us. It's too late.

Get used to touching us, yes? What's left of us, anyways. Yes, our body won't be the most appealing, or the handsomest, but it's all for you. Every inch. All for you — just like how you are all ours.

You're ours, just as much as we belong to you. You could stab us with a knife and we'd smile. You could shoot us with a gun point-blank in the head and we'd thank you. What an honour it would be to live with you by your side, or die by your side. We're a dead man either way. Your dead man. Your Nikto.

You underestimated my capacity for violence. Or were perhaps too naive to understand it.

That's okay. Put your hand on my face. Just like that. See? Nothing to fear. It's just us. Your Nikto.

I can feel it shaking. Why do you shake so much, hm? Don't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. You should know there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, you were fearless when it came to speaking to me, and weren't afraid to reach out to us. Surely you don't want to abandon us now?

That's too bad. You won't abandon us. We won't let you.

I'm crazy: I don't think I need to repeat it, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy.

I am already crazy yes but it is You who drives me to insanity do You know that? Why do You deny? Do not deny us this yes? Yes You do know that it is You who makes me mad beyond return of course You do You've always known it and You know it now little one You're just pretending feigning ignorance with surprise in Your eyes. Why pretend that it was all a pretense? Your kindness? Your sympathy? Your company? It was not pretense to us no it was everything. Everything we could have hoped for prayed for and lived for.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy, baby.

Craaazyyy. Crazy crazy crazy!

You have made us the craziest we have ever been from the moment we met Your eyes and will be forever driven crazier with Your around from the day You die. And that won't be anytime now, my treasure. We will treasure You, take care of You, keep You safe. You will want for nothing, we can assure You — nothing, nobody, no one. Only Nikto. Nobody will ever look at You, as their eyeballs will be gouged out for having the audacity to spare a glance at the pinnacle of perfection. And nobody will ever want You, nobody will taint that precious skin with unworthy fingers, as anyone who tries will have them broken have their bones crushed to dust their skin muscles and tendons ripped to ribbons until there is no body left.

Nobody will ever look at You. Only Nikto. Us. Forever, and ever, and ever and ever and ever we will have our eyes on You until our retinas dissolve and our pupils can no longer absorb light and we become blind and crippled, crying, crying crying crying for You, crying only for You. You crying out for us until Your voice is hoarse from moaning, until our name becomes a prayer just as much as Yours is to us.

We love You. Think of nobody. Only Nikto. Only of Nikto. Only for and against Nikto. We will live for You. We do already, do you understand? We're yours. Yours. Yours yours yours yours yours yours to have yours to hit yours to scratch with those nails yours to scream at yours yours yours yours yours. Yours. Yours! Yours!

Yours!

Y/N.

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it. You should have known it.

And if you didn't know it, then You will know it.

Because You drive me crazy.

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A/Ns

Really really really Really REALLY had doubts about posting this and thought that no one would like it. I felt inspired and happy and proud of myself when I was almost finished but it took me days to conclude the work since I was second-guessing whether or not I should post this after all. Kind of embarrassed, in all honesty, but I decided to post it in the end since I quite like it. :'>

I just wanted to highlight your, @//connorsui, lovely, lovely words when you reblogged my last Nikto post 😭😭😭💘💘💘. To receive not only some compliments, but your thoughts on my headcanons AND analysis *AND* your evaluation of my post was so, SO heartwarming to wake up to in the morning 🥹🥹🥹💓💓💓, especially when it was so long!!! Like, what?!! 😢😢😢😢😢😿😿😿😿😿😭😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨

Thank you so so so SO much for your positive feedback !!! I've read it over four times by now. O really appreciated and still appreciate it. ☺️💞🫶💖✨✨💕💕

(I also want to kiss Nikto's scarred face ☹️☹️☹️ just wordless acts of intimacy where words aren't necessary and just to show the man some affection, regardless of how he looks 😟💝 need that ugly traumatised Russian man SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭)

Inspiration for this gained from:

thisvvv song!!! and Chapter 7 in Metro 2035 lol,, when Artyom was drunk and disorientated I thought it was written really REALLY well and I wanted to incorporate his meaningless drivel into this.

Nikto's voicelines and his various voices/sporadic changes in character

the Fandom Wiki

my own headcanons lol 😋

From fluff this whatever the fuck this is!!!!!!!!!! Hope you enjoyed 💗💗

[haleigh-sloth]

All the Feelings

Yep. So manga didn't end how I wanted or anticipated, it's okay. Lesson learned lol. I will learn to live in fanon in my head lmao, it's an important life skill imo. I've never cared this much about a story, felt so much love for a story, I used to never even care how stories ended. MHA made me care about the stories I consume being good, actually. So I'm grateful, and MHA is good imo. I will just hold resentment for the last 15 chapters and pretend it ended differently lol.

That being said, I have no regrets. The impact this manga and fandom has had on my life is crazy. I've met solid online friends that have stuck around for years (wtf!) and I've met irl friends.

Like...2.5 years ago a group of online friends and I started a server. That server has been going strong ever since, it became a fun space for all of us to be goofy, be serious, vulnerable, whatever we needed at the time. And I'm so thankful! @mettywiththenotes @jecook @helga-grinduil @redphlox @transhawks @chocolate-biscuit @bootlickerhawks have been the best group to finish out this manga with. I can't wait to keep talking about all the manga to come in the future for us to gush over!

Julie (redphlox) and I met when we lived near each other in 2021 and have been super close friends ever since. Crossing state lines to visit each other, taking trips together, sleep overs, all the things. Best thing to come from this manga for me, life long friendships are precious.

@hamliet I've loved talking with you and Julie over the past couple of years! It's added so much to my life and I look forward to visiting in Boston one day. And squealing over Oshi no Ko in the near future.

Metty and Anya (helga-grinduil) sharing the Tomura and Izuku love with me until the very end. Metty and Cami (bootlickerhawks) having the best meme game, Hazel (jecook) and Cho (choco biscuit) having hilarious senses of humor and making everyone laugh.

Rani (transhawks), your humor is unmatched and your life perspective is always fun to hear. Watching Drops of God and Kids on the Slope together for weeks in a row is a core memory for me. Julie and I will see you in New York one day soon <3.

[persphonesorchid]

Connotations Of Sin - JHS (m)

Summary: At your lowest, you’ve been living on the streets for the past couple of months. When you decide to leave your only safe haven and find yourself lost in a mysterious fog, an angel stretches out a hand of mercy. Little do you know, black taints his once alabaster wings.

Genre: Fallen Angel Au | Angst, fluff, smut (mdni), horror (V lowkey, I swear)

Word Count: 30k

Masterlist

Please read these warnings carefully!!

Warnings: Homelessness, Kidnapping (? is it though??), Suicidal ideation, referenced and described abuse and murder of a child. Hoseok is his own warning. Mc gets drugged and then she gets sick... A bit of religious babble, mc has nightmares (one of which is actually kinda bad...), she almost dies at one point. Hoseok likes playing mind games, but they aren't serious (Honestly debatable...). Implied gang activity and violence. Hoseok contradicts himself a lot, he's really confusing. Smut: oral ( m and f receiving) soft dom Hoseok, i think Hoseok has an oral fixation (or is it ME, the author?????) unprotected sex.

Notes: Phew, welcome!! SO, it's finally here!!! I'm so excited to share this project with you alll! It was such a big project for me, and so much time and effort went into it. Believe it or not, this started out as a smut piece and it had nothing going for it at all. If you've been following me for a while, you'd remember that back in 2021 i posted a teaser for something similar. Tbh back then probably wasn't the right time to post such a thing lmao, i for certain wasn't ready to write it and it wouldn't have been written in the way it was meant to with my writing style back then. It's been a long journey of understanding the characters portrayed here, and a lot of work to get them right. Very big shoutout to @hwaslayer who's - as always - been there with me from the very beginning and has been the biggest help and motivator, please look out for her Ateez's Seonghwa fic that shares this universe!! I won't keep you any longer, but please be sure to leave feedback, a lot of effort went into this project and i'd love to hear what you think and answer any questions! Happy reading!!!

“You sure you don’t wanna stay here with me dearie? I know it ain’t much, but it’s better than being out in the elements.” Abigail takes your hands in hers, hands that – much like yours – are dirt stained and ruddy, but bring you comfort that you wouldn’t find elsewhere. Abigail – or Toothy as everyone else calls her – is a frail woman with wispy auburn hair and a gap tooth smile. Her hair had gone white in some places, the crows’ feet at her eyes can barely help you guess her age. Her eyes are blue and dull but still regard you warmly like she did when she’d found you wandering along the fourth avenue weeks or so ago.

The space where she stays isn’t much; a nook in an alleyway between two rundown buildings that people don’t bother to go into. She’d tried her best to make it into a space that’s comfortable enough, the roof made of termite bitten sheets of ply that’s at least a square and a half wide. An old, mildew ridden tarp thrown over it and held down by a couple pieces of rubble from the building across makes up the walls that offer shelter from cold wind and rain and as much privacy you could get out here. The floor made of giant trash bags Abigail had swindled from some place or another, covered with old sheets that’s definitely seen better days. Even though the sheets had long lost their softness and leave you itching, they kept your butt off the cold concrete.

You’re going to miss the stories she’d tell. You’d lay on the floor, the longest part of the tarp folded over the top, and stare up at the strip of night sky between the buildings, twinkling with the bit of stars you can see and listen.

She’d tell you of her life before she fell to rock bottom, how grand everything was. How, many years ago, she’d won the lottery by a stroke of luck, only to have it turn sour when her fiancé gambled it all away and she lost everything. She never did tell you what happened to him.

You’d miss walking the couple of miles to the river, armed with pieces of run-down bar soaps and plastic bags with the little clothes you owned in them bundled in your arms. Or the nights when it’s cold, you’d go down to the square with her and look around for things to burn and dump them into the steel barrel to keep warm.

There are days when there’s nothing, and Abigail would distract you from your stomach trying to eat at itself with another one of her stories and old cans filled with steaming boiled rain water. There are days when you’d sit with a full tummy, there’s usually one kind soul out there that takes pity on you both to offer as much as they could.

You’ll be forever grateful for Abigail, with her motherly affection and her warm hands. She never once asked how you ended up here too, she simply offered a hand when you needed it most.

You felt as though you lingered too long... this is the longest you’ve stayed in a place. The company was good, but you feel like there’s just so much you’re robbing Abigail of by staying with her. You know she would strongly disagree; she’d probably whack you with her busted up sneaker and send you to sit in a corner until you’ve apologized. It’s simply how you feel, if you’re not here, Abigail wouldn’t have to share the little of what she gets, you feel terrible enough that she gives you more than she keeps for herself.

“Don’t worry Abigail.” You smile, pulling one hand away to pat hers. Her fingers are bony and long, and lacking the warmth they did earlier in the day. “I don’t stay one place for too long.”

It’s a lie, obviously. You’d rather chew your leg off than go out there alone. Away from the safety this little nook had been for the past month, away from Abigail, who’s cared more about you than anyone has in a while. But you care about her too, enough that you’d leave to make sure that she eats well enough to survive and not give it all to you. She’d be better off.

Abigail narrows her eyes at you, the wrinkles of her face deepening as she frowns. She looks sad, you note, the blue of her eyes dark and stormy, but she says nothing, just squeezes your hands for a while before letting go.

You smile softly, and continue stuffing your clothes into an old backpack Abigail had given you a while back. You fold the dirty ones tight, setting them at the bottom, and the few clean ones you had that still smelled like your last bar soap at the top. You don’t have much, and you’ve gotten used to it – as hard as it was.

When you shouldered your bag and stepped out from under the tarp, Abigail follows, worry on her brow, saying that she’d walk you to the mouth of the alleyway.

“Oh!” She says, turning back to duck under the tarp. You hear the rummaging of her old pot wares, the clanking of the metal before she comes back and holds out a can to you. The label looks worn, peeling off in some places, but you make out the bright red ‘canned peach’ on the side. “I was savin’ this for when we go down to the river, but you’d better have it.”

“Abigail...” You sigh, guilt gnawing at your edges, “I can’t take this.”

Abigail purses her lips, smacking the can into your hand, “Yes, you can. It’ll hold you out for a little while.”

“Then what would you eat?” You outstretch your hand, offering the peaches back to her and she narrows her eyes at you.

“I can manage.” She says testily, and then sighs, softening, “Are you sure you’ll be okay out there?” She takes the can and tucks it into the outside pocket of your bag, “It’ll be rough ya know.”

“I’ll be fine,” You say, and then, you hug her. Truly, you’ll miss her. She pats your back gently, “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, we gotta look out for each other out here.” Abigail smiles, pulling away. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her baggy jeans, something she’d picked up at a donation shelter a couple of days ago. It’s got a few holes and it’s frayed at the ankles but she’d never complain. “If you fall into luck, don’t forget me.”

“Never.”

You both say your goodbyes and you try your best to not cry at the sadness that clings to Abigail’s form as she hobbles back to her little nook. You take a breath and pick a direction to walk in.

You think about going to the river first, to get a little cleaned up before you go looking for somewhere to sleep for the night. You’re already regretting leaving the comfort that Abigail provided. You know she wouldn’t blame you if you turned right around and dragged yourself back. You’ve already made your mind up, though – it’s better this way.

You don’t have a gauge on the time, but the sun’s getting quite low. It streaks the sky in orange and pink, hiding behind a fluffy white cloud as it makes its slow decent. You might be able to make it to the river and back before night falls completely if you hurry. So you walk, and walk, and it’s a long way past the street Abigail first found you, where the city meets a forest edge.

You once asked Abigail why she didn’t live closer to the river, you worry about her most days, taking her frail self through the streets for such a long walk just to get here. She’d told you that even though some of your street dwelling comrades are friendly, most aren’t, and would do the worst to get what they need. It’s too risky to be close to the river where all manner of folk pass to get to it.

You tuck your bag to your front and keep an ear out for anyone that may be in the area. You grimace as the twigs and stones of the forest floor poke at your feet. Your shoes were on their last, they kept your feet warm most days, but they’re biting holes into your last good pair of socks. The trees get sparse the further in you go, and over the tweeting and chittering of the forest critters, there’s the sound of rushing water.

You break out of the trees and stand on the little edge where the forest pauses and the soft wet dirt begins. The river is a bit wild today, rushing through the rocks as it makes its way from wherever it starts. You know there must be a spring somewhere deeper if you follow the river back, but you don’t have the time to as the setting sun makes the forest look darker already. You wouldn’t like to be out here at night.

You slip out of your shoes and socks, wanting to keep them dry and walk down to the bank. Abigail has a little spot between three large boulders where she hides things. The spot is covered with leaves and sticks, and you dig through it to find the old blue bucket. It’s missing it’s handle and turned over to keep things under it.

There’s a new pack of soap powder that’s already been opened, a little square plastic bowl that’s probably seen better days on a dish rack and half of a soap bar. You pull the bucket out of its hiding place, taking just a handful of the soap powder and tossing it into the bucket. You tuck the powder into a corner of the rock with the soap bar on top of it and carry the bucket over to the river.

You rummage through your bag to find the clothes that needed cleaning, and put them in the bucket with the soap. It takes a moment of scooping water from the river and pouring it into the bucket. All the while you’re wondering where Abigail scored the soap powder from. A lot of things are hard to come by, but some people make trades with the little they’ve got. You feel a little guilty as you watch the water and soap soak into your clothes, though you know she wouldn’t mind if its you – you’re the only two that know where she keeps her stuff hidden – but still.

The soap smells sweet, and fresh in a way you haven’t smelt in a while. With the sun long gone behind the trees but still lighting the sky a bit, you wash your clothes as quickly as you can. You throw the soapy water on the bank and not back in the river, and rinse your clothes out just as quick.

There’s no time to wait for them to dry, with the sun being as low as it is and the wind baring its teeth. So you wring them out and pull out the plastic handle bag you keep folded in one of your backpack pockets to stuff them into.

It’s completely dark out once you’ve put the bucket back and covered Abigail’s things again and made your way back out of the forest. You would’ve liked to take a quick wash, but it’s too dark and the water’s too cold now. You’ll come back tomorrow when the sun’s high and hot.

You walk in a different direction than the way you came, looking for the little park that Abigail mentioned once. Its completely dark by the time you get there, your feet aching from the long walk and your mind muddled with thoughts.

You would often remind yourself not to think too hard, as your thoughts would often lead you to a dark place you find difficult to crawl out of. You would often regret not having people close enough to call good friends, maybe then you wouldn’t be out here.

You didn’t have a difficult life; you grew up in a loving home with both parents making sure that you were happy and not too spoilt by the fruits of their labour. You know the value of things and you know well to act like your parents raised you with some sense. Your mother passed when you were ten, and your father remarried when you were sixteen. You couldn’t understand why, your father loved your mother so much and you thought it would just be you and him against the world. You understood that your mother wouldn’t want him to live the rest of his life overshadowed by her passing and forget to continue living. So when he introduced you to the woman he met on a business trip, looking happier than he had in six years, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that something was off.

Your mother had always taught you to see the good in people, to give them the benefit of a doubt. There was no mistaking the thinly veiled disgust in your step mother’s eyes when she would look at you. She was quite young, compared to your father, anyway, and as the years went by, he spoilt her. He gave her whatever she wanted when she wanted it as long as it made her happy and you could only watch from the sidelines.

Your father fell ill, and everything went downhill from there.

When he passed, your world shattered and crumbled, leaving you standing in the rubble grasping at the wisps of it slipping through your fingers. Things were okay, for a while, grieving the loss of your father and trying to move on and step without him. Then the news of his will came not long after he was buried.

Your father left everything for his wife, the house, his money, and as you’d found on the first night you were out here, the savings account your mother had set up for you.

You had nothing.

You’d always kept to yourself growing up, and never let anyone closer than you would allow. You were home-schooled – all the way up to your tertiary education – and had no friends to speak of. Your parents never spoke of their family, all you knew and had were your mother and father.

It’s been a while since then. A good long while. It was hard to adjust to having everything at the tip of your fingers to having it ripped away all at once.

The first week was hard. You’d worked odd jobs here and there to keep your head above the water. Sleeping in a motel every night wasn’t ideal, especially since you had to buy food and every thing else. The little money you had ran out quickly, even when you pawned the possessions you did own it wasn’t enough.

You’ve had time to adjust since then. You met Abigail and things were as okay as they could’ve been considering. You remember, she had been pestering you about why you were pacing around on that bridge when she found you.

The deep rushing water below it had looked inviting – an easy way out. No one would’ve missed you, anyway.

You take a breath in sharply, and it burns. Cold air fills your lungs with little pinpricks as night fully settles. You try not to think about anything more as you walk through the park.

It looks empty, large trees and neat grass fields and cobbled walkways. There are dark metal benches scattered about, a trickle of water you can’t pinpoint coming from somewhere.

You’d just stay here for tonight, and find somewhere you wouldn’t be in trouble to stay at in the morning. You’re pretty sure you’re breaking some law being who you are as you sit down on the bench. It’s uncomfortable, the metal cold and biting, but you’d just have to deal for the night.

You dig through your backpack, pulling out the plastic bag with your damp clothes, a jacket that’s still in good condition and the canned peach Abigail sent you off with.

You spread your clothes out on the back of the bench, and you’re hoping they dry properly even if the air feels a little damp.

With a soft sigh, you lift the circular pin on the lid of the can and pull. The peaches are cut into slices and swimming in a sweet juice, and with some guilt you pick a piece out. It’s sweeter than anything you’ve had in a while, and for a moment you feel like crying.

You feel tears burn your eyes and nose as you chew the fruit, washing it down with a sip of the juice that tastes slightly like the can. It wasn’t long before it was all gone, your fingers sticky with the juice and you stare into the empty can with a frown. You wonder about Abigail and if she’s okay right now.

Setting the can down near the foot of the bench that’s bolted into the cobblestone path, you lay back. The sky is fairly clear, with a little smattering of wispy clouds floating by and stars that twinkle in the distance.

Drifting off slowly, you try to find a comfortable position to sleep in – though there isn’t one with this metal bench. Your jacket thrown over you as a makeshift blanket.

You’re not certain how long you sleep for, but when you wake, its to a tapping on your shoulder. The air is thick with something as you breathe in, and a lot damper than it was when you’d settled.

“Ma’am.” A voice calls, prodding your shoulder again, “Hello, miss?”

You open your eyes and your blood runs cold at the sight of the man in uniform standing above you. You sit up, excuses dancing at the tip of your tongue before you realised you could barely see past your nose.

The officer is holding a flashlight, the beam directed somewhere off to your right. A thick fog had settled while you slept, swirling way past the officer’s head.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t sleep here. This is a private park.” His words aren’t unkind, they come out gentle and a little pitying, as though he regrets having to do his job of keeping the riffraff out. He lets you gather your things, stuffing your still damp clothes back into your bag.

He takes a step back when you stand, “If you need somewhere to stay, there’s a shelter not far from here. Couple blocks that way.” He waves his flashlight behind you, towards the park’s exit, “Can’t miss it.”

You could barely see the guy, much less which way exactly he’s directing you to. You turn, squinting at the way you think he pointed. “Thank you... I’m really sorry about –”

“Don’t worry about it...just keep walking straight and you’ll find it.”

He motions with his flashlight again and you take two steps away before stopping and turning back, “Sorry but...the fog...which way...”

The man is gone, no sign of him having been there in the first place. It’s quiet, not even insects are chirping, you don’t hear any retreating footsteps. You stare at the spot he was just in, but didn’t want to linger lest he comes back and he’s decidedly less kind.

You hike your bag up on your shoulder, squinting to see through the fog as you walk towards the exit. The roads are empty, there’s the soft clicking of the traffic lights and the glow of shop lights and street lamps that make it a little bit easier to see. You still look both ways before walking quickly across the street, keeping straight like the officer told you.

It’s quiet, and honestly, it freaks you out a bit. You don’t think it’s that late, and even so, there should be people out and about. You don’t even think you slept for that long, it couldn’t have been more than an hour. There’s no reason for no one to be around, then again, you don’t know this area very well.

You walk for some time, the sound of your footsteps and your steady breaths your only company. You’re keeping your eyes peeled for any sign of the shelter, staring up at the glowing signs and squinting to see through the fog. You passed a convenience store, a pharmacy and a pet shop, all closed and dark inside. You’ve crossed two roads so far; it shouldn’t be much more walking...unless a couple of blocks have two different meanings between you and the officer.

You stop for a moment, taking a breath that settles heavy and damp in your chest. You look back the way you came, look at the signs of the buildings across the street and the one you’re outside of. You can’t see much more than that unless you keep walking straight.

You’re beginning to wonder if he’d only said so to get you out of the park. You take a couple of steps forward and then stop, looking over your shoulder. Your brows furrow and the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end.

It’s said that the mind always knows when you’re being watched, a sixth sense to be aware when someone is staring at you.

You feel watched.

And it isn’t an ordinary feeling.

It feels off, like some primal switch just flicked up in your brain. Briefly, you think that this is how a bunny feels being cornered by a fox. Your heart suddenly kicks against your ribs and something in the back of your mind screams for you to move.

You press forward, the feeling lingers, and intensifies. You walk as quickly as you can, your once steady breaths loud and harsh in the quietness of the night. You try not to look behind you as your ears pick up on the sound of another pair of footsteps. They match yours, and you’re not too certain if it’s just really your own bouncing off the walls of the buildings. When you stop, they stop, and start back up again when you start.

There’s another sound below it. Something snarls like a dog somewhere in the distance behind you, but, like everything else about this moment in this fog, it sounds wrong. Like it’s coming from a creature that’s trying to mimic the sound of an animal.

You stop dead in your tracks, goosebumps rippling along your skin like a wave from the top of your head and downwards. You take a breath, and with one foot in front of the other – you sprint.

Your footfalls are loud in the quiet, and even through your panic you notice the change of the footsteps that mimicked yours. There’s two more with it that falls in rhythm, like a large beast running on all fours.

It’s running faster than you are, the pounding of its feet against the pavement is double the speed of your own. You feel like your lungs are about to burst, your legs burning, and the damp air becomes fire in your throat when you breathe.

Whatever it is snarls again, and it sounds way closer than it was before. You could almost feel the sound rumble through you, and something hot fans at the back of your neck. You nearly trip, stumbling over your own feet in an attempt to run faster. You round a corner blindly, hoping to throw whatever it is off your trail and smack right into someone.

With your momentum, you’d think that you would send yourself and the person sprawling to the hard concrete. The terrified scream you let out rings in your own ears, high pitched and shrill, as you bounce back, falling in a heap. There’s a sharp twinge in your wrist as you brace, and a stinging in your palm when you just barely managed to catch yourself.

“Shit!” the person exclaims – a man, if the deep timbre of his voice was anything to go by. “Are you okay?!”

The man crouches down and you scramble back, then remember that you crashed into him because you were running from something and the panic comes back.

“I—there’s ... Something’s following me! It chased me all the way here...It’s—”

“Hey, hey...it’s okay...you’re fine.” The man seems to look behind you. You could barely see his face, even with him being as close as he was; the fog just seems to get thicker. “It’s just us out here...”

His voice suddenly seems hesitant, and you wouldn’t blame him if he thought you were crazy.

You breathing is still erratic, heart still trying to pound its way out of your chest.

The man’s hands hover at your shoulders, and there’s worry in his tone when he speaks again. “It’s okay. You’re alright, nothing’s out here but us.”

He takes your hand – the one that’s not holding your weight – and presses it to his chest. You almost jump out of your skin at the contact, but his own heart is steady, beating a slow rhythm against his sternum. “Breathe with me.”

He takes a deep breath in, and you feel his chest expand as his lungs fill, you try your best. Your throat is burning, and every breath feels like fine glass is swirling at the back of your mouth. It takes a moment, but eventually, your breaths match his and the adrenaline seeps out with your every exhale.

Your brain finally registers the throbbing of your wrist and palm, and the ache in your sides.

“There you go.” You can faintly make out the smile that spreads across the man’s face, heart shaped and pretty white teeth. “Good now?”

You nod, just barely, and he releases your hand. There’s a shuffling and the sound of a zipper and then he’s holding a bottle of water out to you. You eye it with some suspicion, and he picks up on it.

“It’s just water, promise.” He says, wiggling the bottle a little. “The seal isn’t cracked or anything.”

You take your weight off your palm, wincing at the hot flash of pain from the movement. You right yourself a little, taking the water from him with your uninjured hand and a soft thanks.

“Oh...here...” he keeps the bottle steady in your hand with a palm under the bottom of it, and the other cracking the seal with a twist. He lifts the bottle to your lips and you take a sip, and then a gulp, “Easy, not too fast.”

The water is cool, and a blessing, you didn’t realise how thirsty you were. When you’ve drank at least half of the bottle, the man puts the cap back on and leaves it in your hold.

“Were you looking for something?” he asks gently, and you nod.

“The homeless shelter...I think I’m lost now, though.”

The man tilts his head, “There aren’t any shelters in this area...you’re on the wrong side of the city if that’s what you were looking for.”

You stare at him for a moment, “...Oh.” The officer really did just say it, then. You’re not sure what to say to the man and you glance around at the street that’s still teeming with the thick fog.

You’re not sure what to say to him, and instead, look around the street for any sign of the shelter even though he’d said there isn’t one.

“I think the fog’s lifting...” The man mumbles. The fog is clearing; it’s easier to see further down the street and the man in front of you. He presses his palms against his knees and stands, looking around for a moment before looking down at you. “There aren’t any shelters around...but...I can help you. If you want, I live a bit that way, and I’ve got an extra room...”

This is a bad idea.

He’s quite tall, on the lean side with long limbs. He’s wearing a long black coat, and his black, suede shoes look just as expensive as the watch that peeks from the end of his sleeve at his wrist. The white tee shirt he wears looks a little billowy, like it would swallow his frame once he takes the coat off. He turns a little and you get to admire the sharp cut of his jaw and the elegant slope of his nose.

“I won’t hurt you or anything. I just want to help.” He says, turning back to you. His eyes are dark, but kind as he offers a hand to help you off the concrete. “I’m Hoseok.”

You take his hand, and there’s nothing in the back of your mind telling you to get away. Nothing in his body language that shows ill intent, and you have to remind yourself that some people are simply kind.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him softly, giving him your name. His smile is soft as he nods, lips turned up slightly at the corners, eyes squinted just a bit.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. It’s a bit late, though, and you’d have to walk a long way to find the shelter...” Hoseok says softly.

You’re still holding his hand, and the warmth of it grounds you. You honestly shouldn’t, really, you’re smart enough to know you shouldn’t follow random men promising kindness. He really looks like a good person, quietly waiting for your answer as he gives you chance to change your mind should you wish.

He doesn’t rush you, and briefly you wonder if he doesn’t have anything else to do. He was clearly going about his business before you tackled him, though that word should be used lightly considering you’re the one who ended up on the ground.

“Okay...thank you.” When you finally speak his smile broadens, showing pretty teeth and still holding your hand, he leads you in the direction he was coming from before. You feel a bit bad, turning his night on its head and probably inconveniencing him.

The fog is lighter now, the air not as thick with it as you follow along. Hoseok didn’t talk much, not once mentioning your pitiful state of dress, or asking any questions. You’re grateful, not many people would go out of their way to open their homes to someone without one.

The place he leads you to looks expensive and you feel out of place. The road winds and twists into a residential area with houses and three storey apartments. There are cars parked in driveways, neatly trimmed grass and hedges, a fence around every tree. Lampposts dot the sidewalk every thirty or so steps, casting their orange glows across every surface.

Across from there, the road veers off into a more commercial area, with fancier housing and shops and a tall, looming hotel. The streets are quiet, shops already closed for the night and you wonder what time it is. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, save for you and Hoseok making your way towards the hotel.

The doors slide open with a little mechanical whir, and you balk at the sheer size of the lobby alone. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling, bouncing their glows off of shiny surfaces. There are red and black lounge seats along a far wall, coffee tables of black tempered glass between them and the single seated chairs across. On the other side of the lobby is a little open cafe area, closed of course, with comfortable looking chairs tucked under tables.

There are two elevators, one of which you assume to be for staff. The reception area is a counter space of smooth looking white marble, though no one sits behind it.

Hoseok leads you to the elevator, pressing the button to call it down. You’ve let go of his hand now, as you take in the sight of the place. You wonder what anyone would think seeing someone like you in here. With your shabby clothes that’s seen better days, your dirty sneakers and backpack that looks like it’s moments away from just splitting apart.

There’s no one to see you, as the elevator comes down and opens with a ding. You catch sight of your reflection in the elevator walls, and grimace, regretting not bracing the cold river earlier. You definitely look homeless, your last bath was exactly two days ago, you look grubby standing just a little bit behind Hoseok. Anyone who would see you now would definitely turn their nose up at you and outright ask what you’re doing in their pristine hotel. Though, there isn’t much you can do to prevent that.

When the doors slide close you focus on the button panel, and next to it is a key card scanner and a button under it. The word penthouse is neatly labelled on the button in little black letters, and Hoseok fishes around his coat to pull out a key card. You blink, of course he lives in the penthouse.

The scanner beeps softly and Hoseok presses the button that glows a soft blue before the elevator lurches slight and ascends.

You fiddle nervously with your fingers in front of you, keeping your eyes on your shoes. There’s a shuffle and Hoseok turns to look at you, he’s smiling kindly again, something like pity woven into it and you feel a coil of shame twist in your chest.

“I’m sorry...” You say without much reason, glancing at him and then back down, “For the trouble.”

“No trouble.” Hoseok says softly, concern on his brow, his hand reaching out but stopping short, as though he’s not sure if he could touch you. You’re surprised he even want to. Heck, you’re surprised he’s doing any of this at all. “Really.”

“Do you usually take in random homeless people?” You ask, and his chuckle is light and teasing.

“Only the cute ones.” He says and then looks a little mortified, “Sorry. I’m kidding. It’s just...you looked like you really needed help...so I’m helping.”

“You’re very kind.” You murmur and offer a smile.

He smiles back, not as brightly as his other ones, it curls his mouth less, doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He nods, “I try to be.”

The elevator slows to a stop, doors sliding open to a little well-lit hallway. On the other end of the hall is a wide pane of glass that overlooks the city lights, twinkling in a dance of their own making, and an emergency exit sign jutting out of the wall. You follow Hoseok out of the elevator towards the door which he unlocks with a password — the beeps loud in the quiet — the door opens with a soft thunk and a beep and he lets you walk in first.

The lights are on, as though he’d only planned to be out for a moment. You’re not too sure what to do with yourself now that you’re here, staring at Hoseok’s back unsurely as he takes his shoes off and tucks them neatly on a shoe rack.

He turns to face you, “I don’t mean anything by this, so please don’t misunderstand...”

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

He seems to weigh his words carefully, “Do you want to take a bath?”

You flush, yeah, you surely look grubby enough for him to ask that. It’s warranted, so, you’re not upset that he asked. You’d actually love to, when was the last time you took a bath that wasn’t in the freezing river?

Still though, it’s embarrassing. So you nod silently, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, looking genuinely relieved. “You can leave your stuff here and I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay...” You step out of your shoes, nudging them in a corner before you take your bag off and set it down. The clothes you have are still damp, stuffed in a plastic bag somewhere in the depths of your tattered backpack and Hoseok doesn’t give you a moment before he’s leading you through his home.

The chill of the grey tiled floor runs up your legs through your thin, threadbare socks. You don’t have much time to look around, but you’re aware you’ve passed an open space kitchen and living room, splashes of white, reds and black in the corner of your vision.

He lets you into the bathroom, “Use whatever you need. The towels and things are in the cabinet.”

You turn to face him, “I really can’t thank you enough.” You say earnestly, and he waves you off, turning to leave and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“I’ll bring you some clothes that you could use.” He says through the door, his voice muffled. You thank him again and his footsteps trail away.

You turn and glance around the bathroom, floor to ceiling glass panes makes up the furthest wall. Before it is a porcelain bathtub that could easily fit three people, on a raised platform of white stained marble, and that platform on another, creating a single step up in order to get into the tub. The colour of the platforms compliments the dark reflective marble floor. The undersides of the platforms are lined with what you assume must be LED lights, glowing a pale white along the bottom.

The same LEDs line the back of the large wall mounted mirror, giving it an ominous glow. Below the mirror is a dark granite sink with a faucet you’re not even sure how to turn on. The cabinet below the sink house only cleaning supplies, and you look around for the towel space.

The shower takes up nearly the whole wall it’s connected to, frosted glass and jets embedded into the wall.  

You walk over to the shower and realise that was wall beside it sorts of curve and you let out a surprised sound when you walk the short way towards the back of it. The ‘cabinet’ is more of a little walk-in closet, there’s a few fluffy looking bathrobes sorted by length and colour, and towels and washcloths stacked on shelves that match.

Under those are neat little space savers filled with bath oils and shower gels, sweet scented candles tucked into corners. Bar soaps and toilet paper on their own shelves at the bottom, unopened toothbrushes and what have you.

There’s enough room to turn full circle without bumping into anything if you step into it. But you look at your hands and decide to not touch anything until they're clean.

So you walk back out to the sink, frowning at the faucet with no visible way to turn it on; it’s just a sleek piece of metal that curves back into the basin. You look at it to and fro and wave your hand under it, startling slightly when water sprays from the faucet. You hold your hand away and it turns off after a moment. Now, your parents had money but it wasn’t anything like this.

You can’t imagine the cost of this place.

You find hand soap after peeking into the cabinet below the sink again, taking your time to thoroughly wash your hands clean. It’s hard to see the dirt go down the drain against the dark granite, but you’re grateful. You inspect your hands once your done, and finally allow yourself to touch Hoseok’s things. You take a towel down from the shelf, the one that’s at the top of the pile. It’s a nice pale yellow, and near the bottom right corner is a little blue butterfly embroidered into the fabric. After a little debate with yourself, you pull the washcloth that matches from its pile.

You set the towel on the closed lid of the toilet, and strip out of your clothes. You fold them neatly and set them on the floor along with your socks, stuffing your underwear into the pocket of your jacket. You step into the shower and pull the door shut behind you.

You turn the knobs and adjust the water so that’s it not too hot, and for a moment, you simply stand there. The water flows over your skin in rivulets, washing away the sweat and grime of the past two days. You try not to take too long, but made sure that you’re thoroughly scrubbed clean. You try not to use too much of Hoseok’s things, even though he’d told you to use whatever you needed.

You’re not sure how long you were in there, how long you stood letting the water wash away your tears as well.

When you step out, steam billowing put behind you, you wiggle your toes into the fluffy cotton mat under you, wrapping the towel around your form. It feels nice to be clean, skin feeling a little raw from the hot water. You tiptoe to the door and ease it open, and it pushes lightly against a bundle of folded clothes on the ground. Next to it, a pair of warm looking house slippers that you shuffle into immediately after drying your feet.

The clothes: a dark grey long sleeve crew neck tee that hangs just a little off one shoulder, a pair of boxer shorts still in it’s wrapping, and long fleece lined sweatpants that you have to fold at your ankles.

Near the door is a towel rack where you hang the towel you used to dry, and after taking a breath, you step out of the bathroom.

You walk back the way Hoseok led you, and the air is prickled with the scent of freshly made food and it makes you wonder just how long you took in the bathroom.

The kitchen is a wide space, between the area that makes up the entrance hallway is a kitchen island, and much like everything else you’ve seen, is a long, polished slab of dark marble. There’s a sink in the middle, sleek and silver and soft white light comes from the fixings above it. Across from that is a large refrigerator, an electric stove and more counter space. There are a few scattered appliances, a coffee maker and a small espresso machine tucked under a cupboard over them, and a blender with something or the other in it.

Hoseok stands with his back to you, he turns slightly, looking over his shoulder and startles.

“Oh – shit.” He laughs softly, “Hey, was your bath okay?”

“Sorry...” You apologize for scaring him and he waves you off, turning to face you fully. He scans your form but there’s nothing odd in the action, and he nods to himself at whatever he was looking for. “Oh, yeah. My bath was okay, thank you.”

“Dinner’s ready if you...oh...” he glances to the side, back to you and then to whatever he’s got going on the stovetop. “...This might be too heavy for you right now...” He murmurs to himself, a hand scratching at the back of his neck. He looks sheepish, a little guilty about something he didn’t consider.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll eat whatever it is.” You’re not about to make him waste his food, or be impolite.

“Okay, well.” He presses a button on the stove panel, turning to the island. There’s the sound of a drawer opening and he pulls out a kitchen towel, smiling at you. He nods his head to the right, where, tucked to the wall is a modest sized wooden table. There’re two plates of what he’s made already there, and tall glasses of water. “Go ahead.”

You walk over to the table, pulling out the chair to sit. Dinner is creamy mashed potatoes, a hearty portion of steamed mixed veggies and steak that’s somehow done to your liking and already cut into pieces. Your mouth waters at the sight and it smells so good you could cry. Hoseok isn’t finished at the island, so you busy yourself with folding the sleeves of your borrowed tee-shirt up and out of the way.

When he comes over he frowns a little, “You didn’t have to wait, dove.” He takes his seat opposite you, “Please, eat.”

The random pet name flies over your head, not that you would’ve been bothered by it had you been paying attention. Hoseok was kind enough to open his home to you, let you use his things and now he’s feeding you. He could call you whatever he likes.

You murmur a thank you and dig into your food. The sound you make when you take the first bite borders on erotic, but your gracious host doesn’t seem to mind very much. There’s a pleased glint in his eyes and a small curl to his mouth as he watches you eat for a moment.

You’re too hungry to be embarrassed by the intensity of his stare, but you’re mindful to not choke or look like you left your manners somewhere at your feet.

The food settles in your stomach, heavy but it’s a feeling you welcome. You could barely remember the last time you had a full meal. The bite you swallow brings the odd feeling of it slowing down behind your sternum, and you take a long drink of the cold water Hoseok had set out for you.

The man himself barely touched his own food, seemingly content to watch you scarf yours down. He has his chin propped in his hand, a small curl to the corner of his mouth and a glint of something in his eyes.

“Thank you...for the food.” You stare at your plate, drizzled with gravy and what’s left of your dinner. You can’t meet his gaze and you’re not certain why, and the intensity of it is starting to gnaw on your senses.

“No need for thanks, little dove.” Hoseok says, and there’s a soft clink when he finally picks his fork up and it knocks against the round rim of the plate. “Just doing my good deed for the day.”

The pet name strikes you this time, no longer distracted by the delicious food and your rumbling tummy. The way it rolls off his tongue sends a shiver racing down your spine, one that was decidedly unpleasant. There’s something in his tone, the way he stares when you raise your eyes to meet his, something in his beautiful heart shaped smile.

The fine hairs at the back of your neck raises, and you’re back to feeling like a bunny in a fox’s burrow. It was the same feeling you’d gotten earlier in the strange fog; the primal sense that you’re no longer the apex.

Something like a bell jingles in the back of your mind and grows louder until its a wailing alarm.

You should leave. Thank him for being so kind and get as far away from him as possible.

The look in his eyes unnerves you, but it’s something you can’t put a finger on. Just off the edge of his form something flutters, a shadow that shouldn’t be there, but it’s gone so quickly you didn’t have time to focus on it. The feeling intensifies; tugging, now.

You don’t think he’s blinked.

A shudder runs through you, rippling along your skin like a shockwave and Hoseok is calling your name.

“Are you okay?” there’s concern on his brow, his unoccupied hand raised in a wave as though he’s been trying to get your attention for a while. “Do you feel sick?”

“N... no. I’m fine, thank you.” You try to smile, but you’re pretty certain it looks as strained as it feels. He was almost done eating, though he’s paused to asses you with furrowed brows. You feel like you’ve missed something in the past minute.

“I asked if you wanted more food but you just blanked on me.” Hoseok sets his fork down and you feel like you’re losing your mind. The feeling from before is gone, and you’re not even certain if you felt it in the first place. Maybe you’re tired, or maybe the feeling of the comforts you’ve missed for so long is messing with your head.

Hoseok looks perfectly normal, there’s nothing flickering at his back or anything odd in his stare.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.” You don’t feel certain, and if Hoseok noticed he didn’t comment on it. You pick up the fork again, scraping up the little left of your food onto it quietly. You feel strange, as though the past two minutes moved by too quickly, or like they happened weeks ago and you’re struggling to cling to the details of them.

Hoseok is focused on his plate, and uncertainty at the hope that he keeps his eyes there blooms in your chest. You’re not sure why.

It’s awkwardly quiet for a couple moments, with Hoseok finishing his meal and you, playing with the folded ends of your borrowed tee-shirt. When he was done, he takes the plates and the empty glasses to the sink to clean them and you sit idly at the table.

He’s drying his hands with a dark kitchen towel when he’s done, settling at the edge of the island and facing you. The overhead lights glow against his form, casting shadows along his visage that makes him look sharper; menacing. It clings to his hair like a depiction of something holy, making his dark hair look russet in the gleam.

You go to thank him again, even though he’d probably wave you off like he’s been doing the whole time, but the lights are too bright. The glow of the lights swells and flood your eyes, you squeeze them shut, trying to dispel the ache that comes with it. You turn your head and it feels like you’re neck deep in mud, it takes too much effort to do something so simple.

Panic wells in your chest, sending your heart kicking against your ribs harshly. You take a breath, well, you try, but it gets stuck somewhere in your throat and you choke on it.

There’s two Hoseoks when you peel your eyes open, and they neatly fold the towel they were using and put it down. For a minute, your vision settles, and the man leans against the island nonchalantly, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watches you spiral.

“You should try to calm down.” He says softly, and you hate the way you cling to the sound of his voice when it’s very clear what’s happening.

“Wh...” Your tongue feels heavy, and the words you try to say are slurred and unintelligible. You move to stand, trying to get away even when your limbs feel like there’s a ball and chains at the ends of them. The world tilts on an axis, doubling as you make to your feet, you’re not sure if it’s leaning or you are.

Hoseok reaches you in a single step and a strangled sound escapes you. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you back into the chair. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing your body can’t handle.”

You can barely hear him, your ears feel as though there’s cotton in them, reducing his words to a muddled murmur. You can’t feel the way his fingers curl into the hair at your nape, but you notice the shift as he tilts your heavy head back to look up at him.

He’s smiling, you think. Pretty and heart shaped, all white teeth and sinister. And there’s that feeling again, as he says something you can’t hear, can’t focus, your eyes are closing.

There’s something dark and broken that flickers against the light above his head and shadows that dance at his back.

When the morning came and you didn’t wake, Hoseok wasn’t too concerned. He watched over you as once was his duty to another, tucked you into the sheets and the blankets and let you sink into the warmth of them. He sits in a chair at your bedside, simply watching the rise and fall of your chest and the pinch of your brow as sweat beads upon it.

Your body is fighting hard to flush out what he put in, and he admits, he may have given you a bit too much of it. It wasn’t his intention, but nothing can be done now but wait for you to come to.

When the afternoon comes and the first sign of your conscious shows in a weak attempt to rouse yourself, and a jumble of words that Hoseok deciphers with a well-trained ear it; was clear you weren’t fully there yet. Your skin was too warm, eyes not nearly focused enough, barely looking at him, and then the contents of your stomach come in a rush of bile and acid.

Hoseok tends to you gently, patiently, taking you to the bath and settling you in a way so that you don’t slip under and drown in your unconscious state. He cleans your mess, changes the bedding, puts you in a fresh set of clothes and lays you back to rest.

You stay asleep throughout the day, and Hoseok isn’t too concerned.

Humans are such fragile, foolish things. To him, you’re a porcelain doll, pretty to stare at and admire if it sits on the top of a shelf behind a case. Take it out of that case and it’s so easily broken. Hoseok is like a child in a sandbox of his own creation with too much power in his fingers. If he isn’t careful, he could shatter your form and lose you to the dunes.

The fear you felt the night before played you directly into his hands – never mind he had nothing to do with it – and Hoseok knows, you don’t have to be inclined to feel the weight of his presence. Your mind knew that something wasn’t quite right -- unconsciously or not --, and yet, you willingly followed.

Foolish.

Though, it was purely coincidental that you ran into him, he had been on his way to somewhere and wondering about the strangeness of the fog that rolled in out of nowhere. He hadn’t missed the weird quiet and lack of people either, it hadn’t been that late.

He doesn’t know exactly what you were doing in it, running around the way you were like a mouse in a maze. It’s something that sits at the back of his mind.

The morning of the second day brought no change; you were in and out of your drug induced sleep, and now, Hoseok was a little concerned.

::

“How much did you give her?”

There’s a squeak of leather as Seungcheol crosses his arms, when it’s quiet for far too long he gives Hoseok a look.

“A little.”

Seungcheol leans over your sleeping form, raising a hand to rest against your forehead. Hoseok would think you were dead if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of your chest.

“If it was a little, you wouldn’t have called.” Seungcheol says, shaking his head, the dark waves of his hair brushing his eyelashes.

“Well, she’s not dead.”

“Dude.” Seungcheol looks a little disturbed, straightening to stare at Hoseok with a displeased furrow in his brow. “You can’t just – humans have limitations.”

“I’m aware, Cheol. Thank you.” Hoseok grumbles, and he ignores the raise of Seungcheol’s eyebrow and the clear disbelief in his eyes.

“‘Course you are.” He rolls his eyes and then sighs lowly, he turns back to you, placing his hand on your forehead again until the tension in your face fades. “Don’t give her any more of that shit. She should wake up sometime today, maybe.”

Hoseok knows better than anyone the limitations of humans. Not that he acknowledges them, he hadn’t the need to in a long time, but he should be careful at least.

Hoseok leads the way out of his guest bedroom with Seungcheol following and closing the door gently behind him. Walking to the kitchen he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his head.

Hoseok takes his time, fetching a glass from one of his cupboards and the whisky he keeps stashed away for his more stressful days. “Spit it out.”

Seungcheol braces his arms on the other side of the island, eyes dark. “Hoseok. I normally don’t care what you get up to; it’s not my business.” He says, looking somewhere to Hoseok’s right. “You don’t fuck around with humans. Who’s the girl?”

Hoseok hums, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass with a contemplative stare. “Street urchin. No one anyone would miss or bother to look for.”

“So you just took her off the street?” Seungcheol frowns, but Hoseok could tell from the look in his eyes that he knows it’s not that simple.

“She came willingly.” Hoseok corrects, taking a sip of the alcohol he could barely taste.

He sets the glass down on the island and pours the whisky to fill half. Seungcheol is quiet, and Hoseok hates it. It gives his mind a moment to wonder, to open a box he’s kept locked and chained.

On most days, Hoseok barely knows himself. He remembers what he’s supposed to be – what he was – and sometimes, that part of him rears its head to fight with what he’s become. Wings dipped in gold and divinity at the end of his fingertips battle endlessly with the shadows that encased him.

A memory of a time he held something as fragile as glass in his hands, broken before he could properly hold it by someone who was supposed to keep it safe. The ache of it burns like a rash that never goes away, always there, only hiding under his skin until it flares up again.

“Just... don’t do anything stupid.” Seungcheol says after a while, watching Hoseok carefully.

“You and your moral compass.” Hoseok shakes his head, and just like that, the golden light is bundled up tightly and pushed back into the corner where he long hid it.

Seungcheol heaves a sigh, shaking his head, picking up his bag he threw on the island counter when he got here.

“I need you to do something for me.” Hoseok says, watching the light shine through the glass in pretty crystal shapes. There’s a furrow of Seungcheol’s brows, but he tells Hoseok to continue with a raise of his chin. “Keep an eye out for a fog.”

“A fog? Why?”

“She was in one the night before.” Hoseok sucks air in through his teeth, “and she wasn’t alone.”

Seungcheol hums, “Alright.”

Hoseok drinks the last of the whisky in one go and waves a hand at Seungcheol, “You can go now.”

“Thank you, Cheol. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Seungcheol grumbles and then raps his knuckles against the countertop. “I’ll be over here for a few days, gotta sort some things out. Call if you need me.”

Hoseok watches him leave, stuffing his hands into his pocket as he walks back to the bedroom where you still lay asleep.

He sits on the chair, watching the rise and fall of your chest, every minute twitch of your facial features. Restlessness tugs at his limbs as the sun makes its descent western sky, spraying the dimming canvas in hues of lilac and peach.

Something in the back of his mind asks what exactly he’s doing. There was no reason – there wasn’t a reason for him to take you in. A sprout of boredom, maybe, or something involuntary.

Hoseok stares out the window at the slowly darkening sky and the soft glimmer of early evening stars, until the sky is navy and darkness clings to the room.

Your mouth feels like someone’s stuffed cotton in it, and your throat feels like sandpaper when you try to swallow.

You haven’t opened your eyes, laying on what you presume is a bed, if the softness beneath you was anything to go by.

There’s not much that you remember, even as the fog in your mind clears little by little. You remember eating, you remember feeling strange like someone had shrunk you and shook you around in a jar of water. You remember the fear that quickened your heart and your breaths and Hoseok, standing above you like a malevolent God.

You remember the strangeness of his form, and even now your mind can’t comprehend it. You’re not even certain if what you saw was actually real and not an effect of whatever Hoseok had drugged you with.

Drugged.

He drugged you.

Your eyes open and the room is dark. The blankets are thick and heavy and they make you feel warm. There’s a window to your far left, curtains drawn back to show the city in all it’s glory.

Slowly, you sit up, pushing yourself upwards on arms that feel a little weak, and find – to your horror – the clothes you were wearing before aren’t what you’re wearing now.

You take a breath before the panic could set in. You could feel it rolling under your skin like a rumble of thunder before rain, and you try your best to stay calm. You need to find a way out of here.

The apartment seems to be quiet as you slide your feet out of the bed and onto the floor. You barely register the chill of it when you stand, sock-less feet making it easier to sneak over to the door without making a sound. You don’t know where Hoseok put your things, and you don’t have time to go looking for them.

The door isn’t locked, and doesn’t make noise when you push it open slightly to peek out through the little gap you made. You recognise the hallway, the bathroom is two doors down on the other side, and opening the door a little more, you poke your head out tentatively. 

You don’t breathe as you listen, but it’s so quiet, so much so that your exhale seems too loud, and there’s a soft ringing in your ears that set you on edge. Stepping outside the room, you contemplate your next course of action: You can bolt right for the door and get out, but risk making too much noise if Hoseok is indeed here. Or, you can slowly and quietly make your way over and slip out without cluing your kidnapper in on your escape.

Can it be called kidnapping if you were living on the streets?

The door seems miles away as you inch slowly towards the open kitchen and living room area. There are a few lights on, the same LED lighting strips run along the edge of the large pane windows and glows an ominous blue and the lights over the marble island had been dimmed. Both rooms seem empty and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Like a mouse, you skitter across along the hallway space that divides the two, down the little platform at the entrance and take one more step towards the door.

The door that seems further back than it was a second ago.

The stretch of space that was just an arm’s length away was now more than a hallway’s length. You stand still and stare at it, reaching an arm out in case you’re suddenly tripping balls but your hand swipes through air and falls limply at your side.

You look behind you and the rooms and hallway are just as they were, and turning back, the door was right where it was before. You could’ve sworn there was a handle on it. You place your palm against the cool, smooth surface where the handle should be and in the face of your freedom thwarted, you pinch your thigh.

You must be dreaming. The pain flares and grounds you and you realise there’s no explanation for this. You’re wide awake. Still drugged then. But you feel fine. There’s no swirling vision or heavy limbs, your mouth doesn’t feel like someone squeezed glue into it; you’re fine. This doesn’t make sense.

You back away from the door and almost stumble against the raised ledge behind your heels. Steadying yourself with a hand against the wall, you turn, and immediately, notice the darkness of the hallway.

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart slams so harshly against your sternum it hurt. There’s that feeling again, it sends a shiver racing down your spine and scattering goosebumps along your skin. You’re being watched. You are not the apex here.

You want to run, or curl up into a ball and hope the darkness hides you. Fear coils into your muscles and locks them tight, and you’re left standing still, eyes darting around trying to make sense of the shapes in the dark.

There’s a darkness that curls at the center of the space a few feet away from you, undulating and crashing in on itself in an uncoordinated dance of chaos. It’s somehow darker than the darkness – stands out against it like white on black paint. It doesn’t make sense to you, and it could simply be your mind turning against you and scaring you further.

It slowly floats towards you, wraps around you in a languid, bored way, like smoke, no longer as tangible as it seemed before. You don’t feel it’s caress, but it’s cold, like you’d submerged yourself into a tub full of ice and water. You feel as though you’ll pass out, like the black wisps of strange smoke is filling your lungs and carving its way through. There’s fear, which is yours, and something that isn’t.

Something dark and lonely, desperate and afraid. It’s sad, so sad that you feel like you’ll drown in it, that tears would well in your eyes and squeeze your throat tight. There’s anger. It feels as though you can burn the world and revel in it.

The smoke snaps back and away from you, crumples on itself violently and then the lights are on, blinding you.

Hoseok is standing in front of you. There’s a mix of conflicted emotions on his face like he can’t settle on one before the storm in his eyes calm.

There’s a tenseness to his brow, and he studies you quietly with a tilt of his head.

“You’re awake.”

He takes one step forward and you take two back in turn. His eyes dart down to your feet and quickly back to your face, and draws the foot he put forward back to himself.

“I won’t hurt you.”

You scoff before you could help it, fear pushed slightly to the side as your anger rushes forward. “Right. Like I’ll believe that after you fucking drugged me.”

“Like I said, it was nothing your body couldn’t handle.” Hoseok counters calmly, “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead.”

“Then why am I here? What do you want?” His threat didn’t go unheard, it settles into your mind and buries itself underneath everything else you’re trying to absorb for you to freak out about later.

Hoseok smiles, and its bright in its visage, every bit of sweet and caring as you thought him to be. Dimples you haven’t noticed before sinks into his laugh lines, and you think briefly, it makes him even more dangerous. He looks so harmless, as his smile blossoms and blooms into the heart shape you remember from the night before.

“Just you.” He says, eyes glinting with something you’ve decided is more than a little crazy.

You take another step back and he remains in his spot. If you’re quick enough – just enough – you can make it to the door. You might be able to outrun him.

“You can leave if you like.” He says, like he could tell what you’re thinking – or read your mind – and his smile fades, like a raincloud swelling and covering the warm rays of the sun. “Can’t guarantee you’d get very far, so I advise against it.”

You’re not sure if he’s being honest. Though, he looks pretty damn serious. He stares at you quietly, intensely, like he’s daring you to make that mistake. You hazard a look at the door behind you and the handle is still gone.

“What are you?” you ask, turning to face him and he’s directly in front of you. The startled squeak that leaves you makes him chuckle. Bending at his waist, Hoseok stares right into your eyes and you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest and take off running.

Bunny in a fox’s burrow.

“Hm.” He hums, “Now you’re asking questions.” He straightens with a smile and steps aside, gesturing to the kitchen with a slight nod of his head. “I’ll tell you eventually. For now though, you should eat.”

You stay rooted to your spot and decide that if he wants you to move, he’s going to have to move you himself. He’s insane if he thinks you’d be eating anything he gives you.

“Come now, dove. Don’t be that way.” He sighs, stares at you for a moment later before nodding. He turns on his heel and walks into the kitchen without you.

There’re the soft clangs of him moving things around, doing whatever he’s doing in there.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days, and you’ve been sick. You shouldn’t be standing.” You hear him say from the kitchen, and you think you could make another attempt at the door but the handle is still missing, so you have no choice but to go.

You eye him suspiciously when you enter, watching as he butters a piece of toast and puts it on a plate. He doesn’t look at you as you hover unsurely at the dining table, watching the lights catch on the dark marble island counter.

“I won’t give you anything to drink. Get it yourself if you’re worried I’d try something.” He says softly, and not unkind. There’s a shift in his tone and the way his body moves as he brings the plate over. You feel like the man who was standing in front of you a couple of minutes ago in the hallway had hidden himself away and the man you’d met on the street had crawled his way back to the surface.

He sets it down on the table and walks back around the island, opposite from where you’re standing, and out of the kitchen.

You’ve been here for two days – whatever he’d given you must have been strong as hell – trapped here with...him. You’re certain you can’t call him a man, he’s something more than that and you won’t know until he tells you. Most of the memory of the night you came here are blurry and frayed at the edges, making them impossible to cling to and analyse.

There was something strange in the moments before the drug kicked in and right before you passed out. Something strange about Hoseok, but you can’t seem to recall it. It’s like it happened years ago.

The inconsistencies of your memory leave you on edge, and you eye the two slices of perfectly buttered toast on the plate. He’s given you something light enough that your stomach won’t be upset. As the thought comes to mind you faintly remember being sick at some point, but that too is fuzzy and you aren’t sure if its real. At least now the change of clothes makes sense, though, it doesn’t make you feel any better. He could’ve done anything to you while you were drugged and unconscious.

You wonder what he could possibly want with you. Why you, of all people? You’re just a girl who had everything taken from her and thrown off the ladder, now at rock bottom fending for yourself. There’s nothing left of you that could be given.

You feel Hoseok’s presence before you see him, a sort of odd pressure in the back of your mind and your chest. He pokes his head into the room like he’s checking to see if you’d started eating or not and doesn’t look surprised to see you’d left the toast untouched and you’re still standing.

“The toast is fine, you know.” He says, and there’s an understanding in his eyes when he looks at you. He knows you don’t trust him, though, he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He sighs when you don’t make a move and comes into the kitchen. He takes the same route as before, walking around the opposite side of the island – away from you – until he’s standing at the other side of table.

“Okay.” He says, picking up one of the toast slices, he bites into it and stares at you while he chews. “Make something yourself then.”

You blink, “Huh?”

“The bread is in the fridge if you want. There’re oats if you prefer that instead. Stick to light things. I’d rather not be cleaning up after you.” You don’t understand him. In the short time you’ve known him, he’s like a square that’s trying to fit into a circle. The circle is too round to accommodate his sharp edges, but he somehow manages to get just half of the square through, even if the circle is struggling to contain it.

Not to mention the weird things that’s happened within the half hour you’ve been awake, things he’s yet to explain to you. Matter of fact, strange things has been happening since you left Abigail. The police officer, the fog, and whatever the hell was out there in it with you. You’re not even sure if that was real either.

You feel like if you focus on it, you’ll go crazy. So your mind does the only thing it can do to protect itself – pushes it away into a corner to mull over later along with everything else.

“I’d rather not.” You no longer feel the need to show him gratitude. You feel stupid, for one, why did you think trusting a random stranger would be a good thing?

Hoseok shrugs, dropping the half-eaten toast back onto the plate. He walks around you, close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end, that the warning bells are going crazy in your head again.

It’s uncomfortable being this close. The reaction is visceral, unable to ignore and you wonder why you hadn’t felt it the night before. Why you’d manage to follow him all the way here and not noticed. Maybe you had, briefly and in little moments that were small enough for you to brush them off.

You watch him watch you as he circles you like a vulture, “What are you?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was human?” He asks from behind you, and it feels like a terrible idea to have your back to him. He sounds amused, like this is nothing but a little game to him – just something to pass time while he’s bored.

As he rounds your right, your eyes meet the darkness of his. “You’re not.” It would be strange if you still thought he was after everything that’s happened already.

Hoseok hums, a twinkle lighting his eyes, “Perceptive, aren’t we?” There’s something like pride in his voice but you’re not sure what it’s for, “What do you think I am?”

“You expect me to guess correctly?” The difference in your height does nothing to stop you from glaring at him. He tilts his head at you, dark locks of his hair swaying against his forehead gently.

“No.” Hoseok smiles, “But it’ll make things interesting. I like games; play along.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his tone and the darkness in his eyes. He takes a step away from you and it feels like you can finally take a breath. His movements are fluid as he pulls the dining chair out from below the table. He sits gracefully, propping his chin in his palm as he watches you expectantly.

“Do you want a hint?” He asks, smiling sweetly.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You’re tired of whatever game he’s playing at, sick of the fear that keeps you standing still as he stares you down.

He stares at you like you’re a complex puzzle he’s trying to piece together. “I used to be an angel. Fallen from grace.”

You’d laugh at the absurdity of his words, but he has that look again. He has that look that makes you believe him, and everything seems to click into place and make sense, even if you barely understand it at all.

“Okay.” You nod, and then take a seat. You focus on the gentle waves of his dark hair and not his eyes, “Why am I here? Why can’t I leave?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. You can if you want to. I said that I can’t guarantee you’d get far; You weren’t alone out in that fog.”

You’d almost forgotten about that. Recent happenings had been enough to push it to the back of your mind. You knew you weren’t losing your mind that night, something had definitely chased you and you’re positive it wasn’t a regular animal.

“But that’s another topic.” Hoseok mumbles, more to himself than you, and it looks as though his thoughts strayed elsewhere for a moment before he focused. “You should be thanking me.” He says, tilting his head to meet your gaze with a smile.

He couldn’t be seriously wanting you to thank him. For what? Saving you? For all you know it could’ve been one of his tricks. Why would you thank him? He says that you could leave if you like – him messing with you since you woke up says otherwise. He’s not actually giving you a choice. You’re not going anywhere unless he lets you.

When you remain silent, he leans forward, pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “There’s nothing for you out there, though.”

You know he’s right. But that doesn’t justify what he’s doing. You assume he doesn’t care, if you were him, you wouldn’t feel the need to abide by law either.

You’d never been much for fantasy stories, growing up you were well aware that they were just that – stories. Your parents weren’t very religious, but you’d say grace before meals, pray before you go to sleep and when you woke up. Your parents would sometimes quote the bible when you were being naughty and every now and again you’d find yourself in a church for Sunday mas.

Your father used to say that the bible is a book of stories and lessons, and even if you aren’t to abide strictly by it, you should at least heed it. There’s someone up above, watching always.

The angels in the bible were described differently than the man before you, you think. Can angels really do things so bad that it gets them casted out?

Did he do something bad that got him sent here like some wayward child sent off to boot camp?

Even if a part of you is ever doubtful, his existence proves the existence of a higher being and you have some choice words for them.

In the days that go by, you remain wary of Hoseok. You don’t trust him, but you appreciate him letting you hover about him anytime he makes you something to eat. He makes everything from scratch and you wonder most of the time if it’s a skill he just has or was it something he had to hone on his own.

He barely bothers you, goes about his business, which really, entails him sitting in the living room and ignoring you.

Some days is another story entirely. You came to realise quickly that Hoseok is fond of games, usually at your expense. A shadow following you here, whispers that come from no where and bounces off the walls.

There are moments when you catch glimpses of something out of the corner of your eye – a figure lurking in the darkness, just beyond your line of sight. When you turn to look, there’s nothing there, leaving you to wonder if it was ever really there at all. You’ve seen shit at the corner of your vision way too many times for it to be a coincidence. You try to brush them off as tricks of the mind, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

Hoseok is always there when it happens, some sort of mirth in his eyes like your suffering is amusing.

The feeling of being watched becomes a constant presence, a weight on your shoulders that you can’t shake no matter how hard you try. Every time you turn around, you half expect to find Hoseok lurking in the shadows, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.

For the first week it’s been this way, and when the second week started, he’d leave at one point during the day. Bored of you most likely, not that you’re complaining; at least he was no longer trying to send you crazy.

He’d give you the same instruction he did the night be brought you, use anything you need with additions of ‘Don’t cause trouble’ and ‘Stay put’. You always roll your eyes at that, the door remains the same; missing it’s handle. You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to.

You would stand in the living room, which looks much like the rest of Hoseok’s penthouse apartment; sleek and dark. There’s a few accents of white and red, black leather couches and clear glass tables. A flat screen TV you’ve never seen used mounted on the wall, a fluffy white rug covering the space between it and the couch. You’ve seen no other electronics besides that, nothing that you can use to contact anyone.

He’d left you things to occupy your time – like you’re a child – books and puzzles and what have you. And you found that the TV works if you become bored of the other things.

Weirdly enough, there’s people outside and below, unlike the night you came when it looked like a ghost town. You can see the glint of the sun bouncing off of shiny cars driving in and out of the hotel’s compound. Little people walking around as they go about their days, oblivious to your plight.

Sometimes you would hear someone out in the hallway beyond the door, like someone coming to clean and you would bang on the door and be as loud as you possibly could. It’s like you’re a ghost. You asked him about that once, and he told you that he can mimic spaces, make it seems as though something is or isn’t there.

Sometimes Hoseok would come back from his little excursions and be as normal as he could be. He’d talk to you like he isn’t holding you captive, ask you about what you did for the day as though there’s a million and one things you could do while there. You’d answer as to not be on the wrong side of him, even though it’s clear that he doesn’t quite mind you not saying anything back. He’d ask you what you’d like for dinner, and he’d eat with you.

On days like those it feels... normal. You feel comfortable and the nature of the situation escapes you. Like this had been your life for as long as you could remember. And sometimes you think, that maybe, if things were different. If perhaps he hadn’t kidnapped you, ‘helping’ you or otherwise. Maybe if your life had gone a little differently and you’d met him under different circumstances...then maybe.

Sometimes on those days he’d sit quietly as you give him little pieces of you; telling him about your childhood and not so important things. He’d clear the coffee table to put a puzzle together and ask you to help him with it.

Some days he’d come back and he wouldn’t be in a good mood. He’d stand and brood at the large windows looking out, lost in thought. On those days he’d look gone, vacant, as though whatever going on in his head was paramount to the reality around him. His eyes are sad then, and he’d be so quiet you’d forget he’s there. He’d make dinner, and he would not eat.

On days like those, if you wake at night and venture out of your room, you’d find Hoseok as you did the night you first woke up. A swirling ball of shadows and smoke somewhere about, and the lights are always off. It scares the hell out of you every time. It reminds you of what he is, despite the nature of his existence, there’s something very dark about him. He scares you mostly, even when he’s being nice, it’s unnerving. You’d try to stay clear of him then.

Something in your mind had been made aware that he is beyond your understanding. He’s stronger and faster than you, can do things that makes your brain grind to a halt trying to process. Sometimes it feels like he’s in your head, watching your every move and surveying your every thought. It scares you.

On days like those, the last thing you want to do is sleep.

Sleep evades you and when you do finally catch it, your dreams are wrought with nightmares of shadows and screams and blood. Sometimes Hoseok is there and he’s less kind than he’s ever been, and you’re lost in darkness and can’t find your way out.

Sometimes it’s a man with red hair lurking at the corners of them, smiling and taunting you. You feel like you could never escape them, like your dreams lasts the entire night and leave you exhausted when you wake up.

The room you woke up in so long ago was yours; Hoseok stays clear of it and never enters without knocking. One day Hoseok had brought you clothes you’re certain costs more than your life, they’re mostly comfort clothes as you have nowhere to be at no point in time. From sweaters to tee-shirts, lounge pants to bicycle shorts and an assortment of underwear that made you scowl at him.

That day you asked him just how long he was going to keep you captive – he didn’t much like the use of that word, prefers ‘keeping you safe’. He told you about the mysterious animal that chased you in the fog, that he and a friend are looking into it and reminds you that you wouldn’t get very far should you leave. You reminded him that he’s not letting you go anywhere.

You stare up at the ceiling, counting the swirling pattern from one corner to the next. You’ve lost count of them every time and you’ve lost count on just how long you’ve been here. Hoseok remains the same, fluctuating between rivalling the sun and being the moon that sometimes eclipse it.

It’s the morning of yet another day, and you can hear Hoseok moving about already. Sometimes you wonder if he ever sleeps...does he need sleep? He eats...that much is for certain, so by any rate he functions partially human.

You sigh softly, getting out of bed and shuffling your feet to the house slippers Hoseok gave to you. There’s the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen, the sound of Hoseok moving about, and it sounds like he’s in a good mood if his humming is anything to go by.

You wash up for the morning and get changed before carrying yourself out to the kitchen.

Hoseok looks devastatingly domestic and the smile he directs at you is enough to send your mind haywire. These past few days has been confusing for you. Though the initial fear you felt for him was there, lately, it’s been less. You’ve found yourself missing him when he goes off to do whatever he does during the day and you’re excited when he comes back. You’re chalking up the reason for that being that he’s the only person you’ve been in contact with for possibly a month or two.

On some of the days where he would come back and be less than happy, and the lights go out like they’re scheduled to and Hoseok is no longer tangible. When he hovers in a little ball of controlled chaos that blends into the darkness, you sit and wait. You wait until he’s there again and the lights are back on and he looks at you like you’re something he’s lost.

It confuses you as much as his smile that sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage in a dance that isn’t out of fear. You actually can’t remember when you’d stopped being afraid of him.

“I’m going out today.”

Your brows furrow, he’s never told you that he’s leaving before. He brings over a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sliced fruit. A sealed carton of orange juice and a glass for you.

“Okay...?”

Hoseok smiles, “Okay.”

::

When lunch came around, you’re sitting at the island watching Hoseok prepare the ingredients for whatever he’s going to make.

You don’t really feel the need to watch him as closely as you did when you first got here, now you simply do it because there isn’t anything better to do.

He moves in the kitchen like it’s a dance, turning to and fro with a grace you could only hope to have.

He’s already got something on the stove, some sort of sauce you think. It smells amazing and you’re looking forward to whatever it could be.

He looks a bit in his head, brows furrowed as he concentrated a little too hard to just be cutting an onion into crescent slices. He mutters something under his breath, turning to stir the contents in the pot before going back at the onion.

“Hoseok?” You call softly as he sets the onion aside in a bowl and pulls something else onto the cutting board. For a moment you’re not sure if he’s heard you, with just the steady sound of the knife hitting the board, he hums, glancing at you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” You can tell he’s in one of his moods, but he’s actively trying to be pleasant. He fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove and then turns the oven on to heat up. “What is it?”

His tone isn’t harsh, just a tad bit impatient.

“Is cooking just something that you can do? Or did you have to learn?”

He turns, pauses, stares at you for a moment and then chuckles, “It’s a skill I acquired through a lot of trial and error. I had a long time to perfect it, though.”

“How long are we talking?” You’re a little intrigued, besides him telling you that he’s a fallen angel, he hasn’t told you exactly how he became one or how long he’s been here.

He tilts his head and smiles gently in the way he does when he’s thinking if he should answer you honestly or not before shrugging, “Long enough.”

You sigh, “Fine. Don’t tell me. You’re probably older than dirt anyway.”

A surprised laugh leaves him, high pitched and a little untamed. The sound is infectious and now you’re laughing too.

Happiness looks good on him, you wish he wore it often.

When it was about four in the afternoon, you hear the closing of Hoseok’s door and the sound of his footsteps walking up the hall.

You’re curled up against the corner of the couch, tucked under a yellow blanket with a book in your hand. You smell him before you see him; the cologne he’s wearing reaching the room before he does.

He steps in and stands near the entrance, the end of his coat brushing against his shins while he secures a watch to his wrist. His hair’s grown longer since he brought you here, curling against his jaw and the bangs are long enough to almost hide his eyes if not for the middle part. The rings on his fingers catch the light of the sun, and he finally settles, a serious look on his face as he watches you for a moment.

He seems to be contemplating something, the muscle of his jaw tensing as he grinds his teeth. He lifts a hand and crooks a finger at you.

Unwrapping yourself from the blanket, you walk over to him. He doesn’t say anything, but levels you with a look and guides you into the hallway with a hand at your back. “I’m leaving the door alone.”

The door is practically singing your freedom, the silver handle looks like a lighthouse at a stormy sea at night. Hoseok is looking down his nose at you when you finally tear your eyes away. His eyes narrow as though he can hear your thoughts and steps away from you.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

And you didn’t. You messed around with the TV, got bored, read another book, and decide to take a nap. Doing it all to ignore the door. You wouldn’t get very far. You really don’t want to know what Hoseok meant by that.

There isn’t anywhere you can go, you have nothing to your name. You get three square meals, clean clothes and a bed to sleep in when night comes – you think about Abigail, you wonder if she’s alright – you’d actually be quite dumb to go out there. Hoseok hasn’t done much but mentally exhaust you, you aren’t chained up in a dank room and being made to do things against your will. It’s actually quite pleasant.

You shuffle to your room and crawl under the covers, suddenly too sleepy to keep your eyes open. You would usually take naps when there’s nothing else for you to do, but you’re never this sleepy. It’s like your body is demanding you close your eyes and pass out right now.

You open your eyes a couple of minutes later and realise you didn’t know you fell asleep. It’s dark out already.

You throw the covers back, scoot to the edge of the bed, and put your feet right into water. You look down at it confused – did you leave a tap on? Hoseok would probably throw you out a window for flooding his place. Or maybe he’ll start up his silly mind games again and drive you nuts.

You’re not too concerned about it, strangely enough, as you get up, the water soaks into the legs of your pants. It’s high enough to lap against the middle of your shins and you curse softly, how could you forget to turn the tap off?

You swish through the water, reaching the door and pulling it open. The water is gone and you’re standing in the living room. Hoseok sits on the couch, one leg lapped over the other, bobbing idly as he turns the page of a thick book balanced on his thigh.

“Hoseok.” You sigh, “Stop it. I’m not in the mood for your stupid games.”

He turns his head slowly to look at you, crooks a finger like he did at you earlier. You stomp over to him, not caring that you probably look rather childish doing so. When you stop in front of him, he gently puts the book aside and then wraps his fingers around your wrist.

Your pulse flutters and you pray that he can’t feel it. A soft squeak leaving you as he tugs you to him, you fumble to catch yourself, trying not to trip over your feet and the carpet. Your hand lands beside his head, sinking into the leather, his eyes meet yours through his hair, and when he pulls you down, you follow without question.

He settles you in his lap, one hand gripping your waist and the other snaking upward to bury itself into your hair. He leans forward, nosing along the underside of your jaw and when the warmth of his tongue streaks against your pulse, a shiver races down your spine before you catch yourself. You push against his shoulder, “Hoseok.”

His chuckle sounds dark to your ears, his grip on your waist tightens enough that you fear you’d bruise. His teeth drag against your earlobe and yours sink into your bottom lip. “Don’t act like this isn’t what you want.”

His words wrap around your head, burying themselves under your skin and makes home there. The hand in your hair slowly slides out of it, moving down until it’s wrapped around your throat. His thumb presses against your racing pulse, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “You want me to break you.”

It’s a moment of bliss, warmth spreading through you before it instantly chills. It’s all fun and games until he’s actually trying to choke you out. Your breaths come in shallow gasps as Hoseok’s grip tightens around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. Panic surges through you, and for a moment, you’re certain you’ll pass out from lack of oxygen.

He’s going to kill you.

Desperate, you claw at his hands, trying to pry them away, but his strength overwhelms you. Your struggles intensify as you realize the danger you’re in.

He stands swiftly and lets you go, and you crash unceremoniously into the glass coffee table, nearly breaking your wrist trying to catch your weight. You cough and gasp, clutching at your throat that burns with every breath you take. Your eyes sting with tears as you scramble to put distance between you and him.

He watches you, amused, taking slow steps towards you. He laughs, the sound echoing off the walls and you realise – there’s nowhere to run.

You look up at him, and you’re now facing the windows. The LEDs that line the perimeter of them are glowing a sinister red and they’re the only source of light. There’s something slick under your palms, something you slide in as you try to get up. Inspecting it in the lighting does nothing, as it simply looks dark against your skin, but, there’s no mistaking the scent of copper.

Gazing around, you’re sitting in a pool of blood. Hoseok is nowhere to be found. The pool stretches off like something was dragged through it, going out the living room and down the hall.

You follow it, against your better judgement. This is the worst trick he’s ever played.

Your pants stick to your skin uncomfortably, and you wipe your hands hurriedly against the front of them. It doesn’t do much but spread the mess of blood around. The trail leads into your bedroom, and you stand outside the slightly ajar door with your heart pounding against your ribs.

Raising a hand, you push the door open, but plan to go no further than the threshold. The lights are on, dimly, it doesn’t give you much vision, but you could see Hoseok standing over someone.

It’s you, well...it was you. You’re not sure if you could call that you anymore. Limbs twisted in unnatural angles, sharp ends of bone sticking out from your bruised skin.

You stumble backwards, slipping in the still wet trail of blood and falling against the door behind you. Tears blur your vision, you feel sick.

“You see?” a voice whispers, echoing and bouncing around in your head. “This is what will happen.”

There’s someone else here.

“He’ll kill you.” The voice snickers, crawling along your skin like poison ivy. “Run. Get out.”

You startle awake, gasping for air, searching your body for any sign of blood. The sun is almost setting, preparing to make its descent in the west and you dart out of bed. Your skin feels tight, like you’re too big for it and it makes you uncomfortable. Your breaths are harsh barely making it into your lungs before you’re forcing it out again.

You make for the door, yanking it open and running down the hall. You didn’t stop to think, you just want out. You push the entrance door and it opens and you stumble out into the hallway you haven’t seen in ages.

You run up to the elevator, the overhead floor indicator is blank. And the elevator doesn’t budge when you push the button frantically. Hands caught in your hair you spin around, there must be a way.

The green exit sign glows like a beacon of hope. You trip over your feet getting to it, almost face planting on the expensive rug that lines the hallway. The door opens with a click and your footsteps echo in the stairwell as you take them two at a time to get as far away from this place as possible.

You don’t stop until you’re three flights down, breath ragged and vision spotty. You lean against the wall to catch your breath, panting and wiping the sweat off your brow.

There’s a loud bang that echoes from somewhere below and you freeze. Taking careful steps you peek between the railings and see nothing.

It might be Hoseok.

Or, it could be someone else in the building and your only hope of getting out of here.

“Hello? Is someone ther—” There’s another loud bang, and you take a couple steps down the fourth flight and look over the railing again. A thick fog swirls just a floor below.

The hair on the back of your neck shoots up at the low growl that dances up the stairwell. You nearly go tumbling down it in your haste to turn around and go back up.

As you turn to go back up the third flight, the fog surrounds you and you stop as it becomes impossible to see. You grip tightly to the stair railing, tentatively stepping up – You’re trying not to breathe too loudly.

There’s something scraping against the ground on the stairs below and your heart kicks. You step faster, at the same time trying not to trip and break your neck. There’s a low snarl and you bolt, taking the stair two at a time back up the way you came.

The floor vibrates beneath you as whatever it is gives chase. You make it up to the first landing, pulling the exit door open with a grunt. You’re just about to step through when what feels like three hot butcher knives slices through your back. The force of it sends you pitching forward, smacking hard into the wall on the opposite side before you crumple against it.

You could barely feel it, you’re aware you’re hurt...you could feel the pulsing, open wounds at your back. Your mind is trying to process as you struggle to move, taking a breath aches as you push yourself upward and away from the wall just enough to turn. You don’t manage much more than that, sliding down the wall until your butt hits the pretty red carpet.

The metal door of the emergency exit swings open harshly, banging loudly against the wall before it leans forward; one of the hinges broken. The thing that stands in the doorway looks like it crawled out of some deep, dark part of hell. It’s standing on it’s hind legs before it drops forward, claws that look at least nine inches long scraping against the linoleum.

It looks like a giant dog, honestly. It’s hard to tell when all you could focus on was that you could feel your heartbeat at your back, and the slick warmth soaking into your ruined sweater and pants. Shock maybe...or adrenaline, was keeping most of the pain at bay, you’re pretty sure you’d be dead otherwise right now.

With a guttural growl, the creature emerges, its form contorted and twisted, as if it were forged from the very essence of nightmares.

Its body is a grotesque fusion of twisted flesh and sinew, its skin a sickly shade of mottled grey, stretched taut over bulging muscles that ripple with every movement. Sharp spikes protrude from its spine, glinting menacingly in the dim light, while its black eyes burn with a fiery intensity that seems to pierce through your very soul.

The creature's mouth curls into a snarl, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth stained with blood. Its breath is a noxious cloud of decay and sulphur, filling the air with a suffocating stench that makes your stomach churn.

As it lurches forward on all fours, its movements are unnaturally fluid, each step sending tremors through the ground beneath you. It’s trying to squeeze its way through the small space of the doorway, too big to pass through, and you could do nothing but watch.

Your vision goes hazy as you simply stare at the creature.

The adrenaline is fading and you’re starting to feel your wounds, but maybe if you could crawl towards the door...

At six pm on a Friday evening, Hoseok isn’t at all surprised to see the line of people waiting to get into the club. It’s still a long way to opening, but with the prestige of this place, again, he isn’t surprised.

He was with Yoongi when he bought the place, watched him build it from the ground up. Watched his taste for the interior bounce around erratically until he settled, as the clientele flickered from the common club goer to people – if they had enough money – buying their way in.

Haegeum is on the high-end of the city, the type of place where you’d wonder if folks had enough money to burn just because. Yoongi doesn’t discriminate and all are welcomed.

The queue is a mix of people: folks dressed to the nines just to step a foot in the place, those of which would most likely be sitting pretty in the VIP section. People just looking for a place to escape to for a while, teenagers holding tight to their fake Ids and clinging to their friends. They mingle in groups or alone, their chatter filling the air with a soft buzz of voices and hushed giggles.

Hoseok takes everything in with an air of nonchalance as he strolls by.

The bouncer at the heavy black door stands stoically, clipboard in hand for VIP clients. Hoseok breezes past him when he opens the door to let him in, stepping into the entrance foyer, illuminated by dim red lights. He walks down the hall, and down the dark metal staircase into the main floor of the club.

The above head white florescent lights do nothing to take away from the grandeur of the club, though, Hoseok likes it better when it’s late and the lights are off. The main floor is usually accented in lights of blue and red, casting shadows streaking along the sitting area. Embedded into the walls are velvet couches that flow with the design in a sort of snake like shape, a short-legged coffee table and single seated chairs dotted between every inward curve. There’s a wide enough walkway for two people walking side by side to pass, a partition of glass, and on the other side of it, black leather couches and even more glass coffee tables.

 The walls are interesting, and Hoseok thinks this because he doesn’t know why Yoongi likes it so much. In large arched alcoves sits head statues of Greek gods of mortal tales, staring lifelessly into the distance, bathed in dark blue light. Between every two are columns that resembles those of a temple, and smooth grey stone. Hoseok honestly doesn’t know which vibe Yoongi is going for, not that he’d say it to his face.

He walks down the little walkway, down another set of stairs and across the dance floor. The bar is tucked in a corner, glasses being wiped by one of Yoongi’s employees behind it. Hoseok offers the man a nod of his head, moving towards the staircase that curves with the wall and upwards.

Yoongi’s office veers just off the VIP lounge, set behind large mahogany doors. And Hoseok doesn’t bother knocking. The room looks pretty much the same as it’s always had: dark walls with darker patterns, a maroon carpet lining the floor, abstract paintings hanging on the walls that allude to a darker nature, and in the far corner on the wall between two paintings is a golden blade dagger behind a mounted glass case.

“...Pick your side, kid. It’s either you’re with me, or against me.” Yoongi’s voice is cold, not angry per se, but reeking in annoyance that chills rather than burns. “And trust me when I say that you don’t want me as your enemy. I don’t play nice.”

There’s a young man standing in front of Yoongi’s large desk, his hands behind his back where one hand squeezes the other in bouts of nervous jitter. There are bruises on his knuckles, and even from behind, Hoseok could tell that he’s trying to fit into a crowd that doesn’t suit him. Haegeum isn’t just a club but a base of operations so to speak, in the middle of this high-end city, its easy for Yoongi to wrack up a certain clientele. People who seek a different ease of mind and has a different lifestyle.

Hoseok leans against the door, watching the scene play out, as the young man bows slightly and Yoongi waves his hand at him.

“Keep shadowing Seonghwa and Hongjoong for the week, and I don’t want any trouble this time.” He says dismissively, and the boy turns to leave. As Hoseok catches his eye, something akin to a bolt of lightening shoots down his spine. It isn’t noticeable to the more ordinary folk, but Hoseok isn’t ordinary, and neither are Yoongi and the rest of his boys. 

The air crackles with static, raw, untrained power that itches Hoseok the wrong way. The boy stands there clearly a moment too long, and Yoongi’s knuckles raps against the table top. “Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun gives a soft apology, and quickly walks towards the door. Hoseok opens it for him, not out of kindness, but purely to give him a long unbroken stare. He smiles as the boy struggles to hold his gaze, even as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end at his proximity.

When he shuts the door behind him, Yoongi is already watching him with a raised brow. Hoseok wanders over to the leather armchair at the front of Yoongi’s desk and sits, shifting around until he’s comfortable in it. “I thought they were a myth.”

“Obviously they’re not.” Yoongi mutters, shaking his head as he sieves through a stack of papers scattered on his desk before he finds what he’s looking for. “Kid wanted in, so I let him. More trouble than it’s worth, honestly. But, the Nephilim are stronger than the order, so I gave it a shot.”

Hoseok hums, and Yoongi seems to catch himself, narrowing his eyes at him. The scar that runs through his right eye looks pink and irritated in the motion and the overhead lights. “What are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t visit?”

If Yoongi narrows his eyes any more, he’d close them, “I think you know better than anyone that you’re never here.” He says, “You’re absent more often than not, so I have the right to ask. Did you do something? I’m not cleaning up any more of your messes.”

Yoongi pushes back his chair, walking across the room to the mini bar he has tucked in the corner. He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of whisky from a long necked crystalline bottle. He takes a sip and turns leaning against the bar’s edge. “Last time was enough trouble.”

“You’d clean it up anyways.” Hoseok says, leaning his head back against the chair, tilting his head to look at Yoongi. “I found something fun to do.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, quiet, contemplative, “Causing a different type of trouble, I see.” He chuckles, “Don’t break her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hoseok smirks, and then frowns a little. With all Yoongi’s prowess and danger, he’s gone a little soft around the edges, and he could see that softness in his eyes as he looks off into the distance. Surely thinking about the mortal girl that has him wrapped around her little fingers like bubble gum.

“You’ll learn.” Yoongi says cryptically, and it reminds Hoseok that he’s never really sure what Yoongi is thinking. Sometimes he’s an open book and Hoseok could read him like one, easy to figure out in the way that he moves, and sometimes he’s sealed tight.

Yoongi drains his glass of whisky, setting it down with a clink on the bar top before walking back over to his desk. “Since you’re here...” He opens a drawer and pulls out a thick black file, “Give this to Seonghwa.”

Hoseok takes the file and opens it, reading over the contents. There’s a man on Yoongi’s black list that’s due a checking in. “You let him and Joong have all the fun.”

“You’re too messy.” Yoongi retorts, “I said I’m not cleaning up after you.”

Hoseok shrugs, and gets up, skirting around the back of the chair and walking towards the door.

“Hobi.” Yoongi calls, “I don’t have to remind you that there’s a meeting at the end of the month, right?”

“I’ll be here.” Hoseok says, as the look in Yoongi’s eyes gave no room to say anything else.

He leaves the office, closing the door behind him with a quiet click and lets the tension roll off his shoulders. He goes back the way he came, black file in hand, towards the VIP section where he knows Seonghwa would be lurking. He walks down the little walkway, through the identical couches and tables on raised platforms that overlook the main floor of the club.

At the end, there’s a small section of booths, black velvet and low lit, and standing with his back to him is Hongjoong. He seems to be busy, twin pistols in pieces on the booth’s table, cleaning supplies set up neatly in a little row. Hoseok saunters over, and throws his arm over the man’s shoulders.

Hongjoong doesn’t spare him a glance but sighs softly through his nose. “I’m busy, Hoseok.”

“Where’s your shadow?” Hoseok asks, and waves the file at him, “Yoongi has work for you two.”

“When doesn’t Yoongi have work for us.” Hongjoong slides away from under Hoseok’s arm, sitting down in the booth to avoid him all together. There’s a dull glint of light as the fixtures catch on the gold diamond studded crucifix that swings against the white of Hongjoong’s tee-shirt.

Hoseok clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

The dark bangs of his hair, which are usually styled away from his forehead, falls into his eyes when he glances upward at Hoseok. He picks up the cleaning solvent and pours a bit of it into the cap before dropping a cotton patch in to let it soak, then, he wraps the patch around the bristles of a small bore brush.

“Seonghwa isn’t here, he’s out back.” Hongjoong picks up the dismantled gun barrel, sliding the bore brush through until the now dirty cotton patch pokes out from the other end. The scent of the solvent burns Hoseok’s nose, and he leaves Hongjoong be, going back down to the main floor and through the emergency exit. The exit sits in the middle of an alleyway that connects two streets, and Hoseok catches sight of Seonghwa’s faux fur coat on one end.

Smoke curls away from his form with a light wind and brings the scent of a cigarette as Hoseok walks with quiet steps towards him. He’s laughing at something, phone in hand, and Hoseok drops his hand heavily on his shoulder and feels the way he immediately tenses.

“I’ve told you one too many times, Seonghwa.” Hoseok says, stepping to the side and around him, “Always be on your guard.”

There’s a glint in the way that he sneers, pulling away from Hoseok’s grip. He takes a couple steps back, watching Hoseok as though he spat at his feet.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that. Makes me all tingly.” Hoseok teases mockingly with a smile, and then offers the file to him. “Here.”

Seonghwa shoves his phone into the pocket of his coat, taking the file and looking through it. He takes one last drag of the cigarette between his fingers before tossing it. He raises a perfect brow at Hoseok and tilts his head, something like amusement in his eyes. “You don’t show up for weeks, and now you’re just Yoongi’s errand boy.”

Hoseok chuckles and it’s dark, low in his throat. “Seonghwa.” He takes a step closer, “Don’t forget your place.”

It’s irritating how Seonghwa doesn’t back down, the way he looks at Hoseok as though he’s beneath him. He stands tall and proud with his chest puffed out like a peacock, and Hoseok knows he’s about to say something stupid without using that brain of his first.

“Don’t act like we’re not in the same boat.” Seonghwa scoffs, and even before he opens his mouth, Hoseok could see the thought in his eyes, glowing like an ember in the dark. He sees the minute curl at the corner of his mouth and the glow of the street light that catches on the pretty studded silver of his teeth. “You got your ward killed, and killed the man that killed her. There’s no hierarchy among murderers.”

Hoseok takes a breath, and he feels the heat rising from the tips of his toes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the images he’s locked away floods out of the steel box he’s put them in. The little girl he’d been guardian to, her short, miserable and painful life. Found end at the hands of someone she had the misfortune of being born to. It was too late – he was too late, when he’d found her. And just like then, Hoseok sees red.

Warm, gushing red that spill into the creases of his fingers when he swings his fist at Seonghwa’s face. The black file and the papers within scatter on the wind.

Hoseok doesn’t let the surprise and force send the younger man stumbling back too far, and grabs hold of the front of his coat, curling his fingers into the material tightly. He kicks at his knee, and when he’s forced to kneel, Hoseok leans down to his height.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who lost his wings for something so trivial; your sin and mine are two different things.” Hoseok sneers, and he’s so mad he could set Seonghwa on fire and watch him dance. “But I can remind you exactly why Yoongi doesn’t bother to have me involved.”

Someone pulls Seonghwa back, dragging him up to his feet. “The fuck are you two doing?”

There’s a tick in Seonghwa’s jaw that doesn’t go unnoticed and his eyes stay locked with Hoseok as he straightens. He should think twice, Hoseok knows he knows better.

Hongjoong shoves at Seonghwa’s shoulder, “Go pick that shit up.”

Yeonjun stands at the open doorway of the emergency exit, watching with wide eyes, looking like he’s halfway to backing out on his choice to get into Yoongi’s ranks. Hongjoong eyes Hoseok warily, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Seonghwa was doing as told.

Hoseok’s gaze burns a hole into the back of Seonghwa’s head as he moves around to pick up the scattered papers while Hongjoong stands like a watchdog.

Hoseok shoves his hands into the pockets of his black coat, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “You boys be good, now.” He says in parting, turning on his heel and walking out of the alley.

“What the fuck did you say to him?...”

Hoseok walks up the street, through the throngs of people still waiting to get into Haegeum. His phone vibrates in his coat pocket, with a sigh he pulls it out and answers.

“Yes, Cheol?”

“Hey, remember when you asked me to tell you when I’ve seen that weird fog?” Seungcheol sounds distracted, there’s a sharp sound from his end that has Hoseok pulling the phone away from his ear with a wince. He says something to someone else, voice too far away for Hoseok to catch, before he speaks again. “Couple of nights ago, it was in my area. Whatever’s in it is pretty good at hiding. It’s not the only thing in it either.”

Hoseok crosses the street, going in the opposite direction of which he came from. The people that line the sidewalk give him a wide berth as he weaves through them; unconsciously reacting to him being near.

“Didn’t see much of the guy, some twinky-looking redhead.” Cheol sighs, “I think the fog is like a domain. If you get lost in it, it’s like there’s no-one in there but you. Like a mirror realm.”

‘They who fight monsters should be careful, lest they become a monster themselves.  And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.’

What defines a monster? Something that goes beyond human comprehension, something that stands outside the bounds of what is morally accepted. Something that a person fails to understand and is therefore scared by. Something that make stories entertaining because they’re meant to be defeated in the end. They’re meant to be slain and mounted like trophies, pinned up for grotesque display of heroism.

What defines a creature that goes beyond human comprehension? White coloured morals and the freedom to help in the way it needed. He stopped being what he was created to be, and instead became something that someone needed the most. He did everything right. He had his head in the right place, he was determined to see it through to the end.

He was a little too late.

Over the years, Hoseok could no longer recall just how late he was. If it was by seconds or minutes, or an hour by a half. When he was finally strong enough to move, he traced the memory of a place he’d seen for years, all the way to a house where his charge waited inside.

She was always afraid. Alone, trapped with a monster of man’s making. A child he’s watched since the moment of her birth, watched her grow to be afraid and the light never reach her. By the laws of his nature he was forced to do nothing.

He was restricted to assisting in the only way he could. He couldn’t shield her physically, so he instead manipulated the monster in her closet. He made sure that his mind was changed, that he didn’t swing his claws as fiercely, that he slept deeply so that the child can have a night of rest.

He started to question, as he watched the monster that called himself a father, prey upon what he was meant to protect.

What’s the point? Is he not allowed to stop this? Why can’t he stop this? He could stop it because he has the power to do so.

The ideology was shared by another, and together, hubris.

Hoseok fell with pride; he fell with the intention to seek his ward out and help her. Even if he had no idea what was to come afterwards. Stripped of his grace and the feathers of his wings burned away, it didn’t matter to him.

He went as quickly as his wounds allowed, which in retrospect, wasn’t quickly enough. She was only six. An awfully short time to the likes of him, even shorter to mortals, not enough time to live and laugh – she wasn’t allowed to even do that. He’d stood there, in the broken doorway of a broken home and watched as the monster of his ward’s nightmare became a man before him. Hoseok’s vision had tunnelled and in the centre was the broken body of the child he’d sworn to protect.

When the shadows on the walls grew tall and Hoseok’s mind closed in on itself and allowed those shadows to encase him, the man cried. He pleaded on his knees at the sight of his reckoning, begged for mercy when he gave none.

Then, Hoseok shattered. Scattered like tiny specs of dust floating on the wind, and under the heat and pressure of his own realisations, he turned into glass. With his sharp edges he cut into the man and reveled in it. The sounds of his pleas like the gentle strum of a harp’s string, and the warmth of his blood was a bath Hoseok sunk into.

What he was, was something that was no longer needed, and with his hands covered in blood and gore and mess he held tight to his reasons for being and cried for her. He became something else that only protected himself. While he locked everything away and allowed the shadows to stay. The light he’s trapped struggles to glow, to breathe, and some days Hoseok wants to snuff it out for good, to become the shadows he plays in.

He wouldn’t allow himself to reach that point, though. He still has a sense of himself, however skewed.

He owes Yoongi a lot, his partner in crime that he would follow to the ends of the earth. He never turned his back on him even as Hoseok changed to suit his troubles.

Hoseok remembers Yoongi standing at the doorway, catching up much later than he had. He stayed there quietly while Hoseok mourned the death of his ward and his tears made tracks in the blood that coated him.

Hoseok buried her away from her cursed home, far away and as deep as the roots of an old oak runs and salt floats on the air. Wild flowers bloom there, giving her the beauty in death she wasn’t allowed in life.

His chest aches as he stands there now. Under the shade of the oak tree where little speckles of the setting orange sun spills through leaves and dances along the space that he occupies. There’s a crinkle of plastic and Hoseok stares at the small bouquet in his grip. He chose every flower that reminded him of her: daises and lavender, lilies and snapdragons.

He lays it gently on the patch of grass that’s long grown over between two large protruding roots, mutters the same apology he does every time he comes by, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat as he straightens.

He’s sorry he wasn’t there in time.

He wished she was given a chance, and wondered if her death was his punishment. He wonders what it would’ve been like to watch her grow, safe and happy. What her favourite flower would’ve been, if she would’ve valued the little things. He would’ve given her everything – pulled the moon from the sky if she so desired it. He would’ve taken the stars and put them in her little hands for her to watch them shine.

He wonders if it would’ve been better had he waited a little longer. That maybe the slightest change would’ve brought about a different outcome.

Hoseok sighs, turns his head to watch the sun set, dragged behind the ocean’s edge far off in the distance. Something at the back of his mind wiggles and tugs. He knows something’s wrong and he’s in no mood to deal with it.

You’re dying...you think. Your hand slides against the floor and it takes a moment to realise it’s your blood you’re slipping in. You can barely feel the rest of your body, adrenaline pumping your blood out of the wounds at your back. The doors of the elevator doubles and swarms in your vision.

You see them open but it’s so hard to focus. Hoseok steps out and walks slowly to you, you can’t see his expression, but you faintly hear the long, drawn-out sigh he releases. Your eyes focus on the darkness that surrounds him, the way it curls like smoke. The shadows at his back are clearer to you than they’ve ever been – wings. Dark plumage that glitters with something silver in the light, the feathers are long, long enough that they drag behind his steps. If he were to unfold them they would easily span to the ends of the hallway.

He hardly gives you a glance, stopping in front of you. You can’t see the creature now – blocked by Hoseok’s wings – but you hear it growl, and the scraping of it’s claws against the floor. Something glints in his hand against the flickering lights, a short sword that looks like it was dipped in gold from the hilt and it ran down the edges of the blade.

He’s a blur as he moves and your tired eyes can barely keep up with him, if it weren’t for the small space and shadows his wings casted you would’ve lost sight of him completely. 

The creature snarls and lashes out with its razor-sharp claws, but Hoseok is already one step ahead, dodging with effortless grace. He moves with a speed and agility that seems impossible in the space he occupies, closing in on the creature that growls and snarls at him. It’s forced to dislodge itself from the doorway, pulling back into the stairwell that gives it even less room to defend.

Hoseok’s wings fold tightly to his back as he follows, and you could only hear the sound of his weapon sliding through the air, the sound of the blade whistling and the increasingly irritated sounds from the creature. Hoseok ducks under a swiped claw, makes a spin on his knee, and switches the hands that holds his blade. It slices through the creature’s gigantic paw like it’s made of something soft, and through the other as it comes back down. The severed limb drops heavily on the ground before it dissolves into ashes and float upward.

The sound it makes grate on your ears, loud and sharp and you can’t bring your hands up to cover them, something warm trickles out of each.

Without it’s two front legs to support it’s weight, the creature drops forward, and Hoseok grabs hold of the first spike at the top of its head. With a flick of his wrist his weapon spins in his palm and he points the blade right between the creature’s eyes and pushes.

Golden light flashes, nearly blinding you on top of everything else, you can just barely hear the cry it makes this time as it writhes in agony. It’s monstrous form twists and contorts before finally collapsing to the ground in a heap.

Hoseok stands over the fallen beast, his weapon clenched tightly in his hand, watching intently as it’s body dissipates like ash from a fire.

With a satisfied nod, Hoseok sheaths his weapon and it vanishes, and then turns his attention back to you, his expression a mixture of something. You can’t tell, everything seems so dark and it’s hard to breathe. He approaches you slowly, his movements cautious as he assesses the extent of your injuries.

Hoseok crouches and you slowly look up at him, he tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“I told you not to go anywhere, little dove.” He says softly, calmly, as though he’s telling you about his day and you’re not bleeding out in his hallway. “You’re so troublesome.”

You try to respond, but the words stick in your throat, drowned out by the rush of blood and the overwhelming sense of impending darkness. Hoseok’s presence feels both comforting and ominous, his wings casting elongated shadows that dance across the walls. You try to focus on his face, to find some semblance of reassurance in his eyes, but all you see is a blur of shadows and flickering light.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own laboured breathing.

Hoseok’s expression softens slightly, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. He reaches out a hand to gently brush the hair from your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the underlying tension in the air.

“Jesus...” Another voice says, the sound of footsteps hurrying close and the last thing you see is the shift of the hallway.

The night he found you out in the fog wasn’t the first time Hoseok had seen you.

By now, it would’ve been at least three months ago. You were alone, pacing around like a worried mother on a bridge over your perceived peace – had you decided to take it.

Human lives were no longer any concern to him; no consequence. He and his kind were here before and would be long after your kind has crumbled to dust and returned to the earth. He stopped then, and watched you contemplate the height of the bridge and the chill of the water below it; whether or not you’ll receive the mercy you seek. You’d cried for a long time on that bridge.

Hoseok is many things, but cruel is not one of them. He changed your mind and sent you away into the arms of someone that would care.

Hoseok has many contradictions. The darkness that he allowed entry fights the light, beating it into a corner where it cowers on most days. On those days he’s distant and struggling to contain it, he could taste malice on his tongue and the bitterness of it. The steel walls he painstakingly built with bloody and broken fingers are nothing more than barbwire fences; they do nothing to protect the glass figurines that make him whole.

Sometimes the glass are shards, sharp and unforgiving and willing to cut anything that gets too close. Sometimes they’re splintered panes and Hoseok is cutting his fingers to keep them in place. He curls in on himself, draws himself away, pushes everything outside his barbwire fence and tries to reinforce the walls. The darkness that swirls outside it seeps in and he can’t keep it out so he lets it fester and churn and he becomes intangible.

You weren’t there, and then, at some point, you were.

Sometimes...

Sometimes he’s standing in a grass field full of wild daises and the sun is warm and there’s salt in the air. The light peeks through the leaves of an old oak tree, and there’s a little girl who’s placed her life in his hands, who skitters about in the  grass like something wild and free. She glows in her happiness, and nature stains her hands and the bottom of her white dress. She makes faces at him behind the trunk of the tree, smiles and hold his hands and tell him that it’s okay. It wasn’t his fault and he’s forgiven, he could let it go and be.

On those days, Hoseok feels like a still pool of water. The ones with lily pads and life, and everything’s alright. You’re always there then.

Hoseok knows of the fragility of humans. How easily they could shatter and break and suddenly be no more. He was something once, and then he became something else, and sometimes it’s hard to not be what he is. His darker nature prevails, and he doesn’t do much to stop it. Sure, sometimes he’s done things simply because he’s feeling particularly malicious and thinks that everyone should suffer – it’s almost always harmless.

He has a sense of himself, he knows when to stop, when things are taken too far and you can’t take much more of it. You eventually learnt to take it in stride and Hoseok was proud of that, though, a part of him thought it wasn’t nearly as fun anymore.

He would walk your dreams some nights when he was bored and had nothing better to entertain himself, his presence would sometimes bring his darkness and your dreams would not be as pleasant. He tried to walk through them less often.

When you were jumping at every little sound, the silence that Hoseok moves with and the way you’re less of yourself some days – he realised something. Not every nightmare was his doing, and the whispers in the walls of your dreams spoke of something else entirely.

The far, fuzzy edges of your vivid dreams where he’s reminded of things he’s tried very hard to lock away, lurks something red and more sinister than he.

He’s every reason to believe that hellspawn didn’t find it’s way here on accident, and for it to go undetected until the very last moment. It bothers him like nothing else has.

Though you lay peaceful now and Seungcheol had left after doing what he does best, the unease lingers in bouts under Hoseok’s skin, skittering about like electricity on a wire. His feelings where you’re concerned contradicts each other. Like oil on water he’s stuck in between wanting you close and keeping you at arm’s length. He likes when you’re near, but he likes when you’re far. A consequence of his nature, he toes the line of something sinister and could get dangerous and down right evil if he doesn’t reign himself in.

At a point he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you. He was just as confused on why he stopped you from ending your own life that night on the bridge and why he took you in that night in the fog. At first, he was just as wary of you as you were of him, despite the way he acted. He can’t help what he is.

On the days where he feels like splintered glass and he’s choking on his despair, you’d waited. You were there until the smoke cleared and your quiet presence helped put the glass back up and straighten out the posts in his fence.

He told Yoongi, there’s no fun in not breaking you. Yoongi said that he’d learn.

He can’t help what he is.

He could try, though.

He doesn’t want to break you, it’s a matter of cause and effect. You’re here with him, evidently, you’d be broken regardless. The most he could do is try. He could try to not be the straw, and try to not let outside forces become it.

He cares. He cares so much that sometimes he could taste it on his tongue. He cares that you smile when he’s earned it, that you eat well, that you greet him like a friend and then somewhere along get shy when you do. He cares if you live or die.

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut, opening them to blink away the image of you, helplessly laying in a pool of your own blood.

Fear. He’s has only felt it once, the fear that you would die and he would’ve failed again to protect someone.

He sips slowly at his glass of whisky, drinking in the sight of you. He thought you were smart enough to listen to him at least, trusted that you would stay out until he got back. Perhaps it was his mistake, but he wonders, and he ponders as you give a minute twitch in your sleep. Your eyebrows draw together and you murmur something unintelligible.

Hoseok sets his tumbler on your bedside drawer and pulls his chair closer. This is something he could easily do from another room, though, for what he’s about to do he would need to be touching you in some capacity.

Your dream had started off vividly, as most of your dreams have since you came here. Hoseok stands just in the corner of it, watching you wake within your dream and put your feet down into water.

He walks along the edge of it, watching it play out like a simulation, following behind you as you make your way down the hall towards the living room. He’s there and Hoseok isn’t surprised – it’s not the first time you’ve dreamt him.

He watches as your dreamscape version of him pull you into his lap and he feels a little offended and rolls his eyes – he didn’t even try to make it look sexy. Is this what you think of him? He isn’t half as tactless. Seduction takes finesse, and you clearly have no idea what that is.

Hoseok turns, gazing at the darkened edges of your dream.

There’s a shift and he feels it. It’s heavy like a wet blanket and seeps in like mist, and your dream changes accordingly.

He knows this feeling too well – the intrusion of an external force manipulating the dream, it’s faint enough that he knows it wasn’t in his apartment or anywhere nearby, but strong enough to reach so far.

Hoseok hovers hesitantly between the doorway of the living room and the hallway, and closes his eyes against the image of him hurting you.

He follows you as you follow blood, and he wishes you weren’t so frightened. He stays close to you, stepping where you’ve stepped as though he could protect you from something that’s already occurred. You push the door to your bedroom open and he wants to stop you, turn you around and shake you awake, but he can only watch.

You’re there and he is too, whispers skittering along the walls like mice, and Hoseok yanks himself out of your subconscious mind.

He feels like glass.

When you wake it’s dark and your back is sore like you fell from a high place and splatted against a body of water. The moment feels like déjà vu regardless as you swing your legs over the side of the bed with a wince.

The broken projector of your sleep-addled mind flickers in black and white cut scene imagines of the evening. Hoseok, the fog, the dog that crawled out of hell specifically for you – as you can only assume – things considered, you’re pretty certain you died at some point.

The dark unnerves you, it makes you feel like a kid as you pull your feet back up onto the bed, and pull the blanket up over your head and pulled tight between your fingers at your chest.

You scoot back, wiggling a bit until your back is pressed flush against the headboard. There’s no light seeping in from under your door, and you sink lower, curling into yourself and hold the blanket tighter.

There’s a prickling at the back of your neck that sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your head turns slowly to the left and notice the unnatural darkness of the space between the edge of the wall and the window pane. Relief blooms in your chest at the sight of it.

“...Hoseok.” You call softly, waving a hand into the dark. You wait for a moment, but the lights don’t come on and he doesn’t appear as he usually would.

Carefully, you unwrap the covers from around you and place your foot on the ground. Taking a moment, you count your fingers – it’s always hard to count them in your dreams. All ten are there, and you take a breath before standing.

The floor is cold, and you notice the carpet that’s usually under your feet is missing, and the silhouettes of the things you’ve made yours are different; this isn’t your room.

You approach the ball of chaos carefully, and stand five steps away from the space it occupies. This is the second time you’ve been close to it, the first time had been much closer and you hadn’t understood it then. You reach a hand out, and gently: “Hoseok...”

It slows, the shadows and wisps shifting gently like a leaf on a soft wind. It elongates into a vague outline and then, Hoseok stares through you before he sees you. He’s still wearing the clothes he left in earlier, coat and all, looking a little more than rattled even in the dark.

He raises a hand and it hovers by your cheek, thumb ghosting the skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The lights didn’t come back on and it’s hard to decipher his emotions in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, barely a whisper in the darkness. Somewhere behind you, a lamp flickers on dimly and Hoseok looks like he’d shatter if you touched him.

“I’m okay.”

Hoseok’s hand drops slowly from your face as he blinks, as though waking from a dream. His gaze focuses on you, but there’s a vacancy in his eyes. For a moment, he seems almost confused, as if he’s not sure how he ended up here or what to make of your presence.

His touch is light, gentle, like he’s handling something fragile when his fingers brushes yours. You feel his fear, a palpable thing, thick and heavy. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure what to do with it.

He exhales softly through his nose, nods once and then his eyes are somewhere above your head. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” Your back sings a low hymn, achy and sore, but it’s nothing to fuss over. “I’m okay.”

There’s a lot of things you want to ask, but you can’t seem to pick one. You want to ask him about the fog and the creature, about his wings or how you’re even alive to mull over said questions.

Instead, you ask: “Are you okay?”

Hoseok looks unprepared for that, his eyes snapping back to yours and he flounders. His mouth opens and closes before he stares at you in that unnerving way he had your first couple of days here, like he’s trying to understand you. Like he could strip you down to atoms and see what makes you act the way you do and therefore comprehend the bases of your human nature.

“I’m...” He blinks, looks away, and a muscle beneath his right eye twitches, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t sound convinced and you aren’t either, and where his hand brushes yours you reach out first. His fingers are cold and he looks down, staring at your hand like it’s something foreign, but his grip tightens. It’s quiet for a moment, he takes a breath that doesn’t seem to ease the weight he carries.

“You almost died.” He says quietly, brows furrowed as though he can’t understand his own concern. “When I brought you here...I did so with the intention to keep you safe.”

It’s quiet again and you wait, and wait.

Hoseok’s eyes mist, his breath shudders on the exhale. “I wasn’t here in time. Again. I—”

His hand in yours tremble, he’s looking through you again, not entirely here and he looks like a man haunted by ghosts he alone could see. You stumble a step back when he falls to his knees before you, but didn’t get far as his arms wound tight around your waist. There’s something strange about a creature such as him with all his prowess and tainted grace kneeling at your feet, and his words tumble from his mouth like his tears that soak into your borrowed shirt and he lets you hold the chain that drags behind him.

The weight is heavy, heavy enough that it grounds you and you listen to it rattle as Hoseok tells you everything. In a broken tone about a broken home and a child he couldn’t reach in time to save, about the shadows that he let hide the light and now he struggles to find it. The things he’s done since that would make the most wicked men cower.

You make the connection, as he lays himself bare before you. He peeled back the layers of his being himself and let you look inside; the bases of his nature, the connotations of his own sins. It makes sense to you now. The way he would change like the tide and his near obsessive, compulsive need to wrap you in bubble wrap and put you in a glass case. He’d long stopped scaring you and somehow became a comfort despite himself.

Maybe it’s circumstantial, or something else entirely, but you’ve grown to care for him and he’s been caring for you from the start. However skewed that was.

When he’s stopped his babbling, and he’s no longer crying, he still holds you tight, whispering apologies against the dampness of your shirt. You meet his height, gently pulling his arms away from you and you kneel, too. He blinks away the last of his tears and you catch them with your thumbs just under his red-rimmed eyes.

He’s no longer looking through you, one of his hands covers yours, his lips brushing delicately against your wrist when he turns his head; your heart flutters. He whispers something you didn’t catch, he closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, he repeats: “You can leave if you want.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Will you stay, then?” He looks away when he asks, pressing his fingers against your palm in a way that tickles and distracts, and studies the lines of them quietly. “Stay here with me.”

There’s something like hope in his eyes that glints against the shadows that linger, shining like flecks gold in cracked rock. You nod slowly and he smiles easily, all teeth and heart shaped and his hand is warm when he cups your cheek with the one that isn’t holding yours.

“Your dream...” He says softly, and later you’d find that it troubled him the most; he would never do something like that – not to you. “I’m sorry.”

You store the fact that he knows about it at the back of your mind for later – later when he’s not pressing the pad of his thumb against the fullness of your bottom lip, tracing the shape of it. You’ve learnt to ebb and flow with him, a boat on his tide, taking the shift of his mood in stride.

There’s something in his eyes now that has nothing to do with how you found him earlier, something that makes you follow his lead, leaning in when he pulls you towards him. Deja vu accompanies the way he shifts, easing back and turning you as he does, leaning against a dresser you hadn’t noticed. He keeps his eyes locked with yours, directing your leg over his with a hand, and he settles you on his lap.

“This feels familiar.” He giggles, lifting his head to nose along your jaw and you’re reminded that he knows. Heat flares at the back of your neck and races up your ears, and when you push against his shoulders, he steadies and keeps you still with his hands on the top of your thighs and a click of his tongue against his teeth.

“I’m teasing.” He gives a crooked smile, tilting his head, “It’s cute that you think it’ll play out that way.”

“Isn’t it, though?” You blurt out, embarrassment forgotten. Honestly, the only thing that’s changed is the room, and when Hoseok pauses you smirk.

He smirks right back, something dangerous, and he chuckles, “Keep talking back. I like that.”

His hand slides up your back, and you don’t suppress the shiver that follows after it. The air grows heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You’re vaguely aware of your heart pounding, the rhythm matching the erratic thrum of your blood. He leaves a kiss where your jaw meets your neck, sucking lightly on the spot.

“Hoseok...” You start to say his name, but it comes out as a breathless whisper. You’re not sure what you intended to say, but the words get caught in your throat.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “What is it?” he asks, his voice rough with desire and darker still. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, unable to form words.

With a low growl, he takes your silence as an invitation, his fingers tangle in your hair, and he tilts your head down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss you gasp into. It quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, as if he’s trying to devour your very soul. His other hand finds your hip, squeezing possessively.

You’re lost in the sensation, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours. The world has narrowed to the two of you, to this moment.

A soft moan escapes your lips, and he takes that as a cue, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that sets your entire being ablaze.

His touch ignites a fire within you, consuming your senses and leaving you breathless, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

He pulls away slowly and you chase, he smirks against your kiss, and when he lifts his hips you feel the press of his arousal. His kisses trail, ghosting along your jaw, his tongue warm where your pulse thrums. He directs the shifts of your hips, grinding you down against clothed erection with a curse growled against your skin.

You follow the light tug of his hand in your hair, tilting your head back and to the side to give him more room to work. He hums appreciatively around your skin between his teeth and you hiss softly at the sting of the pull.

“So good for me.” He whispers when he pulls away. His fingers tap at your hip before he wraps his arm around, bracing the other against the dresser behind and stands easily.

A startled squeak leaves you, wrapping your arms around his neck even though he’s holding you steady. He reaches the bed in two strides, and drops you there, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

You bounce a bit amongst the soft sheets with a soft giggle before you settle. His index finger curls beneath your chin and tilts, thumb brushing along your bottom lip again, “Ah.”

You comply easily, and then his thumb is pressing against your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth and he hums when you wrap your lips around the digit. There’s a tick of his brow and the dull glint of his teeth when he smiles in the dim light of the singular lamp, and a darkness in his eyes that doesn’t scare you.

He tests the boundaries of what you’d allow, sliding his thumb along your tongue. His palm lays flat against your cheek, thumb reaching far until you feel the lurch of your stomach and pull back with a gasp.

He coos softly, leaning down just as he slips his finger out of your mouth to capture your lips in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. He nudges you back softly, large hands sneaking their way under your tee to reach your skin, desperate in a way that makes you think he’d die if he doesn’t.

He stops just shy of the undersides of your breasts, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. His breaths are shallow, he whispers your name, “I can get intense.”

“I know.”

“I could hurt you.”

“I know.”

He studies you for a moment, then, tugs gently on the hem of your tee-shirt, “Up.”

As you shift to sit, you’re not surprised to find you aren’t wearing anything underneath the tee-shirt and cotton shorts he’s put you in; dressing you properly must’ve been the last thing on his mind.

Hoseok stands back to shed his coat, dropping it carelessly on the floor. There’s a metallic clink as the buckle of his belt jingles, and the sound of it racing through the loops of his pants.

You – oddly – don’t feel ashamed under his gaze that sets a heat wherever it settles as he roams over your exposed upper half. Putting your weight on your hands, you lean back, watching Hoseok roll the long sleeves of his tee-shirt up his forearms.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he closes the distance again, climbing into the bed on his knees and coming up until they’re on either side of your thighs. Silently he trails a finger down the slope of your neck, it tickles across your collarbone and his fingers spread and palms your left breast.

Your breath hitches and he chuckles, and you know very well he could feel the shifting of your thighs as you rub them together seeking friction. It’s been ages since anyone’s touched you like this, all of Hoseok’s teasing isn’t doing you much good.

His lips meet yours, licking into your mouth, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. His fingers lightly pinch at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand roams, goosebumps following it’s path down your side and stops where his fingers tease the band of your shorts.

Your hips buck as you whine and Hoseok pulls away, eyelids heavy, pupils all but gone, panting softly; looking drunk on you.

He smiles and makes a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. “Patience little dove.” He tuts, tilting his head at you, “I’ll give you what you need.”

He trails his fingers along the edges of your shorts before pulling them down and off, leaving you exposed to his touch. His hair tickles where it drags against your sensitive skin as he moves downward. He avoids where you need him most entirely and you squirm, a soft whine building in your chest.

He kisses and licks his way up your thighs, teasing you until you’re begging. Gently, he spreads your legs, kissing the inner thigh of your right before he rests it over his shoulder, pushing your other up and holding it there with a palm.

His dark gaze meets yours and you can’t hold it when he licks a hot stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. Your hand shoots down to grip his hair, back arching when his responding growl vibrates against your core.

With each stroke of his tongue, Hoseok explores every inch of your most sensitive areas. He laps at your clit, drawing out a series of gasps and moans that fill the room. You’re shaking and swearing as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit in figure eights and then dipping into you. He moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Your hands curl into the sheets, fingers digging in as if to anchor yourself. You’re lost in the sensations, a whirlwind of pleasure that leaves you breathless. And you wonder, briefly, if this was just something he was good at or something he had to hone.

His arm draping over your hips was the only warning you got before his lips wraps around your clit and sucks. Your back arches with a pitched moan and he slips a finger into your heat, and groans when you clench and gasp his name.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your vulnerability. Yet, paradoxically, it’s this vulnerability that fuels your desire, pushing you to new heights. You’re a wild thing now, driven by pure, primal need.

From between your legs, Hoseok watches your reactions, a dark-haired god feasting on your pleasure. His gaze is intense, a silent promise that he’ll take you to the edge. He adds another finger and they curl against your g-spot and it brings about your undoing.

If your arousal was a fire, Hoseok just threw gasoline on it just to watch it explode. He keeps hips lips around your clit as it throbs, fingers dragging along your fluttering walls and your eyes squeeze shut. You could barely breathe, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you gasp his name.

“Good girl.” Hoseok praises, lips brushing your clit and your thighs tremble. He rubs his hand gently over your stomach while you come down, and evilly, bites your thigh with a dark chuckle.

“Hoseok...” you whine as he laves his tongue over the stinging spot.

“Hm?” He smiles, “Want more, little dove?”

You almost cry as he changes course, pulling away entirely, and makes it clear he revel in your suffering when he coos mockingly, standing now.

He slowly unbuttons his pants, slowly pulls his legs out of them one after the other, smirking at you all the while. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the strain his cock against his black boxer briefs and you don’t miss the near inaudible sigh of relief from Hoseok at the change in pressure.

He crooks a finger at you, and shuffles closer as you do. He stands at the edge of the bed, and he sinks his fingers into your hair, brushing it back as you look up at him. He looks down his nose at  you, and raises a brow, “Be a good girl now, dove. Or do I have to teach you?”

“I know how to suck cock you ass.”

Hoseok shrugs, a playful smile shifting his expression as he gently squeezes your cheeks, puckering your lips, “Is all that little mouth good for talking back to me?”

“You said you like that.” You say defiantly.

Hoseok hums, “Have your fun then,” He says, smiling, “Won’t be able to say much in a bit, anyway.” He tugs on your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to signal his impatience.

Funny, he was preaching patience is a virtue a while ago.

You scoff softly, holding your weight with a hand and tugging his boxers down with the other. His cock springs out, long and thick enough that you wonder if it would fit anywhere. It’s flushed red at the tip and leaking pre that beads and dribbles down the underside, and maybe if you focus enough you could just about see the throb of the vein that runs along side. A breath hisses through Hoseok’s teeth when you wrap your fingers around him, his eyes shut and his head tilts back.

Your eyes meet his when you slowly drag your hand down the length of his shaft, teasing him like he did you; turnabout is fair play. His hold in your hair tightens just a bit, eyes narrowing.

“Dangerous game you’re trying to start.” He murmurs, “I don’t take well t – fuck.” He hisses, the word tapering off into a low groan as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

The slightly salty taste of him bursts against your tongue and you hum, twisting your wrist as you bring your hand back up to meet your mouth and follow it down again. The saliva that escapes from the corners of your mouth helps with the glide.

You take a breath through your nose and relax your jaw, taking him in until he hits the back of your throat and you gag. Hoseok’s thighs tense and a stuttered breath leaves him.

“Easy there.” He soothingly runs his fingers through your hair, though it does nothing for the involuntary tears springing at your waterline. You decide to play it safe, not taking more than you can handle. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind, letting you set your own pace, whispering swears and your praises.

Heat pools in your gut as your head bobs back and forth, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, swirling around the head every time you pull back.

Slick with spit, your hand strokes the rest of him, and his groans vibrate in your ears. His fingers tighten in your hair, and it’s the only time he directs; holding you still.

“Take a deep breath for me, dove.” You do as told, and as you inhale, Hoseok slowly pushes forward, his cock reaching the back of your throat in no time at all. He groans above you, cock throbbing against your tongue, “There you go.”

He holds you there for a moment, only easing you back when your throat tightens with the need for air. He lets you breathe for a bit before he’s going again, thrusting slowly, once, twice and then holding you still. He keeps you there, cock throbbing at the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at the base.

When you gag he pulls you back, barely letting you breathe before he’s leaning down to kiss you, catching the string of drool that hangs from your bottom lip with his tongue. He lets you catch your breath, stepping back to pull his tee-shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry at the full expanse of his lithe frame.

Sitting back on your heels, breath a little ragged, you admire the sculpted lines of his body. Every movement is fluid and graceful, his muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin.

His chest is defined, the faintest sheen of sweat highlighting each ripple of muscle. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders, the way they flex as he moves. There’s a raw, primal energy about him, but it’s tempered by a quiet confidence.

Hoseok comes back to you quickly, cupping your cheek and kissing you fervently, moving with you as you shift back, cock smearing pre-cum along your inner thighs as he slots his narrow hips between them. He nibbles at your bottom lip, fingers sliding through your slick folds before the head of his cock nudges against your entrance.

For a quiet moment he stares then, kisses you tenderly as he breeches. It’s an easy glide, but it stings none the less, and you give an appreciative squeeze to his wrist when he goes slow. The stretch is bearable and soon the slight discomfort dissipates when he bottoms out and gives you a moment.

“Good?” he breathes out, hips pressed flush against yours. The same breath sucked back through his teeth when your walls tightens around him, his cock throbs in response and you keen. He grinds his hips down, pelvis pressing against your swollen clit and the sensation is almost too much and not nearly enough.

He’s close enough that you can run your tongue along his collarbone  and feel him shiver. Leave your own marks there with your teeth and revel in the growl that rumbles in his chest.

He hooks an arm at the back of your knee, pressing it against your chest as he raises and balances his weight. You’re spread open for him, his cock sinks deeper, rubbing against a spot that makes your eyes roll back. He gives shallow thrusts at first, pressing kisses and bruises wherever he could reach.

“Fuck.” Hoseok hisses between his teeth, hips still, palm against your cheek, and he watches you with something other than lust in his eyes. Something gentle as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, such a good girl. Taking everything I give you.”

His hips snap forward and you cry out, hands gripping the sheets between them at his sinful groan. He keeps a relentless pace, and you could feel him everywhere. His fingers on your skin, leaving you cold and hot at the same time, gripping your hips so tightly you fear they’ll bruise. It would simply add to the ones he’s already placed, scattered on your neck and chest like mismatched constellations in a dark sky.

He brings your hands up above your head, holding them there, together with his free one.

“You’re so good to me, Dove. And all mine, hm? Say it.” He grunts, “Say you belong to me, promise me that you’ll stay here with me.” He says this softly, tenderly, grinding his hips against yours in slow movements, tightening the coil in your stomach.

“I’m yours, I’m yours. I promise.” You babble, hips moving against his on their own accord. “I’ll stay. I promise. Please.”

Hoseok groans at your words, leaning down to capture your lips with his, tongue finding yours with ease. “That’s right. You’re mine. Fuck. All mine. Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Hoseok.”

He curses under his breath, straightening his form and brings his hands down to grip your hips tight, and sets a brutal pace. Head tilting back to reveal the marks you left on him, groaning before he looks back down at you, “Close? Hm? You’re squeezing so tight.” His words taunt, as did the smirk on his pretty pink lips, “Make a mess for me, Dove. Cum all over my cock. That’s it, good girl.”

White lights dance behind your tightly shut eyelids, a ringing in your ears. And Hoseok was fucking you through it, fast and hard, his praises a rumble in his chest. You lay there boneless, taking what he gave with a haze over your mind, a weak moan leaving your parted lips when his hand met your throat. Your heart spikes for another reason entirely, but he doesn’t squeeze. Fingers just there, barely any pressure, as he chased his own end, cock kissing your cervix with each trust, his other hand pressed against your lower stomach.

His thumb finds your clit and you jolt, catching his sinister smirk that curled his lips. “There’s no going back after this, baby. Fuck – you’re mine, understand?” You can feel him throbbing, feel the way his hips stutter on the draw back, he was close and you wanted nothing more than him marking you, claiming you in this way. When your eyes meet his, a shiver goes through you.

He comes undone with a low groan, hips flushed with your own, still thrusting through it, and you can see them with your own eyes, as he shudders and stills. His wings uncurl, dark feathers, darker than anything you’ve ever seen, dipped in silver, spreads out behind him and flutters. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, gentle, barely there and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Your eyelids were heavy, and sleepily, you reach out to brush your fingers through the feathers that encased your forms. Hoseok stiffens before your fingers reach them, and chuckles, nipping softly at the flesh of your neck, “Go ahead, Dove.”

He relaxes, when your fingers touch, and you feel him shudder, groaning softly against your neck. They’re soft, your fingers disappearing in the inky blackness of them. With a final brush of his lips against your neck, Hoseok pulls back, his wings shimmering away like a mirage and your hand passes through air before lands limply at your side.

He squeezes your hip gently, mindful, and then he’s gone, walking out his room and into the hallway. The light that spills in helps you see a lot better than the dim lamp, and you notice that Hoseok’s bedroom looks much like the rest of his apartment; sleek and dark. There isn’t much to it either, the basics, more utilirian than a comfort space. You wonder if he uses it at all.

Hoseok comes back and gathers your boneless self into his arms. You rest your cheek against his collarbone, the sound of running water reaching your ears when he steps out into the hallway.

The tub is filling, steam rising from the bubbles that form at the top of the disturbed water. It smells like mint and some sort of fruit, and the temperature is just right when he steps into it and lowers you down. He positions you so that your back is against his chest and turns off the water when it’s high enough. You sense that he’s in his head again, not quite here even as he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Feeling okay?” he asks suddenly, tracing a mindless pattern along your arm.

You hum softly, “Yeah. Sore, though.”

“I expected that.” Another kiss, apologetic, against your shoulder. “Also...” Hoseok pauses, “I finished inside you. I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”

The realisation dawns on you too and you shift a little to look at him, “I don’t mind, but....is that a bad thing?”

There’s a strange half smile on his lips and he lifts a hand to tug softly on one tangled end of your hair, gently sifting his fingers through until he’s satisfied. “It can be, if it takes. But, I’ll get something for it tomorrow.”

You notice that the marks you left along his skin have begun to fade already, and you poke at them with a finger. He heals quickly, you figured. He chuckles softly, taking your hand to press kisses along your finger tips and then to your palm. Your finger brushes over the mole on his upper lip gently and watch him melt.

He studies you for a moment, the same way he did before he left earlier, though, it’s softer now. “Would you like to come with me?”

You brighten, perking up with a nod, “Is that okay?”

Hoseok hums, mischief in his eyes, “If you promise not to run off as soon as you step foot outside.”

You roll your eyes and turn around, and Hoseok pulls you back to him with an arm around your middle. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I know, I was only teasing.” He chuckles.

You’re both quiet for a while, and you simply relax, almost falling asleep against him as the warm water soothes your aching muscles. You aren’t aware that you did, and only wake when Hoseok was just done tucking fresh clean sheets up to your chin. You’re back in his room but you don’t mind, the thought of going back to your own unsettles you right now. You haven’t forgotten your nightmare, and it’s something you’d definitely have to unpack another day.

You wait until he’s crawled in behind you, the warmth of him encasing you gently. His form melds against your back like he belongs there, an arm slipping under your head and the other over your hip. “Hoseok?”

“Yes Dove?”

You worry at your bottom lip, fingers finding his under the covers and they squeeze your own encouragingly. “There’s a friend of mine...I was with her before I met you.”

“I can help her.” He murmurs, and he sounds...sleepy. Today was a lot for him as well, you suppose. “I can get her a job here.”

You shift, turning to face him, he tucks you to him when you settle, chin resting on top of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

You hear the smirk when he answers, “Do you think everything I have magically appeared? I own the hotel.”

“Wha—”

“Shh.” Hoseok squeezes your hip, “Go to sleep.”

Sometime later you’ll realise that Hoseok needed you more than he would admit. When you learn his tells he would help put himself back together with you instead of trying to do it alone.

Sometime later he’d take you to see her. When the wind is cold and the old oak tree reaches it’s bare, spindly arms to the frosted sky. When the day marks yet another year and he lets you put the flowers between the roots. He looks like a shadow against the glittering white, and he tells you he’s okay.

He’d take you to meet his friends at a club on the high-end and you’d would realise that he’s soft only with you and the guy who reminds you of a cat. With the others he’s closed off and friendly in a way that seems a little odd.

You’d see Abigail often and would skirt around how you actually met Hoseok when she’d ask. Anyone would think you’re crazy if you told them.

You spend most of your time at home while Hoseok goes off doing god knows what when he’s not there. It’s something to do with his friends and you never ask.

Then he’s there and everything beyond him and you and the space you both occupy doesn’t matter. And it’s kind of easy to forget where it all started – it’d been so long since you’d wondered where you were going to get anything to help you get by.

He’s made of cracks and splintered glass but he let you sink into the spaces, filled the pieces with you and settled. There would always be cracks in the glass that he’s made of, and there would always be a post in his fence that he needs to hammered in to fix. Despite the unconventional way you’d both started, the abnormality of his existence, you’d be there.

[bold, can't tag]

Tagging: @iammeandmeisiam , @imanhaitani @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @astormunchar @eoieopda @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @mssukeyna​ @euphoricfilter @luaspersona

[namedr]

What are your art inspirations?

Disclaimer: A LOT of RAMBLING

Honestly hard to answer, nowadays I don't really look at a lot of art anymore but mostly just movies.

Biggest inspiration over the years (from 2020 to 2022) would have to be Kan Liu. His painting style with mostly just the round brush and hard edges really spoke to me, especially when it came to lineart I was a massive fucking copycat lmao.

Around 2022 I also began falling in love with Sungmoo Heo. The perspectives and overall style just fucks so hard.

The most obvious inspo would have to be Seonhyeok Jeon though, who I still rip off blatantly.

In general I began taking art seriously around 2020, when I found Kan Liu, because I began training to compete in bodybuilding, which I did the next year. I began getting super interested in how the body and muscles work so I just drew those a fuck ton, and those anatomy studies ended up really helping my art skills in general.

Anyway! For animation... Hiroto Nagata and Q Kawa are big inspos.

This shit is so fucking RAW and HOLY SHIT when I look at how the perspective gets just in your face I always just think "what am I even doing man I have to PRACTICE". It's like watching a Zyzz or Ronny Coleman clip before doing a lift at the gym but for art, shit's motivational.

This cut in Ghost In the Shell as well is WOW, I think what speaks a lot to me is when an animation doesn't conform to what's standard in the medium and tries to push boundaries/be unique. Be it in this case through insane details, in the case of Mushoku Tensei through bg animation mixed with extreme foreshortening or just a crazy perspective and punchy movements in the Madoka clip.

Overall it's hard to say what else my inspirations are though. When it comes to manga and comics I can think of Batman Year One, The Climber by Shin-ichi Sakamoto, Ultra Heaven by Keichi Koike, Solo Leveling (big inspo in 2021) and Homunculus.

Also, even though everyone assumes it, I haven't played Cyberpunk 2077 or am that big a fan of the Blame! manga, I guess I just have a fairly similar artistic vision to both of those.

For animated fiction it'd be Spiderverse recently, Millennium Actress, Silent Voice and a million other anime I've forgotten the name of. Naoko Yamada's directing for Silent Voice or other anime like Hibike Euphonium and the Liz movie has always been amazing to me because she is able to express characters personalities through their body language, like they way they walk or stand, in a way I have never seen done before. Extremely recognizable and iconic style imo. A long time ago I used to be really into watching anime, but I don't care much for it anymore.

Other inspo would be this guy on twitter, his stuff is insanely cool https://twitter.com/be_myvu/status/1725069515107533178?s=46

It's like that Ralph Waldo Emerson quote - “I cannot remember the books I've read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.” I think throughout the years I've been so obsessed with all kinds of artists that I've taken in inspiration from everywhere. I cannot recall them all anymore, but they have made me the artist I am today.

Currently, like I said, I would consider movies to be my biggest inspiration because I find it interesting how cinematographers are able to stylize real life, which I'm trying to get closer to. If I could direct a movie, I would probably stop making art right then and there, but I'm not really working towards that goal anyway lmao. One day, being able to make a short film in animation would be something I would like to do though.

I'm not deep enough into the movie scene to get the street cred of being called an expert but I love them a lot. Fallen Angels made me fall in love with fisheye back then for example. Fight Club and The Batman have a grit to them visually that I find inspiring, and movies like Persona and Heat also come to mind when I think of movies I just love. I could look up my letterboxd for a more thorough answer but I feel I've already been writing way too long.

For video games, I guess you can imagine that I would say Signalis lmao. Besides that I can think of Subahibi (vn), Muramasa (vn), and Va-11 Hall-a for inspirations

Lastly, I guess huge inspirations are also a fuck ton of music. I mostly listen to either metal or hard techno, but I think I'll refrain from any more yapping.

I feel that this isn't really a great answer to the question, but it's the one I consider the most correct, because it's never as simple as just mentioning one artist. With a lot of these you wouldn't see a visual resemblence to my art, but in all of these I recognize a feeling that I also find in my own art.

Thank you for the question!

[plusultraetc]

what do u think of traitor!mic 🫶 i honestly was confused abt it when i realized how popular it was relatively speaking … there was a lot of it from like? 2020-2021?!?! i wanted to know ur take on him ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

BESTIE YOU ARE ALWAYS ASKING THE DIFFICULT QUESTIONS. OKAY LET'S TALK ABOUT TRAITOR MIC.

The long & short of it is that I SEE the vision but unfortunately, he's just not for me 😭 That isn’t to say I’m not interested in other people’s takes on him (and am super open to post/fic/art recs if anyone has any; I recently saw this piece and had a full-body flinch reaction when I Realized. Like. OMG). I just have like. Zero thoughts of my own lol, because traitor!Mic is conceptually so opposed to my understanding of the character that I can’t quite au about it.

(Before I get into my longwinded nonsense, let me just add that we should have known Mic wasn't the traitor from the very start because if he had been the League of Villains would have been way more successful lmao)

So full disclosure, when I watched the first few seasons of MHA a couple years ago, I heard there was a traitor at UA and the first thing I blurted out was 'IT'S PRESENT MIC.' I honestly am not sure why I thought so at the time, other than the fact that he seemed like an incredibly unlikely candidate, and therefore was Very Suspicious to me lol. Like, I don't even think I knew he was the one who proposed the traitor theory--if I had, it would have been so over for him. I would have been convinced he was the traitor & trying to throw people off his scent maybe for the rest of my life. In reality I probably just thought he was too loud and goofy and therefore must be hiding something (what he was hiding was a tragic backstory, whoops!) But anyway I was actually really surprised when I learned traitor!Mic had become such a prevalent theory!

In many ways, I can totally see why. Mic makes a good candidate for a traitor! He's smart, he has reasons to be dissatisfied with the pro hero status quo, and as we learn, he has very distinct public and private personas--one of which is radio DJ Present Mic, and the other is really, really angry.

THAT BEING SAID. Looking back on it, I feel like the more we learned about Mic, the more the traitor theory kind of... falls apart. I almost feel like he's Too Angry under all that leather and hairspray to be a spy for the League. For example, if I was trying to stay under the radar as a villain spy, I wouldn't turn to the guy next to me and be like ‘HEY let's beat these civilian reporters up for trespassing ♥’

Mic has every reason to be angry. He lost a close friend in a villain attack at a young age, watched the toll his death took on his friends and family even while processing (or failing to process) his own grief, and later had to confront the reality of what really happened to Shirakumo--how intentional and therefore avoidable it was--as the world was falling apart around him. I’ve talked a little bit on this blog about my many Big Sad Feelings about the ‘middle generation’ of pro heroes between All Might and the up-and-coming UA students, but more than anyone else, I think the UA teachers are a very conflicted group. It’s like… not quite ‘former child soldiers raising current child soldiers,’ but a similar concept, especially for characters like Mic, Aizawa, and Midnight, who had such a traumatic experience during their own years at UA. Now they are very much responsible for the children they are going to *checks notes* send into the same, and in some cases even more, dangerous situations that chewed them up and spat them out as teenagers. Very healthy, very mindful.

So Mic does have reasons to be disillusioned, but the thing is, he very actively participates in an often-hypocritical pro hero society. (This is not a criticism of him btw; many characters in the series do, and it’s often what makes them interesting!) Something that’s come up in book club is the fact that Present Mic is a public figure with a platform of his own and absolutely no problem loudly critiquing other heroes and even students, but he like. Really Hates the media. It’s almost funny how much he dislikes them. This is as good a reason as any that traitor!Mic should have been a hard sell, because his feelings about the media are directly opposed to those of the early League of Villains--ie, the iteration of the League when the traitor’s intel would have been at its most valuable. The early League loves the media; they want to use them to sensationalize and legitimize their message. Present Mic, meanwhile, uses his incredibly limited screentime to quite literally get in their way. He could have 100% made better use of his platform & connection to the press to aid the League.

I did try to approach this question from a non-erasermic lens, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about Aizawa at all for two reasons: 1) unfortunately, Mic is a side character. He doesn’t have THAT many appearances throughout the series, and most of the time, he appears with or somehow-relating-to Aizawa, and 2) you can’t talk about a traitor without talking about who they’re betraying. And honestly, I just can't see him betraying Aizawa--not after everything they've been through together, not after weathering Aizawa's darkest years, and not now, when All Might's imminent retirement (that the UA faculty is aware of in advance) means that big changes are looming on the horizon for all pro heroes. Mic himself acknowledges that the age of All Might has made them complacent--he knows that the end of the Symbol of Peace spells trouble, and that current pros are largely unequipped for a world without All Might. He has a tendency to prioritize others, especially Aizawa and those he cares about, above himself, and right now would be the very worst time to sell All Might/UA/etc out to the League.

And then of course there's the obvious: he really is just. Very kind. We don't get nearly enough Present Mic throughout the series, but what we do get tells us that he's supportive, protective, somewhat-sassy and Doing His Best. Like yeah, he roasts the other characters literally every chance he gets, and he can def be judgmental, but when it counts (when Uraraka was feeling guilty that Midoriya stayed behind to rescue her during the Entrance Exam, when Bakugou and Todoroki needed someone to supervise their remedial training, when Ms. Ikoma became overwhelmed by her students' admittedly poor behavior), he steps up for the people around him. Idk he's just a really solid hero. This is my formal apology to Present Mic for suspecting him in like 2018 or whenever it was.

THANK YOU FOR OPENING UP THIS CAN OF WORMS, do you have any thoughts on traitor!Mic? Any recommendations? Does anyone? 👀

[bellewintersroe]

Carlos Sainz x Celebrity OC Mer&Der trope… Part 1.

For all those who’s seen Greys Anatomy you’ll know exactly how Meredith& Derek got together and that’s gonna be the trope for this story. If you haven’t seen Greys then it’s fine, but OC is a celebrity hired as a reporter during the Grands Prix of 2021. Anyway, I won’t spoil anything further…

AN- I tried to use the name Molly Ashley as the OC name but because I’m so used to writing OC as Jenny or Jennifer that I kept slipping up so just stuck to that, but altered it to Jenna just to switch it up, so if there’s any errors that’s why!!! (Was going to use Belle my real name but it kinda made me cringe). warnings - mentions of sex, maybe a slow start, nothing too graphic… yet. Excuse my lack of F1 knowledge I’m trying my best lmao

“Ahh there she is!” Ted Kravitz, the infamous F1 grid walk reporter exclaimed, grinning as I hurried in, panting desperately as I scurried into the room. “Sorry, I had to run!” I placed both hands on my knees, holding the papers I’d sprinted back to my hotel room to gather before making it back here in a record time of six minutes. I’d run for six minutes flat- and I hadn’t run a singular meter since secondary school. 20 year old me was aging bad.

“Almost beat a world record there!” Oh my god, Jenson fucking Button was stood right in front of me and I was practically wheezing for air. Not to mention I was violently hungover from last nights party. Sky reporters and the crew went a lot harder than I ever could have imagined…

“Hello! Sorry, I’m so out of breath.” I stood up straighter, shaking his hand as I handed over the papers to once of the producers who needed them. “It’s lovely to meet you! I’m Jensen” He laughed as I attempted to laugh back, but it just came out as a breathless wheeze. “I’m Jenna!” I managed to speak as he smiled, patting my upper back. “I’ll let you die in peace.” “Not just yet! Are you ready to interview some drivers, Jen?” Lisa, the woman who hired me headed over. She was like the CEO of F1 reporters for Sky, I didn’t know how it worked, but I was bloody glad she was here to guide me. “Just about.” I managed to stand up straighter. Nicole, the makeup artist, and Sebastian, the hairstylist, both headed over to touch me up- something I found myself enjoying a little too much. These people made me look better than anybody I’d ever had done my hair or makeup, I was starting to rely on them to make me look human, especially after last night.

“Well your first up with Max Verstappen, he was second to Lewis in Bahrain, will definitely be pushing for first today.”

“Oh yes! I know Max.” I waved my hand, I’d befriended Max two nights ago when all the drivers were out. “Yeah, Max and Charles looked to have a lot of fun with you the other night.” Lisa teased. Long story short, we’d taken one too many shots and Max Verstappen had thrown up over the side of a bridge into an Italian canal below. Classic.

Knowing my first interview ever was just with Max was reassuring. It made it all way less intimidating, even if the interview didn’t go so smoothly, it was entertaining and that’s exactly what I was hired for. “If you win how are you gonna celebrate?” I asked, holding the mic towards him. “You know exactly how!” Max began cracking up as I attempted to hold back my laughter. “Did you know your sky presenter can drink men under the table?” He slung an arm around me, tugging me to face the camera directly. I gasped and instantly began speaking again. “Well good luck today Max!! Wishing you all the best!” He laughed out loud as I changed the subject abruptly. “Thank you!” He laughed giving me a quick hug, “and you’ll be out tonight, yeah?” He asked as I nodded. “Sure.” “Hopefully not sneaking off with-“

“Oh, no, no, no!” My eyes widened, preventing him from finishing that sentence. Last night I’d got home with a man- another driver to be precise. It seems news spread quick amongst drivers and the grid. Max smirked and gave my one last goodbye before I moved on to interview a couple more celebrities lined up on the grid, waiting for the race to start. Interviewing random people there was far more easier than the drivers, when it came my time to head back over to where Ferrari were preparing on the grid I felt my chest tighten.

“Uh, Lisa, who’s my next interview with?”

“Well, just grab whoever you can, you’ve been doing so great at that so far, but next you are interviewing…” she scrolled down on her phone screen. Whilst I awaited her answer, I felt my heart rate increase, as if the hungover palpitations weren’t enough, this was giving me full blown anxiety. My eyes scanned over the grid, seeing two men dressed in their red Ferrari gear, it seemed they were awaiting me, looking over in the distance. Charles Leclerc and-

“Carlos Sainz!” Fuck! Simultaneous to Lisa saying his name there was a quick. “Yes?!” Following this, a body appeared besides mine and I was momentarily breathless, Carlos Sainz. The exact man I’d slept with only 12 hours prior and woken up next to in bed this morning. A series of flashback swept through me followed by a serious swooning as my eyes gazed up to the taller man. A pair of his dark eyes met my own gaze, and I saw him physically react. Eyes widened, mouth slightly parted. His gloved hand moved up to touch his chest, I wondered if his heart had leapt the exact same way mine had? “Carlos Sainz?!” I took a deep breath, forcing a smile as I remembered the cameras were rolling. “Hola!” He greeted, surprise lacing his tone, he hesitated slightly, waiting for my reaction before moving closer and greeting me to a kiss either side of my cheek. I gulped at the contact, the close proximity wafting the scent of his cologne, the exact same one that was plastered over my pillow cases. Double fuck! He was somehow even sexier now I was sober! “Jenna Ashley.” He laughed a little breathlessly as I remembered, judging by the flag on his front, he was Spanish. Duh. “Hola.” I giggled, knowing my face was just as vibrant as his uniform. I could feel Lisa eyeing me up from the sidelines of the interview.

“¿Hablas español?” (Do you speak Spanish?) he asked immediately, eyebrows perking, he seemed slightly nervous, unable to hold eye contact. I didn’t know if that was the awkwardness from the fact the man was quite literally inside of me last night.

“Uhhh, un poco. Pero hablemos en ingles o no les gusto.” (a little, but let’s talk in English or they wont like me). I slowly translated, glancing back to the clueless cameraman and Lisa. I think that made sense, my nerves mixed with my limited Spanish probably made me speak like a child. Carlos laughed in response, rubbing his hands on his uniform. I then went through a series of questions, finding it hard not to giggle with him right in front of me. I was reduced to the behaviour of a school girl. “How are you gonna celebrate if you win today? Or if you don’t win?!” “Any way possible… now there’s no COVID restrictions!” He inhaled excitedly. “Sounds good to me.” I glanced back at the camera, feeling his eyes lingering over me.

“Thank you, Carlos, it’s been a pleasure, good luck for today! I wish you the best.” I laughed, barely being able to maintain eye contact with him as his plump lips stretched into a happy smile. God, he was perfect, tanned skin, Spanish accent, insanely nice, polite, perfect mop of hair, and don’t get me started on those eyes, he had me swooning like I was straight out of a cartoon. “Gracias… thank you.” Carlos nodded down to me and the camera as I flashed him a small smile, stealing another glimpse at him through my eyelashes as he cleared his throat slightly once the camera was turned away. I could feel his eyes burning holes into me, I couldn’t tell if he was checking me out or if he was entirely baffled by the situation. I swallowed the lingering anxiety I felt, tensing my jaw at the thought of him scanning over my face. “Good luck.” I then flashed him another smile to combat the awkwardness as he stepped a little closer. “N-no sabia que ibas-“ (I did not know you were going-) he stammered, but his words fell short when I was being ushered onto my next interview. “I promise I’ll let you mingle afterwards! I’m sorry!” Lisa apologised, attempting to move me on. I turned back up to Carlos, opening my mouth but my words fell short. When we made eye contact once more I felt the butterflies in my stomach, the cliche way my heart jumped, and that knot in my chest tightening. It was all happening at once. “Good luck again!” I politely nodded as he offered me another genuine smile, eyes lingering over my face, as though he was trying to analyse my features. Pffft, it wasn’t like he didn’t have chance to do that last night. Talking about last night… my mind roamed back to the events of the night before, clouded from the mix of alcohol and sex that plagued my mind.

[genericpuff]

The LO TV show isn't happening, and here's why.

Now, before I begin, courtesy to /u/Princess_Space_Goose because they're one of the driving forces behind these observations concerning stuff in the entertainment sector and they were the first ones to make a comprehensive post about it over on reddit shortly after we got into it in the Discord and compiled everything we knew. But I also REALLY wanna talk about this and I'm surprised to see I haven't yet. They've covered reddit, so I'm covering Tumblr LMAO

Disclaimer: Long post ahead. Much of what I say below is speculation but there's a lot of damning evidence to support it. Take it with grains of salt.

Rachel has vague-posted about the show a couple times over the past few years, but very sparingly so, always stating that it's "in the works" without anything to actually show for it. This would have been fine back in 2020 or even 2021 (the pandemic did bring a lot of television/movie development to a crawl) but we're over halfway through 2023 now.

So where's the show? Who's running it? What is it gonna look like? Which streaming service is it going to be hosted on?

We literally do not know any definitive answers to these questions because nothing has been revealed and at this point in the game, that's basically a death sentence. LO has been on a noticeable decline in stats over the past year, while we obviously can't access the backend numbers (and neither can Rachel as far as I know because WT guards them with an iron fist which is a whole other topic for discussion) it's still very clear by the comic's rating slowly but surely dropping and the like count average lowering (obv the like count isn't indicative of view count but if the ratio has remained the same, that means if the like count lowers, the viewership is likely lowering too). There's also been certain behavior from WT over the past year that hints at the comic not doing well, such as its VERY aggressive ad campaigning which often undercuts other series on the platform that are far better than LO and deserve the spotlight, but lose it anyways because WT just wants to keep its golden goose on life support even after its heart has stopped beating.

So the fact that we don't know the answers to these questions still after 4 years is NOT good. We don't know anything and while that was excusable 3 years ago, at this point, it's more indicative of the project being at a standstill or dropped completely, and what we dug up and discussed in the ULO Discord (and what was later posted to reddit) proves it with some very telling information dissected from LinkedIn and other sources.

So far, the only people we know connected to this project are Rachel Smythe (the creator of LO) and Stephanie K Smith (the appointed showrunner). Showrunners are the lifeblood of television series, remember this. Here's a little bit about her:

Lore Olympus still doesn't have a network, this means it has no definitive spot to air, which is not good at this point, because the network is what primarily funds these projects. Think of "Netflix shows" - they're not necessarily made by Netflix, they're made by studios that Netflix funds and as such they're given the Netflix branding because Netflix is their proprietary distribution network and benefactor. So LO has no network or streaming service funding its production. All of her other credited works have affiliated networks/distributors, but LO doesn't.

"But what about Jim Henson Company?" Jim Henson Company bought the rights to LO in 2019 to produce it, that doesn't necessarily mean they were onboard to fund the entire project. Again, these studios need networks to back them, not just for monetary purposes, but with the promise that their project will have a place to go when it's finished, whether it's Netflix, HBO, etc. Think of it like a movie theater - the movie theaters aren't the ones making the movies, but they have deals with the studios to air those movies with the agreement that both sides will be making money.

Jim Henson Company is a production studio, not a network. Not only that, but they're primarily for-hire for puppetry/animatronic projects, they're not the same kind of studio as, say, Laika, or Disney, or Warner Bros. Much of their work is done on the backend, creating animatronics and puppets for kids' productions, monster movies, etc. Currently they're working as the animatronic designers for Five Nights at Freddy's, but that movie isn't a JHC movie, it's a Blumhouse production, which has hired JHC to create animatronics for them.

So, the fact that they were the ones to buy out LO for production rights is... very odd. Because for starters, they don't tend to buy out production rights like major studios, they're typically for hire, but they're also not an animation studio. Any animation projects they've worked on were for concept art and design, such as Word Party, but the folks at JHC primarily specialize in conceptualization and practical effects. That's their whole shtick, it's what they're selling, it's what they get hired for.

That's all early stuff though, stuff we've been speculating on for ages. What came to light recently that spurred on this whole essay was discovering this one section on Stephanie K's LinkedIn:

There are a couple things we can glean from this. First, we know this has to be LO even if it isn't being named, because LO is the only one that was bought by JHC.

This also confirms that LO did end up with a distribution network, specifically HBO Max.

But it also confirms that Stephanie K Smith, the showrunner, is no longer on the project, either due to willingly quitting or being removed. According to the time stamps, she left in April of this year.

This is especially not good because without a showrunner, there's no leader. Showrunners are essential to these projects. So without a showrunner, and without any sort of announcement of a replacement, LO's television show is a ship without a captain, a car without a driver, a Hell's Kitchen without a Gordon Ramsay.

There's mention of an "animated presentation" but as mentioned in that reddit post above, that's not necessarily a pilot, it's more likely it was this. Which can't even really be called "animation", it's just video editing, rigging and tweening, but I digress.

There's a lot more in that reddit thread that dives into some of the details of Stephanie K's stuff, including the HBO Max affiliation and how that potentially connects to the Sydney Sweeney trailer, but ultimately, all of these breadcrumbs add up to one of two things:

LO's television show is in severe development hell which it likely will not come out of for quite some time, especially right now with both the writer's strike and streaming services gutting their animation connections.

LO's show isn't happening at all but with LO's numbers declining and its audience growing more fed up with the series (look no further than the comments on Instagram about LO's recent Eisner win, people are PISSED) Rachel and WT are trying to do as much damage control as possible by dangling a carrot in front of the audience they have left in the hopes that they'll stick around long enough on the promise of a TV show happening to keep siphoning cash and views. After all, there are two things many readers are still sticking around for - the SA plotline, and the TV show, and both of those things are being unnecessarily dragged out in the vaguest way possible with no real resolution in sight.

Neither of these are good, but I think what's even more telling is that, since that post was made on reddit, Rachel has attended SDCC and taken part in a new interview from Girl Wonder Podcast, and when asked about the show, all she had to say was this:

"Um, it’s been really interesting. It’s been educational for me. So, what I—what has been done so far is beautiful. Like, if I could share it, I would. But I can’t. Because it’s very naughty."

IDK if the "naughty" bit is referring to the show or just her revealing info about it, but the fact that NOTHING was shown at SDCC is just. Y'all, I'm sorry, but the show is not happening. If you're gonna show off previews for television ANYWHERE, it's SDCC. It's like the E3 of comics and entertainment media. So the fact that she's STILL VAGUE-POSTING ABOUT IT EVEN AT A MAJOR EVENT WHERE IT'S COMMONPLACE TO REVEAL TRAILERS AND PREVIEWS OF NEW PROJECTS, like... it's just not happening. Jim Henson Company bought the rights to produce LO as a TV show in the summer of 2019. Since then, we haven't seen a SHRED of news, if you google "Lore Olympus TV show" it'll still be the same 2-3 articles from 2019 talking about JHC buying the rights and that's it. If you do further sleuthing, all you'll find is Rachel saying "yeah it's still happening but I can't say anything!" which means fucking nothing at this point. The only 'hope' I have left is that they'll announce it at NYCC which has Rachel in a top billing spot in its advertising, but I'm really not holding my breath at this point.

Animated productions take a while, sure, but LO wasn't the only comic bought for TV production in that late 2010's/early 2020's era. Heartstopper was bought in 2019, and it made it to Netflix by April 2022. And it was live action, a medium SEVERELY affected by the pandemic, unlike animation, which wasn't affected as much because a lot of animation development can be done from home. What did affect the animation sector was streaming services like Netflix gutting their connections to animation studios and putting animated projects on the chopping block... which also doesn't bode well for LO.

It's 2023 now and we still don't even have anything beyond those initial announcement articles and Rachel making empty promises. It's not happening. Don't fall for the "it's coming soon but I can't say anything" nonsense. It's far less genuine now than it was 3 years ago and it has nothing to support those claims that it's actually in development, and ironically far more to support mere speculation that she's lying or doing damage control.

And, if it actually is happening, on a shred of belief in that being a possibility, then it sure as shit isn't being marketed well. Knowing how to build hype in a product is an entire course of knowledge. Marvel is practically the king of building hype, they're why people sit until the very end of the credits now in the hopes of seeing an after-credit scene, even in movies that aren't made by them. LO's numbers are bleeding right now, so to not show anything at even the major events like SDCC is a blatant misfire. Almost like there isn't anything to show in the first place.

You can take all of this evidence as you will. Some of it you may dismiss as "overthinking" or whatever have you. And a lot of it is speculation based on the crumbs we've picked up along the way.

But let me pose you this as a final thought: how can it be a good sign when everything being asked about the show, by fans and critics alike, comes down to "Is the show still happening?"

The best time to reveal proof of the LO television show was 3 years ago. The second best time is now.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being "negative" about a bunny and refusing to apologize? I don't think I can really shorten this, so I'm sorry for the lack of a TL;DR :/ It's pretty long!! TW for animal death(and potentially animal abuse?)

My mom(42 F) has a habit of randomly bringing pets home. For context, she's a single mother with four kids, with me(17) being the oldest, alongside my sister("E",13) and my two brothers(7 and 4, not relevant to the story). My sister and I share a room and my brothers share one too. My mom works a job that involves sleeping at work and doesn't think it's worth it for us to rent a three bedroom, so she sleeps on the couch on her nights off.

The first time was mid-2020 when she brought home a feral kitten my grandpa found underneath his house. What was supposed to be a family pet quickly turned into a pet that was kept only to E's and my room. He had some sort of sinus issue where he snotted everywhere all the time, so snot was constantly needing to be cleaned and being found randomly on our things. The cat was eventually rehomed after a year because it scratched my sister really badly to the point that my mom was concerned she would need stitches(she didn't. the cat didn't like being pet / touched and my sister wouldn't respect its boundries).

The second time was another cat(2021) that followed my mom from her cat to her place of work. This was when I started getting frustrated with my mom randomly bringing home animals, since the same set up that happened last time happened again- except this time, the cat got old enough to spray, and my mom kept forgetting to get him fixed so our room just smelled fucking awful. This cat was also rehomed when I broke down after realizing it has sprayed all over my books. I told my mom he either needed to be fixed or she needed to get rid of him. He was gone the next week.

Then last year it happened again- except this time, with a puppy(2022). My aunt was looking to get a new dog and sent some puppy photos to my mom, which she cooed over and showed me. She told me she was considering bringing one home, which I instantly told her was a bad idea and went over all the cons. Mom seemed to agree. Then guess what happened to be an early Christmas gift.... -_-

My sister and I took charge on the dog. We got our brothers to agree on a name for him(anyone with younger siblings knows this is a BIG deal lmao), started attempting to crate train him(basically making sure he's okay with eventually being left alone without crying the whole time), and we were the only ones trying to potty train him. Our mom didn't stick to any of this(including choosing a new name??) and the dog still isn't potty trained, and I'm the only one other than my mom that doesn't refuse to clean up after him. The dog doesn't stay in our room like the other animals, but it took months for my sister and I to convince our mom to get a hook lock for our door so the dog wouldn't keep coming in and peeing. The dog didn't end up getting rehomed, but now regularly stays at our aunt's house way more than ours.

It's worth noting at this point that all of these pets were "family pets" according to mom, and she would get upset when me and E pointed out we were really the only one taking care of them. The dog evened out after a while and now it's mostly my mom and I doing the work when he's here, but the cats are still a point of tension for us.

And now. For the fucking bunny!! Jesus christ I'm sorry there's so much backstory to this!!

A week ago my sister comes into our room and wakes me up to tell me mom brought home a baby bunny. It was scary small(3.5 inches long not stretching, 2 weeks old), and wasn't moving much but was clearly alive. My mom said it ran into my Nana's yard after the dog next door scared it off, and it's pretty safe to assume the nest is destroyed. But instead of bringing the rabbit to a wildlife rehab or something, my mom brought it home and told my sister she could keep it. They then put it in a box with some grass and water and did no further research.

I was pretty livid, because 1. This is a WILD rabbit. That's a crime in my state, 2. I think it was insanely irresponsible for my mom to drop this on us, 3. This is not a pet and it's very likely it'll die in our care just from us not being experienced, and 4. On a very basic and selfish level, I didn't want to take care of this animal and I didn't want it in our room(which it had to be). But E has been asking for a bunny for years, so for once she wasn't on my side about a new pet being dropped on us. So I was pretty outnumbered.

I kept pushing for my mom to contact a professional at the very least to ask about its diet(it's very easy to kill baby bunnies by feeding them the wrong thing), and kept trying to get my sister to stop holding / petting it since rabbits can die of stress. My mom listened after a day and my sister never did. Tbh I also thought if my mom contacted a professional the pro would tell her to absolutely not keep the bunny? But it was never brought up in their convo, so I think my mom might have lied about it or something, idk.

I continued being "negetive" about the rabbit and my sister kicked me out of our room for it. I refused to care for it too, even though my mom kept insisting it was a "family" pet(without me it was just her and E taking care of it, and since it stayed in our room my brothers never really got to see it). To be honest I really didn't feel like I had a lot of options, and I thought if I didn't help then maybe they would get overwhelmed or something and decide to give it to a professional. But I still kept trying to give pet care advice, because I didn't want any harm to come to the bunny(for example, my sister likes our room to never have to ac on, but i made sure she was keeping it cool enough for the bunny).

Well... After four days, the bunny died. E was pretty heartbroken, obviously, and my mom was sad, but to be honest I'm just sort of bitter. I'm upset a rabbit died just because my mom wouldn't listen. For more context, I also thought bringing in the bunny was a bad idea because my sister recently lost her dad, and I knew if it didn't end well this would just add more grief to her life. I 100% don't think she's TA in this situation, even if she has frustrated me.

I'm still pretty pissed at my mom for all of this, so yesterday when she sat me down and told me I should apologize to E for how I behaved, I didn't take it well. She said my negetivity made it so E didn't fully enjoy her time with the bunny, and that if I had handled things differently maybe things would have tunred out better. I know E has been avoiding me, which started when we first got the bunny and she kicked me out of the room for being too negetive. I feel like she just needs time to process, and to be honest I don't think this is something I should apologize for, even if it is an apology just to make her feel better. It feels like that would be irresponsible of me? Idk. I told my mom none of this would have happened if SHE hadn't been so irresponsible and brought the bunny home to a grieving teenager, when there wasn't much of a chance of the bunny surviving with us in the first place, but tbh ever since her dad died I've been really trying to do right by E, so I second-guess myself a lot now.

So AITA for being negetive about the bunny and refusing to apologize? To be clear again I don't think E is TA here, but they're both upset with me so idk.

What are these acronyms?

[alwaysxlarrie]

favorite fics of 2021/2022

i love recommending fics & i love appreciating the talented, lovely writers in this fandom, so i wanted to make a list of my fav fics in 2021/2022. there are some longer fics that came out this year that i’ve wanted to read, but haven’t gotten a chance to, so knowing me i’ll make a masterlist of long fics or something bc i simply continue to be a slut for making masterlists & recommending fics idk what to tell u LMAO. anyway, these are in alphabetical order. sorry there’s kind a lot, thank u for ur time xoxo

are you taking clients? by @jaerie / jaerie

“Escaping had been the hardest thing Harry had ever done. They'd stolen his child and nearly stolen his life. Being homeless and pregnant gave Harry few options. It's a last resort to let men fetishize his body, but the luxury of choice is something Harry doesn't have.”

all your mates are here by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

“"The pack is... It's folding, Harry."

Like every werewolf does when they get to a new town, Harry joined one of the many local packs when he started university. Now, three years into his program, he's hit with the news that his pack is giving up, going their separate ways. In the wake of the holidays, the three single wolves from the Majestic pack are pointed in the direction of a new pack to join; one that's got struggles of its own.

A new pack, a new house, and two new roommates with personal space issues... Plus exams, of course.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.”

babydoll blues by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?”

boy for sale by @ohpleaselarry / ohpleaselarry

“Three large cushioned chairs face him, each holding a suited man. Mr. Horan, Mr. Payne, and Mr. Malik respectively sit at these chairs, eyes on Harry as he steps up to the middle of the room, lowers fluidly to his knees, hands behind his back, and looks to each man one by one, neck prickling with the eyes all on him, on his nude body.

They’re all going to have him, and yet Harry only really wants one man here, and it’s the man who steps up behind him, sets a hand on the nape of his neck, right over his collar.

“Alright,” Louis says, voice raspy and authoritative, “Mr. Horan, you’re first. Would you like his mouth or his arse?””

between two lungs by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry and Louis are graduating medical school. There's a big party and everyone has big expectations. All of Harry's are exceeded when Louis remembers him from a long time ago. They fuck.”

boom, boom, don’t you wanna go by anonymous

“It doesn't take much to convince Harry to participate in Lambda Sig's annual ceremony for graduating seniors. She's hooked up with a few of the brothers already anyway, as lackluster as they were. She has to have her legs and bare bottom half on display for the rest of the brothers in the senior class to see, but she's always kind of liked being played with and definitely likes being on display. She's graduating in a few weeks anyway. What's the worst that can happen?

She doesn't expect contestant number fifteen to blow her mind in the first round. He doesn't let up.”

caught in your gravity by @lululawrence / lululawrence

“It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

counterculture by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

“It all culminated to this: Harry in the middle of a crowded basement, music blasting from the live show on the far side, shirtless amongst alphas and omegas who all weren’t covering their scents. He took a deep breath of the heavy air and he felt alive.”

erva venenosa by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry goes to his first all-gender party. There, he meets Louis, an eccentric bartender who claims to know more than he does. He turns Harry's world upside down.“

hint: i want to be yours by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

“Thinking back to Harry’s rut, Louis shivers, needing to put effort into keeping other bodily reactions at bay. 

“Are you cold?”

While Niall’s been commenting through the entire film, Harry had stayed mostly quiet, so it’s a surprise when he speaks up, eyes zeroed in on the omega.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a bit chilly, innit?”

Niall shrugs, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and seemingly unbothered by the room temperature. Harry doesn’t ask for an explanation though. 

“You can have my hoodie, wait, here.” Before Louis can counter, Harry’s pulling the light grey piece of clothing over his head and handing it to the omega. 

or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't end.”

hike up your skirt (and show your world to me) by anonymous

“Louis has a very hands on approach to training his new secretary. How else can he make sure Harry realizes his full potential?”

i can’t wait to see what you find by @non-binharry / enbyharry

“"What do you do for work?"

"I, uh, don’t. I don’t work."

"Cuckold’s got you well kept then, yeah?" Harry’s face morphs into a frown, adorable creases forming along his brownbone, and Louis throws up his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry! Sorry! I’m just taking the piss. You can do whatever you like. I swear I’m not some judgemental prick." Harry’s expression relaxes. He wedges a hand between his crossed legs, looking down at the arm of his chair. "You do like it though, yeah? You know, the whole —" Louis cuts himself off, gesturing broadly to avoid overstepping on a dynamic he doesn’t fully understand.

"Yeah, I um. I do like it. I get off on feeling used for him. I only belong to him and he loves that, no matter how many hands I’m passed through."

"Okay, so what happens if I agree?"

or

Louis finds himself entering an interesting sexual arrangement with a happy, committed couple.

He gets more than he bargained for.”

i’ll be your new favourite tune by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever

“Louis gulps, all coherent thoughts flying from his brain as he unabashedly stares. There’s just so much to take in, from the silky curls springing out in every direction under some sort of headband/scarf looking thing, to the bright eyes and rosy cheeks and cute dimples that make the man’s - Harry, Louis reads from his nametag - smile so charming. He’s wearing a simple black shirt paired with some short jean shorts that only reach the middle of his thighs, and Louis has to force himself not to stare at those long, beautiful legs.

“You okay there?” Harry sounds amused.

Louis clears his throat.

or, Louis is the Pop Punk King of our dreams, and Harry is the cute associate at the rescue who helps him adopt a cat.”

it’s been ages by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

““We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates,”

Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

“What the fuck is an alpha alpha?” Niall asked with furrowed brows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis said, giving Niall a pointed look.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

i love this feeling (but i hate this part) by @lululawrence / lululawrence

““Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?””

keep me closer by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

“Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.“

know you better. by @wabadabadaba / wabadabadaba

“It didn't help that oftentimes Niall and Zayn's other friend, Louis joined them and from all the stories Marcel has heard about Louis, he was positive they wouldn't get along. From their description, Louis was loud, annoying, and competitive. He liked to tease Niall and Zayn mercilessly and he was creative. Being a tattoo artist, Louis knew things about art that Marcel would simply never understand due to his analytical mindset. He was the complete opposite of Marcel and Marcel didn't think he would ever last in a social setting where he had to be with Louis.

or the one where Marcel and Louis fall in love.”

like air to the fire i need you to breathe by @larrydoinglaundry / cuckootrooke

“Louis is going to do this right. He is going to praise every little effort Harry has made and will still make with his nest, telling him how cozy and well put together it is. And practical, on top of everything. Despite being situated in Louis’ closet. But it has so many blankets, duvets and pillows that Louis will happily make Harry fall apart in that nest when he goes into heat.

… Well. He’ll try.

The thing is, Louis is sort of terrified.

OR Harry is in preheat and Louis is nervous about his upcoming heat, fearing that he might not be able to fulfill his mate's needs. Lucky for him, Harry knows how to push the right buttons to get him relaxed.”

lost in your paradise by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

““To the alpha I fucked at the Ziam concert, I think this is yours.”

aka Harry and Louis have a one night stand.”

my service, your pleasure by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry moves in with Louis, his childhood best friend. He had always enjoyed doing things for him, never putting much thought into it. What happens when they're in the same space all the time and Harry can't keep his hands to himself? Surely, his adoration bursts at the seams and a very suspicious Louis tries his best to keep up.”

making my way downtown by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

““Bye, Harry!”

“See you tomorrow, hon!”

Harry turns in the doorway and waves before he hitches the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and steps out onto the pavement. He tries to ignore the pang of regret after he couldn’t muster a smile, knowing that the middle-aged women he works with love him and won’t hold it against him. The walk from the bakery to his apartment takes almost an hour, which is usually brutal after being on his feet for a full shift, but he decides to skip the bus today. Maybe the sunshine and light breeze will lift the mood that had taken a nosedive when he checked his phone after getting off work.

So Louis didn’t text him back. So what?

So fucking everything.”

milk kinship by @jaerie / jaerie

“Harry had aspired to become a wet nurse since first learning about the honored and respected tradition when he was a teenager. The first documentary he’d seen had been detailed and brutally honest and Harry had still fallen in love with the idea. It’s origins were rooted in highly regarded positions of the royal staff and were credited in playing a role in the lives of some of the most famous children in history. There were medically trained wet nurses and other milk services for mothers unable to feed their babies, but true wet nurse nannies could only be afforded by the rich and famous. The glamorous life appealed to Harry even if his understanding of his role changed to a more realistic view over time. As a starry eyed kid, that was where he wanted to be.

Or Harry is a wet nurse and isn't allowed to have an alpha. He may or may not break his vows.”

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

““Think about it.” Niall raises an eyebrow at him before amiably leading the interrupting customer to the other side of the store.

And the thing is, even a day later, Harry's done nothing but think about piercing his nipples.

Harry decides to get his nipples pierced. Louis is the piercing artist with a smile that breaks every rule of the universe.”

no one likes to be alone by @lululawrence / lululawrence

“Harry was a full-on fucking failure.

Letting out a whimper, Harry pressed his hands to his face as he finally allowed himself to cry. After a few sobs, he realized that something soft was pressed to his face, catching his tears instead of his hands. Harry pulled it away to see what it was and saw it was one of his sister’s shirts.

Shaking his head, he turned and placed it very specifically right where he usually tucked himself up against the wall. As he carefully shifted the shirt so he could see the faded image of Britney Spears looking out at him, Harry was overcome with a need he had only ever felt once before.

He needed to nest.”

opulence thrills by @brightgolden / brightgolden

““You know, it’s my first time bidding-”

“Bidding on people?” Harry supplies.

Louis snickers as he shakes his head, a small smile playing on his perfectly shaped lips. “You could say that, yeah.”

OR

Where a well-versed submissive, Harry Styles has spent eighteen months in BDSM abstinence after an irreconcilable difference in kink preferences with his ex-dom, and a random winner for a charity auction might just be the one who brings him back.”

plenty of time by @juliusschmidt / juliusschmidt

“Harry gets into Louis' Uber. He's not in heat. Not fully. Not yet.”

picture this by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything

“Part of Harry’s job at the bar includes working the door on Friday nights, checking IDs and asking for proof of vaccination. One night, Louis Tomlinson accidentally shows him something else.”

sweet like candy by @neondiamond / neondiamond

“Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.”

scent partner by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove

“The name of the company was horrible: Scent Partner. Whoever was on the marketing team should be fired immediately for green-lighting that name. But the instructions were simple.

Alphas wear a shirt for three days and nights. The shirt gets sent to omegas nearing their heats to pick the alpha who smells the best to them. The company notifies the alpha and gives them the opportunity to say no. If both parties agree, they meet at a heat room for the omega’s heat. Everything is safe and consensual.”

secrets don’t make friends by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“5 times Louis' crew knew too much, and the 1 time they thought they knew, but didn't really. Not at all.“

single bells ring by @absoloutenonsense / nonsensedarling

“A holiday singles event is not where Louis wants to be tonight, but there he is, helping his best friend find love. Just as Louis is settling in, ready to have a terrible time, he meets the fittest alpha he’s ever come across.“

skip the small talk by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

“"Your initial Result is that you are a service based submissive.”

Harry froze. James’ eyes were on him, boring into his soul. Harry had never felt so exposed. He wasn’t a submissive. He was an alpha.

“But I’d been so careful,” came out before he stopped himself.

aka Harry is an alpha that's just a little too soft to be a good dom but that's okay because Louis is an omega who is a little too rough to be a good sub.”

the lost art of breeding and (mis)behaviour by @indiaalphawhiskey / indiaalphawhiskey 

““Strip, slave.” His voice was rough – stern, as a proper Master’s voice should be. Harry couldn’t help but feel pleased. “I could have had five of your kind for your price. Best make sure I’ve not been cheated.” -- Or, Harry learns a thing or two about fate and faith.“

the only one (when it’s said and done) by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

“Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.”

there’s always another option by anonymous

“Harry gets all dressed up to go see his boyfriend with one goal: get railed. He doesn't expect his boyfriend's cousin to be staying in his flat, and he definitely doesn't expect his boyfriend to dip out to go cheat on him. Oh well, just because his boyfriend isn't there doesn't mean he can't still get what he wants.“

this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

“The guy’s eyes are so blue that Harry can’t tear his gaze away, even as he moves to the beat. The searing light shade is magnetic; he finds himself leaning in and yelling, “This is my jam!” only to earn a laugh from thin pink lips that Harry’s definitely going to be dreaming about tonight.

“Your jam?”

When the guy yells back over the music, his blue eyes sparkling and his lips twisted in a smirk, Harry’s chest literally puffs out with pride at earning his attention. His obvious approval. Tongue-tied, Harry nods and closes his eyes as he lets go, the music reverberating around them. All of the usual inhibitions that keep him in the corner at parties fall away and he bounces around the center of the dance floor, waving his arms above his head. Somehow his towel stays on, even as he starts to think he wouldn’t mind if it fell off. Fuck it. He finally made it here, he’s damn well going to enjoy it.

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.”

the money mark by @brightgolden / brightgolden

“Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.”

the risen by @creamcoffeelou / creamcoffeelou

“In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.“

the flower that blooms in adversity by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry is twenty-six and he hasn't presented yet. He lives in London with his alpha best friend, Niall, who invites him to a New Year's camping trip with his other alpha mates. Amidst them, there's the always sharp Louis, who has a knack for observation and dirt under his toenails. Harry ends up agreeing on going, unaware he's leaving for the trip of a lifetime.“

venus as a boy by @hershelsue / docklands

“When Harry goes to a friend's movie night, the last thing she expects is to meet an enigmatic and handsome stranger who sweeps her off her feet. Louis might just think she’s the most wonderful thing alive.“

where’s the divide? by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

“Louis brings potato salad to Niall's barbeque.“

wait by the light of the moon by @jaerie / jaerie

“Being a single parent of a newborn was not in Harry's plan. He can barely keep himself together doing everything on his own. He can't explain why he finds comfort in his neighbour next door, but apparently it's mutual.“

you’re shooting stars from the barrel of your eyes by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“5 times Louis was gross hot and 1 time Harry was.“

you make the world taste better by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

“"Nice to meet you," Harry said. "What can I get for you today?”

Louis rattled through the order – a couple loaves of different breads, some pastries, and a dozen cookies. There was a niggling sensation in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t think what it might be.

Harry nodded along as Louis spoke, starting to flit around the shop and gather things together. “Is that all?” he asked when Louis finished. “No muffins this week?”

That was it! “Oh yes, a half-dozen of the pumpkin and blueberry,” Louis said. “Almost forgot, thanks.”

“Of course,” Harry said, packing the muffins into a box. “I remember all my regular customers’ favorites. Your mother has good taste.”

Louis smiled. “She usually does,” he says. “I look forward to trying your goods myself, and finding my own favorites.”

~~~

Or, a story based on Hans Traxler’s fictional non-fictional text, The Truth About Hansel and Gretel, which is based on the Grimm fairy tale Hansel and Gretel.”

young hearts on the chase by @polaroidlouis / daffodilsforlou

“Before he can question him any further, Harry’s holding out a drink to him, ‘Louis’ written on the side of it with messy, pink letters. Warmth spreads all throughout Louis’ body when he takes it, starting from the tip of his fingers where they brush Harry’s to curl around the cup and settling in his chest.

“I also got us– um,” the omega starts, nervous fingers fumbling to get the paper bag open. “Got you an egg muffin. Or– or a normal muffin if you don’t like egg ones.”

“Who doesn’t like egg muffins?”

The smile that breaks across Harry’s face in response is as bright as the one yesterday. Louis almost expects it to be kissed into his cheek as well. It looks like Harry’s considering it for a moment, too, dreamy gaze gliding all over Louis’ expectant face. He seems to decide against it with a sigh though, and Louis’ not disappointed when they start walking side by side instead (he’s not).

harry’s a hopeless romantic, louis’ oblivious, and it’s going to be Valentine’s Day.”

if you read any of these fics, please don’t forget to leave kudos & a comment!! 

[jeonstudios]

this feels so strange…back in 2021 i was in a phase where i would love to read members x y/n fics and i remember coming across EOALH and completely falling in love with it, i remember thinking about it all day and anticipating going to bed so i could read a bit more😂 back then only 2/3 chapters were out so i had to force myself to take breaks not to devour it at once😭 anyways then a friend of mine told me to read this taekook fic and i did reluctantly but holy shit there is a whole literature world out there, those were some of the best pieces of literature i have ever read in my entire life! and im not talking about those awkward smutty fics, im talking about literal novels lol, and im not even a taekook shipper but i completely fell in love with their stories. anyways, so ive been reading those ever since, but then today i randomly remembered yours and i thought let me check ur account out and to my pleasant surprise the fic is completed!! it feels strange because ive been reading taekook stories for so long now and haven’t read a y/n fic since yours, also you’re literally the only author who’s still active from those i used to follow back then and it’s brining back so many memories🥹 i’m so excited to read EOALH again, i will start it over tonight and literally cannot wait to go to bed hahahaha

i feel like there is an endless sea of mind blowing fics out there, no matter what fandom/ship you read 🤯 what's crazy about especially bts is just how many fics there are of every possible pairing, not only reader fics??? c r a z y 🤪 i'm glad you've been reading good stories! eoalh was finished like i wanna say 2 years ago but i honestly don't remember LMAO and omg how sad??? i'm the only one still active?? 😩😩 man i gotta get off this site lol anyway happy reading!! i hope you like(d) revisiting eoalh! ♥️♥️

[i-mybrunettelady]

20 questions for 20 writers

i was tagged by @accidentallyadorable, ty for the tag friend <3

tagging: @archesa, @thevikingwoman, @scionshtola, @antariies, @anneapocalypse, @ghostwise and whoever sees this and wants to participate <3

q1. how many works do you have on ao3?

i don't post all my work on ao3, but on ao3 alone, 28!

q2. what fandoms do you write for?

guild wars 2, wayfarer, ffxiv, blood moon, infamous, the exile <3

q3. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

tales of the red wayfarer - a cassander character study

overflowing - intellis pining

somewhere after midnight - cassmel post-sex cuddling and pillow talk

ties that sever, ties that bind - an inteus family study, currently being finished

songweaver - more intellis pining (all wayfarer works lmao)

q4. do you respond to comments?

always! they're few and far between so i make sure i do <3

q5. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hard to say... i write angst, but i write hurt/comfort, so like. by that alone it's ties that sever because cass cries by the end of each one and is very much alone so like. ties that sever??? bonus points go for scenes of an arson site also.

extra bonus points go to on theokleia, my mother which is a part of the ties that sever series, but a piece that haunts me to this day.

q6. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

hm.. ones that gives me budging hopes are a flickering light, or a tale of two survivors (ffxiv) and my future will listen to me! i'm really fond of the endings of these two even if they're not typically... happy. i have happier endings but these two seem a different kind of happy to me. a wistful, hopeful happy as opposed to a typical happy.

q7. do you get hate on fics?

so far no and i hope it stays that way. i only recently hot my first hate ask lmaoooo

q8. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes! i write for.. pairings, moreso than one type. so far i mostly have mlm smut, and that's because they're cassander pairings and he is a bisexual/achillean dude, but i do want to write wlw smut if the inspo strikes, and i do wanna write some het scenes i have in my head (namely a crossover that's nyra/estinien atm tbh. i also wanna write nyra/mirka for that wlw stuff.)

i also have a nyra solo i'm very proud of :>

q9. do you write crossovers?

i wrote a wayfarer/ffxiv crossover (a flickering light), and i wanna write a gw2/ffxiv crossover (nyra and estinien!) i also wrote a wayfarer/gw2 crossover with mordrem!cassander (a story of how (not) to be a big head)

other than that i rarely write crossovers tbh

q10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

girl no god forbid :xxxx

q11. have you ever co-written a fic before?

a long time ago, yes, with @guildwarsgirl! it was a braham shippy one, and i wrote for braham <3

q12. what's your all-time favorite ship?

honest to god? i got a few ships i cherish and keep near and dear to my heart: cassmel (cassander and melchior, wayfarer), trammander (nyra and trahearne, gw2), elion (el and liv, gw2) and angelina and farro from blood moon! i may not write about all of them equally but i do cherish them deeply

q13. what's one WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i do have certain series i wanna finish, such as my nikartoirel apology trilogy, called trials and tribulations - parts 1 and two are out - and ties that sever <3 when ffxiv brainrot comes back, i'll probably finish the nikartoirel apology series.

one other thing i wanna finish but it's not high on my to-do list is nikartoirel bridgerton au <3 gotta love regency husbands

q14. what are your writing strengths?

character voice! on god i love character voice so much and it shows.

q15. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i technically am since english is my second language! so yeah, full speed ahead

q16.first fandom you wrote for?

gw2 baybee <3 back in 2021. my first fic was actually trammander <3

q17. favorite fic you've written?

please don't ask me that ;; but between us... my future will listen to me, ties that sever, ties that bind, say hi to yourself, scenes of an arson site, a gravitational pull !

q18. what are your writing weaknesses?

fighting scenes hands down

q19. have you ever had a fic translated?

not yet but if anyone wants to.. i owe you my LIFE,, i could also tecnically do it but translating your own work is hard as fuck

[umepnnn]

3DOLC x ROE — results.

challenge created by @starliet and @cleostoohot 🖤

sorry (and not sorry) for the long hiatus cuz i'm enjoying life :)

so a few days ago i came across several posts about their challenge and i decided to try it out ! i didn't plan to post or anything so there wasn't a "what i'll be manifesting" post, but the results were so insane i had too make one.

ଓ affirmations i used:

regardless of everything...

nothing can ruin my manifestations

i always manifest within 3 days or less

i have everything i desire

ଓ what i manifested:

always confident and friendly, good at socializing

that's exactly what i did. i feel like a social butterfly at school and it's easier for me to join in convos now. making friends and having small talk just became easier for me. and i don't overthink so much anymore

being more included in my friend groups

i have a group i hang out with at uni for like 4-5 months now but i wasn't rlly active until this challenge LMAO now i'm like so comfortable with everyone and felt more like a part of the group. it also went like this with my other friend groups that i just started hanging out since this year. i actually speak to people individually now woah :)

getting closer with an SP

idk i thought this guy was cute so i just included this and at first the situation was: he's close with my friends but he's not in any of my friend groups so we don't hang much at all. but then after 2-3 days since this challenge, our mutual friend suddenly ADDED HIM into the group out of the blue and we all started going out and he is SUCH A GENTLEMAN to me + he added my socials as well hehe

school is fun, assignments are easy & no stress

literally came to school to chit chat and i'm not stressed at all. i get my work done on time and everything goes so smooth fr. and the best part is my classmates are the sweetest ugh SCHOOL IS FUN (they are the uni friend group i just mentioned up there) and they'd always gather around my seat lol and we'd chat the whole class.

bright smooth clear skin

same skin care routine – skin clearer than ever. no longer uneven dark spots or small little bumps <3 smooth like a baby's bottom :) my mom actually thought i was wearing makeup when i literally just washed my face n removed all the makeup !!

no dark circles

i slept like usual but my dark circles rlly went away since this challenge i'm actually surprised (even tho it should go away cuz it's the law lmao) and usually they'd still show when i have my makeup on but now it's wayyy less noticeable

friends from other countries coming to mine so we could hang out

just went out with one the other day lmao so check ✔️ i guess

everyone cares about me and is very nice to me

yoo my friends were so patient and attentive to me and even the taxi drivers are nice, they'd start convos and not in a creepy way. everyone is so nice for real <333

ଓ what i did:

i just read the list and affirm whenever i can, mostly focused on the 4D and know it's inevitable that they'd manifest <3 cuz it's already mine the moment i think i have it. and honestly the "nothing can ruin my manifestations" line helped me a lot.

other than that i did nothing in the 3D. i never initiated anything. they all just came to me just ✨ like ✨ that ✨

i got most of my desires within 3 days but i still continued affirming after 3 days cuz like why not? it's like i'm doing the challenge again or sum but yes i still get desired results after that.

btw i also listened to quite a few subliminals alongside doing this challenge just because i can xD even for the same desires and like they both manifested but anyways i'll make a separate post on my subliminal results.

© umepnnn 2021 – all rights reserved.

[note from a later date //29 jan 2024]

i have been on a hiatus since then until now, because i was busy with a lot of stuff i didn't have much time to learn and post astrology stuff here ~

i am still busy as ever and i don't plan on coming back here anytime soon (mayyyybee idk) but i still come on tumblr quite often cuz i loveee our astrology & manifesting content

and somehow today i checked my draft and saw this whole post here from three years ago i'm like wuhhh totally forgot.

BUT! everything i said is true fr like the "friends from other countries coming to mine so we could hang out" last year literally TEN of my friends came to my place (they're from 4 different countries) and I even went on trips with some of them — mind u i havnt seen most of them in like 2 years at the time

trust me manifesting is sooo easy just think u have it and u have it

thanks for reading and stay healthy stay safe everyone <3 cya

[isa-ghost]

hey it's the anon who asked what dr*m did,

I decided to do my own research (mainly cause I was curious) but... I can't find much? let me rephrase it - I did find the allegations from 6ish months ago, that he's going to court with one(?) of them, but that's... all? I didn't find the court's verdict, confirmations, or him admitting either... and any post or video I find has both the OP and the comments mostly on his side and believing that it's either not true or true but not grooming, even people who say they're not his fans or don't even like him.

so Im not sure if the confirmation didn't reach youtube or if I'm searching wrong or something?

but honestly while researching I realized that I cant stand him lmao, gotta agree with some comments I read - he made a mistake by showing more of his personality online, looks like any time he can handle a situation wrong/respond wrong he does it

so dunno, guess I didnt find the confirmation but at least now I don't find his old minecraft videos interesting anymore so theres that

Yeah he can't act properly to save his fucking life

Also I think most of the threads on Twitter and stuff that have all the proof he's guilty/etc is probably long buried, unfortunately. You could probably try to ask around saying you're trying to get the whole picture but tbh it's not a huge deal if you can't. You can try searching my blog but Tumblr sucks with that shit. The fact that this and his other controversies have been buried and lost to the void of the internet is typical white boy with a monstrously big platform shit so I'm not surprised. I never heard any details about court (prob for legal reasons) or a conviction either. All I know is there was screenshot proof from the victim that they talked, and Dr*m confirmed the screenshots were real but didn't say anything about other details. But those details literally can't be false if the screenshots & the shit said in them are true.

Anyway, as far as his other bullshit goes:

People found old kkk meme edits on his yt account through the wayback machine. More than once if I'm not mistaken

He has a history of defending himself using the r slur

He cheated "on accident" in a speedrun (the least important thing ever but everyone always brings it up)

He claimed he was going to donate all proceeds during pride month to lgbt+ charities & he'd do charity streams all month but never did

He defended himself about replying to haters, which would send thousands of his toxic stans after the person getting them doxxed/death threats/etc and he refused to address that it was irresponsible of him bc he was too entitled to immaturely clap back at the antis. Even other ccs, like B/itzel called him out about shit related to how he uses his platform irresponsibly & he unfollowed & shaded them like a bitch baby

The whole "accidental" copycat shit with QSMP/USMP and basically softcore stalking Q/uackity online.

His "apologies" for all of the above fucking sucked in multiple ways. And that's just 2021-Now shit I can remember off the top of my head, I lost my Twitter in May last year so now I get my info from people's posts about it on here or links to tweets.

Everyone largely suspects he spontaneously reignited d/smp lore & started the finale to cover up the groomer thing bc he has a history of doing smth "new and cool" every time he causes drama to divert attention and avoid accountability.

He's also suspected of suddenly rewriting the d/smp finale to paint his Irredeemable Abuser Villain Up Until The Last Stream as a sympathetic poor baby out of nowhere and wrote that his victim, c!Tommy apologized to him, which sends a HORRIBLE message about abusive relationships. T/ommy and T/ubbo have both subtly mentioned not liking the finale and that Dr*m had AWFUL communication during the last like 6+ months of the smp.

He also suddenly showed up in T/ubbo's chat lurking while T/ubbo happened to be mentioning he'd do his own research on the grooming situation instead of blindly siding with Dr*m and it was some shit out of a horror movie is2g, he suddenly dmed T/ubbo out of nowhere during it on discord saying they'd talk about it after T/ubbo wasn't streaming. Basically sounds like he was gonna bias T/ubbo about his innocence. Like he hadn't been in chat all stream long but SUDDENLY he was there the second the topic came up. But the d/smp ccs also can't say anything about the situation since it's a legal matter, so a handful of ccs have just stated/implied they don't support him other ways

He only quit MCC bc he threw a tantrum about how he couldn't practice for it but now that MCC island exists, people were getting better than him. He's habitually a sore loser about that kinda shit

He's got that whole weird "is he, isn't he" bullshit going on about him being lgbt. I personally think he's just catering to his stupid d/n/f shippers bc they like to truth their relationship & sexuality all the time and he's never explicitly said he's bi or smth. He's just vaguely been like "yeeeaahhhh I mostly like girls like 99% but maaaayyybeee I like guys idkkkk. 🤪" But he's also done that multiple times so who tf knows. I'm not gonna fully dismiss him & I understand no one including me is entitled to his specific sexuality, but he has garbage credibility on like everything so I'm neutral on the matter and find it hard to believe him

Not directly him related, but his stans went on a long and horrifying witch hunt on Twitter during the kkk ordeal doxxing, death threatening & harassing ENTIRE mcyt subtwts who spoke out against him and called him out on his racism, performative activism, shitty apology, etc. For example, I was part of S/neeg's subtwt and all my mutuals and me had to go private to avoid getting doxxed. It felt like being raided in some dystopian ass horror film. Entire subtwts were going private, panicking, paranoid they'd get outed & stalked & harassed by people just for condemning racism, raising Black voices, etc. It was borderline traumatic to some people, I know people who lost sleep over it bc they were so afraid.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head but the end of 2021 to early 2022 was a fucking nightmare between him being an immature entitled piece of shit and his stans blindly defending him and going out of their way to endanger people who rightfully opposed him.

[aphfanficwriters]

Every month we will pose a question and collate responses as a fun and informal little exercise in getting to know each other and spark discussion.

For Hetalia's 18th anniversary, we asked our writers:

“How did you first get into Hetalia?”

Beetroot / @council-of-beetroot: People had recommended it to me prior since I'm a geography nerd but I heard it was offensive. At one point I read a fanfic about Hetalia Lithuania and that piqued my interest. But then like six months, around March of 2022, later I recalled my sister talking about a funny scene from Hetalia. So I decided to look up Hetalia out of context on YouTube. I decided nothing could be more offensive than I was at 13 so I watched that and then knew I had to watch the show. I watched the show in a weekend. It was particularly funny to watch at the time because my best friends that year in highs were foreign exchange students from Germany and Japan. Anyway here I am now.

Angel / @billowingangel: I got into Hetalia around 2015 by reading x Reader fanfiction and I stumbled upon a Germany x Reader on DeviantArt and then I went down a rabbit hole of the Hetalia countries x readers. The x reader fanfiction comforted me immensely as I was struggling greatly at the time and that was probably the worst time of my life. Then I found other Hetalia fanfiction and fanart, and I then watched some of the episodes on YouTube. Since then Hetalia has been something of great comfort and nostalgia to me. Hetalia honestly means so much to me and there's been so many lovely people in this fandom that I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with 💗

Didi / @teaedon: Searched my country on deviantart, found Hetalia OCs comics. Watched the anime when it had just 1 or 2 seasons out (both 2009), and began to keep up with blog and page translations on Livejournal (did I understand English at the time? Barely lmao). Then jumped from Livejournal to Tumblr but because a funny-unrelated-to-Heta blog, but soon more than later I started following Hetalia blogs... Made my sideblog in 2015; I should have done that sooner, it's around that time that my actual main fandom was another for a while. Even with the manga hiatus ending in 2021 (also new anime season), I only fully returned in 2022. No fics until... 2023, omg (the deleted ff.net one from when I was in school doesn't count).

Tama / @delgumofics: Back in 2012 my sister suggested I check it out, said it was funny. I watched ep1 subbed and by the end I had a glassy look in my eyes, shut it off, and promptly forgot about it. Later on it was on Netflix so I gave the dub a shot and died laughing. I binged the whole original run in a couple days then started looking at fics.

Eru / @eruverse: I first learned of Hetalia around well 10 years ago, but couldn’t get properly into it. I alrd liked Vanya but that was that [...] I properly got into Hetalia after they released Indonesia, so it was just around 2021. Was immediately thrown into Netherlands/Indonesia, the beloved ship of Indonesian fandom, creating fanarts for them and brainrotting with other Indonesian fans. Good times! Ah, NLID… other Indonesia ships would simply not compare to the weight of history, emotional baggage, and all kinds of other baggage of this one ship. You should check it out, and being Indonesian I have the front seat for accessing juicy historical materials. Nobody in the fandom knows the special side of Netherlands that Indonesians do.

@folightening: Bought and watched the first season a long time ago, I think it was out of curiosity. I remember people talking about it at school and I recognized the name at the store so I got the first season to check out. Didn't do anything more with it until ~2 years ago I think? Watched it again on a whim, bought the series in a collection set, found where I could read it, got my writer's block shattered, and the rest is history.

Yukihitomi / @arthurhonda: This is actually a funny story. So it was back in 2011, and my friend recommended it to me because I like history and was a history kid. It also had nekotalia, and I love cats. Combine the two, and it was a good recomendation. Ironically, she said "don't get into the fandom." Clearly, I didn't listen.

Ash / Lutz: A friend told me the anime was really funny so we watched a few episodes of it when we were in high school. I was hooked and almost immediately started googling amecan fanart lmao

Prush / @proosh: I can't remember exactly but I think my discovery of it was connected to the old DeviantArt series Scandinavia and the World? But it was around 2011, I'm pretty sure, and I got into it via the dubbed parts uploaded to Youtube. It activated me like a sleeper agent, having already had an early interest in history, and I've been trapped in here ever since.

Lacy: I randomly found the series while I was reading some news. (Think it was back in 2013-14). Sort of got very obsessed with it and was joining groups left and right, bought fktons of merch for a lot of characters. (i just love them all crazy at that point of time) One of the groups i was in decided to hold some event and thats where i wrote my first fic. Then theres so much stupid drama i just withdrew eventually and kept to myself with just one ship. (At this point there was this one person who was writing with me). Then came the time when she left as well, so I did question at that point if i still want to stay in this fandom alone (and i did, because i just want to finish up my wips 🫠).

Mossman / @one-more-mossman: I don't remember exactly how I did get into Hetalia , but I checked out the date of my first Hetalia pfp and it's December of 2012. I remember being super into Ivan and putting him on all my pfps and telling my friends about him and being all mushy and stupid. I had pretty limited access to the internet at that time, and didn't speak any English, so I wasn't a part of the Hetalia fandom - neither the English speaking nor Russian. So I didn't know he was an unstoppable rape truck y'know. I was drawing him and just silently vibing with him. I got into the actual fandom about three years ago - was a lurker first, not interacting aside from leaving kudos/comments, then got into fic writing (for English speaking fandom, I thought it was more lively than the Russian one). Found wonderful people here. Happy to be here, glad to have people sharing my interests. (Notice there is not a single mention of liking history. I don't like it. I can't remember a single fact.)

WhiteWings / @smuttyandabsurd: Gosh everyone started so much later than me... Anyway back in 2007, my sister forwarded a random USUK fanart to me on deviantArt simply because "it's BL and you might like it." I binged the first season of the anime and was tickled enough to keep watching as further seasons came out. I was already casually interested in history - it was my second favourite school subject behind English lit - but after Hetalia? Yeah I was reading the densest modern history nonfictions around, hovering in the military history section of the library among random middle-aged men, and writing rapetruck smutfics with a ~historical~ flavour. Anyway, 17 years later, everything from the way I consume Hetalia and tangentially-related topics to my writing has had a dramatic evolution from my humble weeb-y beginnings, but I'm still in this dang ass fandom and I can't find the exit.

Sicily: I was into countryhumans and I came across it, and was like, pft I'm never going to like hetalia.., and now we are here

[artinandwritin]

I dont think i ever mentioned it but ever since i started applying to art colleges I've been keeping up an art wall and since i just added some new illustrations to it, i thought it would be fun to explain some things on my wall and revisit some of my old favourites!

Going from left to right, we start with some more recent illustrations (featuring, ofc, gussiri, Niv, and a recent illustration of Cato from @otwdfanfic 's fic that i liked sm i just had to print and put up somewhere). Next to Cato, I put a gift i got from my dear friend @lt-catbolt of our bois Niv and Melatron and i cant remember if this was for my birthday or for fun, all i know is that i nearly cried when she gave it to me (go follow her now btw she's awesome and shes gonna become one of the most expressive storytellers of our generation i just know it)

Underneath Cato and Niv/Mel, we've got a huge pencil drawing I did 2 years ago to get accepted into an art college. It took me so. So long. I even begged my teachers from high school to let me follow classes online so i could continue working (they said yes lmao) and my mom even had to help. Worse, it wasnt the only assignment that particular art school had given me, no, they had given me a total of 6 assignments I had to complete. They all took a lot of time and didnt all turn out great haha. I didnt get accepted into that school (it was a fine arts study so im pretty sure i wouldnt have been happy there anyways) but that just makes me all the more happy i did get accepted into the one im currently attending

Anyway ive been too lazy to take it down so now itll be there until i find the willpower to take it down

The butterfly above it is a painting i did towards autumn of 2021 for my portfolio. I'm not the best painter (decent enough but its just not for me) but im still really happy with how this turned out. It was pretty fun!

Underneath that is an inkt print made from a stencil once again featuring Cato (i have. No idea why hes on my wall twice lmao i guess hes just a great muse). People who have been with me for long enough probably still remember this cuz i was superproud of how it turned out and plastered it all over my account (and my house. My mom wanted a copy as well)

Underneath the inkt print is a poster i got while visiting the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe stage play when I was in London in autumn of 2022 (take me back London take me back take me back). The play was absolutely stunning and the way everything was staged left me (as a life long narnia enthusiast) ecstatic and super excited. One of the best plays ive ever seen even if i had one of the worst seats in the theatre <3

Next to the poster is another little gussiri drawing i printed lmao. The little goobers show up so much

Above the poster is more of gussiri!! And above that is another painting i made, this time of some mushrooms. I made this during a party i threw for my 18th birthday, we all did some painting together and i remember my lovely lovely friend @allilcat painting with watercolours so well. That memory is just etched into my brain <333

Above that is a painting i made of the night sky! I used it for my portfolio and it was really cool to paint since i, not knowing basic painting techniques, could only really throw my own imagination into it which gave a really cool result. Still really love it!

Lastly, we've got a Siri illustration made by a classmate of mine for a secret santa we did last christmas! I was so happy with it and ofc it deserved a really good spot on my wall <333

Thats been a bit about my wall, if youve made it this far thanks for listening to me rambling <333