#me reading my own writing: wow someone has way too much time on their hands

[olderthannetfic]

I have a fandom friend who isn't shy about sending me her fics in the DMs and asking me to read them (not as in beta reading but as in link to AO3).

The thing is, they're really not up my alley because I'm really finnicky about style and story construction and the like: her fics have a lot of telling and not a lot of showing, there's rarely significant tension or change (which might not bother some but it does bother ME personally as a reader), so there's nothing pushing me to read on, and she usually writes detached scenes from the AUs she has in her head, which feels a bit like someone grabbing me by the pussy with no foreplay. I'm not that familiar with the version of the characters/story from the AU so I'm not attached to those storylines the way she is (again, no buildup of tension that makes the emotional scene hit right).

Basically, I really enjoy talking about The Blorbos with her but every time I have to read something of hers it feels like a chore and I either get bored in two paragraphs or my hand starts itching for a red pen. Sometimes I just put it off and hope she forgets but I feel awful and guilty about it because she clearly cares about her fic (it's just too self-indulgent for me to enjoy it from the outside).

She never asks for feedback, so I think it would be incredibly rude to give unsolicited critique or, like, suggest that I could be a beta reader (with how forward she is she'd have asked already if she wanted it).

How do I address this? I want to keep being on friendly terms with her and I'd be open to reading more from her if she fixed some of the consistent issues with her writing (I think the CONCEPTS she entertains are interesting and cool), but also for me the joy of having a hobby is being able to engage with it on my own terms without having "required reading" and what's going on right now ain't it.

(I'm aware that this will make so many people feel really insecure and paranoid about their own writing/readership and I'm sorry for that :/ I'm sure there are people who do enjoy my friend's fic as is, but I can't help my own preferences or attention span)

--

Does she press you for a reaction? If a friend sends me a link, I often thank them for it but don't actually read. Or maybe I skim it or something but don't actually say much to them about it.

I think it's fine to go "I posted a thing!" with the link and expect a "Wow, you finished that so fast!" or "Congrats on finally finishing that longfic!" or whatever. I think it's unwise to expect one's friends to read all of one's work, to like one's work, and to give praise. That way lies disappointment and awkward feelings on both sides.

[silverinkbottle]

hi! hello! your velvette fic was literally amazing, i read it like at least 5 times haha! the way you write is,, wow.

anywho, i wanna request a rosie fic if that’s alright!! with a reader who’s hellborn and finds a lot of excuses to visit pride ring/cannibal town (totally not just to see rosie) bonus if reader’s a hellhound! i just really loved the way you wrote sphynx reader with velvette, animal themed demons have a soft spot in my heart ❤️ another bonus, the two are incredibly flirty with each other

thanks for your time!

A:N: Hello Anon!!! Thank you so much for the sweet request, I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Being a Courier of Hell has it's perks; benefits, travel and sometimes the occasional yearning friendship

Warnings: Violence, Cannibalism

Flowers and Other Things

Rosie X GN!Hellhound!Reader

Word Count:3.2K

The scent of rotting meat permeated the air like a thick perfume as you let out the quietest of excited yips. It finally bloomed after months of waiting and watching as you leaned closer to the cream-colored petals of the giant orchid. The inner depths speckled with crimson as the plant seemed to shudder at your closer inspection as if wanting to welcome you inside. It was just as you suspected another carnivorous plant for the books as you hastily scribbled the observation in your notebook. However, it wouldn’t thrive in Hell with it’s slow maturity phase, it would need to be crossbred with more via-

“Taking a little break, my little Bichon?” 

The gentle address startled you from your thoughts as you sheepishly smiled embarrassed at being caught from slacking off your duties. Goods didn’t transport themselves after all in the Seven Rings of Hell. It was a dangerous job, but someone had to do it as you tucked away the small book into your pant’s pocket. Straightening your cap, you clicked your heels together in a quiet greeting as Rosie giggled in amusement. 

“Apologies, mam. It’s just that-”

“Oh my stars. It bloomed overnight, I see.” Rosie’s words cut over your own as she clapped her hands together in excitement, grabbing you by the waist to turn you back around to admire the flower. You could feel your heart leap into your throat at the gentle touch as Rosie cooed over the flower’s progress and vibrant shade. 

“No wonder you wandered into the garden, Bichon. It’s lovely!” Rosie hummed as you quietly nodded your head in agreement. It’s how your unlikely friendship started afterall. Several months ago, picking up a mail order from Cannibal Town, it was impossible to resist the urge to wander about trying to track the unique scent of the Overlord’s garden. A lush bloom of nature and greenery within the Pride Ring that could rival the hanging gardens of Gluttony. Diligently tended by the lady herself as if were her own children.

“But how did you manage to figure it out, mam. Last time it looked so..sad” You asked as Rosie’s smile brightened flashing sharp pointed teeth. 

“All it took was a little bit of positivity, my Bichon. Well, B positive. Seems the soil was a bit too dry for our delicate specimen here.” Rosie explained as the heel of her shoe dug into the brownish dirt. The small impact provoked the faintest puddle of crimson that rapidly retreated back into the earth. The bodies of Sinners had more uses than food in Cannibal Town.

“Now, come with me. I need to give you something.” Rosie insisted as she grabbed you by your paw without hesitation. Once more your heart did that stupid flip flop sensation as you tried to ignore the funny sensation, but even that didn’t stop your tail from giving the smallest of wags. 

“Oh now, don’t get anxious. You’ll like this even more than the flower.” Rosie tutted as she mistook your excitement for anxiety. Still, it was a shame as greenery was exchanged for the ceramic floors of the shop. At least it was well-lit as sunlight flitted through the glass interior as you watched Rosie rifle through various storage cabinets with a determined expression. 

“My offer still stands on helping you declutter, Miss Rosie.” 

There was a clatter of muffin tins and small decorative metal cookie designs as the Overlord swept them aside with a kick of her shoe. She was almost inside the lower cabinet as you leaned further over the counter as your ears twitched at the various noises of shifting items. A bell? Something metallic rubbing against another. A strangely enticing squeak?

“All things are worth keeping, Bichon. You never know when- Ah ha!” 

Your eyes went wide as you smelled the item before it was gently set down on the counter. She wasn’t going-, no, you couldn’t.

“I insist. Think of it as a favor for ol’ Rosie. I know you can make it thrive, Bichon.” Rosie praised as she lightly pushed the small burlap sack closer to your stunned form. Even within the protective material, you could still smell the faint metallic scent of the seedling. It’s what drew your attention to its’ parent in the first place as you and Rosie organized seeds one day. In comparison to its’ dramatic parent, the seed itself was a dull green color with a thin shell. So thin that you worried its protective coating would flake away before the plant grew enough roots to properly set in the hard earth.

“But Rosie what if-”

“It fails to thrive? Then, we’ll come up with another plan, my dear.” Rosie promised as she gently pried open your closed paw to place the small sack in it. Gentle, she was so gentle as you were forced to look anywhere but at her. 

“I’ll give it my best then.” You promised as Rosie clapped her hands together in delight at your acceptance. There was the faintest chim of the shop’s greeting bell as Rosie rushed away to make quick conversation with the new guest. The small seed package in your hand still felt warm as you quickly tucked it away into your vest pocket. Next to your thudding heart as your keen gaze watched Rosie’s exaggerated hand gestures in her explanation to the guest.

“And the poor dearie thought that violet wouldn’t clash-”

Lively. It was one of the traits you admired in the woman, her seemingly endless supply of energy as it was rare for you to see her sit down. Her heels clicked against the floor as she placed another brown package of her guest as her hand idly waved towards you. The guest raised a brow, but nodded all the same before passing a sealed letter over to the shopkeep.

“Now, don’t you worry. It’ll get there within a day or two. Hellhound Couriers haven’t failed me yet.” Rosie chirped as she ushered the guest out with a flourish of her hand. While the other grabbed the letter off the counter without a second look. 

“Where’s it going?” You asked as you opened up the satchel looped over your shoulder. Its contents were depressingly small for the effort it took to get here. Traversing through the Rings could be exhausting and expensive from the impossibly slow crowds of Sloth commuters to the bolder pickpockets of Greed. 

“The Envy Ring. Something about a scorned love affair or something. She wasn’t exactly keen on the topic.” Rosie explained with a huff as the woman was a gossip hound at heart. Even as much as she denied it, stating it was mere conversation over tea and cake with a touch of theatrics. 

“Want me to try and get more info from the other party?” You suggested with a grin.

“Oh, you know me only too well, Bichon.” Rosie praised as she handed over the letter with a knowing look. It was a fair trade in the end as you knew that she too would be benefiting from advertising your services. Currency freely exchanging hands as Sinners weren’t exactly able to travel between the Rings compared to Hellborne.  At least half of your jobs came from the Pride Ring, it would have been even more if you took on more dangerous jobs like weaponry and drugs. Yet, you had seen too many of your fellow Couriers waylaid carrying those sorts of things. No, it’s why you stuck to letters, smaller packages and other less flashy deliveries.

Alarm shot through your form like an unpleasant shock as you spied the time on the wooden grandfather clock in the corner of the shop. Has it been that long? It seemed like merely an hour had passed since your arrival to the garden.

“Shit, Rosie, I’m sorry, I need to-” Your words rambled over each other as you hastily closed up your satchel.  Rosie shook her head with a gentle look, she knew what you meant to say as you quickly dashed out the door without another word.

Somehow, it made the small seed packet feel all the warmer against your chest.

Your quaint morning didn’t last long as another client slammed their door in your face. You could easily hear the curses directed towards your unexpected news through the door. What else did the Sinner expect from a loan shark in the Greed ring, clemency?  At least it was over and done with as you stepped out onto the cracked pavement of the street. It was almost second nature now to ignore the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as eyes followed your trail. 

Hellhounds weren’t unheard of in the Pride Ring, but it was a rarer occurrence. It didn’t help that your company’s logo was stitched on the back of your blue vest ‘Hellhound Couriers. Bones, bags and bodies, we’ll fetch it all.’ in stylized block lettering. At least, the rest of the uniform wasn’t too drastic as you ran a finger over the brim of the knitted cloche hat, smoothing it out. Black slacks tailored for Hellhounds alone as the seams of the ends flared out for larger paws. 

Your grip on the satchel tightened as your path was blocked by a pair of Sinners. Now the hair on the back of your neck was raised as the one with goat-like horns picked at sharp teeth with the tip of a knife. While the other held a casual nonchalant air about him, eyes piercing like serpents, but you could see the defined outline of a gun in his coat pocket. 

“I told you Jack, it’s funny thing.” 

“Oh, is it?” The goat retorted as you took a single step back. 

“Ya, we go looking for Hellhound and lookie here. Satchel n all.”

A low growl vibrated in your throat as the would-be thieves eyed you up and down. Fuck, it wasn’t like you couldn’t fight, but it would risk the packages. That wouldn’t do at all. What would the recipient of the lover’s letter from earlier think if the sincere words were stained with blood. 

“I don’t want trouble.” You hissed through clench teeth as your ears twitched at the loud click of the gun’s safety going off. 

“Well, our associates don’t want debts. So here we are. Now be a good little doggie and hand those papers over.” The goat sinner demanded as he held out his hand, only to pull it back with a sharp scream as your teeth clamped down on flesh and bone. The sudden pull made it even easier for you to vault over the injured man.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE, SHOOT.” The goat Sinner bleated as you could see him clutching the bleeding stubs of his pointer and index finger while his surprised associate scrambled with the gun.

A single loud crack broke through the air as you took a stuttered gasp of air. Fuck, your lungs burned even though the chase only begun. Blood blossomed over your vest as your shocked brain put two and two together, the bullet had pierced through your back and went out your chest. Hissing through the pain, you did your best to stifle the warm blood with your palm. It still dripped slowly onto the pavement as you scrambled into another alleyway. Copper hazily fogged your sense of smell as you tried to focus on anything but the wound. You needed a plan.

Quickly.

Another bullet thudded into the brick wall above your head as you willed your strained body to move once again. Blood, too much blood had been lost as you could feel the edges of your vision begin to flicker with black spots. Still, hope flickered in your chest as you caught sight of the familiar brass lettering of the gateway, all it was going to take was a few more steps. 

“Fuck.” The curse spilled from your lips half spoken and half in a howl as a bullet tore through your lower left leg. Your sharp nails dragged into the concrete below as you tried to pull yourself forward, even with the numbing sensation spreading throughout your body.

“Could have made this all the easier if you had given us the damn-” The goat sinner growled as you felt the cool tip of the gun brush over the tops of your ears. His words muddled as you feebly tried to shrink away from the weapon. His mocking laughter rang in your head as you weakly held on the satchel as it was ripped from your form. The noise stuttered to a halt as the pointed tip of a knife protruded from his eye, warm blood dripped onto your cold form as you could hear the soft shake of an umbrella.

“Now, now that isn’t necessary.” 

“You crazy bi-”

Another shriek pierced the air as the packed earth beneath you rumbled like a startled beast. Something wrapped around your midriff as it pulled you forward toward the gateway. You could feel the unintentional prick of thorns over your skin as the thing shuddered protectively before carefully setting you upright, still supporting you about your waist. 

Vines? You blinked rapidly trying to clear the fog from your vision as you lightly brushed over the foliage. Yes, vines as the thing shuddered as you accidentally pricked yourself on a sharp thorn allowing dark blood to drip over its’ green-brown ‘flesh’. 

“Now let’s take a look at you, looking a bit peaky, my little Bichon.”

“Rosie?”

Her gentle smile was the last thing you saw as the world was blanketed in darkness.

Soft. Warm. Too warm. You jolted upward as hot fire ripped through your chest from the exertion. Fuck, that was right, you had been shot, your sharp nails digging into your chest felt like a gentle caress compared to the throbbing muscle beneath it. 

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty.” The gentle voice was melodic in your ears as Rosie’s hands gently removed your tensed nails and held your paws in her own. You tried to speak, but your dried lips went mute as Rosie fussed over you. Holding cool water to your lips as you eagerly wet your parched throat. The back of her hand on your forehead as she tried to gauge the potential on-set for a fever.

She was taking care of you.

In her personal quarters.

In her bed.

“I removed the bullets, don’t fret. Seems like you are already healing up from that little misadventure, lamb.” Rosie tutted as she could see your eyes bounce around the room. It was surprisingly sparsely decorated.The bed, a modest wardrobe, a single bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase on the bedside table. The vase inhabits some sort of snapdragon that flared out with bright crimson petals.

The cool sheets did little to hide your flaming face as Rosie chuckled at your poor attempt to burrow yourself further under the cotton sheets. Anything to hide the pure scalding embarrassment of the disastrous day and having to be rescued by the Overlord of all people. 

“Honestly, those interlopers must have been desperate to get after you for entering the Town uninvited. Whatever could have set them off.” Rosie questioned as you muttered an answer in a half-hearted explanation about Greed Ring loan sharks and bills.  Or well coming due problems as you got a split second glance at the material when it was thrown back at your face.

“Ruffians. The lot of them. Going after my little Bichon like that. Well, Miss Tufele and Mr.Remius were delighted to have the late lunch-in. Gave me the most lovely of little tea cakes that we’ll-”

“I am sorry for causing you problems. Miss Rosie. It’s not becoming of my -”

“Hush.”

Your apology was cut off by a single finger against your muzzle as you went mute as commanded. Delicate, she was so gentle towards you as sharp nails brushed over your face. Treating you with as light a hand as a new sprout ready to be transplanted into the outside soil. Now a different sort of heat brushed through your fur, a slow warm ooze that started from the tips of your ears down to your toes. All because of a simple chaste kiss on your black snout as Rosie’s fingertips ghosted over your alert ears.

“Rosie, can I-” 

“Oh, sweet Bichon, even in your injured state of are all manners” Rosie teased as your tail wagged at the flirtatious inflection in her tone. Her girlish giggles were like the chimes of the most delightful bells as your lips met for a proper kiss. Short, sweet and to the point as her perfume fluttered over your form. She always did smell delightful, but now up close, it was like a banquet. Sweet smelling vanilla and the gentle notes of roses. The faintest taste of copper as you leaned in to deepen the kiss, , but at the same time you whined as your injured flesh twinged from the movement.

The sharper sound ended the kiss quickly as Rosie clucked her tongue at your hasty actions. 

“Now, there will be time for that later.”

You couldn’t help but sink dramatically into the pillows with a sigh as Rosie patted the top of your head with a chuckle.

“I promise.” Rosie muttered against the top of your ears as the sensitive things twitched from the brush of warm air against them. Still, you did as she asked and gave her a winning smile which she winked at. 

“Well, this is a change. Usually I can’t get you to sit and stay for the briefest second of calm. Always underfoot like a cat in the kitchen wanting to help me with something. Although, I do have a request, next time, show up at my doorstep unbloodied, bichon.” Rosie hummed as she flitted around the room. Opening up the window to let fresh air inside as the low rays of the sunset crept into the interior. 

“I’ll promise, Miss Rosie. Thank you..for..the..exciting day..” You promised as Rosie smiled that gentle sincere smile that made your heart flutter like a Hellhound pup over a bone.

“Think nothing of it, Bichon. Now how about a bit of tea?”

That’s how you spent the next few days. Sending apologetic letters to clients about needing to recuperate from unexpected delays. A few hesitant steps around the garden, Rosie on your arm giving encouragement. Piping hot tea and the little ginger cakes that you got to howl your praises over. Most memorable was the gentle kiss on your cheek as you left, satchel on your shoulder and a promise to come visit within the next few days.

Things were looking up in Hell.

[magnifythesun]

Absolutely loved ur latest prompt about Anthony picking Ian up and how you stick true to their characters it feels too realistic. On that note, since I'm an avid fan of protective worried Anthony, would you pls write something with Ian passing out while filming and Anthony hyperventilating over it.

aaaa this prompt has had my mind spinning since I first read it I'm so hyped to write it! and thank you soooo much, I tried really hard to keep their voices realistic in that one and I'm honestly very happy with the way it turned out! I'm so glad you enjoyed!! :D

(post-writing note: this turned out way more comfort than hurt lol, but it was just too cute to resist!)

It was a rager of a hot day in southern California. They were filming their latest sketch, which was unfortunately entirely outside, and were eager to just get the thing done.

"Should we take a break?" Anthony asked, "It's been a few hours out here, and this heat's really killing me."

"Let's just finish up this scene," Ian said wearily, his face slightly red from the sun.

Anthony nodded in agreement and turned to tell the crew to set the cameras at another angle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ian suddenly drop like a sack of potatoes, one second standing, then not. It was almost like a bit. It would have been funny, except that the way he ragdolled to the floor sent a horrid chill through Anthony. That was not the way someone fell on purpose, for comedy or otherwise. Anthony turned.

"Ian?" He said, distantly.

Erin was already running toward him, holding her huge water bottle. "Someone bring a sheet!" She called over to the crew, who, behind the sudden haze in Anthony's vision, were little blobs scurrying to and fro, some toward Ian, others running toward the house.

Anthony stumbled over. "What happened?" Erin glanced up at him. "Is he all right?" Her eyes widened at the way he was swaying on his feet.

"Don't you pass out too!" Erin snapped, voice tight with worry. "Go sit down." She waved toward the shade by the house.

"But, Ian," Anthony started. He swept his eyes over his friend, who was starting to stir. Ian's eyelids flickered, then opened as he started to wake up.

"Ow," He groaned, raising a hand up to clutch at his forehead. "Oh wow, my head hurts really bad."

"Like you hit it?" Erin asked sharply, then looked back up at Anthony. "Anthony. Go sit down."

Anthony took an involuntary step backward from the command in her tone alone, then kept backing up until his back hit the side of the house. Tears jumped to his eyes, and he knew in that moment he needed to get out of sight. He went inside the house, ignoring the way different members of the crew were reaching out to him, worry in their voices, and headed straight to the bathroom. Closing the door, he sank to the ground immediately, trying to breathe.

His breath was tight in his throat, like a great beast had a hold on his neck and was squeezing him. The sensation traveled down to his chest, causing him to gasp quick, shallow breaths as he tried to wipe away his tears.

Was Ian alright out there? His mind was spiraling as he desperately sucked in little gasps of air. He had just left him there, too wrapped up in his own frightened reaction to comfort his friend. A pang of guilt burned bright in his chest. He had to get this under control and he had to get back out there.

Anthony focused and started his yoga breathing routine that he used every time he exercised. Slowly, slowly, he controlled his breathing. He stood up shakily, and glanced in the mirror, making sure to wipe the tears from his eyes. There was nothing he could do about how pale he looked, or how red-rimmed his eyes were.

He took one more deep breath and pulled open the door to the bathroom. Walking out, he could hear many voices in the kitchen, which was out of sight. Sounded like most of the crew had taken shelter from the sun in there.

Anthony turned toward the living room and startled. Ian was sitting there, a wet rag on his head and Erin's big bright blue bottle of water clutched in his hands. Anthony felt his breath catch in his chest again.

Anthony walked over to him. "Hey, man. You feeling okay?"

Ian smiled guiltily up at him. "Well, better now," He glanced up at Anthony towering above him and patted the couch cushion next to him. Anthony sat. "I should have called a break sooner. I could tell it was getting to me."

"You don't need to push yourself that hard," Anthony said quietly.

"True," Ian's mouth quirked. "Plus the crew deserved a break too." Ian stared off in the direction of the kitchen for a moment. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly, fingers shifting on the pastel surface of the bottle.

Anthony grimaced. "Yeah, I'm good."

Ian turned to look at him, a sharp look in his eye. "Uh-huh."

Anthony intently examined the table in front of the couch. "You saw?"

Ian took a big gulp of water. "I may have just woken up from the consequences of my own hubris, but I, I caught a glimpse."

"Sorry," Anthony said quietly, "I really don't know what came over me."

Ian didn't say anything for a moment, just slurped another sip of water. Anthony couldn't look at him. Then, Anthony felt Ian's hand, cold from the surface of the bottle, rest on top of his own hand and squeeze slightly.

"Always good to know you care." Ian said lightly, the veneer of a joke over his words, but the slight drag of his thumb over the back of Anthony's hand emphasized his words.

Relief and affection rushed through him, and Anthony glanced at Ian. "Your head okay though?"

"When is my head ever okay?" Ian laughed, "But yeah, I didn't hit it. Water?" He lifted the bottle and offered it.

"God, yeah." Anthony took it with the hand that wasn't still covered by Ian's and took a long, refreshing drink. "I can't believe we still have to go back out in that to finish filming."

"Ugh, don't even remind me," Ian groaned.

Right then, Erin's voice called from the kitchen, "Alright, back out there to shoot in ten minutes!"

Various shouts of "Heard!" echoed around the house, accompanied by several grumbles.

"I gotta lay my poor heat-stricken head down for a few minutes before we head back out there," Ian said.

"Oh okay," Anthony said, preparing to get up to let him lay down, when Ian just tilted his head slightly to rest it on Anthony's shoulder. Anthony stilled, his breath catching for the nth time today.

"I'm gonna try to visualize myself in the Arctic," Ian mumbled, "Quiet on set."

Anthony tried to not shake his shoulders as he laughed. "Alright, alright. Make sure to get back from your polar expedition in ten."

Anthony let himself rest his eyes too, the warmth of Ian's hand and head soothing the last of his rattled nerves.

[moodymisty]

Wow! Congrats on 1k followers!! Your writing is always a delight. 🥰

For your event, may I request Tech x F!reader with the prompt "You really want me?"

Thank you! I hope you have a great day. ❤️

❀ Milestone prompts list ❀

Author's Note: Awww thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my writing! and techtechtechtechtechtech

Relationships: Tech/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff and confessions of love

"So, I have to ask..."

Echo's voice perks up your ears, as sits beside you. His glass is in his hands but he hasn't taken a sip yet, at least that you've noticed.

79's is relatively barren tonight, at least by the normal standards; Though it's still quite loud and packed with enough clones that traversal through the bar is for sure going to end up with you bumping into a few shoulders.

"Did you show Tech some new book or something?" He's not here tonight, having neglected coming out for drinks because of some important worked he wanted to finish, and had insisted you all go on without him. it's not incredibly unusual; This sort of scene isn't his type.

You think on Echo's question for a moment, pursing your lips as you look off in no particular direction trying to recall. Once you do, it's such a brief moment that you don't really think that it would be anything of note.

"Um, I mean I mentioned something not too long ago?" Echo leans back against the seat, an arm over the back behind your head.

"Ok, because he's not shut up about whatever it was for at least a week now. He's been researching it nonstop." That sentence makes you surprised, but also it's impossible to contain a smile at the thought of him doing something like that when you aren't around. It's, endearing. Not too often do you find someone who enjoys you enough that they try to enjoy the things you do. You love watching Tech tinker, to sometimes catch his tongue just barely poking out between his lips, but it makes your heart flutter a bit to know this new tidbit of info.

"Really? I didn't know he cared that much." Crosshair makes an amused noise.

"Cares? He's obsessed." He gets an odd look from you back, and Hunter seeks to clarify what Crosshair won't.

"The two of you really get along well," He says, and you raise your eyebrows. He can't exactly find the best way to put this so for the sake of his brother and for your own sanity, he'll be blunt.

"Look, we don't wanna shove into your business or anything," Hunter rubs the back of his neck. "But Tech really likes you." It's feels more than a little bit intense being underneath the stare of four eyes, especially considering who they are.

"But he's not gonna say it unless you do first."

Were you really so obvious in your attraction that they were all able to notice? You had hoped you were being at least somewhat subtle.

No point in denying it, you guess. They already have it all figured out.

"So, you want me to just go for it then?" You smile and laugh, expecting it to be taken as a joke. But instead, Hunter nods and agrees with you.

"Go sweep him off his feet."

You're not drunk in the slightest; seeing the outline of the Marauder ahead of you as you walk forward towards it with purpose. It's just that your conversation with the rest of the 99's has pushed you over the edge.

You ended up leaving not long after you'd finished talking, deciding to take the opportunity of Tech being alone. It's not too often you have the chance to do so.

You'll just say how you feel, and damn the consequences. You can't stay in the limbo anymore.

But Tech is just, so hard to read.

You've gotten better at it over time, but sometimes you find yourself wondering. His brothers know him best, and hopefully their encouragement doesn't end with you making an ass of yourself.

You have the codes to unlock the Marauder, bringing down the gangplank so you can head inside. Once you do, it's only takes a quick look to the right to locate Tech, who's situated in the cockpit using Gonky as an extension to his current work table; Which is the control panel. He heard your entrance and looks over, perking up in casual surprise.

"Oh, I thought you all would be out for most of the evening." He says it with curiosity, not disappointment. You notice he's reading one of the books you'd mentioned awhile ago when you step closer, datapad sat aside whatever he's been tinkering with. He must be using it as background noise.

"Yeah, it got a little too rowdy for my liking." He's soldering two wires together, humming and adjusting his goggles with a wiggle of his nose. When he speaks he's still working, not looking as you watch over him from his side.

"I apologize for my brothers if they said or did anything particularly uncouth; Them and large amounts of alcohol are not often the best combination." Speaking from experience? You joke to only yourself. Smiling, you wave off his concerns.

"Nah, they were fine," Your sentence hangs for a bit, leaning to one side as your eyes flick over his hands and arms. "I, wanted to talk to you, actually." That admission gets Tech's interest, naturally.

Gonky takes up a good portion of the free space between the seats, so he ushers the droid away and gives you the room to sit down.

"To me?" He seems both surprised and curious, already trying to figure out what you'd possibly need to talk to him about. It could be any number of things, it's not as if the two of you have ever run out of things to talk about.

"Yeah, I," You lick your lips, finding the words and the confidence to just say them.

Gods he looks so cute right now... You think while seeing his dark brown eyes watch you from behind his goggles.

"Do you want to go out sometime? Just you and me?" He quickly counts his tools as he puts them away back in his storage box, glancing up at you.

"Do you need help with something? I see no need why to specify just you and me if you would just like to go and-"

You get out of your seat and kneel on the edge of Tech's, leaning inward and stealing a kiss from him. He certainly looks surprised the moment you pull away, but it seems to get the point across well enough.

"Oh," He says, adjusting his goggles from where you'd bumped them out of alignment. "You meant in that way." His eyes are wide, flicking around focus on a different part of your face as he thinks.

"I, failed to think this was a possible scenario." In any other situation you might've considered making a joke, but the tone would be ruined if you did so.

"Being a clone isn't a desirable trait apart from a few select scenarios, my brothers are quite overbearing, and the state of the war I-" He cuts himself off, brain thinking a mile a minute. "You really want me?"

You smile and nod, lips just barely dusting over his. You can still feel his breath on your face, before he decides to kiss you this time. His feels more assertive, as if he's quickly gaining the confidence in what he's figured out so far. His body rises from his aggressive slouch and his hands move up your thighs, from where they had laid politely on your knees.

"Do you want me to say?" You say, feeling his hands on your hips.

His brothers won't be back for most of the night anyways. He has plenty of time to figure things out and get all the answers he needs.

"Yes."

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] -thirty-four | you’re both Too Nice

“San, can I ask something?” 

“Go ahead.”

You walked over to the espresso machine and tapped the display as it heated up.

“Why is this set to Fahrenheit?”

“Oh-- it’s an American-made machine and it won’t stay set to Celsius for some reason.”

“Wow, trying to push its Imperial measurement agenda on us.”

He chuckled as he wiped down the counter.

“Wait, wait, San, look.”

He turned as you tapped the display that read 69 degrees.

“Nice.”

He covered his mouth as he laughed and you smiled triumphantly.

“What are you two laughing about?” Seonghwa asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Nothing,” you responded, watching the temperature continue to climb.

“Well, I have some news: since Minsoo has finally mastered all of the drinks-- thank you very much, y/n.”

You saluted him.

“What-- nevermind. You can now begin your baking training with Wooyoung.”

You opened your mouth in mock shock and looked at San. You pretended to be choked up by tears.

“Oh my god, I-- I thought it would never happen to me… this is the happiest day of my life!”

You pretended to cry and San walked over and pretended to console you.

“Oh my god…” Seonghwa said, already exhausted by the two of you.

You both looked at him.

“Are you sure you’re not related to Wooyoung?”

“Not that I know of.” You laughed.

He shook his head. “You can start now if you want to, since it’s slow.”

You nodded and turned to San, taking his hands in yours. “San…”

“Yes?”

“San… do me a favor.”

“Yes. Anything.”

“Remember to leave a candle lit in the window for me, so I might always find my way home.”

“Dear god…” Seonghwa sighed and walked back through the kitchen to his office.

“And San?”

“Yes?” San smiled, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll write you every day. Promise me you’ll write back?”

“I will. I’ll always read your letters.”

You nodded. “And San?”

“Yes?”

“I-- AHH!”

You were cut off by Wooyoung grabbing you around the middle and picking you up to carry you to the kitchen.

“San! Remember me! Always remember me!”

“I will! I will!”

“When, oh when will I come back from the war?”

You could hear San laughing as Wooyoung carried you into the kitchen and plopped you down in front of the counter.

“Buns!” He said.

You smacked your own butt. He stuck his out. You smacked it too.

“Now that that’s done with.”

You laughed. “Important things only.”

He held up his pointer finger in a matter-of-fact way. “‘Smack the buns before you make the buns,’ as I always say.”

You laughed harder.

“But we are starting with brioche buns.”

“Like the one you gave me that time,” you smiled.

He nodded, “Mhm.”

You nodded. “Why did you give it to me?”

He shrugged. “You were working like, all week… and maybe it was a little bit to try and make myself feel better about the whole ‘Romeo and Juliet’ thing.”

“‘Hey, I’m mad at someone-- random person, have a bun!’”

He cackled. “I guess that is basically what it was.”

You laughed. “I guess I can understand that reasoning. Being nice to someone would like… make your brain feel better.”

“See? I knew you’d get it.

So! Here’s where we keep the flour…”

“You two seem to get along well,” Seonghwa said as he leaned on the counter behind San.

San turned around. “I didn’t hear you come back out.”

“How could you? With the way you and y/n were carrying on before.”

San chuckled at your earlier theatrics.

“You two seem like two peas in a pod.”

“We do?”

He hummed in the affirmative as he nodded.

San shrugged. “She’s funny. She starts a bit and sticks to it.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “She reminds me of you when we were in school.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Carefree. The class clown.”

San smiled at the memory.

“Before everything happened.”

“Hmm.”

“Is that why you like her?”

San turned to Seonghwa with a start. “I--”

Seonghwa gave him a few moments to speak, but he didn’t. Silence settled between the two of them as San processed the question.

“You’re nice to everyone San, but there’s very few people I’ve seen you act that way with.” Seonghwa said after a while.

“Umm… what way?”

He thought for a moment. “Completely un-self-conscious.”

San thought.

“Honest… Earnest.”

San continued to think.

“It’d be hard for someone who’s known you for less time than I have to notice, I think.”

“Do you think she’s noticed?”

“I don’t know… she might not have realized.”

“I didn’t think I was…”

“Do me a favor?”

San looked at him.

“Don’t pull a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and leave a letter for me.”

He laughed. “So leave without leaving a letter? Got it.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes with a sigh.

San smiled. “Hyung, you know I could never screw over the café.”

He nodded.

Silence settled between them again as they watched passers-by outside.

“Do you think you’ll ask her out?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell if she likes me. Other than as a coworker or a friend.”

Seonghwa chuckled sensibly. 

“What?”

“Oh, the plight of the Too Nice.”

“You think she’s Too Nice?”

“Well, she might be a bit more scathing than you, from what I saw when she defended Minsoo, but you’re both Too Nice.”

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rachs-words •

[tollingreminiscentbells]

Hi there! I just finished devouring your accu au and just. Wow. I had to say something, because I haven't enjoyed a fic like that in a while. I'm very, very, VERY picky with my smut - especially when it comes to alastor, ESPECIALLY when he is actively being tagged as ace - and I am pleased to say that the emotional and physical intimacies of your writing truly astounded me. Not only did I, as an ace, feel comfortable with the scenes, but I enjoyed them and the way Alastor interacted with them. His "delusional" not-sex moments were my absolute favourite, and I found myself smiling when he would defend his view of sex. Obviously everyone is different, but for me personally, I feel like you are one of very few writers who actually got the asexual-but-not-sex-repulsed bit perfect. I truly related to some moments and the relationship between Al and Lucifer was so understanding that it made everything feel fluid and real. To me, smut is something that I find boring half the time - the times I do enjoy it are always when there's some juicy character growth mixed in, and your writing has that in spades. I applaud your skills. Accu made me so happy to read; it was an absolute delight. When I saw on your tumblr here that you're working on another fic, I thought I might be in heaven. I am so terribly excited to see what you've been working on, especially with all the history and research you've mentioned putting in to this new fic.

I also read your Alastor selfcest fic, and as someone who is quite easily swayed by selfcest, I must say that I enjoyed that one, too. I would love to hear what other fantastic Alastor ideas are in that intelligent, magnificent brain of yours.

In the interest of forcing this to become the norm instead of hiding behind my anxiety, I am extending a formal invitation to chat about hazbin or whatever else if you so desire. I would love to talk about ships and fics and be friends. Of course, no hard feelings if not!

I wish you all the best and hope this long-ass comment finds you well. May you continue to write what pleases you. Thank you for your time.

Love and Support, Loliqua

Oh, thank you so much for this message! It's delightful and made my day! I've said before that I consider A Terrible Beauty, specifically, some of the best writing I've done in probably the last 5 years, and that whole AU is very special to me. It makes me happy beyond words, really, when other people love those fics like I do.

It's funny. When I started writing for this fandom I didn't talk about my own asexuality. I actually didn't consider it relevant information at the time. I've talked about all of this since then, but I write Alastor's relationship with sex in a way that is similar to my own. I write sex scenes for the character development and these particular sex scenes are a reflection of real lived experience. Genuine ace rep, you could say. I think that's what resonates with some readers and I'm just so glad that it landed with you!

When people talk to me about All changed, the two things most frequently mentioned are "I love him violently", and the delusional not-sex. And you know, if that is my legacy in this fandom, I will feel like I did my part and made a worthwhile contribution.

And I am indeed working on another fic! A Momentary Radiance, wherein Alastor sells his soul to Lucifer while still alive, kills a few people, and romance ensues. A lot of references and homages, as well as the historical fiction aspect, which you'll see most clearly in the content of Alastor's radio show. I took a more traditional approach with this fic, so I've been working on it quietly since early July. Despite my major international move not long ago, we are finally almost across the finish line.

Then there are . . . several other fic ideas that I'm trying to ignore for now. It's getting out of hand. And if you want to hear about the madness, I am always more than happy to make friends!

💜

[yourdrugisafartbreaker]

So I just finished my Tubi watch through of Class of the Titans and… Wow, I wasn’t expecting that ending. But, with all of that done with, I need to talk about my favorite character.

And, like, a lot…

(WARNING: This post has MAJOR spoilers for the show Class of the Titans, I basically go over the whole show, although they mostly pertain to a certain character from the show. This show is currently FREE on Tubi and other streaming platforms. Hell, I looked it up on YouTube, it’s also there too! Please go watch it! It’ll grow on you! Of course, you’re fine to read on if you don’t really care about that, but I wouldn’t want to be the one ruining any possible enjoyment of the show for you. Anyways, infodumping!)

While at the beginning of my watch through of the Canadian cartoon Class of the Titans, I posted about it, and I said Hermes seemed to be my favorite character so far. Now, I still like him pretty strongly, I will admit that he didn’t get enough screen time for me to fully consider my favorite character in this show period.

Now, Cronus on the other hand, he got a LOT of screen time. (Being the main villain will do that to you.) He’s relentlessly evil and campy as hell, not to mention that with his lines, he is the epitome of a villainous Tumblr sexyman. In addition, not only is he the God of Time AND Space, he’s also Zeus’ dad. As a main villain, I absolutely adore him! But, admittedly, something is missing to me. See, he’s the main villain, the foil to the protagonists. If he succeeds, well, the show is done pal. Thus, he’s not really allowed to grow because of that. He always gets beaten and/or forced to flee by the main seven heroes. Because of that, while his writing in terms of pure lines is fantastic, the overall writing is admittedly static. Now, the show does admittedly occasionally venture outside the box and make Cronus something besides the main villain to our heroes, but that’s also understandably limited.

So, someone with screen time and is allowed to develop, who could belong to that group… Why, of course, who else but the main group of heroes! Well, in a way, they are a bit samey. They’re all the destined heroes who want to focus on heroing. Well, of course, there is a bit of an exception…

Neil’s character is written brilliantly.

That’s right, Neil, I’m talking about you.

As the seventh and last hero introduced in the series, the team depends on him to fulfill the prophecy that seven heroes will defeat Cronus! Except, he’s not much of a hero. The word that Neil wants after super is model, not hero. And, this is by design.

First off, all of the heroes are descended from Greek figures. Archie is related to Achilles, Atlanta is related to Athena, and on and on and on. And then, there’s Neil, who is descended from Narcissus. Now, a beautiful guy who fell in love with his own reflection in some water and stared at it until he died doesn’t sound so heroic, does it? Of course, Neil reflects this narcissism, his vanity being his signature trait.

This signature trait shows that, compared to the other characters, his personality is essentially fundamentally flawed from the start. In fact, in the intro, it gives everyone a descriptor for their role in the team. Jay is the leader, Herry is the brawn, and so forth. Neil’s descriptor? He is simply dubbed the good looking one. (For reasons we’ll discuss later, this vastly undersells Neil.)

Now, while this makes him sound like the least likable hero in the show… Well, he 100% is, but that’s the point. I don’t know if I could truly be friends with him, but goodness, he’s probably the objectively best hero in terms of character. He’s egocentric, self-centered, and honestly not too empathetic. However, because he displays these flaws so much, it kinda becomes accepted that this is just Neil.

When other heroes have their flaws become evident, like Odie’s carelessness in taking Zeus’ Time Piece because everyone keeps taking up his time, it’s addressed rather quickly. More often than not, with a lesson learned, it kind of gets swept under the rug. But Neil? Oh boy, try unraveling all of that, much less try fixing all of that!

But, in turn, this has a bit of an inverse effect. Cool, Herry did the hero thing, he’s supposed to, because he’s good guy Herry. But, Neil? I am screaming “GO, WHITE BOY, GO!” at the top of my lungs whenever he seems to be actually helping. It’s a bit dependent of the principles of quality over quantity and how can I miss it when I see it so much. Neil, if he ever looks away from his mirror, can have more meaningful rescues and moments where he helps out simply because he doesn’t do it as much. (Admittedly, he is a hero and should be helping more, but we take the small victories with Neil here.)

Now, how does Neil help, exactly? Well, again, all of the heroes have their roles. Theresa is psychic, Athena is super fast, Herry is super strong, Odie is super smart, Jay is a leader with excellent battle intuition, and Archie is… Immune to disease and has a crappy ankle? (How helpful is that? It does come into play, but it’s not like he’s a healer or anything. Archie is probably my least favorite hero though, so…) Anyways, they all have their powers, and Neil has his. You know what it is? Plot armor.

No, I’m not kidding, it is essentially plot armor. Of course, the show calls it luck, and he is pretty damn lucky. He always wins coin flips and gets good grades on tests without studying, he miraculously avoids getting hurt many times, and can often accidentally or unintentionally inspire ideas in others on the team. This is the reason he is on the team, he can be a pain to put up with and often doesn’t have a weapon, but this luck is literally the answer to anything you need on the show. Admittedly, his luck can only help him so much. (Gods, please help this boy try to perform social interactions…) But, it is very important to not only the show’s story, but also to the character of Neil as a whole.

A guy easily chucking cars around? Superhero to the max. A girl running faster than humanly possible? Yeah, that’s a superhero. A really lucky guy? That might just be how the stars line up. If Neil has always had these powers, (And I am assuming here, because we get like… Not much sense of these heroes’ home life at all really.), of course Neil ended up as the brat he is! If things often tend to go his way, he wouldn’t often have to face the reality of things NOT going his way. He’s obviously gonna get bigheaded because of this, which might inspire others to be jealous/not like him, which only further perpetuates his ego. Also, this luck and subsequent ego allows him to be really dumb. Like, he has enough sense to know he can use his mirror as a way to see things without actually looking, but otherwise, he is as dumb as a bag of bricks. Perhaps because he really only tries to act smart (enough) whenever it seems to benefit him or he already knows about it. (Odie talks to him about tectonic plates and Neil seemingly has no clue what a tectonic plate is. It doesn’t immediately benefit him to know what a tectonic plate is either, and he just knows the team has to stop an earthquake thingy.) This power is so significant, yet it doesn’t really actually empower or instill any sense of heroism in Neil because it’s not obviously a power, which still allowed for Neil to end up as a coward. (At first. Also, damn, he has a high pitched scream!)

Yet, amongst all of the vanity inspired by both his ancestry and his power, there are some interesting layers. Sometimes, he’ll end up coming across as really genuine, even if comes off as SO awkward. He’ll drop down the mask of being cool in a more vain sense, exchanging it in for a more authentic self, which can often still be seen as cool. (For example, he talks about how he would be a really cool DJ while talking to the group in the cafeteria, before he starts using two plates as discs, and it actually pops the team and they laugh about it.) He has one liners throughout the series, but over the course of the series, they come off as more genuine and oddly heroic in a strange way. Of course, Neil will be Neil, but Neil can actually stop focusing on himself for a second. (Probably on something shiny. He loves shiny things.)

However, his vain and genuine parts combine together to create probably his most important part: His lack of a filter. Now, this obviously can create some funny moments, such as his incessant complaining and whining and wailing. Then again, Neil can get kinda wild at times. While talking about Dionysus, the god of partying who consumes an excessive amount of wine, Neil asks, “Is he still a…?” before continuing by making a bottle sipping gesture. Like… Oh my gods. Did he really just ask that on a kid’s show? That is probably the most direct way to ask that in a way that is also allowed on a kid’s show. (Even Hera is a bit taken aback by this, Neil’s question means she has to quickly explain Dionysus now focuses on science.)

However, in a way, his lack of a filter is also a good thing. See, in some strange way, this makes him actually pretty genuine. Now, this man is basically blind to his own flaws for a majority of the series, but that doesn’t prevent him from calling out others. He’s done this multiple times, such as when Archie opened up Pandora’s Box. (He basically called Archie a failure for that, so, again, Neil can get wild!) Hera is explaining to them all (and also the audience) the story of Pandora’s Box, and how she was gifted a box by the gods, but was told not to open it, and her opening up the box released some pretty bad stuff. Neil of course has to add his commentary to it, as he basically says, “You gods suck! You give people presents they can’t open and apples they can’t eat!”. He says this directly in the presence of the gods! Also, he tossed in a potshot at Christianity! He doesn’t care, and I love him for it! (Then again, Neil probably just worships himself, so…)

I fell in love with Neil because of his pure lines written for him, he’s very much like a smarmy pro wrestling heel, which is great, considering I’m a pro wrestling fan. However, after investing into Neil, I most appreciate him for his change over the course of the series. Now, it’s subtle and probably overshadowed by his constant unwillingness to change, but his arc over the course of the entire series is the perfect slow burn for me. Now, let’s start at the beginning.

(Get ready for the length because I took so many notes on Neil!)

He actually isn’t brought in until the third part of the introductory Chaos arc, as he is the last of the prophesied seven heroes, and the others have to go look for him. He’s… Just so not what they thought they were looking for in a hero. Hell, he’s even aligned with Cronus at first! (Then again, Cronus finds Neil when he’s at a photo shoot and convinces Neil that he is a talent agent, so I can’t really blame Neil there.) To make him live up to his Narcissus ancestry, Cronus gets Neil to oodle over his own reflection in a pool of water, before the heroes realize Neil’s power is luck and the heroes chuck Cronus over the top of the building. However, in response, Neil yells about how the heroes just killed his agent. Cronus was okay on the side of the building and climbing up with his scythes though, but the heroes manage to take Neil away, bringing him to the school. He’s so dismissive of whatever the others say until they bring him into the school, and whether or not he likes it (He doesn’t.), he is a superhero now! Funnily enough, Neil ends up unintentionally inspiring Odie to create the thing to stop Cronus’ plans, and the intro arc ends, and we’re strapped in and ready for the rest of the series.

Neil does his thing in the meanwhile, slinging insults and staring at himself in his mirror, all the while not having any weapons and not really fighting all that well, if he even chooses to fight. He gets his first real focus as a member of the team in a particular episode, The Trojan Horse, where Odie gets seriously hurt and gets mad and leaves. After saying Jay’s recent track record as leader stinks, Hera makes an executive decision to replace Jay with Neil, and everyone starts arguing while Odie joins up with Cronus and Jay leaves while feeling disillusioned and Neil gives himself a captain’s hat. After Jay returns with Odie being all evil and strong and stuff now, Neil appoints him as the leader again on the condition that he gets to keep his captain’s hat, and the episode ends with Odie revealing he was a fake defector and helped take out Cronus.

After annoying an already set off Archie (who is afraid of water) by imitating submarine pings, as well as somehow doing magic right on his first try by saying bibbidi bobbidi boo, Neil’s at the zoo taking a photo shoot with monkeys in the Sibling Rivalry episode. Medusa tries to attack him, but thanks to Neil’s good luck, Medusa takes herself out. Well, that’s not how Neil’s telling the story, he’s saying that he laid haymakers into her. Then, when the Gorgon sisters kidnap him, he’s scared and can’t even look at his captors. Of course, Neil gets saved by the others, as the Gorgon sisters get crushed thanks to the cave they are in collapsing on them. And how does Neil tell the story? Well, he goes on about how he took out all 3 Gorgon sisters.

During his first arc, which I call his Getting Acclimated arc, Neil adjusts to everything between his introduction and the Pandora’s Box episode for the first half of Season 1. Everyone gets used to Neil, how he is always late and focused on his beauty, along with his general dumbassery and lack of a filter. Then again, Neil also has to get used to everything, and he leans on certain tendencies to keep himself a bit distant while he grows accustomed to everything.

His next arc, which starts around the Make-Up Exam episode where Neil offers a brainwashed Atlanta his stereo in order to escape Arachne’s web, is his Growing Responsibility arc. He feels he now has to try and prove himself as a hero, and while he doesn’t always help, he is trying to be helpful and fill his role more than being self-serving.

In the Odie-ssey episode, Neil is fine with being stranded on an island with Odie and Jay because he gets to be on the beach and relax, but he ends up doing a lot of climbing and even has to face Cronus by the end of the episode even thought he hates it. In the episode Get Kraken, where a confused Neil infamously says that there is a cracker on the loose, Neil is clearly trying to help by pointing out the Kraken first. However, after Jay saved Neil from being slapshotted like a hockey puck, Neil gets fussy with Jay because Jay interrupted Neil’s thought process and he forgot a very important idea. In the Eye for an Eye episode where Odie is attacked by a one-eyed monster, Neil is convinced the one-eyed part means that the attacker is a pirate, not to mention that he points out where the cyclops is going while he is actively standing in a cyclops footprint. (Neil also faces instant karma this episode, as he makes fun of Atlanta for getting electrocuted by not jumping over the electric wire, before Neil then gets electrocuted by an electric mine.) Again, trying to help, but he’s going about it in a Neil way.

Neil is becoming less static as a character as his boundaries are slowly being opened, but this means that sudden shifts may occur, such as in Bows and Eros. This Valentine’s Day episode, which is the first holiday episode of the series, features a corrupted Eros (Do not call him Cupid!) shooting hate-spiked arrows at everyone thanks to Cronus. As a result, not only do the heroes hate each other, all of New Olympia hates each other! Except, for Neil, it makes possible the one thing thought impossible: It makes Neil hate himself since he looked into a mirror. (Of course, Eros has to shoot him with a second arrow, as the first one missed thanks to Neil’s luck.) He immediately cries about his hair, saying how ugly he looks as he puts a bag over his head, before running out of the bathroom. Next time we see him, Jay finds Neil bald while strapped into a chair with duct tape over his mouth, as Odie explains to Jay that he wanted to do something about Neil complaining about his hair. However, after being comforted by Aphrodite and donning a fake wig which he totally rocks, he actually powers on and helps the other heroes take down Cronus. In typical Neil fashion though, once Eros and Psyche are reunited and start kissing, Neil and some others in the group tell the two to get a room. The ultimate takeaway though is that, instead of backing down and crumbling, which Neil might have done before, Neil actually powers on. (Also, thank the gods Neil being bald exists only during this episode, because I never want to see his egg head again.)

After he gets turned into a statue in the Underworld in Road to Hades, Neil’s importance is raised a bit in the show, and what he manages to accomplish in the next few episodes is astonishing. After agreeing to give up his plans of any Spring Break parties in Many Happy Returns, Neil actually gets the gang out of a tight spot when they get caught breaking into a museum by a security guard, as Neil uses his Speech 100 to convince the security guard that they are night researchers who study things like owls and comets in order to bring back Hephaestus’ robot ladies. This… Somehow works. In fact, later on in that same episode, Neil proudly lives up to his role as a decoy standing at the peak of a volcano while a bronze giant in Talos is actively trying to destroy the heroes. The next episode titled Labour Day shows a wrestling match between Herry and Neil, and even if Herry is super mega distracted by some bodacious babes he saw yesterday, along with Neil shockingly throwing out the worst insults ever, all of that doesn’t matter when Neil actually beats Herry! (Then, when the gang has to search for a missing Herry, Neil tries to stay in the car to listen to some sweet jams.) Neil is putting in the effort and actually being rewarded.

Now, with this episode called They Might Be G.I.Ants, Neil’s shenanigans get taken to some of the weirdest I have ever seen. So… Cronus raids a military base and turns all of their soldiers into giant ants. How does Neil get involved? Well, when the heroes end up clashing with these ants, Neil manages to get the collar off of one. Not only does this help later, as Odie needs one of the collars to try to take over the ant brains back from Cronus, a particular ant becomes super connected to Neil. Why? Well, the ant stung Neil in the ass. This sends Neil into a state of delirium, where he befriends the ant, and even lowkey flirts with it. Neil somehow is the key to helping mitigate the giant ant problem. I could not believe this at all when I first saw this episode. Interestingly enough, there’s a part of this episode where Neil and Odie form their own team in a tactical exercise because they got picked last and are upset that they are perceived as not as valuable, and they actually end up as the winners of the exercise by the end of the episode.

Neil gets kidnapped (again) by a Stymphalian Bird in Cronus’ Flying Circus, but uses his mirror to avoid becoming bird food, although he sadly broke a nail in the process. He ends up being the most knowledgeable in the episode Sybaris’ Fountain episode when it comes to fighting Sybaris and her ghost vampires, considering he has watched so many vampire movies before, as he brought garlic and stakes and holy water soakers in his vampire hunter drip, and these tools end up stalling their undead foes for long enough for Sybaris to be defeated.

But, amongst all of the things he has had to do, The Last Word may host Neil’s biggest show of commitment to the team so far despite how annoying things personally get for him here. While performing a beautiful rendition of Michael J. Frog’s Hello My Baby in the shower, Neil gets paranoid about a voice talking to him, but no one else cares because they cannot hear it. Surprise, Neil is kidnapped for a third time in Season 1! Echo is enamored with Neil’s ancestor Narcissus (which means she is also enamored with Neil by extension) and is a chatterbox who always has to have the last word, but she ends up spilling about how she is working with Cronus to keep Neil busy while the others are trapped, but Neil convinces her that Cronus would mess things up with no more talking and no more Neil. Thus, his logic makes Echo work with him, and his friends end up freed with Cronus defeated. At the end of the episode though, Echo gently dumps Neil because he is way too obsessed with himself, and Neil is mad she dumped him before he could dump her.

In the season 1 finale, Time After Time, the gang essentially has to time travel in order to stop Cronus’ attempts to change history through time traveling in order to change the prophecy of the seven heroes who can defeat him. Neil… Doesn’t really do much. However, he does have to tell Zeus and Hades from the past that he is not an action figure for the gods. This is basically the end of Neil’s second arc. So… What now?

The first half of Season 2 houses Neil’s Deep End arc, because Neil is finding himself able to swim in the deep end and do things Neil used to be unable to conceive, but the problem is making sure he can stay above the water in the deep end. How does he start this arc? By knocking Cronus out cold! In the opening scenes of Cronus Vanquished, Neil complains about not having a weapon, with Jay realizing Neil should probably have a weapon in the middle of combat. Jay gives Neil his reflective laser shield thing before Neil complains thag is too tight on his wrist, which causes Cronus to easily spot Neil and goes to shoot him as Jay tells Neil how to turn it on, and Neil essentially pulls off a perfect parry and sends Cronus’ evil fire back at him to send him into trees before knocking him out into a big rock.

Here, everyone assumes Cronus is defeated, with Hades personally dealing with Cronus in the Underworld. Neil’s response to the seeming end of their battle with Cronus is that he can’t wait to get out of the “dump” they’ve stayed at, as he’s had enough with doing good, he just wants to get back to looking good again. But, surprise, Cronus did Cronus things and trapped Hades and Persephone in hourglasses and is currently in control of the Underworld right now! In response to this news, Neil in particular seems to be upset, as he complains about how he’ll have to unpack. However, once again, Neil puts on his brave face and serves his role once again. He does complain about how his role is as bait with Odie for the literal God of Death Thanatos, but his absolutely fantastic acting attracts Thanatos into the trap, Odie breaking a rope that causes a big tree to snap into Thanatos and send the God of Death into a pile of rocks. Neil says something of interest after their success though, as he blurts out, “Yeah, we bad!” Hm… Has… Has Neil actually developed a bond with Odie? A friendship, if you will? He might just be reacting to their success… I might be overlooking into things, or perhaps crazy, but I’ll put a bookmark on this one for now.

We get into Neil’s mind a bit in Graes Anatomy, where Odie finds the Eye, a magical thing that can show where anyone desired is. While the group is using the Eye, they are baffled about how they are right by Cronus, and it takes Neil wanting to nap on a log that he accidentally finds Cronus by leaning back into a part of rock that wasn’t actually rock. However, the group using the Eye pissed off the Graes, who the Eye belonged to until Perceus stole it and put it in some lake where the gang originally found it. As punishment, the Graes trap them in their own head, leaving them to fight their fears. Get ready everyone, because Neil’s fears are… Being bald, fat, and having acne. That… That just seems obvious. Anyways…

in Star Quality, a girl named Cassie is supposed to interview Neil due to his rising stardom. (Where does Cassie first recall seeing Neil from? A diaper commercial. In addition, Neil is currently in a fast food employee outfit during their initial conversation, as he is doing a fast food shoot when Cassie interrupts it.) This is Neil’s dream, he has always wanted this, it’s what will truly make him the star he always envisioned himself as! And yet, the entire time, Neil’s words and actions basically show everyone that he’d rather focus on this interview instead of help with the team’s SECRET mission. The way he goes about it to becomes a bit of an active hinderance to the team, as they have to spend time tracking down Cassie and destroying any possible tapes she has, this is happening while they also have to track down and fight Orion. (Orion? Like the constellation from the stars? Yeah, him.) By the end of the episode, Cassie gets her mind erased of recent events, and Neil gets super annoyed because Cassie has no clue who Neil is and won’t give him his interview. (This is also the episode where Neil says he is allergic to clothing without designer labels.)

Neil basically gets punished for his lack of care for the mission in the next episode, Forget Me Not, where the heroes attempt to traverse through the Underworld to get to Elysian Fields to meet their ancestors. Neil tries to drink from the River Lethe because he is thirsty, but Odie ingrains it in Neil’s head that the River Lethe causes forgetfulness with said forgetfulness becoming permanent if they step into the Elysian Fields, and the only cure are some flowers that cause bring back memories before one steps into the Elysian Fields. (Of course, to add on, these flowers can cause drowsiness.) As cruel fate would have it, Neil has to remember this, because he is the only one who can remember it, since the heroes AND Cronus get splashed with water from the River Lethe. The now forgetful group doesn’t take Neil’s help, because they don’t remember him, not to mention that he’s on the other side of the river. This means that he has to go through Charon, the boat guy, but he didn’t bring any money with him. However, he still has payment Charon deems suitable, so Charon will work with him. This leads to the scene of Neil begging for his friends to listen to him and take his flowers before they step into the Elysian Fields while arguing with Cronus, which is accentuated by his lack of his typical vintage shoes and silk shirt, because Charon took those as payment. After all of this, do you know what his reward is after convincing his friends to defeat Cronus? He meets Narcissus, who Neil was thoughtful enough to bring hair product for as a present, with Narcissus giving him clothes he describes as unique and asks if they are made of toe hair. This seems fair enough after last episode.

The focus on Neil basically drops before being built up to later, as he doesn’t really do anything too notable in the next episode, although he drops a wild comment in the next episode called Pandemonium about Chiron needing to watch his diet while ALL OF THE GODS ARE LITERALLY DYING. Neil drops a cool line in the next episode titled Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself by telling Theresa he wants her to take a picture of him IN Greece, not him AND Greece, and he busts it down sexual style on the dance floor with some pretty sick moves. (This scene made me laugh so hard, because not only is Neil doing the coolest dance moves in such a Neil way, but because it’s cutting between Neil dancing and a fear-stricken Archie shaking and pissing himself because he’s so scared in an alley somewhere.) He does get to show off his monster movie knowledge again though, as Neil mentions that silver can take out a werewolf, and Archie ends up using a silver medallion he bought while in Greece to slay the werewolf chasing after him and Atlanta.

Speaking of Atlanta, her and Neil have to work together in this next episode titled Cold Day In Hades, and we see probably one of the strongest examples of Neil’s good luck power. Persephone sits down in the Chair of Forgetfulness placed by Cronus while on her way back to Earth, and her capture makes her Goddess of Harvest mother Demeter so sad that she causes an intense winter on both Earth and in the Underworld. (Neil still tries to work on his tan despite it being a “little chilly” because he is a hero after all.) Once all are informed of Persephone’s disappearance, most of the group goes to find her and bring her back, while Neil and Atlanta are tasked with finding Demeter and calming her down so the snow in spring stops. Atlanta is driving the two to Demeter’s farm on a snowmobile, but she is going so fast which is making Neil scream and complain, which basically forces Atlanta to let him drive. Neil then proceeds to go really slow despite the mission at hand, until he hits the nitrous boost button, which makes the snow mobile go so fast that it crashes into a tree. However, his luck makes it so him and Atlanta are somehow completely unharmed at the cost of the snowmobile, with even Neil shocked at this turn of events. Then, once Neil and Atlanta finally find Demeter, Neil tries to work his magic. However, he was (for some reason) tasked to talk Demeter for his social skills, and he is doing nothing but making the winter more intense. Instead, Neil ends up going fast anyways because Atlanta convinces Demeter to let them borrow her flying horse chariot, and Neil literally kisses the ground beneath him once he got off of the ride. In one of his biggest tasks so far, Neil came off as an active hinderance to the mission.

For the rest of the Deep End arc, he doesn’t quite have this level of focus again, although he still has moments. In Tantalize This, Neil complains about Herry trying to save a cat because Herry got in the way of his light, later bemoaning about how cats are so self-centered without a hint of irony. In Mother Knows Best, Herry’s Granny tells Herry to be a good host and get his friends whatever they want as they are guests, with Neil using this as an excuse to make Herry get him lemonade refills while the others look at him pissed.

Neil does a good bit of varying helpfulness in the episode Applet of Discord, where the God of Discord (@everyone) Eris makes people argue with each other, Atlanta and Archie being affected by this. They come home and bother everyone, including Neil while he is reading a magazine that has him on the cover and causes him to say, “I hate when mom and dad fight, I’m out of here!” He then goes to respond to his fan mail before getting a message from Eris, which unleashes a sound that makes everyone argue with each other, but he also gets a picture of Eris to help the team plan on what to do. (The group does this while ignoring Theresa who has a vision and knows what is going on.) After finding Eris at the bell tower and working with his teammates despite Eris’ attempts to sow discord into the group, Neil drops Eris’ phone down to the bell tower floor to stop the discord, with Harmony causing everyone to be happy with Neil striking the final death blow of a hug to Eris making the Goddess of Discord go away. After not doing much notable in Bad Blood, Neil in Dreamweaver is hesitant about Cronus taking the talisman in their plan to try and trap Cronus because Cronus isn’t “street” enough to go for that bling, and he leads Archie and Atlanta in a marching jody that pokes at Jay being cranky since he is so focused about the mission and is essentially overworking everyone.

For the rest of the series, we get the Realization of Neil arc, as Neil seems to get what he is. Overall, it seems like Neil has comfortable, but perhaps too comfortable. This can lead to carelessness, and even a bit of hostility on the part of Neil, such as in the episode titled Breathtaking Beauty. Odie is texting some girl named Wendy he met up with online while at the movies, until he sees her actually in the film he is watching, with Neil laughing and revealing that he was Wendy along. Odie gets pissed, not to mention that Herry and even random moviegoers get pissed at Neil, with Odie driving off on his little moped scooter thing. Neil tries calling Odie to apologize, but Odie’s not having it, and it seems that karma would agree because Neil and Herry end up getting in a GAS STATION FIRE AFTER A GAS PUMP BLOWS UP. Once all of that is resolved, Neil finds Odie being challenged by a Sphinx (who was disguised as a hot babe) to answer a riddle, and Neil also ends up taking the challenge because he wants to show he is sorry. (Neil can’t come up with sorry himself, Odie has to say it, but Neil says that’s why Odie is the smart one.) Neil comes up with an incorrect and vain answer of good looks to the riddle, which Odie berates him for and says he’s some friend, before realizing Neil led him to the correct answer of friendship with the two making up after the Sphinx is truly defeated. Now, this! This episode is actual confirmation as to Odie and Neil being friends! Neil is probably the closest to Odie out of any of the other heroes, and with this episode, it is firmly cemented. (Go white boy, you truly made a friend!)

Of course, in typical Neil fashion, he ends up helping out Odie again in the Recipe for Disaster episode. All of the gods are behaving like old people, and this is traced to the ambrosia they are eating, which is later traced specifically to the plants involved in the honey making process being tainted evil plants by a tainted evil botanist who used to be Hercules’ friend. In the meantime, Odie has to make ambrosia, which sucks considering the main ambrosia maker Athena can’t remember the recipe. In addition, Odie overthinks things, and he ends up convincing himself that he absolutely cannot use honey not from the magical garden of the gods. However, Neil runs to the corner store and grabs some organic honey despite Odie’s repeated resistance, but it turns out that Neil’s corner store organic honey creates ambrosia that is loved by the gods and makes them all act not like old people again.

Neil steps back in terms of focus in the episode named Polyphemus Returns, acting more like the old Neil since he is quite concerned about how the heat of the volcano he is in will do to his pores, and Neil’s insists on not leaving behind his moisturizer even if he nearly gets struck by lightning by a giant. (This actually turns out to be a smart move, as he causes a giant to slip in it.) He is slightly more notable in Cronus 2.0 though, as he teams up with his best friend Odie in combat class, hitting him with a down low too slow before following Odie’s plan and set up to absolutely clown on Herry to cause him to fall out of the ring by poking him in the butt. Despite their gelling in combat class though, when Odie builds a cyborg called Cronus 2.0, he is not immune to Neil’s lack of a filter. After a close incident with Theresa, Odie assures the group that Cronus 2.0’ safeguards are fine although he needs to install some new ones, with Neil asking if the old safeguards can really be fine if new ones are needed.

You wouldn’t think an episode titled The Game Plan would be a Christmas special, but it is, and let me tell you, it is a doozy! Amongst all of the craziness though, Neil plays a pretty significant part. Neil is shopping with Jay when Jay mentions how Neil could probably get some presents for people besides himself, but Neil says he cannot help resist buying gifts for himself as he see things he “desperately” needs, basically implying that he feels more comfortable buying presents for himself since he knows himself way more than others. He then meets up with a talking goat named Almatheia who claims to have raised Zeus, dismissing the idea before admitting that he’s been through weirder things, with him coming to the realization that him causing Zeus and Almatheia to meet up again would be the perfect present. Well, it would be, but Cronus was actually the goat in disguise and ends up capturing Zeus and goading him into a game of chess where the lives of the seven heroes are on the line if they are taken out. (Guess what piece Neil is? The queen.) Neil and Jay have to find the Goddess of Good Fortune and Luck Fortuna to get Almatheia’s Cornucopia, which is obtained by playing the Wheel of Fortuna, a wacky and zany game of luck where a wheel spin can cause anything to happen! Neil spins first and he… Oh my gods. He turns into a baby and it is the cutest thing I have ever seen. (He is literally absorbed into his shirt, I can’t-) Anyways, baby Neil ends up spinning the wheel while Jay fights for his life, with Neil winning and being able to use his wish on anything he wants. Neil really stretches out his wish to bring Zeus back and end the chess game which thwarts Cronus’ evil plan, as well as getting everyone the perfect presents for everyone, although he forgets to wish for some pants after turning back from a baby and he ends up in his underwear. (For some reason, the show loves stripping down Neil of some layers…) Anyways, Fortuna is also there and awaits her present, but Neil lays into her and doesn’t have a present for her because things could have been done a lot sooner if Fortuna wasn’t so fickle about things. (And honestly, he’s right, screw you Fortuna!)

In the next episode called Like A Rolling Stone, Neil arrived late to mini golf late and apologizes, which catches people off guard because he usually never apologizes for that. I’m gonna be honest, the way they laugh this off kinda makes me feel a bit sad for Neil because of circumstances, these circumstances being revealed once Herry pours some mustard on Neil and Neil doesn’t immediately freak out. This is because this is not actually Neil, this is Sisyphus granted the power of metamorphosis by Cronus, and Neil doesn’t actually show up until later since he was conditioning his hair in the time he was supposedly eating pizza. (Neil is confirmed at the real Neil deal because Jay tries to touch Neil’s shirt, and it doesn’t even take Jay touching it for Neil to get fussy, trying to get Neil to mind the crease.) While his friends know him well enough in order to figure out the real Neil, their earlier laughing off of Impostor Neil’s apology hurts because if that was actually Neil, the poor boy’s heart would sting after that.

Following this Sisyphus metamorphosis debacle, Neil in the Cronus’ Keystroke episode looks real cool after Theresa sets him up for a spike shot in beach volleyball that makes Odie and Herry crash into each other while Neil is wearing some cool shades, but there is a minute he actually scares the rest of the group closer to the end of the episode where Neil comes out of the portal while unintentionally making people think he was Cronus coming out of the portal. Neil’s whole thing in Daedalus or Alive is that he goes to the island Odie and Herry and Jay find because he wants to stay at the beach, ultimately being distraught at the end of the episode when he cannot stay. He also makes a comment about Theresa kicking the head off of a sentient stone statue imposter of Jay because he called her Atlanta, with Neil saying a wild comment that Theresa REALLY broke up with hey boyfriend, which makes Theresa quickly fling back a comment about how Jay is NOT her boyfriend. (Heh.)

Now, this episode titled Face Off probably has the most notes on it, and for good reason. Out of all of the episodes in this show, this is probably where Neil gets the most aggressive. Then again, his territory gets encroached on this episode, so it’s understandable. Now, how exactly does Neil’s territory get encroached on in this episode? Well, after saying that his beauty is both a gift and a curse, Neil opens up a box and unknowingly releases Adonis. The appearance of the God of Beauty causes Neil to become extremely jealous as literally every girl (Including Atlanta and Theresa) starts oodling over Adonis, and his pleas for Adonis to get back in the box are ignored, not to mention that he gets ignored while trying to make a dramatic exit. (During this bit of the episode, Adonis says that he usually hunts wild boars, but Neil takes that a different way as he says that it is wrong to hunt boring people. Neil, never change. Or, wait, do change, because that’s literally what I’m writing about…) In addition, Neil becomes extra angry with Adonis this episode because he doesn’t refer to him as Neil, with Adonis calling him Ned instead. Neil also has trouble properly expressing his frustrations to others either, as Herry and his best friend Odie don’t care because they’re playing video games, and Neil bringing up Persephone just makes here start throwing herself at Adonis as well. (By the way, Persephone is married to Hades, yet this wench cannot resist Adonis.) So, using 100% of his brain power, he comes up with the idea to challenge Adonis! Adonis interprets this as a fight to the death, Neil having to quickly back up and explain that he doesn’t want a physical contest, but a beauty contest. Neil throws out all of the stops, as not only does he look good in his first strut out on the catwalk, but he tells Adonis to bring it on as he employs the use of spotlight tricks and even brings out his signature black jacket and shades on the second go around. And… He fails miserably. Everyone cringes, his score is nowhere close to that of Adonis who really only had to walk out once, and his own mentor Aphrodite shoves him off the stage to kiss Adonis and announce The God of Beauty as the winner. As Aphrodite and Persephone start fighting over Adonis, Neil is watching this by peeking behind the curtain, with his takeaway basically being that people should be fighting over him instead. In the overall course of this series, I feel so bad for Neil, as this is the second lowest point Neil gets to in this series. (We’ll get to the first lowest point later.)

Neil’s comment in Tantalize This about how cats are self-centered carries more weight than I thought, because it just seems like a joke comment, but it actually helps reveal the psychology of Neil. The hilarity of the comment comes from the irony of how cats and Neil are both self-centered, which means that Neil is kind of like a cat. (I… Kind of want to see that fanart now.) Extending this metaphor further, much like cats, Neil can often be so greedy for attention. When he doesn’t receive this attention, he can become aggressive towards those not giving him attention or stealing the attention, but he can also become distraught. How does his life continue without the attention?

The rest of this episode focuses on Envy’s appearance, as the amount of envy generated by this situation attracts her, and she ends up trying to shoot Neil with her envy beam. Key word: trying. Instead of Neil getting shot, Adonis pulls a “GET DOWN, MISTER PRESIDENT!” and takes the beam instead. One problem: This makes Adonis hellbent on killing Neil. Neil starts scurrying as the chase begins, and Neil can initially outsmart Adonis with some cool reversals, but Adonis ends up catching Neil in the library. Neil ends up pinned on a statue by Adonis as he starts to admit that Adonis is the fairest one of them all, but after seeing himself in a mirror, Neil stops himself because that simply cannot be true. After the other heroes trap Envy back in Pandora’s Box, the episode ends with Adonis apologizing to Ned for nearly shooting him with his bow and arrow, and Neil finally begrudgingly overlooks the incorrect name and accepts the apology.

We don’t have much of the series left, which unfortunately means not much Neil left, so let’s get a move on! In the episode titled The Deep End- Hey, what the hell! I’m already using that name for Neil’s third arc, get a new name! What? That can’t be changed? Well, alright, I’ll ignore it… In The Deep End episode, mostly everyone (Except poor little Archie who is afraid of water) is enjoying their day out on the water, and they all start playing water polo a bit out of nowhere. This catches Neil off guard because he doesn’t know what the teams are, and his best friend Odie informs him he is the goalie of the team with Odie and Jay, before the team of Atlanta and Herry and Theresa subsequently score on them. Neil’s totally healthy response to Odie not informing him of this soon enough is to deke Odie in the back of the head with the water polo ball. (This isn’t addressed again in the episode, Neil gets away with this major friendly fire.) He also later teases Archie for accepting Atlanta’s swimming lessons and says that Archie’s fear of water is not as big as his crush on Atlanta, and despite being too busy tanning to go diving with the rest of the group, Neil gets fussy about there being no pictures of him on the dive camera.

Considering we’re now on the episode before the finale, along with how Neil centric Face Off was not too long ago, I didn’t think we’d get much Neil focus again. But… Oh boy. Would I be wrong. So TERRIBLY wrong! In fact, honestly, Golden Boy is probably the best Neil episode. However, this is only really worth it with all of the buildup we have had so far. At the beginning of the episode, the group notices Neil trying to pick up a girl by asking her to go be beautiful together, laughing amongst themselves about how that girl has no clue how vain Neil truly is. Shockingly though, with his unspoken rizz, Neil actually convinces the girl to go on a date with him. However, the girl quickly ends up leaving the date upset, because Neil is constantly talking about herself and dismissing her in the process. Neil gives himself a not so helpful affirmation that, if he really did talk to himself, he’d look stupid. Neil is then shown taking a depressed walk, and while realizing he does talk to himself and driving himself mad over it, he is giving off lowkey incel vibes by asking why no girl ever really wants. (I do hate the lowkey incel vibes this scene gives off, but it makes sense with the context of this scene, and it is admittedly a bit funny and pointed that such a self-centered character is the best incel representation.) Nemesis then shows up and tells him to shut up, before then cursing him with The Midas Touch, as he is such a golden boy. In typical Neil fashion, he of course sees this as a benefit at first, before then telling Nemesis he can’t exactly use a phone made out of gold. But then, it sinks in for Neil that everything he touches turns into gold, and he then freaks out and calls out for Nemesis and asks what he did wrong while having no self-awareness.

Neil’s not heard the end of it however, because his date and later interaction with the God of Justice has made Neil do the one thing he has always done, and that is be late. This extra sucks considering the group has a super important mission, a mission where the group could actually defeat and take out Cronus for good, and Atlanta is sent to pick Neil up with her super speed. All the way from the place where Atlanta picks Neil up to the docks where the mission is going down, Neil is trying to explain his situation, but Atlanta is just chewing him out the entire time because he’s always late and self-centered. This causes Neil to acquire depression, and in the process, he messes up with his task on a really big mission once again. He turns a boat to gold, which is causing mayhem with the other boats, alerting Cronus of the heroes’ presence and ruining the element of surprise. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: He also ends up turning Atlanta, Herry, and his best friend Odie into gold. Everyone is pissed at him, Cronus dismisses him off as a golden boy, and Neil runs away.

Neil ends up at the park, complaining about how it’s not fair that narcissism is literally in his veins due to his ancestry, before sarcastically remarking that he is like a mutant superhero named Golden Boy that people need to be saved from. He then spots a fountain and turns it to gold, before then hopping into the fountain, then turning the fountain water into bars to make himself a makeshift cell. This, right here, is Neil’s lowest point. His friends hate him, Cronus could very likely take power because of his mistakes, and he can’t even deflect by being narcissistic. In his moment of self-conviction, things are made even worse when the rest of the group decides it’s more important to find Cronus instead of Neil, making Neil truly feel all alone. (This… Wow, this entire scene just makes me feel so sad.) However, without his knowledge, Nemesis is watching this go down on a park bench. Then, he gets a smart idea to ask for Zeus to reverse The Midas Touch, before breaking out of the cell he made for himself. (Even Neil is surprised on how the gold is shocking soft.) Zeus then tells Neil he cannot reverse another god’s will, but instead, he should use the Midas Touch to his advantage.

Jay. Archie, and Theresa are trying to fight Cronus on their own. However, they don’t have the power to defeat him just on their own, and it looks like Cronus is gonna take them out. However, like “Stone Cold” Steve Austin running in to help Mankind win the WWF World Championship, Neil makes his entrance to save the day. He unironically calls himself Golden Boy and fully owns up to the nickname he has been tormented by this episode, and while his friends are just so shocked and honestly cringing a little bit, Cronus explains to Neil that he was mocking himself with that nickname because he assumes Neil is being just idiotic. Cronus doesn’t know what he’s getting into though, as Neil ends up turning Cronus to gold like a boss, and ends up calling Cronus pretty arrogant. Nemesis has seen enough, as she reverses the curse which turns everything and everyone Neil turned into gold back to normal, Nemesis believing that there is still hope for Neil. (Cronus really tries to claim he reversed the effects of The Midas Touch before Nemesis has to tell Cronus that she reversed the curse.) At the end of the episode, thanks to Neil’s actions, Cronus is defeated for now. This is the payoff I’ve been waiting for, and despite constantly blowing it and having a massive curse placed on him, Neil proves that he has truly changed enough and that he is truly a hero.

It’s now time for the series finale, and since it’s all hands on deck, Neil gets some good moments before we have to say goodbye to him. Neil gets woken up by a purple ghost thing, when he realizes that the purple ghost thing broke his mirror in his bedroom, which causes him to wail about it. (Side note, Neil immediately crying about a mirror of his getting broken is my favorite running gag.) While Odie and Hephaestus wonder how they are going to defeat the purple ghost thing, Neil does his Neil thing and his best friend Odie uses some big words to essentially describe a ghostbusting gun, with Neil not even realizing how he inspired the ghostbusting gun. Neil is hesitant about the ghostbusting gun, but his best friend Odie offers to let him use it, and Neil is immediately on board considering he gets to deliver cheesy one liners while using it. Jay asks if Theresa can sense Cronus, and Theresa says she can practically smell him, with Neil responding with “That’s just gross.” Later on during the big bad boss fight, literally everyone is getting in the way of Neil’s shot, with Neil understandably complaining about it. When he finally lines up a shot, Neil nearly blows the mission again, but Jay tells Neil to shoot the purple ghost thingy and not Theresa.

However, the cherry on top is my final note on Neil, and it wraps everything so nicely to me. So, at the end of the big fight, Theresa dies. Theresa is dead. She’s gone. Everyone is sad. Especially Jay. Jay never got to tell her the words he wanted to say. He loves her. He goes up to her. He holds her. He starts to cry. Tears fall down his face. They fall onto Theresa. Theresa… Wakes up. She’s alive again. Everyone is unsadified. Everything seems right again. And, before another situation pops up and it is too late to tell each other what the wanted to say, Theresa and Jay exchange a kiss. And… You know what Neil does? HE TELLS BOTH OF THEM TO GET A ROOM AFTER ALL OF THE SHIT THAT HAS JUST GONE DOWN! Gods, I love Neil. He has obviously changed significantly from his original appearance, but he’s still Neil at the end of the day, which I appreciate.

Obviously, I prefer Season 2 Neil over Season 1 Neil, he got more of a chance to improve and evolve and I got more invested into him because of that. Admittedly, while I am overall sad that the show didn’t get another season due to low viewership in the United States, I am also sad because we don’t get more of Neil. In a third season, I imagine he has storylines along the lines of one where he actually makes a friend that isn’t one of the heroes with that friend then turning out to be bad and/or a monster working for Cronus, or maybe one where him and Odie’s friendship is explored more. I am still very happy with the rollercoaster I got on by watching this show too, and after reading this and finally making it to the end of this extremely long post, I hope you did too.

[caseylicious]

Hey! I have no clue if youre taking requests or not but. i love your writing and I was wondering If we could get a ROTTMNT Donnie x Reader who has hanahaki? It can be as angsty or as fluffy as you want it to be! i love your writing!! and I cant wait to read more!🐢✨

The One.

Summary: How does Donnie react to the reader with hanahaki?

Character: Donnie.

Reader: GENDER NEUTRAL

Relationship: CRUSH

Warnings: Mentions of puke/vomit, Development of depression(?), Negative comments towards oneself, Death.

A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait dearest. Hanahaki.. a disease that I find so beautiful yet so tragic. My favorites of everything. Though if we were to think realistically? I'm sure half of our generation's population would perish to such a thing. Also, I'd like for you as the reader to choose your own flower which you sadly cough out. Since I'm unsure to what flowers represents unrequited love and heartbreak. So sorry if it isn't long enough </3 sorry if the plot is kinda wacky, especially with the ending,, sorry if it seems lazy </3 Now wondering if people still read this stuff. Now with that out of the way, please as always do enjoy.

As always! Please, Enjoy 💐

[ If you have any constructive criticism or corrections for any of my English do let me know! :) ]

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Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where someone begins coughing up flower petals because they have unrequited feelings for someone. The flowers can grow in the stomach, lungs, or heart, though it is traditionally in the lungs. Hanahaki Disease is a painful, slow disease that often develops over months, if not years, and begins with coughing up a few petals, and grows in intensity and pain until the victim is coughing up entire flowers, at which point the disease has reached its final stages. If not treated, the disease is fatal.

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You've had a crush on Donnie for long time. It honestly.. was quite shocking when you found yourself falling for a turtle out of all things, but hey. We don't judge here. April introduced you to the brothers and wow. It's not everyday you can tell someone "I'm going to go hang out with four giant turtles! Later!" It was a strange thought, Donatello? What about him was so interesting for you to feel like this? but you chose to embrace this warmth.

Recently, Donnie has been working on something big. Or at least, that's what he claims his amazing project to be. Nobody had any idea what it possibly could've been due to either disinterest or for how secrecy about this operation. Only you knew about it, which made you feel special.

"Y/N, I need your opinion on my excellence." Donnie spoke aloud for you to hear, snapping you out of your trance. You were on top of one of the spare chairs in his little laboratory. Which in your opinion was the most calmest out of places. The other brothers were just.. too much. No offense to them, just.. sometimes it was too much for you to handle. You could let yourself relax in this purple tinted room. You glanced from your hands then to the purple-coded mutant. "H.. huh? What?" Quickly taking notice of your lack of focus, he smirks. As a iron claw from his shell reaches out to pull your spinny-chair closer to him. "I just need your opinion on something. Nothing too big, could you do that?" You nodded, giving him a little smirk. "Is this about your spectacular project Don?" He rolled his eyes, "Of course it is Y/N. This has to be my biggest project yet." "Even bigger than Shelldon?" You nudged his shoulder gently as he was rummaging for what he wanted to show you. "Well.. obviously not, but it's up there." He then turned toward your direction as he pulled out two metallic boxes. One in a dark magenta and one in his brand of purple. One of them was more shinier, due to the hue. However the other seemed more aesthetically pleasing. With carved pictures of lavender on the cover. What did Donnie want to ask? "Which box looks better? The Magenta one or.. the purple one?"

You tilted your head a little, "This is your big project?" "I can kick you out of my lab y'know." You chuckled, mumbling a short apology before looking between the two.. thinking just for a second or two before pointing at the purple one. "That one. That's definitely the one." Donnie snickered quietly, rolled his eyes placing the boxes away. "Alright then, the purple one. Why that one necessarily? Why is that one.. The One?" He watched as you stretched and adjusted to put one leg on top of the other. He opened his mouth about to say something, assumedly to catch your attention, before you interrupted him. "Well.. purple is your color. It's special. It represents royalty, nobility, luxury, and power! Almost everything you are..." .. "But.. well y'know, because I like flowers.." For a moment there was silence, before he smiled out of satisfaction. His smile in a way made your chest feel warm... "Well, I'm flattered you feel that way. And yes, of course I'm luxurious in my craft. My creations powerful and mighty as I design them to be..." He leaned a little closer to you unknowingly. You felt your cheeks feel warm as you quickly looked between him and the floor. "Can I at least know what's this whole project is about?" He shrugged, "Wish I could, but I have to wait for the right time to take action..." You watched as he trailed off. Your hand slowly grabbed ahold of a simple wooden pencil, tapping the metal table one. "Don? What's up?"

His eyes trailed up, to make eye contact with you. ".. If I were to give this to somebody, what color do you think they'd like?" You blinked quietly, looking up at him "Well.. it really depends on the person..." He chuckled for a moment, glancing away from you. Bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Well that's why I a-" He was quickly interrupted with Leo running throughout his room, "Don- Say- what do I do if I somehow broke.. shelldon?" ... "Again-?" Donnie quickly got up frantically, "How did you manage to break him again?!" "More or so malfunction- Not my fault-!!" "Leo!!" And off he went, running out of his lab to go fix his creation with Leo. You were left by yourself, as you quickly shoved your head into your hands. Why did you word your reason like that..?! God, that was so embarrassing. You bit the inside of your cheek suffering for a couple of minutes. Before the thought appeared in your head, ... What was he going to say?

That was only a couple months ago, you decided to ignore it. But it just kept bothering you... alongside the burning flame inside of you for one person, Donnie. What started as a small thought then slowly developed into something bigger throughout your mind; almost like wildfire. Your feelings somehow just came at once when you were around him. When you felt his fingers rub against yours when he reached for his toolbox, when he spoke to you, when he gave you the littlest of attention, his smile. The thought of Donnie alone danced through your mind, a duet just for the both of you.. oh how sweet that was...

That was until you've noticed how he acted around April. At first you ignored it, April and Donnie were strictly friends. If not at least platonic... right? You weren't insecure of yourself that much. You felt that you and Donnie were at a good point in your friendship to consider the both of you as close. But watching them laugh together made you upset. This was normal, there was no need for you to feel like this... but April was closer to him more than you were with Donnie, you don't really know how they met. They could've known each other since they were kids, they could've been secretly together without you knowing- now that was just foolish.

At first when you saw April around Donnie, you felt a small nab at your gut. At first it was simple jealousy. The jealousy you feel when your crush shows more interest in another person. You though that, surely this feeling would pass. It wasn't important, this was something you could most definitely overcome.. but as each week passed, you felt something building up in your gut. Until you saw Donnie showing off that special little box infront of April.. Wasn't that your special secret? Why is he showing her? No- Stop it. They're just friends. That didn't mean anything- your train of thought came to an abrupt stop when you suddenly felt the urge to puke.

You pushed yourself into your bathroom, quickly slamming the door shut. You frantically made your way to the sink, which was alone a whole struggle. Your vision was hazy, you were warm, everything just hurt. The stabbing that once was tolerable became a distraction, which soon became a jab into your throat. You couldn't breathe. Were you choking? You didn't know, you just desperately held onto the sides of the sink and coughed out whatever you could... You already felt like you were fighting for your life. What the hell was stuck in your throat? And finally, something came out. You gasped for a breath of fresh air. You could breathe.. it was only when you looked down you saw something truly horrific. "..O.. oh my god..."

Petals. You stared in horror to the petal and blood mixed vomit in the sink. How? How was this possible? There was no way that actually existed... You went to your local pharmacist to get a diagnosis just to be sure and you were right. You were diagnosed with the Hanahaki disease. They said that you were already so deep in this sickness. The only way to get rid of this disgraceful disease was to have a surgery performed on you, but that would mean to risk losing all your feelings for Donnie. You couldn't possibly do that, you'd rather sit in your own suffering than to forget how you felt for Donnie. So that's what you did. You tried to keep your distance, but April just kept bringing you to the lair. You could've said no, you could've avoided this whole mess together. Yet something inside of you kept telling you to go. Maybe it was the thought of Donnie or to avoid suspicion, you didn't really have a clue what it was. Nonetheless you kept going down, and seeing Donnie. You tried to look okay, but you struggled. Donnie was sure to notice, especially with the fact the pain that was in your lungs soon changed how you acted around them.

You always were somehow able to excuse yourself when it got bad though. It was a simple system of running to the Hamato bathroom when nobody was noticing. You felt ashamed of doing this without nobody knowing.. but what would Donnie think? You had nightmares of him becoming scared of you. You didn't want him to force himself to feel anything just for you to become better. You didn't want to act out on them any of them, but how could you not? You were in pain... Sooner or later this disease would win the fight and destroy you. You feared death, but.. Donnie... You just wanted was best for him. Even if he didn't ask for it, your insecurity clouded your line of thought. It clouded any consideration that maybe April, Donnie, anybody was worried for your mental being. How you felt. But that didn't matter. Soon your sickness took over your ability to move your arms, your legs, it hurt to even get up.

Your dear friend April stood outside your bedroom door. She had a spare key to your house, you just trusted her that much. Before this whole mess you two were inseparable in school... she was a kind girl, determined, perhaps had more in common with Donnie... No wonder he gave her his attention. "Y/N! Ready to go see the guys?" You quickly turned your head to the door, .. right. You were going to go see them. "C- coming..! Just have to put on my.. uhh.. shirt." "Well hurry up, don't want to keep them waiting!" Grabbing the graphic tee, you gulped. There were thorns blistering through your forearm, flowers dangerously close to blooming. You couldn't wear a shirt. You swiftly grabbed a sweatshirt, forcing it on. It stung to even rest properly in it as tears swelled in your eyes as you let out a sniffle. "Y/N? Are you cryng-?" It hurt to do anything... You lip quivered. This was pathetic; embarrassing. You couldn't do anything! April knocked on the side of your door, why was she even here? Was she mocking you? "Y/N, are you oka-" "Why are you even here?! Just leave! Get out-!" You quickly fell to your knees, covering your mouth one hand. As the other held tight to your stomach. You stayed like that for about a minute or so before you heard the door close. Once you've confirmed it was actually closed and locked, you immediately dropped to your knees and coughed out blood. Flower petals dropping from your mouth, mixed with blood. A burning agonizing sting filling your throat as you cried. She was gone. You pushed her away.. over what? Some stupid crush you have on a turtle?

A couple weeks passed as you chose to isolate yourself from the outside world. You just laid in bed, feeling vines grow inside of you. As the vines creeped through your bones. It was agonizing... was this how you were going to die? Laying in bed? Perhaps this was more preferred. Nobody needed to see what you have become. You felt like a monstrosity.. vines and leaves growing through your skin. Mixed-in with blood.. And besides, you were in the comfort of something familiar, your bedroom. God... how pathetic you were. At least Donnie wouldn't have to see you like this.. right?

... April knocked on the side of Donnie's lab door, watching Donnie turn to her. "Yo Don, could I talk to you?" He nodded, turning away from her to focus on his project. Letting her sit in the spare chair as she quickly spoke. "Do you know what's up with Y/N? They've been acting off lately." Donnie came to a pause, slowly glancing towards April. "No, I don't know what's wrong with them. Do you know?" April shook her head with a frown. "Last time I saw them, they seemed upset. I tried to leave them alone for a week.. but I don't know. I'm just worried." as they both sighed. Donnie crossed his arms letting the little claws from his battle shell continue on with his project for him. "I.. see. Have you tried calling them? They usually answer right?" April nodded, pulling out her phone to look at. Scrolling through her contacts before pressing on one with your name. "I've called them recently, they didn't answer. They always answer.." Donnie hummed, soon getting off his chair. "Well.. I have no clue what could possibly be keeping them away from the phone. I could try going out myself to see them. Though I can't guarantee they'll answer me." "Wait, before you go? Take this." She quickly walked over to Donnie, dropping a key into his hands. "It's their keys.. uhm, how do you plan on getting them to talk?" and Donnie sighs, pulling out the same box shown months ago. "I think now would be a good time to show them this." April quickly noticed what it was before nodding firmly, before she watched his battle shell become a jetpack. Flying him out of the sewers and towards your apartment.

You laid in your bed, feeling the moonlight hit your skin. You felt yourself fade away so very slowly. To see Donnie would be a curse.. or would it be a blessing? You didn't really have a clue how you'd feel anymore. It hurts to think about him. You sort of accepted your fate to end like this. Wherever you stepped, there was a loud crunch. Whenever you spoke, there was a tight squeeze around your neck. The petals always became more horrific, covered in blood and bone. You were fine dying like this though. Feeling yourself break down into nothing but flora. You could feel your last breathe coming, god this hurt-

"Y/N! Are you home!"

You heard a loud banging against your window. Your eyes widened in horror begging to any existing force that it wasn't who you thought it was.

"It's Donnie, my brothers and April were worried about you." ... "I was worried about you, can you please come out and talk?"

As you opened your mouth trying to get a word out, you suddenly felt your body burn. This may have been the worst pain you've ever felt throughout your whole illness. You couldn't even say anything, no matter how hard you tried. As your heart ached, the vines and thorns only became tighter. Stabbing into your muscle and popping veins. You choked on your blood and the thorns stabbing into your throat. Donnie panicked when he heard you whimper as he quickly attempted to break through your window. You shut your eyes tightly, wishing for this pain to go away. The last thing you hearing was the window shatter and fall to the floor. Donnie fell to the floor, quickly getting up. Only to be horrified to what he saw. It was your body, flowers bloomed out of your skin. He watched as another flower bloom out of your mouth. "Y/N..? Oh my god-"

He rushed to your side, looking at your pale skin.. He knew immediately what this was. This was Hanahaki, the deadly love disease those who were unfortunate enough suffered from. The realization itself was horrifying, alongside with your dead body. It was unsettling how a few seconds ago, he heard you choke on your blood and whimper, just to only then see your peaceful body. In your bedroom out of all places, you looked like you were asleep. He almost mistaken this to only be a bad dream, but he knew it wasn't. He felt a tear roll down his cheek as his breath stuttered. Donnie gently took out the box he had in his shell. Slowly looking down at it, the purple box had flowers engraved on the sides. A painful match to the flowers wrapped around your body, he slowly opened it as a butterfly flew out. Specifically in your favorite color, watching it glow and fly around before landing on the flower coming out of your mouth. As he fell to his knees, holding onto your frail delicate hand tightly. As he sobbed your name, mourning you. For never being to tell you how he felt. For how he loved you, and how you were The One so dear to his heart.

[alex51324]

OK, so I'm now caught up on Interview With the Vampire (TV). I have some observations:

Wow, was that trial ever a master-class in poor-little-meow-meowification! I was legit getting flashbacks from the (season 1-hiatus) Izzy Trenches, with the whole, "Pointing out that he doesn't have to put up with my behavior, and he wouldn't recommend anyone else do so either, is--due to Meow-Meow's personal circumstances--an act of such exquisite cruelty that it excuses pretty much anything he does while he's upset about it," and "sure, yeah, this thing Meow-Meow did sounds bad to you normies, but because we're pirates vampires it's barely anything; a slight loss of temper for which he should be forgiven completely because the other dude said something mean", thing, plus the side of "Oh, but that threatening to leave is the most brutal form of abuse thing applies only to Meow-Meow, and in only one direction; it's fine for decide to part ways with anyone else at any time for any reason, and nobody else has any right to find that at all upsetting."

(To be clear, I genuinely liked this in IWTV; it was interesting seeing an audience falling eagerly into this trap, when the audience is also fictional, and the show itself is winking and nodding to us about it.)

(I do wonder if the show is going to grapple with this at all next season--the reunion suggests that Louis had also fallen into this trap. I'm unconvinced by the fan-theories suggesting that Lestat was an unwilling participant in the trial; there might have been some use of vampire mind-powers to keep him on-script during the proceedings, but I think he genuinely didn't realize he gave a shit about Claudia until it was too late.)

2. The aging-up of Claudia's character (she was a little little girl in the books) puts her at right about the same age as The Vampire Currently Known As Armand was when he was originally sex trafficked as a human, and I wonder about that stirring up some long-buried feelings. Does the grotesque parody of innocence inherent in Baby LuLu have some parallel in his experience as a sexually exploited child? What happened to Arun--or to Amadeo, even--if he failed to play his part with a reasonable facsimile of enthusiasm?*

On the one hand, I'm interested in these potential parallels; on the other hand (glancing back up at point 1), it's a tricky needle to thread, to see these parallels as contextualizing Armand's actions, but not excusing them. I do not entirely trust fandom not to turn this into, "Well, she reminded him of His Worst Trauma, so everything he did to her was basically self-harm, and he pretty much had to kill her in order to achieve closure on that period of his life**."

(*Some of this may be addressed in the books? The Vampire Armand came out on the waning edge of my Anne Rice phase; I'm pretty sure I read it, but I don't remember much about it, and I don't have a copy. The parallels with Claudia wouldn't be, though, because in the books she was 5.)

(**Izzy Trenches flashbacks again.)

3. As someone who read the books back in the day, I appreciated the brief mention in S1 that Louis's grandfather had owned a plantation, worked by men who "shared his complexion but not his circumstances." To me, that line opened up the possibility of reimagining Book!Louis as also being Black.

(To be clear, he canonically could not have been; beyond that fact that It Would Have Come Up, in the first few pages--which I just re-read--he is described as being bone-white. Even if he was mixed and white-passing, it doesn't quite work.

However, Anne Rice did write a book, Feast of All Saints, about a mixed-race protagonist, who was the son of a slave owner and a woman he enslaved. I remember almost nothing about it, except that the white father had promised to free him and send him abroad to be educated, but broke that promise. Porting some of that over onto a book-canon-era Black Louis could be very interesting.

I'd have to re-read both books--and probably TVL, too--to be able to even think about writing it, which is...unlikely, but I put that idea out into the universe.)

[lifblogs]

Rookie Flight Maneuvers

@summer-of-bad-batch Week 13 Prompt: "Stop touching me!" // "I'm not touching you!" Alt. Prompt: Crashing Hard Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 513 Summary: Hunter is taking a flight test with his squad, and brotherly chaos ensues. Author's Note: Here it is! My last fic for Summer of Bad Batch. This has been such an amazing time, and I have written some of my favorite one-shots ever for this event. This tested me in some ways, expanded my writing horizons, and has even led to me making new friends. I deeply cherish this event, and can't believe it has come to an end. And especially since I started the event in a cast, healing from surgery and only able to write and post by painstakingly using my phone. I've come a long way during this. I had so much fun. I don't want to stop typing about how great this was because then it'll really be over. Wow. Just wow. Thank you to everyone who has been reading my fics! (No, I won't cry when I mark this series as complete. *is lying*) READ ON AO3

“Stop touching me!” Wrecker cried.

“I’m not touching you!” Crosshair argued back.

Both cadets were in fact touching each other, shoving, shoving…

Wrecker fell right into Hunter, nearly against the console of the ship they were training in.

“Hey!” Hunter cried as the ship lurched. “Are you trying to get us all killed?”

“Pull up,” Tech ordered.

He gritted his teeth, and tried to do as his brother said, and the ship lurched to the left.

“I said up,” Tech told him, “not port.”

“Why don’t you fly it?”

“Pick on someone your own size,” Crosshair demanded in the back.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Wrecker whined, already much bigger than all of them.

“Sit down,” Hunter told them.

“I can’t fly it,” Tech responded, distracting Hunter from some of the chaos. “This is your test.”

A massive wave came up from the ocean, and Hunter tried to avoid it, but too late, and the wave hit the ship, rattling and rolling it. Hunter tried to go with the wave rather than fight it.

Wrecker and Crosshair, who weren’t strapped down, ended up falling, and Crosshair shoved Wrecker, who hit the console, and buttons sparked and flashed, and warning lights bathed them in red, an alarm blaring.

“Great. I knew this would happen,” Tech sighed.

Hunter tried to right the ship, to at least get it bobbing on the surface of the angry ocean. The amount of stimuli he was taking in was close enough to make him blow.

He tried flying the ship, but something burst, they were launched forward, Hunter hitting his head on the console. It was like there was a flash in his brain, and then a momentary blackness, and what he next knew was that something hot and wet was dripping down his face.

The ship was shoved back, and crashed hard into a wide support pillar.

Hunter leaned back, putting a hand to his head, and Tech looked up from his datapad—had he been on that the whole time?—to say, “I’ll fly us back.”

Hunter groaned, and Wrecker, and Crosshair collapsed into their seats.

“What a mess,” he voiced aloud.

“Don’t worry. We’re special ops,” Tech said. “Or will be. It’s not like they can decommission us. I don’t think.”

Hunter used his sleeve to mop the blood from his face. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tech.”

They started to switch seats, Hunter unsteady as the ship bobbed in the waves.

“You’re welcome.” His tone was completely deadpan.

“They still feed us if we’re decommissioned, right?” Wrecker asked as Tech took the ruined training vehicle out of the water.

“No,” Crosshair lied… potentially.

Wrecker growled, and they started fighting all over again.

“I told you not to touch me!” Crosshair shouted.

“No, I told you!”

Hunter just held his throbbing head. Usually he loved his brothers, but they were pushing him to the limit today.

“Just get us home,” Hunter said to Tech.

“Yes, sir.”

The two-fingered salute he gave him was sarcastic. Fine. Whatever.

A commotion sounded behind him.

Wrecker cried, “Stop touching me!”

[iamnmbr3]

Hello!

You’re really cool and I could spend all day going through all your posts where you answer drarry asks :)

I am writing a Drarry fanfic at the moment, my first one actually! So far I’ve written an epilogue and I’m almost done with Chapter 1 Part 1. I’m being really careful with planning too much of the fic too soon, because knowing me I will probably get bored of writing it so easily. But the ending is bugging me, I thought I had solved a massive plot hole but turns out I haven’t :(

So I have a few questions for you, and I’d be so thankful if you could answer at least one or two of them! You don’t have to answer them all if you don’t feel like it (I feel bad for asking so many lol). I’m assuming you have no interest of reading my fanfic XD, so I’m sure you don’t mind any spoilers?

So, the questions (read them all before answering!):

If Voldemort hadn’t gotten his hands on some of Harry’s blood in GOF, and if he hadn’t gotten the blood into his body with that blood ritual thing Wormtail did to bring him back, what consequences do you think it would have had?

If Voldemort accidentally got someone else’s blood into his body, thinking it was Harry’s, what consequences would it have? Would he still come back or would the ritual fail, and what would happen to Voldemort if it failed? What would happen to his soul and his temporary body?

If Voldemort accidentally got some of Draco Malfoy’s blood into his body, thinking it was Harry’s, would it still count? If Draco was a traitor, would he count as Voldemort’s “enemy” and therefore his blood as “the blood of the enemy”? Would this make any difference for Voldemort’s return, and would there form some type of bond between Draco and Voldemort?

Since Wormtail cut off his hand, and the hand + some of his blood was put into the potion, what theories would that leave room for? Could Wormtail have some form of bond between him and Voldemort and/or Harry because of it?

The reason Lily’s love protected Harry was because she got asked to move out of the way three times but refused, before sacrificing herself. Or at least that’s the theory that has stuck with me. What do you think would happen if somebody did that, but after refusing to move out of the way three times they’d get injured badly but not killed? Would it still count as protecting them, and would the person protected have the same type of protection that Harry had until he turned 18? Does the person who protects someone have to be a mother, or could it be somebody else?

That’s all I have for now! Wow, it looks much, but I’m sure you can answer a few of these at the same time XD

Lots of love xx

Thank you so much for your kind words! It always delights me so much to hear that people enjoy my blog and my posts. Also that's awesome that you're writing a drarry fic! You go! Of course, my answers are just my own opinions. It doesn't mean you could make something else happen in your fic.

If Voldemort didn't use Harry's blood he'd probably be unable to touch Harry without burning the way Quirrel did. Also he and Harry might not have been quite as closely linked which potentially means a weaker telepathic connection, possibly Voldemort doesn't get knocked out when Harry dies, and possibly Harry doesn't come back from the dead.

Would depend on if it was an enemy. The ritual would probably still work bc let's be real. Voldemort has a lot of enemies. Potentially it could fail tho or not work as well depending on whose blood it is.

Depends when. By book 7 yeah. But of course Voldemort's return is a big reason why Draco changes his attitudes - because he is confronted with the reality of who Voldemort is and what being part of his cause means. So potentially the blood ritual would fail earlier on.

Possibly. We see no canon evidence of it. The bond between Voldemort and Harry isn't just because of the blood ritual but also because Harry is a Horcrux. I think if they had any type of bond Voldemort would've been more protective of Wormtail (even if he still felt dislike and distain for him) in case Wormtail getting hurt could harm him in any way. Since we don't see that I don't think there's evidence of a bond. But that would be super cool to explore in a fic.

Personally I think the implication is just that it's because she chose to die - rather than the power of 3. And I also headcanon that she did some kind of actual blood magic using herself as a sacrifice. Actually, the whole thing kinda mirrors Voldemort's ritual. Lily the willing sacrifice, Voldemort the sacrifice of the enemy, and James the unknowing sacrifice. But the idea of the power of three is very neat and could add some cool world building to a fic. I think if Lily hadn't died it probably wouldn't have worked. I don't think the person doing the protecting has to be a mother.

[selkie-on-land]

Why I don't like the Ariel Live Action and my thought on this topic

disclaimer 1 : please, I'm french, I'm sorry in advance for any wrong sentences etc. I will do my best but I'm not perfect.

disclaimer 2 : I'm new on this app, so I don't know all the functionnalities, how to do this or that, I will try my best to make a descent and pleasant visual post. I know there is differents ways to respond, we can ask I think ? like publishing a post on the profile on someone (that's it right?), there is the republished and adding your own post and the comment section. That's all the option I'm aware off.

disclaimer 3 : WOW ! I just finished to wrote this down and I didn't expected to talk about so many differents subjects !

So I will, list them, as TW, so please, if your sensible to this subject, protect yourself and skip my post. Take care. 👥🤍

School harassment, eating disorder, body dismorphia, suicide attampt, sa and masculine violence in general, incest, familly abuse, racism, lesbophobia, ableism, gingerism, alcool, afrocentrism.

I'm sorry in advance if I miss one.

I hope, it will be an interesting reading.

Prologue :

I know I will receive pretty much all the hates of the world for this but, I'm autistic and Ariel was and is my very first special interest, so I don't care.

I will say/write what has to be written because I'm so sick of the misunformation about her.

I hate any misinformation at all cause I'm autistic but it's so much worst when it's about one of my s.i and unfortunatelly for me, the ones I have are very specific and the society and the patriarchy built a HUGE LIE and basically, any historical information about matriarchy/mythology/patriachy are just misunformation. But there is just too much that I can't correct everyone, everything, because I don't have the energy and because it caused me so much stress that I have a meltdown everytime. So I'm already used to the tense, so I think I will survive the hate about this post.

The real subject of the post :

The Live-Action of The Little Mermaid is at the same time good ? and the absolute worst !!!

Disclaimers : I'm not a fan of Live-Action, it's not specific to The Little Mermaid.

My pov on it is :

Either make the most realistic and exact same as the animation movies, or GO CREATIVE and create something new, a story about someone in the same universe, a prequel, anything. Like Cruella for exemple (I admid I didn't watched it), or Maleficient (I watched it don't worry and loved it) ! It works perfectly, and because it's in a total different universe but based on the same fairytale, you can create anything and it doesn't have to follow the animation movie. It's not an adaptation but more like an extra movie about this universe that you loved ! Or like Mulan (plus it corrected something that was culturally disrespectful : Mushu). I think I love them only if there are creative and create something new.

And here is why :

As an autistic person, I HATE the change, so if it must be an adaptation that I've read/seen, IT MUST be perfect and there MUST BE NOT CHANGE AT ALL otherwise IT RUINS AND DESTROYED WHAT I LOVED AND I END UP HEARTBROKEN. Truly, I had to go to therapy to deal with it and to morn all the differents possibilities of the adaptation that could be the MOST accurate to the animation movie. I waited more than twenty five years to see it and it was a disaster. Too close to be complety hated but too different to be accepted and loved.

In the differents possibilities of an live action of The Little Mermaid, I also imagined some that were about the second or third animation movie. Or about the show.

I bet no one knew (except the ones that have Disney + now), that there was a show about her adventures.

In this one for exemple, she had a mute great friend, Gabriella ! And I LOVED HER SOOOO MUCH !!! She speak with her hands (signing) and her friend an octopus, Olie, translate with his voice. He's sooo cute ! When they go swimming he hang himself on her tail, like if he was riding Gabriella. This is so cute ! I felt so seen, first because I wasn't always verbal as a kid.

And for other kids that weren't pale like me, she was very tan with absolutely wonderful almond green eyes and a bob haircut with browns/dark blond hair. (I think it showing that I had a crush on her and ship them so much lol)

And because when she saw Ariel for the first time, it felt (for me) like she had love at first sight (I knew very young that I loved only girls). Honestly, their story is more a love story to me than a friendship, but it's obviously subjectiv.

Ariel also adopted (secretly) a lost baby killer whale, Spot, a specific

under species of those that only lived in arctic or antarctic.

Killer whale are my most favorite sea animals with seals (I know they don't get along together).

Representations :

I always identitified myself with Ariel because she was a redhead and so had a pale skin. Even if when I was very young my hair where short and almost dark auburn, I could relate with Blanche Neige as I was pretty similar to her but the animation movie scared me so much that I still have nightmares of those sometimes. My hair turned even more light auburn / redhead when I started my puberty and they became slowly but definitely curly/wavy, and then I related even more to Ariel.

And I'm so glad I had her as a model because it's when the bullying, harrassment, assault, s.assault, pushed to unalive myself because in their countries (maghreb) I would I been tortured, raped, burnd alive etc. And every day they (a bunch of boys) come to tell me that I should be dead and were surprised that I didn't killed myself yet. So many times per days, every days, for four long years.

In younger classes, my bff (a girl) was from morroco, and neither her or her mother ever told me things like this. Neither any other girls or women in my whole life from those countries. Only boys and men. So it's not about the people where they were from, but the boys and men and the misogyny from where they were from.

So the fact that Ariel (and Blanche Neige too but they choose an afro descendant to represent a very pale character, we have absolutely no representation, they are all erased or replaced) must be pale was a VERY HUGE expectation for me, cause it was litteraly what partielly saved me. I however did some of the things they told me to do (atttempt in a very specific ways, I did it at the same date evey year, waiting for Death to come get me).

So in my mind castle of the possibilities, there was an adaptation of Ariel as pale redhead with her girlfriend/bff that is deaf and not "white", with her own story. And that could had been absolutely perfect ! Because they didn't had to imagine one, she already existed! (And that would have been quite an argument for the "gnagnagna woke, inclusivity bs gnagnagna".)

Girls and women deserve representation, but come on, the bare is in hell ! We deserve good representation. As a little girl I was far from looking like Pocahontas but I still related to her, because what we saw as kid is not JUST how she look likes (this is so misogynistic that we only exist and have physical characteristics) but also about what they love, what they does, what they stand for etc.

I BET every little girl that has ever seen the little mermaid identified as her when we were at the beach and damn even more if they were a rock where we could sit and do the thing with the wave ! Or when suddenly the wind makes our hair dancing and in our head we look like Pocahontas ! (But you know there is the expectation Vs reality 😂)

Physical representation matters, but saying that, it's the only things for girls to rely on is bullshit and misogynistic.

Why erasing the redhead pale mermaid when it already existed a brown skin mermaid and have both which is even better for the representation in the franchise of the little mermaid ?

Even thoug, signing girls were already kinda represented with Ariel who is a mermaid (as her human form), who is loved, accepted and have fun even if she doesn't speak. But then, there is Gabriella and she just not speak but she signs with the real signing langage ! That's amazing !

They could have done a wonderfull job and created an adaptation where there was two amazing mermaids a pale one (not a white one) and a brown one. Who instead of being in competition could have been friends and shows and learns sorority, or even for once love between two girls or here two mermaids. That would have been amazing ! I would have loved so much to have this and I'm sure little girls (whatever their skin color would have loved it too !)

Growing up I would have loved to know that there weren't anything wrong with me for loving girls and not boys like in absolutely every single movies or animation movies.

We were kissing each other in secrets, deeply convinced that we were doing something wrong, bad, and we did it in secret full of shame because we knew it was forbidden. There wasn't a rule written with it was is ok and was it not, it's more uncunscious. But at 4 y/o we already knew and felt that it was not ok, and still at 13.

I only learn that they were people that love the same sex that their own, in teenagehood, not because there was a lesson about the three differents sexuality (heterosexual, bisexuel, homosexual). No I learned it with all the slurs on all the ones that coudn't hide their sexuality and they all were bullied. It's only around my majority when I was 17 y/o that I knew it wasn't something wrong.

I was accepted in a big group of friends, we were so different from each others, with so many background, but goddess I LOVED THEM SO MUCH ! They helped me setting the things rights, like REALLY. I had no bar, no bounderies, nothing. I grew up with an incestuous big brother (it started when I was 3), violence within all my family (except my dad and step mum), and school harassment since I'm 3 until 22 y/o. No friends or rarely. Or fake ones. Until this group. They teached me that differences is fun, we can learn from each other, they were curious, everyone was curious to understand the pov of everyone even if we thought the opposite. I was so sexually abused in my life that I coudn't bare being in anything that could reveal my skin, my shape. I was soooo prude. Because my brains associated nudity with bad things. But thoses guys (we were mixte) teached me that our body exist to allow us to experiment life. They help me heal from eating disorder, bodydismorphia, shame, and so many other things. We could ALL be naked sitting comfortablelly and not good looking, with rolls, saggy boobs, het, bi, or homo, everything was fine. (Disclaimers, we were drunk when we were naked, drinking red wine, with flower or tree crowns philosophising on life etc. That was so cool and nothing was sexual. Except with one guy who did and tried to sa every girls that came in the groups, he was punched a multiples times by the others mates but not excluded sadly). And within this group they were lesbians and bisexuals persons, a couple of male bff where saying there were married to each other and kissing and every thing was fine and so funny. This was when I learned that it was ok for me to be lesbian. But for fifteen years I hated myself for being like this. Like if there wasn't enough things wrong about me there was this too on the list. It was such a relief ! I even tried to unalive myself because of this guilt.

So yes, I think we definitely should have something for the girls to let them know that it's ok. There is nothing wrong with them.

Resume of all the fact that indicated that Ariel lived in the north of the Atlantica, North of the Europe and not in the Caribbean :

Spot, the Killer Whale

Ariel meeting Great White Shark (living in cold water)

Ariel meeting Hans Christian Andersen who live in Denmark

The Kingdom of Atlantica is near the Groenland

Melody swam quickly to the Groenland, which is in the territory of the Denmark

So it makes absolutely no sense to say it actually happens in the gulf of guinea, in south africa (except for the shark and the killer whale part) or in Caribbean.

BUT !

If the goal was to have only afro descendant community in the representation, I WOULD HAVE LOOOOOOOOVED not to see a Dannish fairytale as representation.

And it blows my mind that it doesn't seemed to occur or bother any usa black afrocentrist. Like ???? This is si insulting ! They all say 'anything that is not black or brown is a coloniser' but they don't seemed to have any problem with having a fairytale that is from a country that colonized (and still doing it 👀) a lot of country in different continents including Africa to represent the afro culture ?! 🤡

You said you want to represetant "YOUR" culture, but obviously you have no idea of what culture you're talking about. You think continent and country is the same, so you think that european has no culture and at the same time you said "european culture". You talk about african culture. Asian culture. But None of them exist. You think Africa is Egypt, maybe South Africa and that's it. Asia is only Japan and China. No. And you have absolutely zero knowledge about not just geography but history too.

Denmark was one of the coloniser country of the African Continent (in case you didn't know). So no I wouldn't choose I dannish fairytale to represent the people from Africa or afro descendant no.

Mermaids are a wordwilde story because it descent and came from Matriarchy. And before Patriarchy, the whole world was Matriarchal. So you can found myths and tales about them in every culture that exists in the world.

So for an afro representation there would had been a lot of choice !

I want to hear everything about the tales of Oshun, Mami Wata, Yoruba and all of the others all over the world ! But I bet you have no idea of who they were and are.

The Yorùbá Goddess Yemaya.

Conclusions :

A huge thank you for reading my very long post.

I think I'm good. I mean, I think I'm done writing my thought about the Ariel Live Action and all the topics that were brings along it and were causing a lot of "scandale". No, wait, I forgot the word? Debate ? Idk.

Please, feel free to share with me your thought on it ! What's that makes you think ? What part are you agreeing, or not agreeing ! And please, explain to me why (agreeing and not, both). I might not get it bc we don't share the same shoes and as autistic I don't always "catch" it.

And please, don't get angry or insult me if I don't understand immediatly your thought or if I don't guess them. I'm not a mind reader, so please, if you think about something that I am not aware off or didn't bring the topic on.

We can all learn from each other. It's not because we have different point of view on something that our views are necessarily in contradictions, they can complete each other's.

Thank you. 🤍

[oddygaul]

brand anti-synergy, 1 Year Anniversary

Wow, I’ve been doing this for a whole year now. Why not take a moment to be retrospective about it?

Keeping this journal has certainly accomplished its primary goal, which was to better remember the media I’ve engaged with and how I felt about it. If I didn’t have this blog and asked myself what I was watching / reading exactly a year ago, my answer would probably be “No idea!”; now, I can just scroll back through the archive and remember exactly what was going on and how it made me feel. Given the ever-increasing speed with which life seems to pass me by as I age, it’s nice to have little strategies like this that anchor moments in time, that help me remember how much time has really passed and all the things I’ve done.

Of course, it doesn’t work out in a conversational sense – I can’t exactly call a timeout and re-read my journal to refresh my memory mid-conversation – but even so, the increased time I now spend reflecting on the art I engage with solidifies my thoughts on a work better in my long-term memory, I think.

Although, suppose I should be doing this for more personal matters, too, and not just art? Hm.

I’ve definitely been more and less successful in keeping up with writing, depending on the month, although I think it’s safe to say my frequency has been trending upward for a while now. Plus, those peaks and valleys, in their own way, help chart the course of my life at those times. Like, yeah, I didn’t write a lot in the months after my dad died; no shit. I absorbed myself in tracking an album instead.

I’ve written some things I’m proud of, surprisingly. When I set out, the idea was that this was purely a journal, with no particular consideration toward readability. From the start, I knew I didn’t want these to be typical reviews, because reviews spend time introducing the subject to the viewer to give context, and I don’t have much interest in spending that time. These are for me, and for any little freaks that are so waist-deep in whatever the topic is that they’re diving through tags deep enough to find it. So, by design, the blog is inherently unapproachable.

Despite that, I still have a few posts that I think are solid, standalone pieces of writing, and a few more that I consider genuinely good analyses of particular works, even if they are likely impenetrable to someone unfamiliar with the work… and I think that’s enough for me. Some of them are certainly banal and worthless, but you know what? That’s fine. Sometimes I finish something and I don’t have anything profound to say, don’t have any interesting takes, don’t have any deep thoughts or self-reflection knocked loose from my brain while I was watching or reading… but I still want to remember if I liked it or not. And I think the willingness to record those insipid reactions anyway is healthy. Who knows – maybe it’s a baby step towards fixing my unhealthy relationship with perfectionism and creativity in general.

The longer it’s been, the more time I spend (read: too much time) taking screenshots and choosing images to put in the posts. On one hand, I genuinely do think this helps with memory – a picture’s worth a thousand words, after all, and seeing a scene or moment that meant something to me instantly recalls the work to mind in a way reading a summary does not. But also? I like pretty pictures, and I’d rather the blog be filled with them than not.

My biggest concern, a year in, is that I’m subconsciously compelled to actually read less, watch less, play less, because I have this shadow hanging over me in the form of unfinished blog posts piling up in a backlog. A similar kind of stress affects a lot of my creative output, generally, so I’m trying to be wary of letting that mindset affect things that are supposed to be for, y’know, unwinding, de-stressing, or experiencing joy. I don’t… think it is, though, too much? I’ve never really been one to binge things anyway, and even when I do, I absolutely do not retain any of it even a month later, so if anything I’m okay with correcting that behavior in lieu of more intentional consumption.

Time will tell.

Anyway, not that many people follow this intentionally, but thanks to anyone that reads my ramblings. The first time I got a classic tumblr reblog, with responses as full run-on sentences in the tags, I felt like I’d really made it in this world.

[totallynotandie]

Writing Prompt #1

Characters reaction to being kidnapped.

I wrote this like, two years ago and was going to post it when I finished it’s sister piece (my ocs reaction to being kidnapped) it was supposed to represent a proxy who has dealt with the operator for years and is comfortable enough to know what is and what isn’t it’s influence and my oc was supposed to represent someone newer to all of this, not yet realizing the thoughts they can’t control aren’t their own.

Let me know if you want to see that sister piece! I need motivation lol

Anyway! Enjoy reading

————————————————————————

Brain woke up with a headache worse than it usually was, trying his best to figure out what the fuck exactly happened and why he was tied to a chair with a bag over his head. The last thing he remembered was that he was out on a simple mission, surveying the forest and getting rid of trespassers to appease the Operator. It had been a quiet night with the only interesting thing being the cabin he found. He previously remembered it to have been abandoned, however there was clearly light coming from inside. He didn’t waste time giving thought to it, figuring it was too late for any camper to be awake. He’ll make this job quick so he can get back sooner.

The first step in and he didn’t have time to react to the harsh hit to the back of the head, hard enough to make his vision blur but not enough to knock him out. The masked man whipped around to attack his attacker back only for the same pipe to hit him across the forehead. This time rendering him unconscious but catching a glimpse of a striped hoodie that he could almost remember. Of course the one time he doesn’t make a plan he gets the shit knocked out of him.

Lost in the dark with his pounding headache all that was left was to try and wiggle out of the ropes. Alone with his thoughts of how much of an idiot he is for actually being able to get caught like that, only to feel more like an idiot after struggling for 20 minutes and getting nowhere. At least he was alone and no one could see how stupid probably looked.

“You look like a fuckin’ idiot. Would you give up already?” The familiar voice causes him to freeze in his seat out of disbelief. Becoming very aware of the other breathing in the room. How was he breathing? Brian watched the tapes after everything- he watched Tim kill him. There was no way he could come back. Yet here both of them are. Two dead men sitting in the same room occupying the living world once again. Brian’s shock wears off after remembering his own untimely demise.

“Wow Alex.. you knew I always wanted a surprise party. Unfortunately..it ain’t my birthday yet’ “ Brian dryly chuckles at his poor attempt at humor, flinching at the sudden light hitting his eyes when the bag is ripped off. Alex’s angry face stares down at him, reminding Brian just how real all of this is.

“Shut the fuck up. You- you’re supposed to be dead!” His tone is stern but clearly Alex hasn’t accepted this as quickly as Brian. It's enough to keep the grin on Brian's face despite the fact he probably has a concussion. This’ll be interesting.

“I’m supposed to be dead? What about you?” He raised an eyebrow while tiling his head to the side to mock him. He squinted his eyes to try and make out any wounds on the others neck to no avail. There was nothing, like it never even happened. Just like Brian’s head.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that, asshole.” Alex stumbled out, running a hand through his hair while he paced in front of Brian. “I- I had your fucking body.” He crazily gestures with his hands, “And now you’re here? Are the rest of you alive too? How many times do I have to kill all of you??” His voice cracks into something broken, catching Brian off guard and causing him to refrain from calling Alex a creep for holding onto his body. Alex slumps against a wall, looking utterly defeated.

“...uh” Brain starts, not really sure how to comfort the guy who tried killing him for 6 years and currently has him tied up in a chair. “Maybe give up on the whole…killing us thing? Clearly it’s not working.” He continued to fidget with the knots around his wrist while Alex wasn’t paying attention. He had recognized the knot from rock climbing and now that he could see he could possibly undo it.

“Very funny.” Alex practically growls at him but he isn’t on the verge of tears anymore, instead he is fidgeting with a familiar looking gun. Of course even after dying he kept a cold hard clutch to the gun, Brian almost laughs but he doesn’t want to get shot at. He has plans with Tim that he doesn’t want to miss so he’ll have to try and survive this.

“I wasn’t joking. Do you really wanna waste the rest of your life re-killing all of us? You know IT can bring us all back whenever’. I don’t know how but- Hell! You’re a perfect example of that. Video proof of you bleedin’ out and not a single scar from it on ya.” Brain rambles on, holding in a sigh of relief when he feels the ropes around his wrist come undone. He holds onto the rope and keeps his hands behind his back. Waiting for a moment where he’ll be able to free the rest of himself and get away from his old friend.

“I forgot that you don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” Alex holds onto his head like it's going to split but he makes no other attempt to show that he's in pain. “When did you get so annoying anyway? It’s like you want me to kill you.” His voice shakes and Brian wonders if he can feel it yet too, the distaint buzz in the air. This will be over soon.

“You can avoid it all you want, Alex.” He takes the moment that Alex is vulnerable to sneak his pocket knife and start sawing at the rope around his ankles. “You can’t do anything to stop him..believe me, we all tried.” A clicking of a gun causes him to freeze while he was still looking down at his shoes, heart sinking into his chest while he started considering how this might all end.

“What did you get from ‘YOU TALK TO MUCH!’ It wasn’t a fuckin’ invatation, Bri.” He sat in his same spot only now he was aiming his gun at him. Casual from doing this so much, from killing them all before- everyone but him. Brian finished his job before he got the chance. Was that why he was so mad? Or was it the ever increasing headache that made him want to tear his own head off, one that was all to familiar. Brian slowly looked up at him to watch his face switch to realization and back to anger. “Did- DID YOU FUCKING SUMMON IT OR SOMETHING??”

As if on cue IT stood between the two of them but ITS attention was all on Alex, leaving Brian so he could think clearly enough to get out of the restraints. He grabs his stuff that Alex took off him, just his masks and gun that thankfully were easy to find with the chaos. Brian turns to leave the cabin, squinting a little due to most likely having a concussion. He was almost out and was content with leaving Alex alone in the woods. Alex’s screams wracked his brain until he was halfway out the door, he was alone with the static but he felt as if he could understand it.

A voice that he always mistook for his own internal dialogue told him what to do, like it was his own thought. But he knew that was ITS influence yet he couldn’t help but follow. Take him. The longer he stalls the louder he gets. He’s one of us. Even if Brian didn’t agree he couldn’t put up a fight, he was too tired to fight back anymore.

He left after throwing the unconscious Alex over his shoulder, avoiding ITS glaze while draping the mask over his head. His midnight plans were definitely ruined now.

[theharrowing]

Dollhouse 24 💛: Are you here alone?

Hoseok's job is simple: He enters the host's body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime, easy peasy. Until a client comes along who becomes as obsessed with his life as he becomes with theirs, and the lines between their realities begin to blur.

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💛 Hoseok x Namjoon, Jungkook x Yoongi 💛 word count: 15.1k words 💛 hired assassin au, sci-fi, body swapping, graphic violence, infidelity, body dysphoria, lgbtq, smut, fluff, angst, poly, nsfw, smut, 21+ 💛 chapter warnings: rough oral & anal sex, slapping, spitting, use of safe word, humiliation, use of the word "whore", cum on face, paranoid feelings, Hoseok making more terrible fucking choices. Hoseok spirals.

💛 notes: wow, uhhhh...idk how i ended up writing a chapter this long, but here we gooooo!!! we're so close to the end, ahhhh!!!! 💛 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 💛 posted april 2023 | read on ao3

The Boss: Hoseok-ssi. I know you have already left for the day, but a file has come across my desk that I would like you to have a look at. It is from a possible client in New Zealand, and you are the only one I trust to take on someone this high profile, but it will require jumping. I will need a response in the morning, so mull over whether you think you are up for it.

Hoseok does not hesitate to agree to the position without giving it much thought at all. A job in New Zealand could not have come at a better time. 

Hoseok: Count me in. I'm ready to jump again.  

The Boss: Wonderful. We will discuss more tomorrow.

Ordinarily, their dynamic is that Namjoon likes to bottom and Hoseok likes to top. A surprise to neither of them, really; Hoseok has always been a bit of a control freak, and Namjoon takes care of people so much professionally that he really enjoys being taken care of at home. Tonight, however, Hoseok is going to beg to be fucked. 

He gets home first, sends a text to Namjoon—

Hoseok: Hey baby, I need to discuss something very important with you, please come home as soon as possible.

—and preps himself in the shower. As soon as his phone dings, Hoseok reaches past the shower curtain, dries a hand on one of the nearby hanging towels, and clicks on the screen to find a notification waiting for him. 

Namjoon: On my way! 

Hoseok rinses himself, gets out of the shower, towels off, and then goes into the bedroom. First, he glances around and tries to decide on something to wear. He has his share of sexy lingerie, but he is unsure whether he is in a sexy lingerie mood. So, he sits on the edge of the bed nude and waits, thumbing through his phone for something to distract him. Typically, it takes Namjoon about fifteen minutes to get home from work, but sometimes he leaves in a rush and messages while already on his way, so Hoseok has no idea what to expect. 

He does his best not to let his mind wander, but lately, it feels like an impossible task. The files that Seokjin sent Hoseok seem to be pointing to a very obvious fact, and Hoseok needs to do more digging in order to potentially corroborate the information. But he is also trying to keep his wits about him and not get too swept up in the excitement of everything. 

But what if, Hoseok wonders. What if Taehyung and Jimin really are—

The sound of Namjoon pulling into the driveway rips Hoseok from his thoughts, and he blinks heavily, looking down at his phone, the screen of which has shut off in his hands. He sets the device down onto the bedside table, and as the front door flies open, followed by the sounds of shoes thudding against the wall and the front door being thrown shut, Hoseok stands, walks into the center of the room, and gets down on his knees. 

"Seok?" Namjoon calls, voice sounding somewhat frantic.

Hoseok has to bite back a grin, feeling affection bloom around his ribs. 

"Up here, baby!"

Namjoon barrels up the stairs, feet stomping hard enough that he must be taking two at a time with his palm rubbing against the railing—a cacophony of sound Hoseok has become all too familiar with over the years. And although the bedroom door is already partially ajar, Namjoon pushes it roughly, slamming it into the door stop on the wall while he glances around, disheveled and worried. 

As soon as his eyes land on Hoseok, Namjoon stops in his tracks, nearly tripping on his feet. Hoseok has to bite down onto the inside of his bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

"Seok," Namjoon gasps, out of breath with a look of shock on his face. 

Hoseok smiles softly, resting his palms over his knees while he stares up at his husband, watching as his brain buffers. If the roles were reversed, Hoseok would already be loosening his tie and telling Namjoon what a good little toy he is. But Namjoon always requires a little nudge.

"What," Namjoon tries again, glancing around at the bedroom, which looks just as it did when he left in the morning, as if there may be more clues to explain why his husband is nude and waiting in a submissive position. "I thought—you said—"

"Baby," Hoseok interrupts sweetly. "I do have something urgent that I would like to discuss with you. But first..." Hoseok raises an eyebrow and tips his head back delicately while letting his lips softly part—a flower opening to the sunlight.

"But first...?" Namjoon asks, walking into the bedroom with his arms hanging stiffly at his sides. 

"I need you to fuck me," Hoseok says, reveling in the way Namjoon's eyes widen. "Please."

"Ah," Namjoon responds, hands rising to his grey shirt to begin working his buttons open. "Uh—of course. Yeah, of course. I can do that."

"Yeah?" Hoseok asks sweetly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Namjoon shrugs quickly out of his shirt, throwing it to the floor despite being only a few feet from the closet hamper. He tears his white tee over his head, fumbles to undo his belt, and shoves his slacks to the floor, leaving a trail of garments in his wake as he walks to Hoseok in his black socks and grey briefs. 

"Yeah," Namjoon sighs, appearing somewhat dazed with his dark hair messy around his face.

"Did I worry you, baby?" Hoseok teases, blinking his eyelashes dramatically.

Namjoon's face becomes a little more stern; finally, he seems to be getting into character. 

"You did."

Hoseok pushes his bottom lip out in a pout and whines, "I guess you should punish me," which is the final push Namjoon seems to need to get into the mindset, gaze sharpening while he rolls his shoulders back and towers tall over him.

"What's the goal, baby?" Namjoon asks as he reaches a hand out and cards it through Hoseok's damp hair.

"Make me forget," Hoseok responds, voice shaking ever so slightly through his words. "Want to just...cease to exist for a little while."

The hand in Hoseok's hair grips tightly and pulls straight up, elongating his back, and he attempts to alleviate the pain by following the pull until all he can do is whimper and take it. With his other hand, Namjoon gently grasps Hoseok by the jaw and squeezes, pressing his lips together, searching his face as if deciding what to do with him. Then Namjoon releases his jaw and slaps him across the cheek, hard and loud, and Hoseok gasps a deep, sharp intake of air, too shocked to make a sound. 

"Color?" Namjoon asks softly.

"Green," Hoseok pants, feeling alive as the pain settles and spreads warm across his skin. 

Namjoon's fist tightens around Hoseok's hair, and he slaps Hoseok on the same cheek, then pulls his hand back and backhands his other cheek in a swift, surprising motion, making Hoseok sob through the sting. 

"Fuck," Hoseok gasps.

"Color?"

"Yellow."

Softly, Namjoon pets the backs of his fingers over Hoseok's cheeks. Hoseok's eyelids flutter shut, and he lets out a deep, pleased exhale. But Namjoon yanks on his hair, forcing Hoseok's eyes open.

"Eyes on me!" he commands, and Hoseok shouts, "Yes, sir!" instinctively. 

"Sir?" Namjoon asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Not daddy?"

Hoseok shakes his head in small, quick movements. Not daddy. Daddy reminds him...makes him think of...

"Hmm," Namjoon groans with a devious grin. "I think I want you to call me daddy, though."

"Joon," Hoseok pleads, whimpering when his hair is pulled roughly. "Baby—sir, please!"

Namjoon crouches before Hoseok, still somewhat taller, but nearly eye-level, and he cocks his head to the side, holding tightly to his hair. 

"You don't want to be reminded of him, do you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft, almost sympathetic. 

Somehow, Hoseok feels the overwhelming urge to cry. 

"No," he mutters pathetically. "No, I don't want to be reminded of him."

After a pause, Namjoon says, "You will call me daddy," while taking Hoseok's jaw in his hand once more, squeezing just enough for it to ache. "By the time I'm done with you, that word will only remind you of me. Are we clear?"

"Yes—" Hoseok whimpers, voice caught in his throat as tears rise to his eyes. 

Namjoon squeezes tighter, and Hoseok knows it is a signal to finish his sentence.

"D-daddy," he says, choked by the vines that squeeze and squeeze. "Yes, daddy."

"Good boy," Namjoon growls as he stands. 

Namjoon steps forward, crowding Hoseok's space with his cheek gently pressed against his soft cock. The delicate musk of Namjoon's sweat and sweet scent of fabric softener has Hoseok's mouth watering, and he lifts his hands, eager to pull the briefs away. 

"Keep your hands on your knees," Namjoon instructs as he yanks Hoseok's face forward, crashing his nose and lips into his bulge. 

Hoseok huffs warmth through the fabric and allows his lips to drag, hypnotized by the familiar feeling of his husband's semi-erect yet heavy dick as it slowly hardens against him. He takes a deep inhale, desperate for his senses to be filled only with the scents of Namjoon and home. 

"Do you deserve my cock?" Namjoon asks teasingly, grinding Hoseok's face into him.

"No," Hoseok whimpers pathetically. 

"That's right," Namjoon responds, using his thumb to tug down on the waistband of his briefs until Hoseok's nose is buried in dark, rough hair. "You don't deserve my cock. You're lucky I don't force you to watch me fuck someone else."

Shame fills Hoseok's chest, weighing heavily. He knows it is true; he agrees.

"I bet my coworker Hoseok would break me in half. He's so strong. I bet he would fuck me so good." 

Hoseok's heart pounds; it aches. Namjoon's coworker Lee Hoseok is an absolute beefcake of a man, and he has seen the shy way he looks at his husband. They have even joked in the past about Namjoon leaving him for his coworker of the same name, but this time, it does not feel like a joke. This time, it stings.

"How would that make you feel?” Namjoon continues. “Me calling your name for another man?"

A sob shakes through Hoseok's chest, and before he can stop himself, tears begin to fall from both eyes; sadness and maybe a sense of relief. 

"Namjoon, please," Hoseok groans, burying his face against his husband's crotch while his nails dig into the skin of his knees.

"What about Soyoon?" Namjoon asks, voice still just as deep and laced with playful hints that swirl with anger. "Wouldn't she look so pretty sprawled out on the blue comforter, squeezing her thighs around my head?"

"Baby—" Hoseok whimpers. He does not want to think about Namjoon's shy, mysteriously gorgeous coworker like that. 

"That's not what you call me," Namjoon responds curtly with a squeeze to Hoseok's hair. 

Sadness wells over—bursts like a dam as Hoseok shouts, "Daddy!"

"Beg me," Namjoon commands, shoving his briefs down lower with one hand. 

"Please, daddy. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me apologize."

"Make it up to me?" Namjoon scoffs, making the vines squeeze Hoseok's sorry little heart. "How could you possibly do that?"

"Please," Hoseok sobs, tears pouring down his cheeks. All he wants is to suck Namjoon's cock and make him feel good. He just wants to be used and hurt until he can no longer comprehend the world around him. 

Namjoon's briefs slide past his thighs and hit the floor, and Hoseok looks up through his eyelashes pleadingly. From here, Namjoon may as well be a god towering over him; massive, omnipotent, and unforgiving. 

"Open," Namjoon instructs.

Hoseok tilts his head back and lets his mouth fall open, tongue rolled out flat. With two fingers, Namjoon presses onto his tongue, slowly sliding back into Hoseok's throat and out, back and forth. The urge to gag makes tears continue to stream from Hoseok's eyes, and saliva begins to pool under and along the edge of his tongue. 

"Gonna use this pretty mouth," Namjoon groans as he leans forward, pulls his fingertips to the end of Hoseok's tongue, and spits.

Hoseok gasps, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as the spit settles on his tongue. Humiliation is not something Namjoon usually enjoys; he must be really angry. 

Namjoon stands tall once more—a looming presence—and Hoseok pleads with his eyes, eager for Namjoon to let out some of his wrath. He just wants things to be back to normal between the two of them, despite knowing it will probably never be the way it was before. If hurting him is a way to achieve that goal, then Hoseok wants to hurt. He needs to. 

Namjoon's cock hangs heavy and leaking, and Hoseok tilts his chin toward it, flicking his tongue until it hits velvety skin. Another rough tug on Hoseok's hair makes him sob; he has gotten used to the steady pull, but the skin has also settled into a state of soreness that is easily exacerbated. 

"What an eager little whore," Namjoon teases, lightly smacking his fingertips over Hoseok's tongue, filling him with the urge to cough. "Alright, if you're that desperate, suck my cock."

"Thank you, daddy," Hoseok mutters softly as Namjoon's grip on his hair loosens. He licks up Namjoon's shaft as best as he can.

Without his hands, however, Hoseok cannot quite reach the tip. With a frustrated huff, Hoseok attempts to sit higher on his knees, but he is just barely out of reach. 

Namjoon laughs, filling Hoseok head to toe with shame, and he takes his cock in one hand and smacks it against Hoseok's eager tongue before letting it go to hit his stomach.

"Daddy," Hoseok whines with his tongue half hanging from his mouth.

"What's the matter, little whore? Do you need me to help you with everything?"

Namjoon's words begin to cut so deep, causing the vines to squeeze so hard, Hoseok swallows twice to rid his throat of the lump that continues to gather. The urge to cry grows stronger.

With an exaggerated sigh, Namjoon tilts his hips, takes the base of his shaft in his hand, and flicks it down, hitting Hoseok on the lips. Hoseok whimpers as his mouth falls open, and he attempts to wrap his lips around the tip, but Namjoon keeps moving it—keeps fucking with him.

"Christ, Namjoon," Hoseok snaps, and Namjoon's grip on his hair tightens, making him wince. 

"What's the matter, Seok?" Namjoon growls, standing tall with his eyes squinted and something dark burning behind them. "Don't like being toyed around with, hmm?"

Tears threaten to break, and Hoseok blinks rapidly to chase the feeling away. 

"No," he mutters pathetically, feeling his body fall limp and causing his hair to tug more. 

Namjoon yanks Hoseok back to his knees—back to sitting up just as high as before—and Hoseok whimpers from the feeling, but allows his mouth to fall open. He wants Namjoon to use him, despite the myriad emotions this scene is conjuring inside him. He needs Namjoon to let his feelings out. 

"Open," Namjoon instructs, and Hoseok sighs as his tongue lolls flat from his mouth.

The tight grip on Hoseok's hair becomes a dull sensation once more, and as Namjoon slides his cock roughly into his throat, Hoseok breathes through the urge to gag, feeling tears along his eye line begin to break. Hoseok closes his lips and sucks, doing his best to swallow back in time with Namjoon's thrusts and make it feel good for him. 

Namjoon groans and places his hand under Hoseok's chin, making the squeeze in his throat tighter. Hoseok feels as if his head is caught in some sort of loose vice grip—like if he attempts to rest on his knees, Namjoon will continue to roughly hold him suspended in the air. 

The sounds Hoseok's throat begin to make as Namjoon thrusts deeper and harder are low and guttural, bordering gags and moans, sending a chill through him. The thick saliva that gathers is even worse. 

Hoseok nearly fears for his ability to breathe as Namjoon's cock drives further, but he feels powerless to do anything to stop the deep, hurried thrusts, and his eyes roll back as he makes attempts to suck air in through his nose. His body starts to go limp and his ears begin to ring. 

When Namjoon pulls out entirely, Hoseok gasps a horrendous involuntary sound, and he crashes to the floor, realizing a second too late that Namjoon has let his hold on him go.

"Seok," Namjoon says, but he does not sound concerned. He sounds annoyed. Inconvenienced. 

Hoseok blinks heavily, hot tears stream down his face, and he swallows hard to push back all the thick, phlegmy spit. As he stares down at his hands, seeing the way his fingernails cut into his skin, he barely recognizes himself. He seems paler. Weaker. 

Namjoon sighs.

"I don't fucking get you," he says. "You call me here like it's some kind of emergency, then completely dissociate."

Hoseok is almost certain that this is not what dissociating is, but he is not in his right mind to argue. And, anyway, what would be the point? His voice cracks, and the first part of his sentence gets stuck somewhere unvoiced, as he mutters, "—being too rough."

"Alright, sorry," Namjoon says as his weight shifts from one leg to the other. He does not sound sorry.

Hoseok hums, looks up, and holds his mouth open, shuttering as he takes in Namjoon's distant, angry glare. 

"I can do it," he mutters, "let's keep going."

Without a word, Namjoon takes Hoseok by the face in one hand and slides his cock back into his mouth. Hoseok is somewhat surprised; he expected the tears and overall distress to stop Namjoon. He expected to have to beg. 

"Feels good," Namjoon groans as the tip of his cock hits the back of Hoseok's throat, but not hard enough to make him lurch. "Fuck, baby, your mouth always feels so good."

Hoseok's eyelids flutter closed, and he moans as he swallows back, gently gripping his fingertips into nail-dug skin as he does his best to breathe through each languid thrust. 

Sucking Namjoon's cock is always a treat. The heavy weight of him, girth stretching his lips just slightly too much, the salty-sweet taste of his heady precome. Namjoon is heaven.

As Hoseok relaxes further into the feeling of his husband using his mouth, his tears fall less frequently, and his hands fully relax over his knees. He can forgive Namjoon for his outburst; he knows he deserves it. In fact, he deserves far worse. 

"Swallow around me," Namjoon commands softly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Hoseok's mouth, smearing spit on his skin. Hoseok does as he is told, earning him a deep, pleased groan.

"That's it, fuck, so good. Gonna come soon, baby. Not gonna last long."

There is a voice in Hoseok's head that tells him that Namjoon not lasting too long is a good sign. Namjoon must not have already come today—always having more stamina the second time—and therefore, he must not be cheating on him. After all, Hoseok has expected his long evenings at work and out with coworkers to result in cheating. It is what he feels Namjoon owes him after everything he has put him through, but the thought of his big, dumb cutie being unfaithful does make him sad. 

Of course, Namjoon could still be cheating; Hoseok did call him to come right home today, after all. Hoseok chooses not to dwell on it.

Instead, Hoseok sucks eagerly, even rolls his tongue when he can, anxious to make his husband come. Namjoon groans and gasps, sounds becoming louder and more desperate, hips picking up speed. With both hands, Namjoon grips Hoseok by the sides of his face and begins to trust a little harder. 

Air and spit sputter out from the sides of Hoseok's mouth, and he does his best to sit pretty and let Namjoon use him as he needs. He can feel his face warm as the lack of sufficient oxygen makes it harder and harder for him to breathe, and his fingertips once again dig into his knees. 

Luckily, Namjoon chases his high quickly. With two more powerful thrusts, Namjoon presses in far enough to make white burst in Hoseok's vision at the loss of oxygen before he pulls out completely and comes on Hoseok's face. Hoseok heaves for air, doing his best not to cough, eager to stay as still as he can as Namjoon paints his face. 

Once he has caught his breath, Hoseok holds out his tongue to catch the last of the release, then attempts to lick as much of it from around his mouth as he can. Come drips down his cheeks and slides down the slope of his nose, and Namjoon stands, cock fisted overhead a little longer before he steps away, toward the bathroom. 

"Felt good," Namjoon calls just before turning on the faucet. 

Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief. His heart and lungs ache, feeling tightly wound with emotion. He would love to curl up and fall asleep, but—despite everything he is feeling—he still wants to get held down and fucked. He wants it so badly, his entire body vibrates for it—every nerve needs it. 

Viscous, watery fluid leaks down Hoseok’s chin, mingling with the drool that has pooled, then drops down to his chest. Namjoon must be really well-hydrated; his release is more watery than sticky today. 

Namjoon returns with a small grey washcloth that looks darkened by water, and he slowly approaches, smiling down at Hoseok as he surveys the mess he has made. Then he squats, still sitting taller than Hoseok by several inches, gazing down at him with a smirk. 

“So pretty covered in my come,” Namjoon mutters. “All mine.”

“Yours,” Hoseok rasps, throat feeling sore. 

Namjoon gently rubs the cold, damp rag over Hoseok’s face, taking extra care to wipe his chin, neck, and chest, covering his body in goosebumps as the cool sensation shivers through him. All the while, Hoseok’s palms stay rested on his knees. 

All yours, Hoseok thinks. If only he could believe in the conviction of the words. 

When Hoseok arrives at his office at 8 AM on the dot, The Boss is standing beside his door with her arms folded over her chest, gripping onto a manila folder. She wears thick, dark sunglasses despite being indoors, adorned in one of her long, black dresses that covers her from neck to wrist to ankle—a dress fit for a funeral. Hoseok wonders if it will be his own life that she will be mourning as he reaches a hand out to take the document. 

"New Zealand?" Hoseok asks, realizing with a pang of anxiety that he forgot to mention this job to Namjoon last night, too distracted by getting fucked within an inch of his life.

The Boss hums. "We need to bring the man back to Korea to carry out the assassination order, so your primary duty is to jump and lead him to us."

"Of course," Hoseok says as he punches in the code to his office door and pushes it open with his palm.

"And I assume you got rid of Kim Seokjin?" The Boss asks, stopping Hoseok in his tracks. 

Hoseok clears his throat and mutters, "Yeah," then turns to face The Boss. "I asked him to provide substantial evidence for his claims, and he has not gotten in touch since. Perhaps he knew what we would find in his background check and decided not to pursue it further."

"That is a relief," The Boss states. "We have found…something…but we are working on substantiating it, first."

"Found something?" Hoseok asks, knitting his brows. "What?"

"I—" The Boss begins, then she cocks her head to the side, and Hoseok can see her mulling her words over. "Let's hold off on this conversation until the results come back."

Ordinarily, Hoseok would argue. It is a big pet peeve of his when someone begins to share information only to rescind it. But today, he has no fight in him, and he nods his head and mutters, "Fine."

"Everything alright at home?" The Boss asks. 

Hoseok knows this tone, and he cracks an unconvincing smile and says, "For the most part." 

Namjoon is a liability are the words Hoseok recalls, spoken by The Boss more times than he would like to admit. He knows she does not care how things at home are. He knows that she feels he would be better at his job if he was not married at all. Surely, bringing Namjoon onto the team has not changed that. 

"That's good," The Boss responds flatly before she turns around and leaves. 

With a glare, Hoseok watches after her, then he walks to his desk and throws himself into the uncomfortable chair that sits before it, wincing from the soreness of his ass—a reminder of the night before. As he lifts the file and allows it to fall open, he sees an image of an older man who appears to be Korean, dressed in a suit. There is nothing about the man that stands out in any way, and Hoseok reads through the file quickly. The mission is to jump into the man's advisor's body—against the advisor's will—and hand the two of them over to a team that will escort them back to Korea. Easy enough. 

Hoseok sighs and tosses the folder onto his desk, letting the papers fly from it and fall over the opposite edge, landing on his leather chair, and possibly on the floor. New Zealand is still a bit of a trek to Australia, but it is closer than he is now. Hoseok looked up flights last night, right after Namjoon fell asleep. 

The information Seokjin gave him seems pretty clear. Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung popped up on Seokjin's radar the day The Boss claimed Yoongi and Jeongguk went missing. The crimes that Park and Kim are allegedly running from seem to have all been fabricated in order to get Hoseok's attention. But why? Why is Seokjin unable to come right out and tell Hoseok point blank that these bodies may be hosting the consciousnesses of the men he is searching for, if that is, in fact, what Seokjin is trying to say? What does Seokjin have to lose? What could his connection to them be?

The phone on Hoseok's desk rings. He lets out a heavy sigh as he stands from the chair, rounds his desk, and picks up the receiver, staring down at the paperwork that is scattered on his office chair and the floor. 

"This is Jung," Hoseok says, making a failed attempt to not sound absolutely dead inside. 

"Hoseok-ssi," The Boss says, and Hoseok hums in response, "the target has just made a reservation at the Sofitel in Wellington, and appears to be checking out one week from today. In the event that he moves, I want to try to get to him first. What are the odds of getting you on a flight in the morning?"

Tomorrow morning is way too soon. Hoseok will hardly have a chance to explain to Namjoon what is going on, and what if his pivot to Australia winds up taking him a while? How long will he be away from his husband on such short notice?

"Tomorrow morning is fine," Hoseok responds, nibbling on his bottom lip. 

"Perfect." The Boss responds, sounding pleased as she hangs up.

With a sigh, Hoseok hangs up the phone, then he slowly gets down on his knees to pick up the spilled paperwork and shove it back into the file folder. He considers what he is going to tell Namjoon, then he stands, grabs the papers from his chair, and places it all on top of his desk in a pile before picking up his office phone once more and dialing Namjoon's extension at work. 

It takes four rings before Namjoon picks up, and Hoseok is grateful that he is around rather than helping a patient. Namjoon's voice almost sounds foreign to Hoseok, with how chipper it is when he says, "This is Kim's office."

"Joon," Hoseok blurts, feeling a heavy wave of sadness settle over him from how unusual Namjoon's happy tone sounds, "hey, sorry for calling you at work."

"Oh," Namjoon responds, voice dropping, sounding concerned, "Seok, baby, is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Hoseok feels the weight of leaving the country pressing heavily on his shoulders and tears well into his eyes. He swallows a lump and breathes through the tight, tight squeeze as the vines snake through each rib. 

"Uh—I, uh…Yeah. Kind of."

"Can we talk about this in person, tonight?"

"It's The Boss. She wants to send me to New Zealand."

"Oh."

"Tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Hoseok rubs a hand over his cheek and closes his eyes, letting out a huff of air. Moments ago, he was somewhat content with everything, and now he feels stricken by regret. 

Namjoon sighs, and Hoseok braces himself, expecting the worst. Not that things could get much worse. 

"Well, I was going to take a trip home to visit my family in a few weeks, but maybe I'll push it up and leave this weekend."

"Oh?" 

Hoseok finds this news surprising; he had no idea Namjoon had been planning another trip home. Not that Ilsan is far at all, but typically, Hoseok travels with his husband. 

"Yeah. I just think I need a breather after everything that has happened, you know?"

Another breather. Only a few months ago, Namjoon went to Ilsan for a breather, and now he feels the need to go again?

"Alright," Hoseok responds, failing to sound positive. "That works out well, then."

A voice calls to Namjoon, and Hoseok's heart pounds heavily as Namjoon chuckles and says, away from the phone, "Sounds great, Yoon; be right there!" and then returns to Hoseok to say, "Lunch is here, so I am going to let you go. See you at home?"

Lunch with Soyoon. Soyoon brought Namjoon lunch. Hoseok does his best not to spiral.

"Alright. See ya," Hoseok mutters before hanging up and throwing himself down into his office chair. 

He wonders how things could get any more fucking cumbersome.

[Unknown]: Hoseok-ssi, this is KSJ. I have information on your boys. They have a reservation at the Park Hyatt in Sydney, with a checkout date of a next week Saturday. I hear the botanical garden is lovely this time of year.

Hoseok: When do they check in?

Hoseok watches as his message is never delivered. So communication with Seokjin is a one-way street. He supposes he can handle that. Briefly, his thumbs twitch as he considers calling the line he already had for the man, but if Seokjin is going out of his way to communicate through unknown numbers, Hoseok already knows he will not be reached on his main line.

Sydney is much closer to New Zealand than Perth, and Hoseok cannot help but wonder if this is no coincidence. But it has to be, right? There is no way Seokjin has managed to orchestrate another hit just to get him close to Australia. That seems ridiculous. Considering Seokjin never pressed Hoseok about the alleged and suspected charges, Hoseok wonders if he was never going to formally pursue a hit on the two men at all, but he just wanted Hoseok to pay attention to Park and Kim. 

It certainly does not seem impossible. Seokjin does not work for a government agency, but there is something about him…something that The Boss suspects. But what? Hoseok does find it quite interesting that both his target and his persons of interest seem to be making moves at the same time, and that hotel reservations are the specific pieces of information being fed to him by both his boss and Seokjin. Does Seokjin have some way of monitoring his correspondences? He is beginning to think like a conspiracy theorist.

Ever since Seokjin's visit, Hoseok has been spending less and less time watching the CCTV feeds. He no longer believes Yoongi and Jeongguk are likely to be in Japan. He knows it is foolish to think the two men in Australia could be them, but…what if? How else could they have disappeared without a trace?

By the time 6 PM rolls around, Hoseok shuts his monitor off, shoves his paperwork into his desk, and stands up, glancing around the office. Light dapples in through tall black and silver curtains, covering the room in a dreamy glow. 

Hoseok does not wish to ever return to this office. The more he takes in his surroundings, thinking about all the lives he has taken, and those he has lost, he feels a deep contempt and hatred, compounded by a sense of longing that almost settles into his bones like nostalgia.

He wonders if he would be better off never knowing Yoongi and Jeongguk. If he could turn back time, pursue a different line of work, and never cross their paths, he and Namjoon would not be so strained, and he would not be so set on disappearing completely. He is relieved that Namjoon is returning to Ilsan, to visit his family. He wonders if he should recommend Namjoon stays there a while longer. Possibly for good. 

With his face buried in his pillow for the second night in a row, Hoseok feels as if he may just be on the brink of total ascension. Soul leaving the body, and all that—enlightened beyond the realm of what is humanly imaginable. 

Namjoon fucks him slow and deep, pressing hard on the back of his head while his other hand grips the tip of Hoseok’s cock, squeezing any time he starts to feel close, as if Namjoon is hardwired to know precisely when he is ready to burst. 

Hoseok grips and claws at soft quilted fabric, breath ragged and hot, sticking to his skin as it condensates with nowhere else to go, suffocating him as his bliss ebbs and flows to high highs and abrupt stops. He could die like this. He practically begs Namjoon to press hard enough to cut off the flow of oxygen completely. 

“So fucking good for me,” Namjoon moans as he thrusts languidly. Two loads of his come squelch with every movement; Namjoon has been making Hoseok wait a long time before he can finish. Hoseok does not mind. “Gonna be so sore, you’ll feel me all the way to New Zealand, baby.”

Hoseok whimpers and squeezes the comforter harder, lamenting having to leave. He almost feels guilty for how quickly he knows he will forget about Namjoon the moment his feet touch new soil. Once he focuses on finding them, everything else will fade into obscurity. 

“On your back,” Namjoon mutters, voice sounding deep and broken as he pulls out and releases Hoseok’s cock, making him tremble and whine, feeling so terribly empty. 

Hoseok falls to his hip and takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut as he rolls onto his back. He squints his eyes open, blinking so as to not let in too much light, and Namjoon’s torso and neck come into view, flushed and covered in a layer of sweat. 

“Wanna look at you while I come inside you one last time,” Namjoon says, making Hoseok’s stomach churn from how final it all sounds, reminding him of the last time with Yoongi, when he said something similar. “Want to watch you come once more before you’re gone.”

“G-gone,” Hoseok mutters quietly, voice croaking around the word, throat raw from screaming into the pillow. 

Namjoon grips Hoseok’s hips to yank and press him into place, lines himself with Hoseok’s sore, used hole, then spits on Hoseok’s cock and grips it tightly, rolling his palm over the head. The pressure from orgasm after orgasm being denied has every touch feeling electric to the point of being painful, and Hoseok gasps and groans from the touch, pleasure-pain shooting through his limbs and festering deep in his guts. 

“So pretty,” Namjoon praises as he slowly fills Hoseok, pressing his thick length past each ring of abused and tired muscle. 

Hoseok whimpers and sobs, feeling too overwhelmed by the sight of his husband towering over and glaring down on him. Everything is too much, and Hoseok wishes he could return to being pressed face down. Suffocation would certainly be easier on the heart. 

With a deep, rumbly groan, Namjoon pulls back and thrusts forward quickly, causing Hoseok's entire body to freeze, spine locked in an arch, as a sob quakes through him and trembles from between his lips. He is suddenly so dreadfully close to the edge and already beyond the point of overstimulation. 

"You gonna come already, baby?" Namjoon teases, rolling his palm over Hoseok's cock while he pulls back and thrusts forward, back and forward, picking up a pace much steadier than anything he has done for the past incomprehensible amount of time. 

"I'm—" Hoseok sobs, squeezing his eyes closed as Namjoon thrusts deep and opening them widely when he pulls back. "Yes."

"Good boy."

Hoseok whimpers as Namjoon continues to fuck him, and his heels dig uselessly against the blue comforter, unable to find a stable position. His legs are restless, but he lacks the energy to hold them in place, instead clawing at the blanket with both hands, down at his sides. 

"T-too much," Hoseok whines, knowing that if he really needs Namjoon to slow or stop, that he will have to use his safeword, not wanting to. 

Namjoon knits his brows and juts out his lip into a mock pout, responding, "You can take it, baby," in a tone dripping with mirth, making Hoseok want to cry. 

Hoseok is not entirely sure he can take it. His entire body begins to stiffen and convulse against the mattress as sharp, overwhelming waves of horrible pleasure rock through him, pulling him asunder. Close. So, terribly close. 

"So good for me," Namjoon groans, giving Hoseok's cock a firm, nearly painful squeeze. "For me and only me,"

"Only you…" Hoseok mutters as his eyes roll back and he succumbs to innumerous feelings, trembling and sobbing as the pleasure bursts and overcomes him.

"That's it," Namjoon groans, voice sounding affected—broken around the edges.

Hoseok paints himself in release, spraying his neck, chest, and tummy, aided by Namjoon's insistent fist. Much to his demise, Namjoon's hips speed up, shooting blinding amounts of pleasure-pain through him. It hurts—it hurts to the extent of Hoseok nearly calling his safeword and begging Namjoon to stop. The oxygen feels pressed sharply from his lungs, and he squeezes his eyes closed so hard, his head begins to ache.

"Joon…" he mutters, voice barely audible over the slap of skin against sweaty skin. "Pl–please, baby…hurts…"

With a loud, long groan, Namjoon's hips still and tremble, and he pulls from Hoseok's stretched, aching hole and sprays his come over Hoseok's thigh, tummy, and deflating cock, droplets compared to his earlier loads, but still more than Hoseok would expect. The fluids instantly begin to cool, along with the sweat that covers him, and Hoseok's shoulders and chest tense as he begins to shiver. 

"God damn," Namjoon gasps, leaning forward on one hand propped beside Hoseok's hip while he squeezes his cock in the other. "Fuck. Look at you, shivering and covered in come. Such a pretty fuck toy, baby."

The impulse to cry returns, and Hoseok attempts to blink it away, feeling a trembling exhale work its way through his chest and throat. 

"C-cold," he whines, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Alright, let's get you into a hot shower," Namjoon says in a tone that is flat, possibly verging on annoyance, though Hoseok could be imagining it.

Namjoon leaves the room and makes his way to the bathroom. Lazily, Hoseok drops his head to the side and watches as his husband's ass flexes and relaxes—perky and soft. The sound of the faucet turning on makes Hoseok groan, and he sits up slowly, feeling his muscles settle somewhat painfully from being fucked so hard and for so long. 

When Namjoon returns, he appears exasperated. His lips are tugged down into a frown, and he looks everywhere but at Hoseok, even as he approaches and scoops him up bridal style to take into the bathroom. Despite the feeling of discomfort that engulfs and settles down into his bones, Hoseok leans into Namjoon, shivering against his warm skin, and Namjoon squeezes him a bit in response. 

"I'll miss you, Seok," Namjoon mutters as they enter the bathroom. 

And although Hoseok knows Namjoon must only be talking about missing him while Hoseok is away on his work trip, the way he says it feels heavy. Matched with the way he was speaking moments ago about fucking him one last time, Hoseok's mind races. What if he returns and Namjoon has decided to move on, leaving him alone in this home? He knows he deserves it. 

"I'll miss you too, Joonie," Hoseok responds solemnly, thankful to be set beside the shower so that he can step into the tub, allowing the steam and water to greet him—warm and welcoming, and a cover for his tears. 

Hoseok is beginning to stir, letting the early morning sunlight break through, turning his dreams into distant blurs that are slowly wiping from his mind. He hardly makes sense of Namjoon's voice sweetly saying, "Rise and shine, baby," until delicate touches against his forehead and cheek bring the waking world more quickly into focus. 

"Hmm?" Hoseok grumbles, stretching his legs out, followed by his arms, which he lifts over his head. 

"You have a long trip ahead of you, so I thought I would head to work a little late and see you off," Namjoon responds low and close, leaving warm breath after each word to ghost over Hoseok's face. 

Namjoon smells minty and sweet, and Hoseok would chase his lips to have a taste, if only his own breath weren't putrid from sleep. Slowly, Hoseok opens his eyes, squinting as he adjusts to the light. Namjoon has opened the curtains, and although the sun has yet to fully rise, it is more than Hoseok is used to when he wakes.

"What would my husband like for breakfast?" Namjoon asks, and Hoseok nearly pinches himself to check that he is awake, after all. 

"Coffee and an omelet?" Hoseok responds, voice still raw from overuse. 

With a hum, Namjoon kisses Hoseok on the forehead, then makes his way from the bedroom. Hoseok groans and stretches once more, then he sits up, digging his palms into the mattress while the pain in his ass radiates through him, making him hiss. Namjoon certainly fulfilled his promise to make him sore, and he hopes the eleven-hour plane ride is not too painful.

Hoseok sits a moment, gathering his thoughts and allowing his brain to fully catch up to being awake. Then he slowly swings his legs over the edge of the mattress while pushing away the comforter, and sets his feet onto the floor. It feels like only yesterday, Hoseok could barely manage this much movement without feeling intense bursts of blinding pain radiating from his side, and he stares at his feet, grateful for mobility. And for community. Although getting wrapped up in Yoongi and Jeongguk's mess was what got him shot in the first place, Hoseok is grateful to have had them by his and Namjoon's side while he recovered. He thinks about that incident often.

As Hoseok gets out of bed and makes his way to the closet, the smell of coffee slowly permeates the air, hitting his nose. He takes a deep, slow inhale and smiles on each exhale while finding an undershirt and suit for the day—all black, of course. He can faintly hear the sounds of kitchenware, and he gets dressed a little quicker than usual, excited to have breakfast with his husband. 

He promises himself that once he completes the job in New Zealand and confirms his suspicions in Australia, he will be ready to move on and be devoted once more to Namjoon. Although he misses Yoongi and Jeongguk terribly, he feels certain that he is finally at peace with whatever mess transpired between the four of them being over. Enough time has passed, and he does not crave Yoongi the way he used to. 

He will miss occupying Jeongguk's body, but his main concern is that the two of them are still alive. He can deal with the possibility of them being in different vessels if and when the time comes. He just needs to see that they are alive. Perhaps losing the temptation of their former bodies will put everything to rest. 

"Ready, Seok!" Namjoon shouts from downstairs, and Hoseok smiles wide, nibbling on his lower lip. He wonders how he got so lucky to run into Namjoon all those years ago at that shitty college party. He wonders if Namjoon feels lucky sometimes, too. 

"Coming," Hoseok responds, though not too loud. 

He snakes a belt through the loops of his slacks and begins to buckle it, catching his reflection in the mirror. His hair is beginning to grow too long, the back falling below his ears, but he likes the way it frames his face, shaggy and a bit unkempt. 

Hoseok pulls a black blazer from its hanger and drapes it over his arm, then approaches his mahogany jewelry box, lifting the lid and pulling out his favorite Rolex—a black watch face with silver details and a silver band. Then he makes his way from his bedroom, to the stairs. 

Part of him feels sentimental about leaving, but he is too excited about breakfast to let that weigh on him too heavily. He will have to bear the burden of his choices eventually, but for now, Namjoon is waiting for him. And considering the chance that Namjoon might not be here when he returns, Hoseok knows that he needs to appreciate every moment that he can, right now. 

As he walks down the stairs, he notices his suitcase is already down on the landing, and he smiles to himself. Namjoon really has thought of everything, it seems. A relief, considering Hoseok had forgotten to grab it, too busy being wrapped up in his thoughts. The air smells of coffee and melted butter, and Hoseok reaches the bottom of the staircase with a pep in his step and spins in socked feet toward the kitchen. 

Namjoon stands in a black hoodie and sweatpants, which is an uncharacteristic sight, and Hoseok wonders just how much later he plans to go into work, almost making a joke about casual Friday being far more casual than he remembers. He tries not to think of the familiar attire on Yoongi and Jeongguk, but it feels impossible, and he sighs as he smiles and allows his husband to pull him into a hug.

"How long do you expect to be away?" Namjoon asks with his lips pressed to Hoseok's temple. 

Truthfully, Hoseok has no idea. As long as his target is where The Boss says he is, Hoseok could have his actual mission complete by tomorrow. But as for when he will return home…

"Hopefully no longer than a week," Hoseok responds with a sigh, considering the possibility of needing the entire week to search for Jimin and Taehyung. "A week from Sunday, at the latest."

Namjoon plants a kiss on Hoseok's cheek, then steps back and motions for him to have a seat. His breakfast is going to be cold, but Hoseok hardly cares as he lets his fingertips linger on the soft black cotton before pulling away. 

At the sight of only one plate, Hoseok feels a bit sad; he had hoped that he and Namjoon would share a meal before he leaves. But Namjoon does have a seat across from him, cradling a white ceramic mug of steaming coffee, and Hoseok decides that is good enough.

"I might still be in Ilsan when you return," Namjoon says, pulling Hoseok's attention and making him hum. "I'll keep you posted, though."

Hoseok grabs his coffee cup and lifts it to his lips, muttering, "Alright," before taking a sip of the steaming, bitter liquid. Then he sets the mug down and eats his omelet, rushing through it just a tad so that he can round the table, straddle Namjoon's thighs, and get back to hugging and kissing him before he finally has to leave.

"Do we have time to fuck?" Namjoon asks against Hoseok's lips, breath smelling like coffee while his candor takes him by surprise. 

"I don't think I could handle it," Hoseok responds, rubbing his fingertips over Namjoon's neck. His ass is far more sore than he would care to admit.

"What if I already stretched myself with a plug this morning?" Namjoon asks, rubbing his palms down Hoseok's chest and stomach before gripping onto his thighs. 

Hoseok gasps. "Oh?"

Namjoon hums in response and begins to palm over Hoseok's crotch, sending blood flooding to the warmth left by his touch. If Namjoon is already prepped, they should have time for a quickie.

"Alright," Hoseok says, checking his watch to confirm he has about twenty minutes until he has to leave. "I want you naked and on your knees, on the couch."

Hoseok sits up straight and gets onto his feet, taking in the sight of Namjoon disheveled and flushed, lounging back against his wooden dining room chair. 

He steps back, giving him space as Namjoon nods, smiles, and mutters, "Yes, daddy."

Thanks to the aid of prescription medication, most of the eleven-hour and twenty-five-minute flight goes by in a blink of an eye. Hoseok wakes up drowsy and stretches as the plane skids over the tarmac, slowing to a taxi while the sun shines brightly into the small windows. He has never been to New Zealand before, and although he is interested in taking in the scenery, his brain has not fully logged back on.

Beside him, across the tiny aisle, The Boss sits staring out her window with a glass of white wine in her hand, dangling by the stem between two manicured fingers. She must sense Hoseok is awake, because without turning to look at him, she says, "I have confirmation on the…information…that I began to share with you, yesterday."

"Oh?" Hoseok asks through a yawn.

The Boss hums. "As you recall, it is in regards to Seokjin. I fear that once I share this information with you, you might do something irrational."

"Try me," Hoseok responds, already feeling fed up with her tone. 

The plane slows to a stop, and outside workers are positioning a metal ladder outside while an attendant begins to open the door from the inside. The Boss drinks back the last of her wine and holds the empty glass out for another attendant to walk by and grab, then she unbuckles her seatbelt, stands, and smooths her hands over her long black dress—another fit for a funeral.

"Kim Seokjin is a Jeon," The Boss says simply. 

Hoseok's head races, though he already knows what she is trying to tell him. The resemblance between Seokjin and Jeongguk was hard to miss. 

She continues, "A Jeon who is not eager for his father to be assassinated, I suspect. Hence attempting to pull you off of his little brother's trail to focus on a fake job."

Or, Hoseok thinks, he is eager to get his little brother back. Perhaps he assumed that once Hoseok came into contact with his targets, he would know that one of them is Jeongguk in a new body. Maybe he does want his father to be assassinated; he seems quite a bit older than Jeongguk. Perhaps whatever his father is in charge of, Seokjin will be next in line for. He could even be throwing Jeongguk under the bus, hoping for the kid to do his dirty work. 

"Interesting," Hoseok responds as he undoes his seatbelt and stands. 

Hoseok begins to make his way to the exit, already finished with this conversation. Now he definitely wants to get this job finished as quickly as possible so he can get onto a red-eye to Sydney. 

"I recommend you stay away from him," The Boss adds, but Hoseok does not stop, only mutters, "Got it."

"I mean it, Hoseok-ssi," she continues. "Last we heard, he was laying low in Tokyo. Whatever it is he seems to be running away from, it could have something to do with the Korean government. He could be working with Yakuza."

Hoseok nods and exits the airplane, squinting as the sunlight fully permeates his vision. He is tired and grumpy, and he just wants to get jumped and take care of his client. The Boss is close behind, footfalls clicking against the metal ladder as Hoseok reaches the bottom, and he heads toward a black car, anticipating The Boss to climb into the front seat. 

Hoseok opens the door behind the driver and gets into the car, then shuts it and takes in the smell of artificial leather that has undoubtedly been sprayed, perhaps to give an air of newness or importance. Once The Boss gets into the front seat, a staff member places their luggage into the trunk and closes it, then the car takes off. 

"We are going to take you straight to the target host and get you in and out quickly," The Boss states. 

Music to Hoseok's ears. 

"Sounds good," Hoseok mutters as he closes his eyes and rests his head back. 

With any luck, he may be able to avoid checking into the hotel altogether. 

Although it is possible to jump into the body of a person who has been knocked out, The Boss prefers not to go that route. Depending on the method used to knock out a host, their body may be sluggish, and that is the last thing an assassin needs. So when Hoseok shows up to the penthouse of some fancy hotel to find a man bound to a chair and whimpering into a gag, he sighs. 

Of course, he agrees with The Boss, and prefers his hosts to be as alert as possible, but jumping into the body of a man who has been struggling enough to break out into a sweat is also not optimal. Not only is he risking feeling soreness, but he is going to have to clean the man enough to make him presentable to the target, which is a hassle. 

Without skipping a beat, Hoseok approaches the hotel bed and pulls off his black blazer, draping it over the back of a nearby empty chair before taking a seat and swinging his legs up. He lays his head into the receiver, then reaches back to uncork his implant and plug himself in. The metal feels cold as it slides past his skin, though he cannot feel anything once it enters the receptor nestled in his brain. 

"Ready?" The Boss calls, and Hoseok closes his eyes and hums before saying, "Ready."

"Jumping in 3…2…"

A ringing can be heard before everything goes black and then white. 

It always feels weird to wake up in someone else's body. The discombobulation of space and time, adjusting for hand-eye coordination in a new skinsuit with different length limbs and overall proportions, acclimating as quickly as possible to carry out the tasks at hand. 

But he always adjusts quickly because he is the best. 

Nobody is better than Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok opens the host's eyes, he feels the soreness in the man's biceps and thighs from being bound to the wooden chair, and he closes the host's eyes and sighs, doing his best to relax the man's muscles while the team checks to make sure it is, in fact, Hoseok jumped into his skin.

"Birthday?" a man asks as the cloth is pulled down away from Hoseok's host's mouth. 

"Nineteen ninety-four, eighteen, two."

"And your spouse?" The man asks.

Hoseok clicks the host's tongue against the roof of his mouth and mutters, "Keep my husband out of this."

The man looks past Hoseok, undoubtedly to The Boss, who must give him a signal to accept the answer. 

Hoseok is untied from the chair and stands, stretching the long, heavy limbs with the hope of relieving some tension. 

"Your host and the target have a dinner reservation at the restaurant downstairs," The Boss informs as Hoseok cracks his host's neck and stretches the arms out once more. "All we need you to do is get the man into a car afterward. How you manage that is up to you, as long as it does not cause a scene."

Before falling asleep on the airplane, Hoseok watched a video compilation of the two men interacting and determined that the target is pretty easily persuaded by the host, who goes by the name of Ahn Ilseong. The target—a man named Choi Giseok—is a lawyer who has been taking bribes from some pretty high-profile clients, recently assisting in the building of an apartment complex that will cover what the Korean government believes to be a burial grounds for a now-defunct gang whose operators are still lurking in the shadows of Seoul. 

After the discovery of two bodies, detectives have been working around the clock to catch those in charge and put a stop to the building operations, but the man Hoseok meets with today has been influential in covering everyone's tracks. 

While taking hush money, Choi has been approving building codes and ordinances for the construction of that building, despite the place being an active crime scene, using his power and influence to secure a certain police chief who Choi has promised to help make a mayor, right into his pocket. Hence the hit placed on his head; taking down a lawyer is far easier than taking down the police, but Hoseok expects this case to extend into their precinct, should this job not send a clear enough message.

Hoseok approaches his own body, which lies unconscious on the bed, and rummages through his front pocket to grab his cell phone. Then he types in his passcode and makes his way to the suite's bathroom to clean up while he replays videos of the host to watch for mannerisms and listen for speech patterns. 

This time frame is a little tight and not ideal, but he is confident he can figure it out. Worst case scenario, he drugs the man and makes it appear as though he is too drunk and needs to be escorted out to a car. It does not quite fit the whole not-making-a-scene profile, but it is a plausible enough scenario. 

Once Hoseok has the host's face washed and hair combed with enough dry shampoo to rid the sweaty and disheveled appearance he found him in, Hoseok bids The Boss farewell and makes his way down to the lobby with ten minutes to spare before their reservation. 

Choi Giseok is already at the bar when Hoseok arrives, and he approaches on the man's right side, slinging an arm over his shoulder, doing his best not to gag from the overwhelming stench of cigar smoke, sweat, and booze. Much to Hoseok's delight, he seems to be on his way to being wasted. 

"Starting without me?" Hoseok chides, as he looks down at the man's drink and back to his face. 

Choi squints at him, and for a split moment, Hoseok worries that already he may be blowing his own cover. He is, after all, a little rusty from not working as much as he used to. Perhaps his studies were not thorough enough. 

"Ahn, you son of a bitch!" Choi finally slurs, setting Hoseok's mind at ease. "Have a drink with me, and then we will sit down to dinner and discuss the deal, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hoseok responds with a crooked smile, breathing in through the host's mouth in an attempt to avoid Choi's stench as he settles on the stool beside him. He waves down the tender, orders one of "whatever he's having," and sets the night in motion. 

It takes exactly two hours of listening to the old man babble bullshit, eating steak, and drinking whiskey before Hoseok is able to get him into a car on its way to the airport. He does not even put up a fuss; hardly seeming cognizant of where he is. Easy peasy. 

The walk back through the hotel lobby and to the elevators is a bit rushed and stumbly due to his attempts to keep up with Choi's unrelenting need to drink and drink. He wastes no time, feeling the host's pulse spike as he makes his way back to the penthouse suite, to his body.

By the time Hoseok is back in his own skin, he feels restless. Two men drug a very combative Ahn Ilseong and drag him out while Hoseok smooths his jacket down with his palms. The thrill of completing a task feels duller than usual, and he checks his Rolex to find that it is already after 8 PM. He is quite tired, but not enough to stay on this island. He needs to get to Australia. 

"I trust that we have someone waiting for these men back home to carry out the rest of the mission," Hoseok says, pretending to adjust his silver cufflinks while ignoring the way The Boss must be glaring at him. 

"And why would you assume such a thing?" she asks after a few tense seconds of silence. 

"Your description of the job only included jumping and getting the man into custody," Hoseok says, glancing up to find her squinting at him with her hands on her hips. "There was no mention of me carrying out the assassination."

"And just who the fuck else will carry it out?" The Boss snaps.

Hoseok fights the urge to laugh—this really should not strike him as funny, but he is mentally and emotionally checked out. 

"Any of the other men," Hoseok responds, lifting a brow and dropping his hands to his sides. "We have a whole team."

The Boss studies him for a moment, then crosses her arms tightly over her chest before asking, "You're going to Australia, aren't you?"

"That is correct," Hoseok responds; he figures he may as well be honest.

"Hoseok—" she begins, but he cuts her off. 

"I think it's them. At the very least, I need to see for myself."

"And if they're not?" The Boss challenges, cocking her head to the side. 

Hoseok drops his gaze to the forest green carpet and shrugs. 

"If they're not, then they're not. Either way, I will be home in a few days."

"I thought I told you to stay away from Seokjin," she tries, and Hoseok senses a tremble in her voice. 

"This isn't about Seokjin. This is about Yoongi and Jeongguk. I need to go."

The Boss does not say anything at first, and Hoseok hovers for a few beats before deciding he would like to get to the airport as quickly as he can. He unlocks his phone and searches for whether or not New Zealand has Uber, then navigates to the app and calls for a car to the airport. 

"I won't send you there with the company's fuel," The Boss says, possibly as a last-ditch effort to make Hoseok change his mind. He hadn't planned on using the private jet in the first place.

Hoseok lifts his phone and turns the screen toward The Boss, showing her the Uber app with a map open. A little black car symbol is at the far bottom of the screen, connected to a dot where the hotel is by a long, winding black line. 

"Already have it figured out," he says.

"Alright," The Boss concedes. "But be careful."

With a hum, Hoseok takes his leave. 

A car is thirteen minutes away, but Hoseok has no desire to stay inside the suite a moment longer than he needs to, so he straightens his suit jacket once more and makes for the door, stopping to extend the handle of his black rolling suitcase and gripping tightly to it as he flings the door open and away from him. There is a light, lingering stench of perfume in the air—something too sweet to be considered pleasant—and Hoseok scrunches his nose as he walks through the empty hallway, shoes sinking into forest green carpeting as he makes his way toward the elevator. 

Guilt pangs through Hoseok's chest as a sense of déjà vu hits him. Hotel hallways with ill intentions, acting as a liminal space between where he should be headed and where he wants to be. 

He should at least message Namjoon to let him know he is thinking about him. 

By the time Hoseok reaches the elevator, his heart pounds with anticipation. What if he finds Park and Kim and discovers they are two men in their own bodies, actually running from the Korean government? What if Seokjin is setting him up to be captured or killed? What if his suspicions are correct but Yoongi and Jeongguk, in these shiny new bodies, want nothing to do with him?

Hoseok wonders if this would be the first time Yoongi has permanently jumped into someone else's body. Is it something he does regularly? What kinds of horrible secrets could he be hiding? 

The doors of the elevator grind open and pull Hoseok from his thoughts. Had he pushed a call button? He hardly remembers approaching the lift at all, but it is empty when he steps in, so he must have called for it. With a sigh, Hoseok hits the first-floor button and pulls out his phone, checking to see that the car is seven minutes away.

Hoseok opens his search engine and begins to see if there are any flights that leave for Sydney tonight. Depending on how quickly he can get to the airport, he might be able to catch a flight immediately. Otherwise, he will have to wait several hours. 

As the elevator doors open, Hoseok stands tall and makes his way into the lobby, eyes ahead on the dark sky just outside the glass doors and wall. No detail of the space lingers long enough in Hoseok's periphery to make it out; only the vague memory of light marble, dark upholstered chairs, and matching carpeting cross his mind before fading to obscurity. 

The cool night air instantly chills Hoseok as he steps outside. He shivers and pulls his phone out, checking to see that the Uber driver is four minutes away, and that he should be pulling right up to the doors. Then he glances around, and instead of finding a bench to sit on, he decides to make his way over to an empty stretch of wall to lean against it.

Hoseok wishes he had a cigarette—an urge he does not have often. Nicotine would be nice at a time like this. 

As Hoseok waits, he stares ahead at the ground—black and dark grey and somewhat foreboding under the glow of the yellow lights coming off the hotel. There is a part of him that almost hopes that the driver does not get him to the airport on time for the soonest flight, just so that he can sit with his thoughts and prolong the inevitable, but he knows that if that does become the case, his thoughts could very well eat him alive. 

For weeks, he has been a shell of a man searching and waiting and worrying. He needs closure. He needs to at least try.

Hoseok's phone dings to alert him that the black Honda Civic is approaching, and he looks up to find a car that fits the description pulling into the round driveway in front of the hotel. Hoseok straightens out, confirms the license plate number, then makes his way to the vehicle. When the driver gets out after popping his trunk, Hoseok allows the man to take his suitcase and place it inside, then he slides into the back seat on the passenger side and takes in the stench of fake leather that reminds him of the ride over from the airport this morning. 

"Alright, mister…" the driver says in a thick, somewhat unfamiliar English-speaking accent as Hoseok puts on his seatbelt and the man stares at his phone, undoubtedly trying to make sense of a Korean name. 

"Hoseok," Hoseok mutters while rolling his eyes to gaze out the window to his right. 

The driver hums and says, "Off to the airport, I see," then waits for a beat, possibly for Hoseok to respond, before driving off. 

Thankfully, they are not too far from the destination, because the stink of the fake leather is beginning to give Hoseok a headache. He is feeling extremely cranky and he just wants to be on his way. Opening the window for a moment blasts cold air into his face and he quickly rolls it back up with a huff before spacing out once more. 

New Zealand seems like a neat place, he thinks. But he has no desire to be here. 

It takes them a little while to get up to the correct doors, but once the car is pulled up to the curb, Hoseok gets out and makes his way quickly to the trunk, which pops open. The driver only halfway gets out of the car before Hoseok can slam the trunk shut and mutter a quick, "Thanks," and then he sets the wheels of the suitcase onto the ground and hastily makes his way into the airport.

Lines are short, and Hoseok approaches a kind-looking older lady, and says, in English, "I am hoping to get onto a flight to Sydney, please."

The transaction takes all of ten minutes, with Hoseok wheeling off to the security line, which moves quicker than he expects. The bad news is that the soonest flight to Sydney is already too soon for the attendant to have issued him a seat in good faith, and Hoseok tells himself that he is relieved not to have to sprint through an unfamiliar airport. The good news is that the bar near his gate is open late, and boy, is Hoseok thirsty. 

Approaching a bar and being spoken to in English takes Hoseok momentarily off-guard. He had just been speaking English to the woman at the counter to get a flight ticket, but something about ordering a drink from a tender—an action he has performed many times—feels strange to do in another language. But he spots a familiar bottle of whiskey and orders a glass, easing quickly into the interaction. 

Since he has several hours to kill, and the airport bar is pretty empty of patrons, Hoseok decides to strike up conversation. The tender is pretty cute, and he finds Hoseok's accent charming, and Hoseok thinks there are worse ways to kill a few hours. 

The moment Hoseok wakes up—jolted from the feeling of the plane touching down—he yawns and squeezes his eyes closed before opening them wide. Then he switches his phone from airplane mode and watches as notifications pour in. Two are from Namjoon, letting him know that he is on his way to Ilsan and that he hopes everything is going well for Hoseok, and one from an unknown number. 

[Unknown]: Your boys have been spotted at a popular nightclub not too far from the hotel. Will attach the location. They may be there again tonight. 

Hoseok does not bother to try responding, assuming his number has already been blocked. Seokjin must have some way of knowing that he has traveled, so whatever it is the man does for a living, he seems to at least have friends in high enough places. Perhaps even someone working with the bureau for which Seokjin lied about being employed. 

As the plane pulls to its designated spot, anxiety takes over. Hoseok suddenly has no idea what he is doing or why he thought coming to Australia would be a good idea. There is a chance that he will find nothing. But, even if he does find what he is looking for, he acknowledges that it may very well be just another action on his long list of malfeasances against his marriage vows. Try as he might to convince himself that he is ready to move on, he is unsure how he might feel if he meets Park and Kim. 

He is also anxious because he has to urinate. After several glasses of whiskey and a couple dealer's choice drinks concocted by the bartender that tasted like glorified Manhattans, Hoseok used the bathroom once shortly after takeoff and immediately passed out with his head against the window. It was a relief, at the time, to find he had the row of seats to himself, having the freedom to get up and move around as needed, but he had not used the freedom he had been granted. 

It takes entirely too long to exit the plane, standing hunched over in his seat while his bladder screams and everyone files out as slowly as humanly possible, some fumbling with overhead compartments and others trying to wrangle children. There is truly nothing worse than a commercial flight, Hoseok is certain of it. 

The first order of business is making a beeline to a bathroom the moment he steps from the jetway and onto solid floor. Hoseok groans as he situates himself before a urinal, practically moaning from relief as he empties his bladder. He is still somewhat drunk from earlier, and he has the overwhelming urge to either curl up and go to sleep, or keep drinking. Luckily, it is the middle of the night, leaving Hoseok with only one option. 

A plus side to his government job is that Hoseok almost never has trouble booking a hotel. Regardless of the continent, people feel adamant to accommodate him the moment he flashes his government-issued identification card and winning smile. So when Hoseok calls the Park Hyatt, he is pleased that even over the phone at this ungodly hour, he is able to secure a room. It takes some convincing to allow him to check in immediately, rather than waiting for a more appropriate time, and Hoseok absolutely does make some shit up about it being official government duty, and that, if he likes, he could get someone local on the phone. 

"That won't be necessary, sir," is music to Hoseok's ears as he speeds through the airport down to baggage claim. 

By the time he hails a cab and sinks into the leather backseat, the weight of everything begins to press on him heavily. Hoseok is exhausted. He cannot wait to sleep. Tomorrow, his search begins. 

Despite his exhaustion, Hoseok hardly sleeps a wink. The sun rises mere hours after he lays down, and although the curtains do an okay job of blocking out the sunlight, by 8 AM he is wide awake. He decides to take a shower and then find something to eat. If Park and Kim have been spotted clubbing, then Hoseok assumes they may also be the types to sleep late. And if they are Yoongi and Jeongguk occupying new bodies, it is likely they will order room service rather than venture out to a diner or café. 

Still, Hoseok dresses in more casual clothing than usual and begins looking for somewhere local with a cup of coffee. At the very least, he wants to get a sense of the neighborhood, and take a walk along various paths that would lead him to and from the location Seokjin said they were spotted at. 

Wearing a simple black tee tucked into black skinny jeans with a black leather belt and chelsea boots, Hoseok covers the bottom half of his face with a black mask and heads down to the lobby. His room is on the third floor, a far cry from the penthouse and executive suites he has grown accustomed to, but the tan and white furnished room is sleek and luxurious, and still roomy enough for one person to spend a few nights. 

Although he knows there is no chance of spotting either of them in the hallway, he still looks over his shoulder, turning his head each time he hears another voice. The lobby is surprisingly crowded, and he glances around for two men roughly Yoongi and Jeongguk's height but with lighter brown and blond hair, not finding anyone who may look Korean. 

Hoseok is so distracted walking through the lobby glancing around at everyone, that he bumps into someone, causing them to drop their phone in a clatter against the white marble floor. The person scrambles, and Hoseok bends instinctively to pick up what was dropped, nearly colliding with the other person's forehead. 

"Shit, sorry," Hoseok mutters in English, bowing his head as he walks away, not looking the person in the eyes. He is too tired, and his pulse is spiked too high. He needs some fresh air. 

As soon as he exits the hotel, the scenery does not seem too promising in terms of finding any kind of city life, with the hotel sitting on a harbor. But, evidently, there are several cafés and nightlife spots a short distance away, so Hoseok walks in the other direction from the waterfront. 

The weather is nice, and Hoseok takes note of the nearby botanical garden that Seokjin mentioned days ago. He cannot help but think about the gardens in Osaka the day that everything truly started between the four of them, for better and for worse. 

It only takes about five minutes to find a café, and he orders an Americano and sits near the window to survey the passersby and try to clear his head. Memorizing patterns and behavior is his job; this should be no problem, as long as Park and Kim are actually Yoongi and Jeongguk. It has to be them; he just knows it.

Once Hoseok drinks his coffee, he heads out past the nightclub, surveying more clubs and bars, judging them on whether he thinks Yoongi and Jeongguk would be likely to patronize. He even takes a stroll through the botanical garden with the hope of organizing his thoughts, but it feels like an impossible task. The more Hoseok settles into the neighborhood and lets the possibility of finding them sink in, the higher his nervousness builds. 

He stops somewhere for food, just to get a sandwich and quell his hunger, then makes his way back to the hotel, deciding that perhaps he will eat in his room, then sit down at the bar for a drink. Even if he is at the bar by himself, he does not wish to be alone, especially in his quiet hotel room. 

Later in the evening, Hoseok settles in against the marble countertop of the hotel bar and sips at a glass of neat whiskey. Although he tells himself he is not intentionally on the lookout for the two of them, he checks over his shoulders every so often. So much so that the bartender asks if he is waiting for someone. 

"Hmm," Hoseok considers the question, then shrugs as he says, "Kind of."

After several drinks, Hoseok is groggy while walking to the nightclub. He arrives late enough for it to be packed, and does a round to the bar, glancing at the swarms of patrons before standing with a drink in hand and his eyes on the crowd. Once his drink is gone, he sets his empty glass on the counter and heads to the dancefloor to blow off some steam. 

Strangers approach him to flirt, and he even allows a cute woman to wrap her arms around his shoulders and attempt to seduce him, going so far as to move his hips invitingly for a song or two. But everything feels empty and a little distracting, and he excuses himself to the bar, wishing her a good night before she can join him. After another drink, he stumbles back to the hotel, feeling worse for wear emotionally; drunk and very much wrapped up in his feelings. At least he is so exhausted that by the time his head hits the pillow, he is out like a light.

The second day is much the same. He takes a late lunch walking through the neighborhood, then through the botanical gardens and back, only to wind up bar hopping before landing at the same club as the night before. He drinks and dances alone, turning down strangers looking for a little fun. Then he stumbles back to his hotel alone, falling asleep before he has a chance to let everything weigh him down any further. 

The third and fourth days are much the same, leading Hoseok absolutely nowhere. He thinks he sees chestnut hair on a build that could resemble Jeongguk at the botanical garden, but loses the man in a crowd before he can get closer, and then he hops from night club to night club, tumbling into bed drunk and disappointed each night earlier than the night before.

Hoseok almost does not leave his room on the fifth day, feeling a level of depression that is almost foreign to him. Never before has he felt so bogged down by hopelessness that all he can do is stare at the wall, with the exception of recovering from getting shot. Not since college, anyway. He wonders if his methods are failing because he is not likely to find Park and Kim where he would expect to find his friends. He worries they might actually not be his friends, after all.

Deciding that the route he has been taking for the last two days is not the correct one, Hoseok decides to head down to the pool for a little while and swim some laps. He is bored beyond belief, wishing he had a way to contact Seokjin and ask for more information. If he has a way of knowing Park and Kim have been to that nightclub, then he should be able to see other activity, so why is he staying silent? 

Hoseok slides on a pair of salmon-colored swim shorts and puts on a white tee. The walk to the pool is winding and confusing, and by the time Hoseok reaches his destination, he is practically ready to turn back and return to his room, exasperated to the point of muttering under his breath. The sunlight coming in through the tall glass walls is too bright, the sounds of voices and shoes echoing through the marble corridors are all too loud, and Hoseok is fed up. 

When he enters the pool area, there are two people sitting in the hot tub, a blond and a brunette, and Hoseok actually stops in his tracks, wondering if it could be them. One of them laughs, and the sound is so bright and sweet but also hauntingly deep, and it echoes delightfully over the largely otherwise empty space, bouncing off the water. Hoseok watches for a moment, but they stay huddled close together, and, from what little he can glean from their conversation, they seem to be speaking in English. 

So he removes his shirt and shoes near a chair and heads for the deep end. Without giving it any thought, he throws his hands over his head and dives in. The water is simultaneously surprisingly cold and peacefully warm, waking up every inch of him, covering him in goosebumps and shrouding him in weightless comfort. He swims ahead as far as he can before his lungs begin to sting, signaling for him to come up for air. When he breaches the surface, the two people who were in the hot tub are gone, leaving him alone. 

Hoseok nearly gives up. After swimming, he has the urge to search for flights back home and check out a couple days early. Something about this trip feels so empty and fruitless. He wonders whether, in his search for them, they have found him, and now they are hiding. Paranoia sinks in, and he begins to worry that the two in the pool earlier could really have been Jimin and Taehyung.

After showering, Hoseok puts on a white tee tucked into blue jeans, with a black jacket over top that has a floral pattern of pinks, blues, and whites. He decides that he will need to have a drink to gain the courage to leave, so he slides on his boots and heads down to the bar. This time, while he boards the elevator and walks through the lobby, he does not look for any familiar faces. This time, he stares ahead, at the boring white floor, attempting to talk himself into giving up and going home. 

The bar appears packed when he approaches, so he leans with his elbow against the strip of space he manages to squeeze into, orders a glass of whiskey neat, and then steps away from the bar to lean against an equally boring marble pillar. Hoseok stares down into the caramel liquid as he swirls his glass, letting the scent of it waft into his nose.

This was a mistake, he thinks. Coming to Australia was a mistake.

Laughter breaks through the crowd, and Hoseok thinks that it sounds just like the one he heard in the pool earlier. His head perks up automatically, searching for the source of the laugh. He has no idea why, he just feels...drawn to it. 

Briefly, he glances around, but he does not see anyone who such an angelic sound may have come from. That is, until someone who had been hunched over the bar stands up straight and turns his way.

The man who locks eyes with Hoseok is so beautiful, he struggles to comprehend it fully. His features are somehow razor sharp and pillow soft, plush and inviting. The man watches Hoseok for a beat with a curious expression, then he smiles, turns and walks away from the bar, past the row of pillars separating the space from the lobby. 

"Wait," Hoseok mutters under his breath, craning his neck to try to see where the pretty man wandered off to, but the large, round marble columns block his view, and several people are standing in his way of moving quickly.

He knows he should not be so fixated on the appearance of a stranger, but something just feels...right about him. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that the man at the bar was Park Jimin. There is no mistaking it. Even in the shoddy security footage that Seokjin provided, those lips and that jawline were impossible to miss. 

Hoseok feels frozen in place, but also driven by the desire to move. Move his feet, move his mouth, move anything that will get him closer to that man once more—that man who he is positive is Jimin. That man who could very well be Yoongi or Jeongguk.

But all he can manage to move in the moment is his arm. He lifts it just enough to tip the glass to his mouth, dumping the whiskey straight down his throat, resisting the burn that it leaves in its wake. With a wince and a slight sigh, Hoseok allows the strong, barrel-aged liquid settle over him. 

He steps up to the bar, weaving between a few bodies on his way, and sets his empty glass down. With no tab to close because the drink has been added to his room, Hoseok lets out a fortifying sigh and turns to exit, but there is a man standing in his way who he nearly runs into.

"Oh, excuse me," the man says in English at the same time Hoseok mutters, "Sorry," in Korean.

"Do you speak Korean?" the man asks in Korean, and Hoseok gasps as he looks up and finds himself face-to-face with Adonis, himself. 

This man is so handsome, his visuals rival fine art; captivating in the way his features rest in a slight frown. His eyes are expressive, and his voice is deep as the ocean but as smooth as silk. This has to be Kim Taehyung.

"Yeah," Hoseok responds after a beat, feeling heat rise to his face once he realizes he has been staring. He attempts to recover, adding, "Sorry, I got thrown off hearing someone speak Korean after several days of speaking English." 

The other beauty approaches from behind this man and places his hands on the man's arms, peeking from around his shoulder with a shy smile. Hoseok lifts his hand and mutters, "Hello," earning a soft, "Hi," in response, setting a swarm of butterflies in his tummy to take flight. 

"Are you here alone?" the tall one asks, earning him a slap on the arm from the shorter one. 

"Tae," the shorter one grumbles, confirming Hoseok's suspicions. 

"What?" the man who must be Kim Taehyung whines, turning his body so the man who must be Park Jimin is in clearer view. "He was surprised to hear me speak Korean. Maybe he could use some company."

"I am alone," Hoseok responds, swallowing a lump as both beautiful men turn their attention back to him. "I'm here for work, but there was a change in plans, so now I'm just...killing time."

He has no idea why he says all of that. Perhaps there is a part of him that does not want them to think he is just here for them—if they are, in fact, his friends. They have not given him a reason to believe they are, but he has not given up hope; perhaps they are trying to suss out the situation before admitting to what they have done.

"I'm Taehyung," the man confirmed as Kim Taehyung says as he holds out his hand, and Hoseok takes it with a bow of his head as he says, "Hoseok."

"Jimin," the man confirmed as Park Jimin says with a small wave, and Hoseok bows his head as he responds, "Nice to meet you two."

"We were thinking about heading to a whiskey bar up the street," Taehyung says, cocking his head to the side and giving Hoseok a lazy smile. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure," Hoseok responds without giving it any thought. He is desperate to interact with other people, and now that he has found the two men he has been searching for, his heart pounds with anticipation. 

"Alright," Jimin says with an inviting smile and eyes that shimmer in the golden light of the hotel bar, causing the vines around Hoseok's ribs to bloom brightly. "Let's go."

thoughts??? 1 chapter left!!!! 😰😰😰

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[alexanderlightweight]

Hi not a prompt, but i love your writing soo soo much! I wanted to know what are your headcanons for malec and the SH universe in general. Also have you read the books?

oooh okay so i loved this ask and here we go. it's a bit long jsyk

Oh wow, okay. My headcanons for malec. This might get a bit long and it’s not going to look pretty so please bear with me because I don’t have the time to make it look nice though I’ll do that eventually.

So first things, individually.

I think alec is autistic and demi-sexual and I pretty much write that into my fics. I also am pretty hardcore in the belief that malec are soulmates and that’s often written into my work/implied/referenced oh, and he’s a slytherin

Magnus I headcanon as adhd and a ravenclaw because while he’s ambitious, his interest in knowledge and learning and inventing (he created the portal and worked with a shadowhunter to do it) is one of his biggest traits and also, you can’t tell me that one of the signs of an adhd warlock wouldn’t be them just tossing things into the void because object permanence and realizing three centuries later that was one of their favorite cups and they miss it. Or even ‘oops, that’s where that spell book went. Got distracted’. (saeth   adhd and let me tell you if they had magic. This would be them. Half the things in the house would be tossed into the void BECAUSE THEY DO THAT WITHOUT MAGIC and I am projecting lol) anyway ravenclaw because I feel like magnus just really loves learning and knowing things tbh. Team immortal is there no matter how dark magnus is and they support him through everything unless they’re dead and I don’t normally write that they’re both gone, if even one of them is.

I don’t think I could write a universe where Alec hated Magnus, not after meeting him. There’s something about Magnus that calls to Alec instinctively, in a primal way and Alec is kind of helpless to resist it and more than that, he usually doesn’t want to. It takes more effort for him to ignore and avoid magnus, than it does to give in. The same for magnus, though he tries better to hide it.

Magnus is the more wary of the two tbh, once alec falls he falls. Once he takes that first step and kisses magnus, there is no turning back for alec and that’s pretty overwhelming for him. Also this is just the way alec is wired and how he loves. He���d rather make sacrifices and cut out other things than lose magnus and he often struggles with what he wants and what he feels he needs to do. Because alec is used to sacrificing what he wants and loves so a part of him probably always feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to keep magnus. Which is why its so important that he’s kept, because the choice is out of his hands and he no longer has to battle against himself and the brainwashing that was beat into him.

Letting magnus keep him is probably the most selfish thing Alec ever does and it’s also the best thing for himself.

In my fics where they’re already established relationship, i often skipped the parts where magnus has lowered his guard enough to let alec in and fully let himself love him. Like magnus is already gone before alec ever kisses him in canon but he’s in denial and trying to protect himself. They fall near the same time but they’re both in denial for different reasons.

In soulmate au’s and fics like Elysium’s Tears, there are often outside factors that let Alec slip past Magnus’ boundary guard. In the fics that there aren’t those factors, Magnus normally finds a way to bind alec to him and keep him. Because magnus is too protective of his own heart to let alec in when there is a risk he could leave.

And alec is, as I mentioned. Very happy to be kept.

In most of my fics, alec stays on as hoti and tbh, magnus adores his competent shadowhunter but he’d much rather someone else deal with the drudgery and alec just supervise them. Which is why magnus is very invested in mirai’s health in a lot of my fics.

I write competent shadowhunters and warlocks btw.

Who use common sense because they’re militaristic but they’re not soldiers. They’re hunters and they need to have instincts and be able to think for themselves when their leader is unavailable and they are tracking prey or being tracked.

And I write warlocks as if they, you know, actually live in a world that had a genocide happen 20 years ago. Wary, battle worn and with a lot of defensive magic and jewelry. Because that shit doesn’t fade, especially when you’re already long lived and weary.

I write malec as Dom/Magnus and Sub/Alec because that’s my headcanon and I don’t plan on changing that. That’s just how my thoughts of their dynamic works and even when it’s not explicit, it’s how I tend to write things. I don’t want to get into it because it often gets gross, but I’ll say I don’t think dom = top or sub = bottom. Its just sex and scenes and the enjoyment they derive from it and how I end up writing is often based on what kind of intimacy I’m trying to convey.

Excerpt from ‘an extension of you’s notes on ao3:

also i will not write my characters being transphobic (unless it's a rare occasion i want to write asshole about to get curb stomped and crushed and even then that’s rare because i normally don’t want to write about it). Alec has had a lot of conversations about genitalia and gender with magnus and it took a while but he figured it out because honestly, alec had never given it much thought before. if a guy had been giving birth, alec would have still been just as horrified by the vaginal fluid. the same way he was horrified to be propositioned by a woman, even if she had a cock. it just, his brain does not compute. cat is pleasantly surprised btw, because of how rampant all the prejudice-phobias are in shadowhunter culture.

alec is demi-sexual coded in a lot of my fics because i headcanon that and i am also repulsed by genital and birthing fluids.

alec: my boyfriend is my boyfriend regardless of whats in his pants. and if i end up not liking it we'll just do other things for as long as he wants, because it's his body and he gets what he desires in his pants.

magnus: i desire you in my pants

alec: magnus this is supposed to be serious

magnus: im always serious about wanting you

— end excerpt –

I headcanon that alec loves strawberries and raspberries and has terrible eating habits because of how he was raised and trained. And that magnus wants to pamper alec in every way he can with decadence. Alec likes the fruitier/tart drinks and avoids gin and vermouth and he loves champagne and once he gets used to the burn, whiskey. Beer is a hit or miss and he’s not fond of ipas.

Magnus doesn’t necessarily change alec’s style, but he does change his wardrobe. Switching it out for softer clothing and nicer textures, more protective features. Sometimes alec feels adventurous and he’s always allowed to browse magnus’ closet but magnus doesn’t push him unless they’re going out and alec’s exasperatedly fine with magnus coordinating their outfits. He’s hopelessly endeared by it actually.

Alec likes watching magnus enjoy himself and magnus enjoys alec watching him and they both are winning but they both think it’s for the wrong thing. Alec thinks magnus enjoys the shopping and magnus thinks alec likes watching him try on things. Which I mean is a perk, for alec, but not the draw.

There is just a lot of mutual adoration from the two tbh. Alec is touch starved and Magnus is hungry to touch and be touched and alec is shocked that he’s allowed to touch and delighted by it.

And appreciated. Alec isn’t used to being appreciated and magnus is very appreciative and in the same turn, magnus isn’t used to being worshiped and alec worships him

Magnus loves confident alec btw, he just also likes turning confident alec into a blushing mess because alec is: heart eyes motherfucker

I think the reason I sometimes say I write soft/dark and soft/horror is because there’s never really a universe where alec isn’t mesmerized by magnus and magnus isn’t entranced in return. So there’s always this element of longing/wonder between them, even in the darker of verses. It’s really hard to not have those parts when it’s just so intrinsic to them and it’s why even in something like kiss with a fist, I’ve been told the ending is very soft.

Also I have not read the books, but saeth has and so they tell me information from it when I need it and I do incorporate small details that they share.

and alec will always end up immortal in my verses even if it's not stated.

Putting this on here with a link since I don’t want to overload the page:

okay so yeah, i hope you like this insight?

<3 lumine