#instead of deeming them Bad and moving on and not doing any further investigation

[theghostofashton]

.

#tangentially related to that post too i think online conceptions of bigotry sometimes fall into everything being intentional and malicious #when a lot of times it just isn't #the society we live in is ableist and racist and homophobic and transphobic and all kinds of bigoted that is the world we've been raised in #and that results in people having blind spots and being ignorant and having things to unlearn #sometimes you don't even realize what you're saying or thinking is racist it's not this cartoon villain rubbing hands together type evil #it's literally just existing in this society and recognizing you may have biases and it's important when someone points that out to examine #to take a step back and think about what they're saying and what you believe and why you believe it #so often i feel like there's so much defensiveness around being called out for racism or any other bigotry because it's Bad #and no one wants to be Bad #but people also don't want to do the work to really understand what it is #it isn't an identity something you are or you aren't it's about actions and words reinforcing harmful systems #that anyone is capable of #but we can't get to that point without doing the work of understanding what these bigotries are and how they function #instead of deeming them Bad and moving on and not doing any further investigation

[horatio-fig]

I studied something called Toxic Beta Masculinity for my Dissertation. I covered toxic fan culture, gatekeeping and incels, inspired by my experiences in the Star Wars Community. I could talk for hours about so much stuff, but I want to talk about Syril Karn.  

I basically studied men like him, so seeing it playing out on my screen every week has been truly wonderful. TV and film only ever show the extreme vilified side of things when actually, it’s much more subtle and nuanced and harder to spot in real life.  

(I’m gonna use some very broad statements here but I can clarify anything if people want. I want to make it very clear I am not defending anyone’s behaviour, this is just purely my take from an academic point of view)

What we’re seeing is something called Toxic Beta or Toxic Geek Masculinity. Masculinity is not bad. When you break down the core values of what makes a ‘successful man’ a lot of them are positive.

They’re things like “be able to provide for your loved ones”, “be physically fit and healthy”, “Protect your loves ones”. This translates to simply, have a partner, have a good job so you have money, have money so you can buy a house, etc. People who can do these things are categorised as Alpha males, those who cannot are Beta.  

(Again, using very broad terms here)  

Due to modern life, ‘Beta males’ are becoming a lot more common. A lot of us can’t afford our own place so we have to move in with our parents. It’s a lot harder to find any sort of job, and finding a good paying one is almost impossible. We’re stuck in bad jobs, living with our parents, making barely enough money to survive.  

Just because you are in that situation, does not mean you are toxic. But it's very easy to fall into that trap.  

Toxic Beta masculinity happens when these men realise that they do not possess the traditional masculine tropes. But instead of accepting that, they choose to vilify and blame those who do have them, or decide it’s someone else's fault. However, they’re not going to try and attack alpha males, because they are higher up than them. So, they instead project hate towards people who they think are below them (women, POC, Queer people) This is why the Star Wars Community has such problems with bigotry and it’s where gatekeeping comes from. (I’ll probably do a more in-depth post about this one day) Sometimes it’s malicious, but a lot of the time it is subconscious and they won’t realise they’re even doing it.

But, we’re not talking about that, we’re talking about Syril.  

Going back to the living with parents and no money thing. Millennials and younger generations will very likely never own property or make investments. After our living expenses, we are left with very little money and very little time to indulge in our hobbies. So, we have the choice to try and save up, or, what mostly happens is, we invest our money and time into something that brings us joy or we deem important.  

However, when we do this, we’re essentially deciding that our passion for something outweighs everything else and naturally we get defensive and over protective over the things we love. This passion can manifest itself in different ways, from a need to become an expert in it, to a need to lash out and be aggressive.  

Syril is this situation now. His life has started to crumble and worst of all he can pinpoint the exact moment when it happened. He can see all the people who are to blame, Cassian for killing his crew, His mother for pushing him too much, Meero for not letting him get any further in the investigation. The fact that all of these people are minorities is subtle, but very important.  

(He has nothing but respect for the older white men of authority he runs into, whether it be his old boss, or his new one, and always does as he’s told. But when it comes to people who are ’lesser’ than him, he feels that entitlement to take what he wants. Yes, he respects Meero as an officer, but not enough to respect her boundaries.)

We see he has figurines in his room, much like a lot of us do. He has become obsessed with justice and fighting for what is right in his own warped way and he has started to become fixated and defensive about it. His beta masculinity is starting to become toxic.

He is not an Incel, he is not a racist bigot or a raging misogynist. Yet. He has the capacity to be all these things, but that doesn't mean it’s set in stone. There are all the pieces for a truly great redemption story, or a truly powerful descent into villainhood. We’ll just have to see how the writers choose to go.  

I hope Star Wars Fans watch Andor and see themselves in Syril, and view his descent as a warning. I am not ‘defending incels’ or playing devil's advocate, but there are a lot of stages before someone gets to that point that I think people need to be more aware of so that you can spot it in yourself, or in someone else and act before it’s too late. You can stop radicalization, but it is very hard to undo it.

Anyway, it’s truly wonderful seeing the thing you studied and nearly went insane over being portrayed on TV and being portrayed in such a brilliant way. People are not binary, there is no black and white, no one is 100% good or bad. Anyone is open to radicalization. Andor has captured this better than any piece of media I have ever seen and I am so grateful for its existence.

#long post #i could have made it longer tbh I could talk about this all day #star wars andor #syril karn #It’s brilliantly done #Oh the temptation to do a PhD #Urgh that moment when you get to use your niche topic of study 🤤

[prof-peach]

Can you tell more about the Lycanroc that you just rescued please?

He came in as an aggressive patient, no one else would deal with him, I got an email from Kukui about a week ago about him, apparently so angry no one could handle him to check his health or wellbeing, and rehiring was out of the question at this point. He occasionally sends me cases like this to save them being put down, so I took the big guy without too much info.

He got sent with a file about a day later, the file had limited information. His name was once Rocco, though he has no response to it, he lived in a dog pokemons hoard, and seemed to be mixed with a lot of other, far bigger, far meaner Pokemon, so he became aggressive as a means of defence, like a lot of pup Pokemon can tend to do when pushed like this. He killed another Pokemon while in the care of this trainer, and thus got moved on, as they deemed him too much to handle. Quite frankly the trainers facilities were questionable, with further investigation Kukui had called Pokemon protection on them, and had 27 other Pokemon taken away from them, all with various different issues, luckily none as bad as this Lycanroc apparently. They got moved on to better homes, and from what I’ve heard, they’ve made good progress.

Now this Lycanroc is a midday form, a bit tatty looking and skinny at this point in time, he’s been with us a week, and has never been walked apparently, no vaccinations, no real core training other than brute force battling. First day in the facilities he bolted and went for Valka my dear vulpix, to no avail. She just picked him up and put him back in the kennel space, didn’t even flinch at him. Day two I made a critical error of trying to get a muzzle on him without Val as backup, damn thing slipped my hold and cracked me with his rocky collar, leaving me needing many stitches, and from the looks of it, probably permanently scared now. I went back after getting sewn back up the same day and confronted him, this time with a more functional team with me to handle him. Got a muzzle on him, got a good look at his body after he tired himself out thrashing around. Covered in fleas, utterly riddled with old bite scars, he was no doubt picked on by the other Pokemon he lived with. He is nervous as all hell, that’s all his behaviour is, fear.

Often aggression from Pokemon is just a way of expressing deep seated fear, nervousness is a real issue with Pokemon who aren’t socialised, who are picked on by other species, and who don’t get exposed to the world around them. After checking him over we left him to chill out, for the first time in his life as far as we know, alone from any other Pokemon, while we decided the best method for healing him, and who would suit his temperament best. I’ve personally got a midnight Lycanroc who came back with me from Galar not too long ago, so I was the one to take his case, being a bit use to the breed compared to the others, plus personal pride didn’t like that he got that hit on me so easily. Perhaps it’s wrong of me, but I don’t like to let this kind of behaviour beat me, so I dig my heels in normally when I get clipped by something.

Day 4 of his stay, he’s snapping at any Pokemon who comes close to the secure unit he’s staying in, Val is with me at all times now to make sure he’s kept in check when I’m not watching. She’s fearless, and he hates it, but now, after 4 days of her being stoic and unnerving, he’s not confronting her, and in turn looking at me with a bit more hesitation. In the Pokemons mind he’s probably looking at her like ‘oh shit you and that human are a team? Well I don’t want to mess with that right now’ and he’s skulking off to the back of his kennel space, instead of going nuts at the fence towards us. Good progress, less confrontational for now.

Day 5 we tried to get a walk in, short lead, muzzle, generally quite controlled, he didn’t like it to start with, but the island has...I don’t know, something oddly calming about it. We took a few laps, and he spent most of it fighting me for control, until we hit the lake, where he seemed to mellow out for a short while.

It’s going to be a long schedule of daily training, constant assertion of the pack and who’s boss, which is me, not him, much to his dismay. He’s got a huge prey drive, and is nervous with other Pokemon, but otherwise he’s just stressed out. I think time here will do him well. We’re working on respect and hierarchy, basic stuff like ‘sit’ and ‘hold’ for the most part. He’s snapped at me since but not as much.

I will try to update folks as he goes along his recovery, he’s not ready for other Pokemon yet, and certainly not one I’d have out and off a good strong lead, without other team mates around. Hopefully we can get him manageable and find him a good home. Building trust between him and other people is the start right now, he knocked me back but didn’t scare me off, and that rattled him, so he’s behaving a BIT better for now. Want to chase Tauros though, like, fiercely.

His fleas are being treated, he’s getting good meals he doesn’t have to fight for, and despite guarding his food (which is understandable) he’s not showing any physical illness luckily.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

[wdwmarveldisney]

Rumours

Scott McCall x fem!reader

Royalty AU

Summary: Princess Y/N (soon to be Queen) and her sisters have to find suitors by the end of the ball tonight or their parents will choose for them. What happens when all of her focus goes into her small investigation into the rumours of werewolves instead?

A/N: Ok so this is for @demxters writing challenge. Don’t know if it’s too late but I like it so I’m gonna post it. It is a royalty AU so that was fun to right. Also I think Scott is a little cocky in this so you have been warned.

Masterlist

Gif isn’t mine

Just to make things clear, you weren't the most fond of being dressed up like a doll and paraded around in front of suitors. You also hated that you didn't have worth until you had a man. Your father and mother, King and Queen of the kingdom, had organised a ball in honour of you and your sisters and had insisted you'd try to find your suitors by the end of the night or they'd been chosen for you. All three of you had been told that in order for the man to be worthy he must have a wealthy kingdom, highly respected and, of course, want to continue his bloodline. Your father had added that you should also feel something for him and that one was really a priority but your mother had disagreed. She was difficult like that. But even though you hated her views and all of this, you didn't have it as bad as your youngest sister. She had a major crush on her maid, Tammy, and it was something she'd only shared with you and your other sister and she was distraught when she found out she'd have to pick someone soon. Said whatever man threw himself at her first would do because she'd never be interested in any.

But back to being dressed up like a doll. Though you may despise it, you didn't look half bad in the lilac ball gown or the small tiara. Actually, having your hair braided in a crown suited you. And with the few touches of makeup, dare say you looked gorgeous. Relaxing your shoulders and shaking out your hands, you took a deep breath. A necklace was placed on you by your maid Charlene, a small gold chain with a circle pendant. Smiling at the girl through the mirror, you watched her curtsy and leave. With nobody else in the room and a good five minutes until they collected you, you reached under your bed and pulled out a box. Inside were papers, all connected with information on sightings of wild dogs though most claimed it to be a creature of the devil, a werewolf. You loved a good mystery and you loved a good secret so you investigating these cases without anyone knowing was thrilling. And though you believe yourself to be rational, the only logical conclusion you had brought up was in fact werewolves. Always on a full moon, always human like dog figures, in a pack and you had heard of someone even calming them down enough that their eyes didn't glow the strange colours they allegedly did. Another thing you had found out was that there had been a link brought up between said werewolves and a prince of a neighbouring kingdom. A Prince who was attending the ball tonight.

The plan was simple, dance with a few other men then eventually him. When you reach him, strike up a conversation about his kingdom then bring up you'd heard faint rumours about wild dogs near there. Watch his reaction and deem whether the questioning should go further. Maybe push a little more even when it seems like he doesn't know. Whatever you could do to get the truth and if you couldn't get it from him, see if there's anyone he looks to or talks to straight after. You liked to believe that over the many years you have spent training to be Queen (being the oldest and all) you'd learnt the art of observation. You'd learnt little ticks and traits most people had and had even been able to pick up on other non obvious ones. I mean it was you who had noticed the last cook lie about the stolen necklace and had managed to make him confess through a few psychological tricks you picked up. Or when you can tell your parents are lying or your sisters' are keeping something from you, you know. So this should be easy.

Hearing the distant echo of heels, you kicked the box carelessly under your bed and rushed to sit in the seat before your mirror as your hands moved to the corset. It was tighter than usual, no doubt upon your mother's request. She'd made it clear she thought you were putting on weight, cutting your meals down and making you walk around the grounds more. Said you spent too much time in your room when in reality you had just snook out to investigate by borrowing Charlene's spare uniform which you always washed after. Your mother disapproved with anything that wasn't related to royal duty and had always shut down your detective side growing up.

Speak of the devil.

"The ball's starting. I suggest you start heading down," you gave a faint nod at her words, not looking her way until she sighed. Your mother raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes before smiling brightly and straightening out your posture. She nodded before walking away and as soon as she was out of sight, you relaxed with a frown curving your lips down. You paused for a second, debating whether you really wanted to go or not but you had to. You threw your head back with a groan before standing up and leaving the room. Your sisters were waiting outside your room, both slumping against the wall as they spoke to one another. "What are you guys doing? We said we'd meet there," You began to make your way down the hall, your sisters quickly catching up and matching your quick pace as they laughed. "What's got you so paranoid? Worried about a certain someone maybe?"

"No, she doesn't leave this place, how could she be expecting to see someone?" Your jaw dropped at Anna's words, glancing to a laughing Victoria. Rolling your eyes, you reached up to fiddle with your necklace as your sisters grinned to each other. "Very mature. I'm actually more worried about the fact mother is watching over, she's literally the most intimidating when she's staring at you from the other side of the room over a glass of wine and a coy smile," Both nodded as the three of you stopped at the door, Anna sighing as she nodded to the guard who smiled in return and opened the door to inform them of the announcement. "I hate this," you chuckled at Anna, fixing your dress as your nerves got the better of you, "No, you hate men," Victoria giggled at the way Anna's face dropped as you just smirked. The youngest shook her head as she frowned, "You can't say that! What if mother and father hear? I'd be disowned!" You both stopped laughing just as Anna's name was called, the girl entering the hall with an unbelievable amount of grace and you prayed you wouldn't make a fool of yourself when you had to.

-

Walking down the stairs with all eyes on you is scary enough but when you almost trip on your gown, it's ten times worse. Thankfully no one had pointed it out or laughed (minus your sisters that is) and you could pretend like it didn't happen. Now though, you stood to the side and watched the dance take place whilst waiting for a certain Prince to join. Of course, he was too busy talking to his friends and joking around and it did not look like he was going to anytime soon. "Hey loser. How's it spending the night by yourself?" You sent the giggling girl a sarcastic smile before you went back to observing. "First of all Victoria, that was extremely rude. Second, it's only ten minutes in and third, I have to be just a little drunk to handle all this so," you downed the rest of your wine, immediately reaching for another two glasses from the guy who had just walked past with a thankful nod and small smile.

Victoria rolled her eyes as she copied you actions of taking another glass and raising an eyebrow as you downed both glasses one after another. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room and a small snort from her caught your attention and you followed her gaze only to see your mother's disappointed expression and harsh glare. You scoffed, reaching to one of the chocolates on the table behind you and leaving the glasses there, "Oh, is she disappointed? How unfortunate," Victoria laughed at your comment before her attention was taken away and she was waving to one of the guys across the room. She handed you the half finish glass and turned so her back was towards the guy as she adjusted her dress and fixed her hair, "Look good, right?" You grabbed another chocolate as you nodded and she patted your hand that held the wine glass, "I'll leave you with that. Have fun being a disappointment," she commented and you smirked at the words, a light laugh leaving your lips, "Oh, you know I will," you both chuckled at your words, her walking off to the guy as you downed the rest of her wine and continued to observe.

You saw the Prince talking with one of his friends who was nervously glancing towards one of the guards from his kingdom by the look of things and you grinned. Your eyes went to Anna who nodded along bored by the guy in front of her. Her gaze kept going to the maid by the stairs who was taking round some of the foods and chatting away with one of the other maids. You chuckled at the jealousy radiating off her and how oblivious everyone else (except Victoria, of course) was to it. Placing the glass down and adjusting your tiara, you straightened out your posture and made your way to the dance floor, noticing the way the prince was repeatedly glancing at you when he saw. You sent a sweet smile back, watching as he blushed and stuttered over his words, not that you were close enough to hear but you could see from where you were. You began to dance with a guy, some Lord or Duke. To be honest, you didn't really listen to his introduction after hearing how cocky and self-centered he was from the first few words to leave his mouth. You fake a smile, making sure he and anyone else knew that it wasn't real.

At some point, the prince had disappeared from his place at the side of the ballroom and as you stared round trying to find him, you moved to the next guy and sparing a glance to the one you're dancing with now. You continue to look round but do a double take when it finally registers that he's right in front of you. He laughs at your expression, seeming more confident than before after seeing you splutter in shock. Soon enough, you regain your posture and small smirk that he smiles at. "And who may you be?" He grinned at the mischievous expression you had, spinning you before answering, "Scott McCall. No need to ask who you are, m'lady," you scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at his tone. You shook your head, trying to find the best way to continue the conversation to get it where you needed it. Why not just jump straight into it?

"I think I've heard of your place. Rumours of werewolves, right?" You watched him tense and a small frown form on his lips. He continued to dance with you but he didn’t seem to interested in conversation anymore. “Oh come on,” you chuckled as he spun you out, rolling your eyes at his expression. “Think they’re real?” He rolled his eyes this time, relaxing at the look on your face. With the slight shake of his head, he bowed to you as the music came to an end. One glance over your shoulder and you grabbed his hand to drag him over to a far corner. “I don’t necessarily believe anything without proof,” you nodded, taking in his words and laughed at how he completely dodged answering. The two of you stopped when you were a little further away from everyone else. You leant against the wall, smirk on your lips as you countered, “You’re avoiding the question. So,” you bit your lip, unable to bite back the grin at the fact you were so close to the end of the mystery, “What do you know? Are you the person that calms them down or, even better, are you one of them?” He looked tense, scoffing at the suggestion as he played with a ring on his finger. He was nervous so whatever words came out his mouth next had to be a lie. “I’m not, I’m not one of them,” you saw him look up at the growing grin on your face, the mischief and pride in your eyes. A breathy laugh left you lips as your hand went up to play with the necklace, “Oh my god, you’re a, I mean I thought maybe because when I went out and stuff, investigating’s hard, a lot of people had heard a connection with you and, well I thought that maybe they were wrong but, wow, they had it spot on, didn’t they?” He looked shocked at your rambles and you realised that you let slip you were investigating, “You can’t tell anyone that. My mother will kill me if she found out,” he sighed, nodding and looking back to the ring. He seemed to be figuring something out, face scrunched up in thought, “A secret for a secret,” he smiled at the way you were quick to agree. Shaking his head, he laughed before looking to someone across the room, “Derek’s gonna kill me,”

“Is he the alpha?” You asked, following his gaze to the guard the boy was staring at earlier. He had his eyes fixed on you with a fierce glare and you sent a cheeky smile and wave back. When you turned back to Scott, he was already looking at you. “No, he’s a beta. You can tell from the eyes,” he gestured a finger around his and you grinned at everything you were learning. Practically jumping with excitement, you asked, “Well, what about you?” He flashed his eyes at you, the blood red almost mesmerising and he smiled at the awed look on your face. “Red, alpha,” you giggled making him blush, standing up straight and placing your hands on his cheeks to bring him down for a closer look, “So cool,” you mumbled, eyes flickering between his before you realised he was looking at your lips, the red fading from his eyes. With a slightly forced chuckle and growing blush, you took a step back. “Yeah, I don’t kiss on a first meeting. Try third or fifth,” he smiled at the half smirk, half grin on your lips. He nodded in understanding yet still took your hands in his. “Well, I was thinking, maybe, I could come back tomorrow and we could walk around the kingdom or you know, just the garden,” you tilted your head for a second, pretending to think as he laughed at your antics, “I think I’m too busy learning to be a stone hearted bitch from my mother but I could clear my schedule,” you both chuckled, hands swinging slightly between you.

With a sigh, you glanced over his shoulder at Anna, talking to his friend from before. “Who’s that? I saw you talking to him earlier, he was staring at Derek. Actually, he still is,” Scott spun round and smiled at the sight of the brunet, “That’s Stiles. He kinda has a thing for Derek,” you sighed as you watched Anna stare at Tammy from across the room, clearly obsessed with the girl, “Well, he’d be a perfect fit for my sister. Maybe we should go over and tell them they both have love life problems that could be solved by getting together,” he raised an eyebrow at you so you explained, “She likes Tammy, her maid. Maybe if the two were to court and they married, lived in a castle alone together with said infatuations of theirs, they could be happy,”

He nodded, glancing back to see them both blushing messes and you saw him become slightly more concentrated before he looked back to you with a growing grin, “No need, they’re putting it all together themselves,” you smiled, watching them talk enthusiastically about it all, clearly very happy with the plan they were creating. “So,” you put all your focus back on Scott and smiled at his grin, “What time should I come by tomorrow?”

#elle’s1.3kauwc #scott mccall #teen wolf imagine #scott mccall x you #scott mccal imagine #Scott McCall x reader #royalty au

[deerlyloved]

grief

under cut: a story of mei’s friends coping with her death, at least until...

There was no average time for how long it took people to grieve. Every mind processed loss differently, mourned differently, so there was no way to actually tell how long it would take someone to get better ‘usually’. 

Maybe it was a few weeks, a month, a few years, never. Everyone did it differently. So when the entire unit was placed on mandatory bereavement leave for an undisclosed amount of time after the loss of Private Amari, they all found themselves at different points at different times, coping entirely differently.

Jonas couldn’t bear to look at his workspace, and more often than not he laid in bed or on the couch when he was dragged out by Ana, who’s only understanding of how to grieve was to help others around her. She was the eldest sister, so she saw it as her job to make sure everyone took care of themselves while she barely stopped to take care of her. Get Jonas up, make him eat, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response.

Clockwork. The unit always, always ran like clockwork, even when things were the most chaotic and unorganized. Rea didn’t wake them up anymore, so Ana did it instead. After an hour, she’d go knock on the captains door and pretend she didn’t notice how shaky he looked when he opened it and pretended to be annoyed with her. They rarely saw hide nor hair of H anymore, but that was expected, right? So Ana left food outside their door three times a day, talked to them through the walls, reminded them that the others would always, always be there for the Kayojin, and that they could stay on the unit or leave at their own will.

Kro’asha didn’t skitter through the vents because most of them passed Amari’s room, so Ana fetched things here and there that he had stashed… before. 

Iggy was contained. Major’s orders. He was getting some great treatment, but apparently it was hard for the not-dog to rebond with someone like he did Mei. Ana got it, she’d feel the same way if she were a poor little alien canine.

The carpet was singed from the dogs last outburst before he was deemed a health hazard.

Karen disappeared. The moment they got back to base, the android disappeared, took a ship out of the Citadel and had gone completely off the grid. That made plenty of sense too, of course, Mei made Karen so of course the robot would be similar to her. Maybe it was good that they had left… the witty comebacks would have sat heavy on their hearts.

Her feet slid against the carpet as she carried a mug out to the living room, leaning over the back of the couch to offer it to Jonas. The man was curled up, silently watching a movie on the TV. He sighed, though, and took the cup offered to him with a quiet thanks.

“No problem, Jonesy.” Ana replied, teasingly, though her tone made the real hollowness of her words stick out like a sore thumb.

They both went quiet again, and they stayed that way for a few minutes before Jonas spoke up this time. The engineer leaned forward, setting the mug of cocoa down and locking his hands together. “I think we need to clear out Mei’s room.”

“Wow, first thing you’ve said today and you’re already off to a bad start.”

“No, no, I…” Jonas sighed and rubbed his face roughly before he spoke again, “Ana, it’s just… It’s just there. Full of everything that she was, and would be, and it’s like a fucking ghost just staring all of us down. I think it’s why H doesn’t leave their room. Hard to look across and see Mei’s room, ya know? And I…” He scanned the room around them, “I don’t think we should trash it, just… I think we should pack it up. Get rid of all the little ghosts that she left.”

“You wanna just erase our friend out of our lives?” Ana scoffed, “No. No! We’re not just going to pack everything away! Mei belongs… She belongs here! She can’t just get pushed in the back of all our minds!”

“She won’t be!” Jonas retorted, “It’s impossible to forget Mei even if you want to, and none of us want to, Ana. We also don’t need constant reminders that she used to be here, and now she’s not. I’m not saying today, or tomorrow, just… Eventually. Eventually we need to accept that it’s okay to put all her stuff away and move on.”

“I’m sure Icka’s gonna have a ton to say about that.” Ana mumbled to herself.

“If she ever comes back.”

“I…” She had lost this argument, she already knew it. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Jonas was right. They didn’t need to leave Mei’s books out, or her shoes, the cat keychain she had imported… Those could all be put away, for their sake, and they wouldn’t stop thinking about Mei.

…But there was no way in Hell she was going to be the one who presented the idea to Rea.

The man was a bit of a hard-ass before he started the grieving process, but now? When he could be bothered to interact with his friends at all, he never followed schedule. He’d show up, ask how they were, then leave. Headed back for the training room. If you asked him anything between that, whether a general question or a request, you were going to get told to do it your own damn self.

Everyone grieves differently.

Rea worked, and got frustrated, and didn’t want anymore responsibility because he knew, knew, knew that he was the reason Mei died.

Jonas couldn’t work, and he was quiet and sleepy because he never slept anymore, hard to when all he could think about was how he could have stopped it from happening. Maybe if he’d just moved the sensors here, or made them stronger, or gone further up with the metal, or…

Icka formally resigned from her position as a medic and unit psychologist and went back to her home planet. She never talked to the unit anymore. Sometimes you just need to get as far away from your issues as possible.

H was mourning in their own way that was certainly frustrating for the rest of them. Ana cared for others to never think of her feelings. Kro’asha left the duplex and spent most nights in the general bunks so he wouldn’t have to see Mei’s things. Karen left the CCF entirely. Iggy bit people.

Clockwork. The unit ran like clockwork. Get Jonas up, make him eat, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response.

 Get Jonas up, make him eat, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, cry in the bathroom, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response...

Get Jonas up, make him eat, cry in the bathroom, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, cry in the bathroom, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response, cry in the bathroom.

Get Jonas up, cry in the bathroom, make him eat, cry in the bathroom, calm Rea down, cry in the bathroom, call Icka and get no response, cry in the bathroom, find Kro, cry in the bathroom, offer to cook H something and get no response, cry in the bathroom.

Cry yourself to sleep, then get Jonas up, then cry in front of him, then make him eat, then cry in the bathroom, then…

Ana was given mandatory meetings with another therapist as opposed to the grief counselor the unit was talking to already.

Three months, fourteen days, Kro’asha rejoined the duplex. Four months, three days. Jonas got up and made his own food. Five months, sixteen days, Rea woke everyone up at 7am. Seven months, eight days, Ana went through and packed away everything of Mei’s. Seven months, twenty days, H came out and joined them for dinner. Eight months, nine days, Icka called the unit.

Nine months, ten days, Karen sent them coordinates.

“Mandatory bereavement leave is mandatory.” Rea said as he followed his friends through the docking bay of the Citadel ship, “If they know we’re leaving for a possible mission, we’ll get added therapy, and I don’t think any of us want that.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I think Icks could use it.” Jonas replied.

Icka didn’t reply. The avian had come back just to investigate the coordinates sent, and she was certainly not the same alien who had left. None of them mentioned it.

“Listen, as far as we know, this is Karen just inviting us out to their cool new house!” He said, “No need to go worrying, okay?”

“When is anything that simple when it comes to an Amari?” Rea replied.

“He has a point.” Ana said as she stopped in front of a ship and turned, “This is the one we got, real clunker, but it’s not for fighting anyway so if we get in trouble… We’re thoroughly fucked.”

“We should not get in trouble.” H pipped up.

“Yeah, ‘cause Mei--ehhhhhhhhsnevermind.” Jonas quickly pushed past Ana to clamber onto the ship.

Everyone boarded quickly, got settled even quicker, and soon enough the on-leave unit was off with a rented pilot. “So, where are you guys headed? These are kinda in-the-middle-of-nowhere coords…” She asked.

“A friend invited us out to them, we figure they’ve either decided to go all mad-robot on us finally, or they have some cool party planned.” Ana replied.

“Cool, cool, but uh… Why on this place?”

“What place?”

“Do you guys not know?” The pilot cocked an eyebrow, leaning up to flip down a holographic screen that projected the area they were headed to, “It’s some little rinky-dink dwarf-planet set up, real seedy place. Mercs love the area.”

“Sounds like Amari territory…” Rea grumbled.

“Yeah, well, just be careful out there, it’d be a shame if I had to go home empty handed. Major’ed be all over my ass…” She sighed, her long, curled ears flicking.

The trip didn’t take much longer until the on-leave-unit saw the planet in the distance. The cities built on it clearly took up most of the area, the geography was all over the place but mainly seemed to be plains and hills, and as they approached the ground and actually broke the cloudline into the city it became very clear that this place was, in fact, ‘rinky dink’. The buildings were in poor condition, the streets were packed, the ships parked in the bay all looked stolen or like they were about to be hauled off for scrap. Rea sucked in air and sighed.

“Alright, we’re going to stick together out there, no need getting lost. H, try and stay somewhere in the middle, you’re incredibly small.”

“Kro’asha is smaller than me.”

“That’s why he’s going to be jumping on my shoulders. We aren’t that close. So stay close to me.”

The group unfurled themselves from their seats and piled out onto the streets. It definitely smells like a city, despite how cramped and busy it seemed the air was clean, the water was clean… Good ol’ Citadel influence.

“Coordinates are up ahead, a little to the right.” Rea announced as he led the group through. He was certainly an intimidating figure, and the crowd seemed to begrudgingly part for him as he walked through with little concern for who was in front of him. 

“What, in the apartments?” Jonas asked from the back of the group, “Shit, Ana, you might be right, Karen’s inviting us to their house.”

“Never that easy.” Rea retorted as he cleared a path towards the clearly labeled apartment complex, opening the gate and letting his friends file through. “No one make a scene, okay?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I was planning on doing some fuckery.” Jonas replied.

“I mostly meant Kro’asha and Icka, but I do appreciate the energy.” 

“Can we please just go inside?” Icka replied, a harsh tone to her voice. That was definitely knew for the group, and all of them seemed to share the same discomfort as they nodded and walked quickly for the entrance. As soon as they had all filed in, a young alien at the front desk turned to them, and went pale. Their hands were webbed, but they still typed at the computer in front of them quickly as they stared at the group with large, completely pink eyes. They almost looked like a frog, honestly.

“Karen Amari is in 247, they’ve been expecting you. They said you’re late.” They said, motioning for the group to head towards an elevator.

“This is terrifying.” Ana stated.

“We are on time, I don’t know why Karen said we’re late.” 

“Focusing on the real issue as always, H.”

Still, despite the obvious discomfort that the building held, the feeling that they were walking into a trap, the unit persisted. What else were they going to do, ya know? They’d already made it all the way out here, and knowing Karen, they’d kill the whole group if they never showed up.

The large group managed to cram themselves into the elevator, then down the narrow, twisting hallways that led to Karen’s apartment. That they somehow got… The Amari’s really were an enigma, weren’t they?

H was the first to spot the door, stepping over to it and giving a simple knock. Before they could rapt their knuckles against the wood a second time, though, the door swung open to reveal Karen, staring out at them all. Their stickers and bow had been peeled off, and they seemed to have acquired some new… stains that definitely-were-not-blood… But it was Karen.

“Hello.”

“Hello, H.” Karen replied, “It’s nice to see you, I’m glad you all made it, I’m going to need as much help as I can get with this.” The android stepped back and motioned for them all to come in, “It’s easier to have familiar faces here, reduces time spent in a natural state--”

“Karen, I’m begging you, begging you,” Icka said, “To please, those above, not waste our time mumbling vagueness and incoherent sentences, and just tell us why we’re here. I came a very long way, and I’d like to get back to my pottery and mourning in peace, thank you.”

“I see grief has left its mark on you.” Karen replied quickly, “A shame that it was all for not.”

“Charming as always when it comes to opinions on emotions, K.” Jonas murmured.

“All for not, because you had no reason to grieve. Mei is alive.”

Nine months, eleven days, and Karen had gone fucking insane.

H was the first to reply with a grimace and a firm shake of their head, “No, she is not.”

“Yes, she--”

“No, no, Mei died in my arms, she is not alive. You can’t tell me she is. You can’t make me believe that. You can’t.”

Ana reached a hand out to put on the Kayojins shoulder with her own grimace, “Karen, you should come with us, okay? You obviously aren’t doing well out here, and… Listen, I know it’s easier to believe--”

“Would you like to see her?”

The silence that overcame the group was deafening and instant. H’s breath hitched, Icka’s feathers puffed, Rea simply closed his eyes and shook his head almost disappointedly. Despite their pleas, how desperately they wanted to not fall for something so impossible, H spoke up, breathily, “Yes.”

“Over here.” Karen turned and walked towards the other side of the apartment, where the walls had been carefully cut to reveal the apartment next door. They walked through the gap they had clearly created, and stood off to the side to reveal a large room that was clearly better taken care of than the rest of the building. A soft lighting shone into a covered box that was connected to different canisters and boxes with long, thick hoses, and Karen carefully stepped over them to reach a screen just on the other side of them.

“She took the idea from her father, he wanted to use Talvak genetic research to help heal injuries, but never perfected it before his death. She had an endless supply of Talvak DNA, however, which made it easier.” Karen was intensely staring at the screen as they typed in various things, “The base idea was there, but Mei also never finished the project before her death, which left it in the very capable hands of me, her firstborn.”

Silence. 

“I don’t know why I was expecting a response.” The android murmured before carefully pushing the curtain that draped the box off to the side of it’s rod, revealing a UV light shining down on a metal capsule. The top of it had a glass window, though the group was too far away to see inside, wires and the likes connecting it…

“Come here, H.”

They were moving without a second thought, nearly stumbling over to the robot and hopefully moving to their toes to peer into the container in front of them. They had an aching feeling that it would be empty, that they wouldn’t see whatever they were expecting… Mei, or someone like Mei, or...or… Something. Anything to remind them of her. But they still looked, just in case, just in case Karen hadn’t truly lost themself in the grief.

And wouldn’t you know it…

Black hair, pointed ears, sharp features… No scars, but still so very much Mei Amari, and H’s heart skipped a beat, their breath stopped. This couldn’t be real, could it? No, no, she was dead, so very dead, and she didn’t look like this when she died, but here she was and… And she looked just like her old pictures. With her dad. 

H spoke in Kayojin, and the unit each had their own hopes as they crept forward.

It was… a loud few minutes.

Finally, Icka lurched forward and grabbed Karen’s shoulder with a frantic look in her eyes and a wide, sharp-toothed smile, “How. How did you do this? Is that her? Really her?”

“Mei was careful to have a constant digitization of herself both mentally and physically. She often scanned and mapped out the salient features of her brain, and then stored and copied that information state into a harddrive that just so happens to be me.” Karen explained it like it made sense, like it was absolutely nothing.

“The day before the mission, she uploaded, and using what DNA I had from her I was able to facilitate a regeneration of a biological body with the information I had. Of course, I also needed her actual body so I… Listen, is it important? She’s here! And I broke intergalactic law, so I would rather not tell you every detail.” The robot gently removed Icka’s talons, “I spent months perfecting her body and keeping it alive, and her brain was no help, always trying to rebel against the process. I tried releasing her once,” Their yellow hand brushed up against an obvious dent in their chassis, “It appears that when initially released, she’s reverted back to her Talvaa instincts until her brain can properly cope with what’s happened.”

“So… You… You brought us here to make her remember us?”

“Correct. Step back please, all of you. Please be warned, she is very naked, and given her last physical scan was after her amputations… While she can’t walk, she’s still very fast.”

It’s an odd thing, standing back so a robot can open up a metal box that contains a reconstructed version of your girlfriend. But H did it, nervously, hopeful, hands clasped as the lid raised with a hiss and Mei sat straight up with a cough and a sputter, leaning right over the side of the container with a dry heave and a shudder.

“Mei.” Karen called.

Mei flinched away from the noise, snarling as she jumped back further into the box she sat in. Everything about her seemed wrong in that moment, the way her body moved, the look in her eyes, and that’s why H stepped forward. They couldn’t help it, they saw Mei and she looked so scared and the last time she had looked like that… It made H’s stomach churn, and when they stepped forward Mei’s head snapped towards them.

It was a tense few seconds, silent seconds, and Rea also moved forward to put a hand on H’s shoulder, just in case… Listen, he didn’t want to boot a friend he’d missed for months across the room, but he would if she was about to bite someone.

Thankfully, that moment never came. The confusion and fear on Mei’s face slowly faded, and she blinked rapidly before she shook her head and looked back up at H. Then, a smile. A stupid, crooked, fanged smile as the Japanese woman leaned forward and motioned for H to come forward.

“Shit, I feel like I died.” She joked as the Kayojin stumbled forward, throwing their arms around her as soon as they could and pulling her into a tight hug. “Least I don’t…” Mei tightly hugged them back with a grin, “Least I don’t look like death, right? ‘Cause I know my ass looks great naked.”

#my writing #my ocs #sci fi #sci fi ocs #sci fi writing #mei #rea #karen #icka #ana #jonas #kro'asha #angst

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 9: On the Run

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities.

Instead of sticking to terms, Nick Fury was going for a hostile takeover.

It was a breach of contract, but from a business standpoint, it was the smart play. Hell, Bucky planned to do the same thing in the future, but the situation had gone tits up before he got the chance to put his own plans in motion.

They’d all agreed to the terms of the treaty, but as soon as Fury got back to his home turf, he unexpectedly declared Steve wasn’t the right man to handle their combined interests, and refused to work with someone he “no longer deemed trustworthy.” The Families didn’t have an alternate person who knew both businesses, and without Steve as a diplomat and go-between, the truce became strained.

In in an effort to maintain order in Brooklyn, dues were increased, funds were redistributed, and territories were rearranged. Tightening both the reigns and the purse strings helped for a while, but when people learned trade suffered because an outsider was badmouthing one of their own, they made their displeasure known.

It didn’t take long for whispers of disapproval to turn into deafening roars of outright dissent. The nature of the business had changed, but the foundation and principles had remained the same. In their world, unsubstantiated accusations still brought out visceral impulses, and after Sam went down, the gloves came off.  

Bucky had Natasha and Bruce investigate and they’d both arrived at the same conclusion: Steve and Sam had been loyal and all roads led back to Fury. He’d been the origin of the treason rumors, was behind the unsanctioned hit, and wanted Steve cut out so he could wrest control and poach from their joint revenue streams.

The situation reached critical mass after the funeral. Sam had been in the ground less than an hour when another attempt was made. Steve had been ambushed and almost killed in the middle of his own living room, and not long after, Bucky learned the Families private homes had also been compromised.

Bucky knew it was only a matter of time before Fury tried again, and once the Families realized he was gunning for them all, everyone agreed to batten down the hatches and move to undisclosed, more secure locations.

The hotel suite he was holed up in offered privacy, security, and best of all, a well-stocked bar. Yet, even with the creature comforts, Bucky still felt feel like a caged animal. He really needed to get his house in order, and so far, no easy solution had presented itself, and the booze wasn’t helping.

“If you want to take Fury out, you’re going to need to do it from the inside,” Natasha opined over FaceTime. “You need to turn his crew, and in order to get to them, you have to go through Steve.”  

“If he rallies Brooklyn and manages to get Fury’s people on his side, allegiances will be divided, and there will be mutiny here and abroad,” Bucky argued. “I can’t fight a war on two fronts.”

“You’ve always been stubborn, but I never knew you could be so ignorant.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natasha leveled him with a hard stare, “Steve’s calculating, but he’s stalwart. You’re alive because he’s still in love with you, and that’s why he won’t ever betray you or try to oust you.”

Bucky sighed and poured himself another drink, “For the record, he’s not in love with me. And Steve may be steadfast, but he’s also unforgiving and prone to petulance.”

“Look, if you just apologize and set aside your ego, the two of you could--”

“My ego isn’t the problem,” he interjected. “And in case you’ve forgotten, his goon squad beat the shit out of me, and he left you for dead in an alley.”

“And in response, you had our guys torture him for a month. Then, you took away his choices, his money, and his freedom,” she retorted. “The time for posturing and tit-for-tat is over. If you don’t get Steve back on our side, our people won’t fight, Fury will bury us, and it will be your fault.”

Before Bucky could formulate a response, Natasha brusquely told him to, “get his fucking shit together,” and then, ended any further discussion of the matter by cutting off the call.

Partnering with Nick Fury had been a calculated risk, but Bucky could have never foreseen it going bad so quickly. The harsh, bitter truths Natasha voiced were difficult to face, but deep down, Bucky knew she was right. The wisest course of action would be to bring Steve back into the fold, but given everything that had happened, mending fences would be easier said than done.

Too exhausted to think about it anymore, Bucky texted his security detail, and let them know he was turning in for the night. He’d just started to undress when a response came through; thinking it was one of the men bidding him goodnight, he ignored it, but when his cell rang and one of the guards in the suit adjacent suddenly began pounding on the adjoining door, he knew something wasn’t right.

A rhythmic candace. Sharp, loud, repetitive snaps.

The sound was all too familiar and made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand on end. Instinct and a flood of pure, high-octane adrenaline made him reach for his own weapon at the base of his spine. He could hear muffled, indistinct voices; see the doorknob being rattled; feel the grip of the gun against the palm of his hand; taste the fear and whiskey on his tongue.

Knowing he was next, he bolted for the exit, and looked through the peephole. When the hallway revealed itself to be empty, Bucky slipped the chain back, flipped the deadbolt, and opened the door.  Both guards stationed just outside were down, and as he continued onward, the bodies kept piling up.

The culprit had taken them out one-by-one and managed to get into the suite next to his without raising any suspicion or alarm. Everyone had erred on the side of caution and the Families hadn’t revealed to each other or anyone else where they were hunkered down. If he was being targeted, it meant someone on the inside had sold him out.

A strange sound drew his attention away from his thoughts and back to the task at hand. When he approached the elevator, he saw the doors opening and closing, but a pair of legs sticking out from the inside prevented them from shutting all the way. Bucky didn’t know how many enemies there were or where they were all located, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

A flickering exit sign pointed toward the stairwell, and he hastily made a beeline for it. Twelve flights and another door saw him out of the hotel and onto the street. Without his phone, wallet, and keys, he had no way of reaching out to anyone or getting away quickly. Exposed, alone, and with the enemy on his tail, Bucky had no choice but to start walking.

Gun low and pressed to his thigh, he crossed the street, and made it about two blocks before a black SUV, headed fast in the opposite direction, suddenly pulled a U-turn right in the middle of traffic. There was absolutely no way to outrun a car, which meant he had little choice but to duck into the nearest alley.

Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and his pulse thudded in his ears, but he remained silent, and waited. The vehicle pulled right up to the sidewalk, but nobody got out. The tinted window on the front passenger side was lowered, which prompted him to ready his weapon.

Bucky was a hairsbreadth away from firing when the high beams were flashed and a familiar voice yelled his name. As he warily approached, the back door was thrown open; the interior lights came on and revealed Bruce riding shotgun, Natasha at the wheel, and none other than Steve Rogers in the seat behind her.

With the threat of death imminent, Bucky didn’t hesitate, and as soon as he was in, Natasha hit the gas, and drove like a bat out of hell.

“How did you know?” he asked.

Bruce turned around in his seat, “Ever since Sam was killed, I’ve been monitoring all communications, but there are a lot of phones and a lot of people. Fury managed to get to one of your guards. I just didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“And him?” he prompted, nodding his head toward Steve. “Why is he here?”

“Steve knows Fury’s playbook,” Natasha voiced. “He’s here to help.”

Bucky let out a sound of frustration, “You shouldn’t have involved him.”

“You want me gone? Fine,” Steve mumbled lowly. “Pull the fuck over.”

Bruce shook his head frantically, “Bad idea.”

Natasha glanced in the rearview mirror, “You’re in no condition to be out on your own.”

When the vehicle entered a tunnel and the car’s interior was flooded with light, Bucky instantly understood why Bruce and Natasha didn’t want to dump Steve on the side of the road. The evidence of Nick Fury’s brutality was on every inch of visible skin, and the sight of Steve’s injuries made his gut twist.

One eye swollen shut and the other bloodshot. Brow and cheeks marred with stitched up cuts. Jaw extremely distended. Bruises on his arms that hadn’t even begun to heal. Steve was pale and sweating, and his harsh breathing indicated there was probably something even worse going on beneath the clothes. A lesser man wouldn’t have been able to withstand the agony, never mind be upright, but Steve wasn’t like most men.

Ram-rod stiff. Vacant countenance. The composure and comportment of a soldier.

He may have been bloodied, but Bucky knew not to mistake it for weakness or surrender, and the cold, deadly look in his eye suggested he wasn’t going to let a few cuts and bruises prevent him from getting even.

Everyone in Brooklyn was baying for blood, including Steve, and war was inevitable.

Nick Fury started it.

And Bucky had a sinking feeling Steve would be the one who finished it.

Chapter 10: Behind Enemy Lines

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard

#stucky fanfic #stucky drabble #stucky fanfiction #stucky oneshot #stucky imagine #stucky smut #mob boss au james barnes #mob boss au bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes fanfiction #steve x bucky fanfic #steve x bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #the boss of brooklyn #wordywarriorwrites

[butyoulikethat]

Today, as a chronically ill immunocompromised person, I am angry about the treatment I’ve received in the past.  Let me explain.

(Beyond “Read More” as it’s mostly me trying - and failing - to sound smart and educational about thyroid issues while bitching about my various results and lack of adequate care over the years.  If you get confused by the post, don’t feel bad - I am too, and I lived through this shit)

TSH stands for Thyroid Stimulating Hormone, a hormone produced by the thyroid gland - which in incredibly basic terms, controls your metabolism, which can affect body temperature, heartbeat and how (or even IF) you burn calories.  

If your TSH levels are high, it means that your body isn’t producing enough of the other thyroid hormones (typically T3, though T4 plays a role as well) - a ‘disease’ called Hypothyroidism.  This can be idiopathic or autoimmune, but is typically managed with Synthroid or Levothyroxine, thyroid hormone replacement medications.  Most of the time, you remain on this medication for the rest of your life, as too high of a TSH can cause a condition called Myxademic Coma, that has an incredibly high mortality rate.  

Now, the ranges for what constitutes a “normal” TSH level vary from lab to lab, but generally anything between 1.0 and 4.0 are considered acceptable, though many feel better with numbers between 1.0 and 2.0 (I personally felt the best around 2.0, though I still had some symptoms, even at that low of a number).  

July 2015 - Began seeing a new mental health clinician who asked that I get some blood work done before going on a new medication.  My TSH wasn’t terribly high at 5.41 (I’ve seen numbers in the double digits for other people), but it was high enough that the system flagged it as “Abnormal” and something that warranted further investigation and/or treatment.

Nobody did.

This is another result that I didn’t notice until years later, figuring that a doctor would’ve mentioned if there was an issue.  They didn’t.  

April 2016 - I called my GP and let her know that hair was falling out by the handfuls, that I was constantly cold, and that I was sleeping upwards of 18 hours a day and still waking up exhausted, mentioning that I wondered if it could be my thyroid on recommendation of my SIL (who has thyroid disease as well).  These are my results - out-of-range again, slightly higher than when I was tested in 2015.  My GP called it Subclinical Hypothyroidism and said we could treat it “If you want” (this doc had a history of blaming legitimately EVERYTHING on my anxiety, as if she couldn’t see the results I was seeing).   I said yes and went on a dose of 25mcg of Levothyroxine.  The number below is what my TSH was prior to beginning any kind of treatment.  She thought she felt some nodules on my thyroid (which, while rare, can be indicative of thyroid cancer) and sent me for an ultrasound that came back okay.  This was the most concern she ever showed and would ever show over the issue.

July 2016 - I saw an ENT for some unrelated medical issues.  When I mentioned the severity of my symptoms despite being on thyroid replacement hormone, he sent me for Thyroid Antibody Testing and marked in my file a diagnosis of “Euthyroid Autoimmune Hypothyroidism” (The euthyroid just means that my TSH was in what they considered to be “normal” range).  It was the first time anyone had brought up the idea of my Hypothyroidism being of the autoimmune variant, and he didn’t even mention it to me personally; I happened to see it marked in my medical records YEARS later by pure coincidence.   The Thyroid Antibody Tests were negative/within range, so he sent me on my way with no further treatment.  I’ve since learned that this doesn’t mean that I do NOT have Hashimoto’s Disease like my GP claimed; It just means that (A) my autoimmune system is so weakened by the hypothyroidism that it’s not able to produce the antibodies or (B) I have a milder form of the disease.  

As you can see, my TSH had stabilized somewhat, but I was still incredibly symptomatic and feeling only marginally better; I was told that it would take time to feel better, and since it had only been a couple of months, I believed them. 

October 2016 - Went back to my GP, told her it had been several months and I was still symptomatic.  She ran my TSH, said it was in range despite the fact that it was already beginning to show signs of going back up again, and dropped the subject.  Since beginning the medication in April 2016, I gained nearly 50 pounds, despite not changing my diet or exercise habits.  The doctor refused to acknowledge that it was due to the medication and instead told me to exercise more, now shifting blame for most of my health problems on being overweight.

April 2017 - Still sick, 110% over her bullshit but don’t have many options as there were only so many doctors who accepted medicaid in my area at the time.  She humored me, testing my Free T3 and Free T4 (other thyroid hormones that can create problems), but once again acted like my symptoms were all in my head.  TSH was a little lower this time due to her running the test when I hadn’t fasted properly (As those with Thyroid Disease may know, you’ll get a more accurate result if it’s been 24-hours since your last dose of Levothyroxine; I had just taken it prior to the appointment as I hadn’t known I would be getting bloodwork done)

February 2018 - Still sick, seeing new GP prior to moving and he ordered bloodwork after a bout of the flu.  TSH is the lowest it has been before and to-date, but numbers are apparently skewed by Biotin (which I wasn’t taking and still don’t understand)

April 2018 - See new GP in new healthcare system, orders new bloodwork and TSH testing.  She doesn’t brush off my concerns like my previous doctors had, but makes clear that they can’t see any reason for them in the tests that she has available to her.

July 2019 - See GP for routine tests, find that my TSH has gone up DRAMATICALLY despite continued treatment (only missed a pill maybe three times in the then-three years that I’d been receiving treatment, with the exception of a one week period where I attempted to switch meds, had bad side effects and switched back).  The nurse practitioner essentially tells me to get over it because the number is in range and that she’s not at all concerned about the fact that it jumped so dramatically in just over a year with continued treatment.  

March 5 2020 - Again had to temporarily switch providers due to insurance issues, get TSH checked as part of yearly protocol.  Number is borderline out of range, but because it still falls between those arbitrary numbers, it’s deemed to be “normal” and totally fine.  This doctor (a resident, rather than a fully fledged doctor) recommends that I get a referral to an Endocrinologist if I still have concerns.

March 20-21 2020 - Illinois issues shelter-in-place order for Coronavirus and I am FUCKED as an initial appointment with an endocrinologist would be listed as “non-essential”.  

#Hypothyroid #Hypothyroidism #Hashimotos Disease #Health #Medical #Chronic Illness #Personal

[wc-ff]

VII.

Agents Morris and Steele were under a lot of pressure being that the two women they had just found brutally murdered in an abandoned home were the immediate family members of the mayor. One of the most important men in the city. The case was highly publicized for that reason and the media had constantly made up more crazy theories about what had happened every other day. They couldn’t even walk out of the precinct without being flooded by reporters that wanted to know if they had found any suspects yet.

It had been almost a week since the double homicide and the two detectives could tell that the press wasn’t going to die down any time soon. Especially not with the mayor still speaking out about it.

The phone they had found as evidence was fingerprinted that same day, but they couldn’t find a match out of the millions of people in their database. So now, they were just trying to get the phone to turn on. It had gotten pretty damaged when it crashed down onto the concrete and was left there overnight. But it was the only major key that they had.

They knew that whoever owned that phone would most likely be vital in figuring out the killer and closing the case for good. Everything they needed was right in the palms of their hands but they just couldn’t quite get ahold of it.

“Have you tried putting it in rice?” Ronald questioned with a loud snort causing Sandra to cut her eyes at him menacingly.

This was constantly her issue with him; he was never serious when he needed to be and it drove her crazy. “This isn’t a joke, Ronald. The entire city is depending on us to find out who killed these girls and this phone is literally the only thing we have that can get us there. Now, are you gonna keep fucking around or are you actually gonna do your damn job?”

Morris took the seat beside her with an annoyed huff but decided against saying anything at that moment. He was beginning to learn Sandra and one thing he figured out was that he had to choose his battles with her. He didn’t mind taking one small loss if it meant an even greater victory in the future, so he was going to keep his mouth shut for now.

“What do you want me to do, eh? Use my special mind powers to make it work or somethin’?” He shot back sarcastically, his strong Italian accent shining through with each word he spoke.

“Yes, Ronald. It’s called a brain.” Steele retorted sternly with the roll of her eyes as her head shook from side to side in disapproval. She swore she was one more formal complaint away from being banned from filing any more.

She had been trying to get the phone to charge and turn on for the past several days but to no avail. The phone had clearly endured a lot of damage due to the hard fall it took against the asphalt. She let out a frustrated sigh as Agent Morris sat quietly beside her since she had deemed all of his ideas to get the phone working were ‘idiotic’ or 'unintelligible.’ It was why he barely put any effort into helping her and would just try it out on his own time.

Sandra had a way of demeaning the men she came in contact with. She loved emasculating them and crushing their unnecessarily oversized egos. She felt that she could do anything that a man could do, if not better so there was no need to submit to them or make their lives easier. They didn’t need to be catered to.

She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she was in college and she was fine with that. She didn’t need a man to feel happy or better about herself. She was a strong willed woman and it showed.

But at that moment, she had just about given up on trying to get the cell phone to work. It seemed hopeless.

Sandra sighed and threw the phone back down onto the table as she frustratedly ran her hand through her slick black hair. “This crap is useless.���

“You tried taking out the SIM card?” Ronald spoke absentmindedly as he picked at the slight amount of dirt in his nails. He was big on keeping his hands and nails clean just in case he needed to use them later on in the after hours.

“Yes, but this damn phone just won’t open up.” She retorted, attempting to pry the back of the phone off from the rest of the device once again.

Agent Morris looked over at the cracked iPhone sitting on the table with a raised brow. All of a sudden, a crippling laughter overtook his body as he struggled to breathe, slapping his knees multiple times. He had forgot she was a damn Android user. As far as he knew, her phone still had a battery sitting inside of it.

Sandra gave him a stern glare, feeling as if he was making fun of her and she didn’t like it. It seemed as if she was the only one that was actually trying to solve this case. If she brought the suspect down, it would be the highlight of her career and she’d be damned if she allowed Ronald to mess that up for her.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Morris taunted her in a condescending tone. “iPhone’s don’t open up. You need something small and sharp to get the SIM card out.”

Amusement was laced in his voice and it was obviously making his partner’s blood boil. He was enjoying every moment of it after hearing her attempts to tear him down all day.

Instead of waiting for her though, he took it upon himself to grab the phone from off of the charger it was on and reach over to Sandra’s ear to remove one of her small stud earrings. She looked as if she was a lioness ready to attack her prey with every movement he made, but he just ignored her and continued to remove the SIM card from the broken phone. It would have all of the information they needed.

To make things easier, Agent Morris decided to use his own phone for further investigation since his was already unlocked from any specific phone company and removed his own SIM card before inserting the other one. Once that was done, he allowed everything from the card to settle into the phone in time before they began to copy down the person who owned the phone’s information.

They were able to grab the suspect’s phone number, carrier the phone was paid under, and billing information, which in turn held the phone owner’s name.

“Sage Medina… let’s see if the name comes up in our database.” Sandra spoke from over Ronald’s shoulder as he continued to scroll through his phone with a chance of anything else they might find.

Agent Steele moved over and sat in front of one of the hefty computers, typing in the name she had just repeated mere seconds ago. Her heart hammered in her chest as she impatiently waited to see the results, a small frown growing on her face once their database came up empty meaning that whoever’s phone it was didn’t have a criminal record themselves. This was making their jobs much harder than it had to be.

They now would have to go to the surrounding areas asking people if they recognized the name, especially since both of the detectives had no clue what this Sage person looked like. But it was a step closer in the direction they needed to be in if they were going to solve this case and neither one of them could rest until they did.

They wasted no time in gathering their things and making their rounds in a cop car that Sandra decided to drive. She was very cautious about who she hopped in a car with and she didn’t trust Ronald to get her anywhere safely in the slightest.

The two detectives visited restaurants, convenience stores, retail shops, and houses in the surrounding areas of the crime scene asking pedestrians if they knew of this Sage person. No one seemed to know who the individual was. It was almost as if having her name was a dead end in itself.

As they knocked on the last door on the block, Ronald gave Sandra a slightly discouraged look feeling as if this lead would have gotten them so far but also nowhere. She stared back at him expressionless, but she wasn’t feeling too good about how things were looking either.

They both turned their attentions back to the door once they heard it unlock, swinging open only moments later as a petite, caramel toned woman came into the frame. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Agent Steele and this is my partner here, Agent Morris.” Ronald gave a slight wave to the woman as he took in her figure and Sandra continued to speak, explaining the situation to her.

Her toes were painted a clean cocaine white and her smooth cocoa butter covered legs could be seen glistening even to the dullest of eyes due to the skin tight white shorts she was wearing. An oversized blue jersey was clad on her body and her natural hair was up into a curly puff. She wasn’t even trying in the slightest, but she was beautiful.

Ronald had already tuned his partner out by now as the woman invited them inside. They sat in her living room, her home smelling strongly of incense.

“You said you’re looking for Sage Medina, huh?” The gorgeous woman questioned as they all took a seat, one of her legs gracefully crossing over the other. “Yea, I know that bitch.”

The two detectives glanced at each other in shock, not expecting the harshness of her words to flow out so quickly. This woman obviously didn’t like the girl, which could have meant either a good thing or a bad thing for them. Only time would tell.

“She’s my boyfriend’s best friend and let me just say, shorty got a nasty attitude.” Chantell continued to rant off as Sandra turned to raise a brow at Ronald.

It could have meant something but it wasn’t like everyone with a bad attitude committed murder. Though, Steele knew it was something she should keep in mind, especially when it came time to profile this person of interest.

“Do you know where Sage lives?” Sandra interrogated further as she pointedly wrote a few quick notes down on her notepad.

Chantell shook her head. “Nope. You would have to ask De'Angelo about that. If I did know where she lived, I would have been pulled up on her.”

The two detectives shared another look, realizing how rowdy this girl was becoming. She was getting hype as if Sage was right in front of her. Though, they didn’t allow that to hinder their investigation as they asked a few more questions about the woman’s appearance before getting the boyfriend’s information so they’d be able to question him. Sandra recognized the description of Sage to be awfully familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who it could have been.

Agents Morris and Steele began to gather their things as they thanked Chantell for her time, both of them sharing a handshake with her. Sandra started towards the door with purpose, but Ronald hung back a bit as he slid one of his contact cards out of his front shirt pocket.

“If you ever find out any new information on her or her whereabouts or need anything else in general, don’t be afraid to let us know.” His tone was professional but low as he handed her the small rectangular paper.

Chantell had noticed the detective eyeing her from the time she opened the door and she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate the attention. It might have been a good idea to have him in her corner. After all, he was law enforcement.

She slightly tilted her head with the bat of her long mink eyelashes, her bottom lip loosely embedded between her teeth as their fingers brushed up against each other lightly. “I’ll make sure I call if anything comes up.” Her voice was smooth and enticing, like a siren singing to trap her man.

Ronald could nearly feel the blood beginning to rush to his lower half and at that moment, he knew he needed to get out of there before he did something else that gave Sandra a reason to report him. The thoughts that were now running through his mind were enough to make her write up a full page on him. He cleared his throat and Chantell smiled, knowing good and well that she was already making him weak. “You have a nice rest of your day, ma'am.”

“You too, Agent Morris.”

*******

Sage grabbed the brand new phone she had bought for herself a few days ago off her dresser due to her receiving an incoming call. A small smile graced her face once she saw her best friend’s name flash across the screen.

She had been pulling double shifts for the past few days to make up for the money she had to spend to buy herself a new phone, so they had barely seen each other and she honestly missed getting on his nerves. The good thing about working so much was that it kept her mind off of her troubling situation.

“Nigga who you is calling my girl phone?” Sage answered the call in the deepest voice she could muster up.

She could hear De'Angelo suck his teeth on the other end of the line. “Sage, I ain’t 'bout to play with your ass.” He shot back causing them both to burst out into a fit of laughter.

“How’d you know it was me?” She asked in between her laughs. “I wasn’t aggressive enough, huh? I should have called you a bitch.”

That only caused her best friend to chuckle even more. She knew that was one word he hated with a passion because he heard his father call his mother that so many times while he was growing up. It was then that he vowed to never call a woman out of her name; hearing it always took him back to when he was a helpless little boy. “Now, you know damn well you wouldn’t sound like a nigga even if you did call me that.”

Sage huffed lowly at her failed attempt, playfully rolling her eyes as if he could see her. She actually thought she did pretty well. Her voice was giving her very much manly vibes.

“Aye, but look. The feds just left my house and they were asking all kinds of questions about you.” De'Angelo just ripped the bandaid off as well as he could. He didn’t want to beat around the bush because he knew how her anxiety could get and this was bad enough news as it is.

Her heart immediately sunk to the pit of her stomach as she processed his words, the thoughts she was trying to push to the back of her head now rushing forward all at once. She gulped hard, but it did nothing for the desert-like dryness she could feel in the back of her throat. “How—What did they say?” She struggled to form her words correctly, her mind racing wildly as her heart pumped so hard that it shook her entire body.

“They were talking about the murder of those two girls… but I told them that you’ve been my friend since elementary and that there was no way you could do something like that. But I know they’re still gonna wanna talk to you about it so I just wanted to give you a heads up first.”

Sage buried her head in her hands for a second before she quickly removed them to hold her phone up closer to her mouth so he could hear her clearly. “How’d they find you? Why didn’t they just come to me to begin with?”

“That, I honestly don’t know Sage.” De'Angelo paused to think back for a minute or two. “Don’t they have your phone? Maybe that’s how.”

She sighed and stood up, beginning to nervously pace the floor as she subconsciously gnawed on the sides of her cheeks. The taste of blood filled her mouth instantly. “But that still doesn’t make sense on why they came to you. You have enough going on and I’m not trying to get you involved in this.”

“There’s nothing that could ever be going on with me to where I wouldn’t be there for you and you know that. If I could, I’d make this all go away for you but I can’t. So, all I can do is the best I can to comfort you when you’re down and help you out when you need it.”

Salty tears began to cascade down Sage’s cheeks as she remained silent. She didn’t want him to know that she was crying because it was a mix of appreciation that he was there for her and also being scared shitless. So, she wasn’t sure whether she could say they were happy tears or sad tears.

“Sage…” De'Angelo called out to her to make sure that she was still on the line. “You ok?”

She quickly wiped the clear liquid from her face and cleared her throat to rid her of that bubble forming in the back of it. “Yea, I’m good. I didn’t do anything so I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him of that or herself. She wasn’t sure about anything.

“You need me to come over?” He questioned, honestly hoping she would say yes. Chantell still wasn’t responding to him and he knew that he and Sage both needed to relax and relieve a bit of stress. When they were with each other, they forgot all about their other problems and they needed that in that moment.

“No, I’m just gonna head to sleep.” She responded, her eyes continuously leaking fluids.

Her main goal right now was not bringing anybody else down with her if it came down to it and that meant their spirits too. She felt she had already cried to him about the situation too much and didn’t want to seem annoying or overly emotional, so she just decided to handle this one herself. The fact that she was even still crying had angered her alone.

“Oh, well alright.” De'Angelo’s voice was evidently laced with disappointment but he would respect her choice anyway. “Sweet dreams then and if you need anything, call me.”

She nodded more so to herself and without saying another word, she ended the call before allowing the second wave of tears to come rushing out.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

The Sun Prince (Chapter 6)

Summary:  It was an accident. A simple misstep that sent him plunging into the darkness and waking an ancient magic. Now Prompto has to deal with the consequences of making a deal with an Astral and learn how to control the magic blooming inside of him.

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the username “kishirokitsune”

I now have an incredible beta-reader to help me polish up chapters and stay on track for where I need to be! And also has been super patient in helping me find and fix mistakes, as well as flesh out scenes. 

-----

6. Across the Great Ocean

There were only so many interesting pictures he could take when they were surrounded by the sparkling blue waters of the Cygillian Ocean. He got plenty when they first left, including a selfie of himself with the lighthouse in the background, as per Noctis' request to take more pictures of himself, but his interest waned the further they got from the shores of Lucis.

Prompto flopped onto the bench seat next to Noctis, who was turned so he could stare into the water. “See anything cool?”

Noctis shrugged. “Hard to see anything when we're going this fast.”

Prompto refrained from looking over the edge, knowing his motion sickness would kick in hard if he did so. He was doing well so far, but he wasn't going to tempt fate. He looked at his camera instead. “Yeah, it's too bad we can't stop and let you fish; I bet there’s lots of big ones here, too. But we shouldn't keep Lady Lunafreya waiting.”

“It'll be good to see her again, though,” Noctis said with a soft sigh.

Prompto deleted a blurry picture of the shoreline and then looked away from the camera to face his friend. Noctis moved so he was sitting in what Ignis would consider a manner befitting a prince.

“Wanna look?” he asked, holding up his camera.

Noctis nodded and scooted over until they were nearly touching.

Praying that his blush wasn't obvious, Prompto turned the screen so his friend could see as well, and began the process of saving the pictures they liked the most.

“But that one's awful!” Prompto burst out when Noctis indicated he should save one of his selfies. The sun had caught at a bad angle in it, making his face look much redder than it really was. “No way, dude!”

“I like it,” Noctis said.

“Nope. No, I'll take another one, but we're not saving that. I look like I've been outside all day and got a terrible sunburn!” Prompto said, erasing it even as Noctis made a sound of complaint. “Hey, look how silly Gladio looks in this one!”

Gladio, who was sitting on the bench in front of them, glanced up from his book, but made no move to turn to see it for himself. He listened to them for a moment before going back to his reading.

Prompto saved that one and Noctis tried to stifle his laughter.

After a while, Ignis exited the bridge where he'd been talking with Cid about what they should expect once they arrived in Altissia. The old man insisted on coming along after all the hard work he put into the repairs, and they were all grateful for his presence, especially when it meant the Regalia wouldn't be unguarded while they went ashore.

Ignis joined them just in time to see a photo featuring Noctis with his mouth wide open in preparation of biting into a juicy burger.

“I think Lady Lunafreya will quite appreciate that one,” he said with a note of amusement in his voice.

Noctis shot his adviser a dirty look. “We're not keeping it.”

“I dunno, I kinda like it,” Prompto teased, pretending to think about it.

“You deleted the selfie you didn't like!”

“My camera, my rules,” Prompto decreed, holding it out of Noctis' reach as the prince stretched forward and tried to snatch it from his hands. Prompto grinned, silently daring his best friend to try again… and forgetting that Noctis was never one to back down when his pride was on the line.

Noctis lunged and Prompto squawked as they both went tumbling from the bench, landing in a heap on the deck of the Royal Vessel.

Gladio chuckled at the sight they made.

The camera slid out of Prompto's reach, but before he could scramble to retrieve it, Noctis rolled over on top of him and pinned him in place. Prompto felt like his face was on fire, his heart beating so loudly that he was sure everyone else could hear it, even over the pounding of the waves against the boat as they sped across the water.

“I won't let you up until you promise to delete it,” Noctis said, his mouth twisted up into a triumphant smirk.

Prompto blinked, his mouth suddenly dry. “I, uh, no?”

Why were words so hard?

“Then I guess we'll be here for a while,” Noctis said.

Prompto was absolutely not staying in that position for any longer than he needed to. Nope. No way. Either his head would spontaneously combust or something else bad would happen, like the ocean swallowing them all to bury his mortification, and both of those would require too many explanations.

He made a half-hearted attempt to wiggle free, but Noctis' hold was firm. “Okay, okay! I'll do it.”

The pressure lifted and Noctis stood so that he could ease himself back onto the bench seat, his back evidently bothering him after their little tussle.

Prompto retrieved his camera and checked it over for damage as he sat back down next to Noctis. His finger hovered over the delete button and for a moment he entertained the idea of saving it instead.

He pressed down.

“There. All gone,” Prompto told him.

“Thanks,” Noctis said, flashing him a smile. “Have any good ones of Iggy on there?”

Prompto grinned back. “Let's find out.”

Ignis remained impassive as they scrolled through to find any of him that could be deemed silly or embarrassing, but no matter how hard they looked, they found nothing. He remarked that he had no “bad sides”, which only encouraged the pair to try harder.

As they drew closer to Altissia, birdsong filled the air. A flock of seagulls flew in circles overhead, never breaking away to land on the rocky outcrops.

“How odd,” Ignis murmured, adjusting his glasses as he watched them.

“What's up, Iggy?” Gladio asked.

Prompto and Noctis looked up from their plotting.

Ignis gestured to the birds above them. “The behavior of the seagulls here is unusual, is all. I don't believe they typically fly in a formation like this for so long.“

A low cry echoed across the water, almost haunting in tone, and the Royal Vessel began to slow. Prompto was about to ask Cid why they were stopping, when a horn jutted up out of the water, followed by the massive form of a whale-like creature. It breached completely from the water and then crashed down, making the boat rock violently.

“Wh-what the hell is that thing?” Prompto asked, gripping the side of the boat so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Noctis leaned over the edge, his eyes wide with delight. “Whoa, look at all of those fish!”

“The fish?! That's what you're focusing on and not the giant creature trying to capsize us?” Prompto asked incredulously.

“Well now,” Cid's voice cut across the deck. “Never thought Ah'd get the chance to see the Legendary Bismarck. Count yerself lucky, boys. The fishermen 'round here count his sighting as a blessing.”

Noctis was still gazing at the sea creatures as though he were seconds away from leaping in to join them.

Ignis gave a hopeless sigh, removing his glasses to clean off the ocean spray. “I suppose we could stop for a short while.”

Noctis had his fishing rod out before Ignis stopped speaking, quickly switching lures to something better suited for the ocean. He settled into a comfortable position and cast out his line, lost in his personal joy of fishing.

Best friend that he was, Prompto dutifully raised his camera and captured him in action.

 -----

Before they disembarked at the Altissian docks, Ignis made them all change out of their Crownsguard uniforms and into something that would allow them to walk around without attracting too much attention. Prompto didn't see how a white shirt and black cap was going to stop anyone from recognizing the Crown Prince of Lucis, but it was worth a try.

Cid waved them off, promising to keep an eye on things from the Royal Vessel. As agreed, he would take off first thing in the morning, retreating to a safe distance in case things went poorly with Leviathan.

“You can find Weskham down at a little place called 'Maagho'. He'll help,” he told them.

The only problem was actually finding it.

The streets were built like a labyrinth. Walkways crossed over one another, stairs led up one way and down another, some into dead-end streets. Everywhere they turned, there were fancy stalls set up with unique trinkets, all designed to attract tourists. At one, Noctis found a cactuar figure and couldn't resist purchasing it. Talcott would appreciate the gesture for sure.

Ignis had a map, but it was virtually useless for anything except vaguely pinpointing where they were standing within the city limits.

Gladio peered over Ignis' shoulder, trying to help make sense of which way they needed to go. By the way Ignis kept frowning and shaking his head, Prompto assumed they weren't having much luck. Really, they would be better off asking for directions from one of the locals.

He left them to it and joined Noctis in investigating one of the many market plazas. Everything was so colorful and lively that it was hard to figure out where to start, so they picked one to their left and began to work their way around, taking a look at everything there was to see.

It was easy to forget they weren’t on vacation.

He and Noctis stopped near a stall selling a number of unusual hats. Prompto spotted a captain’s hat and wondered if he should get it for Cid as a small way to thank him for everything he’d done for them.

“So, when do you want to tell Ignis and Gladio?” Noctis asked as they moved away without buying anything.

Prompto’s mood soured. “I dunno. Figured we’d get settled in first and then I’d do it.” He met Noctis’ gaze and something about the intensity he found in those dark eyes made him look away with a shiver.

“Do you want to talk about it some more? We never had time to go over what Rhyos told us and work it into your explanation,” Noctis said, keeping his voice low. It was doubtful that anyone around them would glean anything important from their conversation, but it never hurt to be careful.

Prompto shook his head. “Probably better not to mess with it. Look, let’s just worry about finding Maagho’s right now. That’s what’s important.”

Noctis studied him for a moment and then gave an exhausted sigh. “Fine.”

Prompto swallowed, fighting back the sickening feeling that he was a disappointment. Why couldn’t he do the one thing he promised both Noctis and Iris? Why was it so hard to find the strength to tell Gladio and Ignis?

He kept his head down and was only able to muster up a fake smile until they reached the very last stall, which had a sign proclaiming that they sold the World’s Best Gelato.

Prompto had seen at least three other places proclaiming the same thing since they began their walk from the docks.

“Do you think we should?” Prompto asked, glancing back at Ignis and Gladio. They were still looking over the map, though they had acquired help in the form of a young woman whom Prompto assumed was a local. It never ceased to amaze him how easily Gladio charmed the ladies, despite his intimidating stature, but she looked perfectly at ease as she stood next to him and helped map out their best path.

“We'll get them some, too,” Noctis said, choosing not to remark on the fact that they'd finally asked for help. “What kind do you want?”

Prompto took a few minutes to deliberate before settling for a vanilla swirled with Duscaen orange, while Noctis got one called sea-salt for himself, a simple chocolate and vanilla for Gladio, and one ulwaat berry for Ignis.

By the time they rejoined their friends, the woman was gone.

“So, did you figure it out?” Prompto asked.

“I believe so,” Ignis said as he folded up the map. He made no complaints about having dessert before dinner, wordlessly accepting it from Noctis. “Maagho is only accessible by gondola, so we will have to take a ride to reach it.”

“We also heard that Lady Lunafreya's wedding dress is on display somewhere around here. Sounds like something we should check out,” Gladio mentioned. He took a huge spoonful of gelato and stuck it into his mouth, the very taste morphing his face into one of bliss.

Prompto looked down.

He was sure it was a beautiful gown, perfectly suited for the Oracle, but it was also a reminder of a wedding that never happened. A wedding staged by Niflheim in a pretend gesture of peace. A wedding that he could have sworn was still going to happen.

He frowned, trying to remember when they had gone from “going to Altissia to get Noct hitched” to “going to Altissia to wake Leviathan and earn her blessing”. Had it been when Insomnia fell and he just never caught on to their change of plans? Was it some unspoken thing?

A spoon appeared inches from his nose and Prompto went cross-eyed to look at it.

“It's weird. You should try it,” Noctis said before shoving the ice-cream into Prompto’s mouth.

“Wha-mmph!”

Prompto refrained from spitting out the gelato as salt hit his tongue. There was a sweetness behind it, easing the taste, but it didn't stop him from making a face. “Oh, that is weird.”

“Told you,” Noctis said as he swiped a scoop of Prompto's in return.

“Hey!”

A small scuffle broke out between them, which by some miracle didn't leave either of them with their dessert melting on the ground. Ignis attempted to calm them, while Gladio stood by and did nothing.

“If you're quite done,” Ignis said sternly, swiping Noctis' cup of gelato and replacing it with his own. He took an experimental bite of seasalt. He frowned. “May I inquire as to why you chose this flavor?”

“Some kids were talking about how good it was. You're always telling me I need to branch out more, so I figured I'd try it,” Noctis said, shrugging. He looked much happier with the flavor of ulwaat berry.

“Clearly they have poor taste.” Ignis gave Gladio a look as he snuck in to try it for himself.

The shield hummed thoughtfully and swapped his half-eaten cup for the sea-salt. “It's not that bad.”

Once they finished eating, Ignis took out the map and guided them through the streets. It took them a few wrong turns to find it, but it wasn't too long before they were standing at the store front where Lunafreya's wedding dress was on display.

Prompto snapped a quick picture and tried not to think about how something meant to bring renewed hope to the people of Eos was instead the centerpiece of horrific tragedy.

Noctis took his time standing there, voicing none of his thoughts to his companions. It was only when he began to walk away of his own volition that anyone dared to break the silence.

“Now we just have to find one of those gondolas, right?” Prompto asked. “Shouldn't be too hard.”

It wasn't.

Everyone was able to breathe more easily once they were on the boat and off the winding streets. They relaxed and enjoyed the slow voyage, and Prompto could tell that Noctis spent the time making mental notes of every fishing spot, just in case.

As Ignis said, Maagho was only accessible by boat and was located in the underbelly of the city. It allowed for a crystal-clear view of the broad Cygillian. Fishing vessels were able to dock around the back of the restaurant, allowing easy access to fresh goods.

An older gentleman - whose hair had long been gray - stepped forward to welcome them, introducing himself as Weskham Armaugh, proprietor of Maagho.

He regarded Noctis with fondness and invited them to order whatever they liked from the menu.

For all that Altissia was the capital of Accordo and had a busy tourism industry, there was a peacefulness to the city that was different from anything they'd felt before. Insomnia was busy in an anxious way, constantly moving and never staying still. Even Lestallum, which was way more laidback than Insomnia, had a presence that moved with a sense of urgency or purpose.

Altissia was all about moving at your own pace.

It was nice.

If he had the time, Prompto knew he could spend days, maybe even weeks, exploring the city and not get bored of it. He mused on the odds that he could come back and do that one day as their food arrived and everyone began to eat.

They had chosen to sit at the bar, and Prompto was tucked between his best friend and Gladio, while Ignis was on the other side of Noctis, likely because the prince was the least likely to try and sample his food.

He listened to the conversations around him, hiding his grin into his food when Ignis broke away from talking to Weskham in order to scold Noctis for nonchalantly moving his vegetables over to his plate.

At least Weskham looked amused by their antics.

The peace couldn't last forever, of course. As Noctis requested a look at the dessert menu, a hush fell over the bar. The four of them turned around, fearing the worst, but saw no imperial guards coming for them.

Instead, there was a stern-looking woman with short blonde hair, dressed in a stylish turquoise suit. She carried herself with an air of importance as she made her way towards them.

“I believe that is First Secretary Camelia Claustra,” Ignis quietly told Noctis.

Prompto was sure they were about to be asked to leave the city. Why else would the First Secretary of Accordo travel down to speak with them personally? Just having them in the city meant her people were at risk of encountering imperial soldiers.

They all listened as she stated that she was aware that they were in Altissia to wake the Hyrdraean. She had already spoken about it with Lady Lunafreya, who was being kept in a safe location and hidden from the empire, but she still had reservations about allowing them to rouse the Tidemother.

It was with that information that Noctis agreed to speak with her at her private estate, and it was the most diplomatic act Prompto had ever witnessed from his friend.

“So, what do you think, Iggy?” Gladio asked once she was gone.

“I believe that speaking with her will be our best chance. Unless I'm mistaken, she has no desire to allow the Empire to gain complete control over Accordo. She must believe that allowing you and Lady Lunafreya to call upon Leviathan will be in her best interests, but we will not know for sure until Noct speaks with her,” Ignis said. He turned to Noctis, who looked stiff and uncomfortable at the reminder of why they were in Altissia. “I believe it's time for us to retire for the night. Tomorrow, you will be able to speak with her and we can make plans from there.”

Noctis nodded.

-----

Morning came bright and too early for Prompto, even after a night of restful sleep. A feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach dragged him down, preventing him from being his normal ray of sunshine. Luckily for him, Noctis was far grumpier in the mornings and all of Ignis' focus was on getting him ready for his meeting, while Gladio tried to help.

Ignis forced Noctis into a chair so he could properly fix his hair, and that was when Noctis’ eyes met Prompto’s from across the room.

Normally, there would be some form of silent communication which would pass between them, like Noctis begging his friend to save him from Ignis’ perfectionism, but all Prompto found was an unreadable expression.

Again, he was struck by the thought that he was a disappointment. That Noctis was angry with him for not keeping his promise. It was the only thing that made sense.

Suddenly, the airy room they’d been given felt suffocating.

He stood up, trying to remember any breathing exercises that would help, but his anxiety only rose as he garnered attention from Ignis and Gladio as well.

“Prompto, is something the matter?” Ignis asked.

“No!” Prompto blurted out, mild hysteria flooding his chest. “No, um, I just need to step out for some air, I think. Good luck with your meeting, Noct!” He gave his friend a thumbs up and then practically ran for the door and yanked it open.

From behind him, he caught the start of Gladio saying “Hang on, I’ll come--” but didn’t stop to hear the rest.

It was much easier to breathe out in the fresh air, and Prompto quickly hung a right to head out into the wider city. A walk was just what he needed to clear his head and calm down.

He let his thoughts drift, trying not to let himself get bogged down by the negative ones. He moved to the unfamiliar beat of a foreign land, standing out even as he went with the crowds, letting them direct him for a while, until finally he came to a fountain in an area that had less crowds.

Prompto took a seat on the raised edge and tilted his head back to look at the blue skies, letting a soft sigh pass over his lips.

Noctis was likely speaking with the First Secretary by then. He hoped his friend was faring well and that he hasn’t messed things up by running out on everyone, but he did feel better after his walk around the city. His mind was finally clear.

He knew he could tell them. Iris had helped him practice until his voice went hoarse and he was sure he had everything straight, and he didn't want to let her or Noctis down.

“What am I going to do?” he asked himself.

Prompto hadn't expected an answer, so when a dog barked right next to him, he nearly fell over in surprise. His eyes went wide at the sight of the white-and-cream dog staring up at him. He blinked, frowning as though he was having trouble believing what he saw.

“It can't be... Tiny?”

She barked again and wagged her tail in excitement.

Prompto laughed and reached out to pet her, his worries ebbing away as he lavished her with attention. He sat up after a moment and she hopped into his lap, clearly enjoying herself as she settled in.

“I'm really glad to see you, y'know? I was worried when you disappeared. When I was a kid, that is. If not for Lady Lunafreya's letter...”

If not for her letter, much of Prompto's life would be different. He never would have found the courage to reach out to Noctis and become his friend. He wouldn't have gotten to know Gladio or Ignis. Would he have made it out of Insomnia during the invasion? So many hadn't...

Tiny whined to get his attention and Prompto resumed petting her.

“I owe you a lot,” he told her. “Maybe you can help me again? I have to tell my friends something really important and I'm afraid of how they'll react. It's silly, I know it is. They'll be disappointed that I've hidden it from them, but maybe that's what scares me the most... I don't want to disappoint them. I've worked so hard to prove that I can stand by Noct's side and not get in the way. Some secrets are necessary...” His hand strayed to his wristband. “...but not this one.”

Tiny nudged his hand and he smiled at her.

Prompto was sure he made an odd sight, sitting on the edge of a fountain and talking to a dog, but being able to voice his thoughts to Tiny was helping his nerves settle. She was a very good listener.

“I just need to go up there and tell them. Like ripping off a bandage, right? It's too bad I can't take you with me when I do it, but you belong at Lady Lunafreya's side, not mine. She needs you,” Prompto told her.

A figure in white. The glint of light on the trident.

Prompto closed his eyes and pushed the vision away. “I don't think she's safe, Tiny. There's something – someone – who wants to hurt her. I know the First Secretary told us she's safe here, but...” He trailed off as he looked down at Tiny, whose twitching ears were the only indication that she was still listening. Her eyes were shut, as though she were asleep. “I guess you wouldn't be here if you thought she was in trouble. And this is a nice place to think.”

He sat there, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the laughter of children around him, the feel of soft fur between his fingers, and the chatter of the locals and tourists as they went about their daily routine. There was just enough going on around him that he didn't lose himself to negative thoughts.

By the time Tiny woke with a wide yawn, he felt ready to march back to the Leville and tell his friends everything.

She gazed up at him for a moment, and then stretched up to lick his cheek. With a soft bark, she jumped down and vanished into the crowds.

“Thank you,” Prompto whispered after her.

-----

Noctis didn’t know what to do.

After Prompto fled the room as though a pack of daemons were clawing at his heels, Ignis and Gladio turned to Noctis for answers. He had them, but they weren’t answers that were his to give. He stayed silent, just as he promised he would, and shrugged each time they asked.

He wished he could help somehow. Prompto was clearly struggling, and Noctis assumed that it had to do with his powers and the fact that he still hadn’t come clean about them, but it didn’t seem to matter how much he tried to reassure Prompto. All he could do was continue to be there for his friend, though if it went on for much longer, he doubted he would be able to stop Gladio and Ignis from tying Prompto down in order to get their answers.

Ignis sighed heavily. He did that sometimes, when he thought Noctis was being particularly stubborn about something, but was willing to let it go for the moment. “The two of you will have to tell us what’s going on eventually. I believe I speak for both of us when I say that we hope it is sooner rather than later.”

Noctis grunted and hoped that he was right and that was as far as Ignis was going to push.

“Still can’t believe he ran off like that. What the hell happened to the three of us escorting you to the estate?” Gladio asked grumpily.

“Plans change,” Ignis said, his tone one of patience. “I believe you are now ready to speak with the First Secretary, Noct. Shall we go now?”

Noctis breathed in deeply. “Yeah… Actually, could one of you stay in case Prompto comes back first? I don’t want him to feel left behind.”

“Very well,” Ignis agreed. “I will stay and look over our supply of curatives. It would be prudent to stock up before your Trial with Leviathan. Gladio, do you mind?”

Gladio stood up and stretched. “Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s get going, Noct.”

Hoping that he hadn’t just left Prompto to fend off Ignis on his own, Noctis left with Gladio. He was sure they’d be fine.

#FFXV #fanfiction #Promptis #The Sun Prince #Final Fantasy XV #slow burn promptis #solheim magic

[readyplayerhobi]

A Constellation of Fires | 02

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

; Word Count: 29.2k

; Warnings: Talk of scarring, oral sex (giving), severe self-doubting, panic attack, traumatic events

; Synopsis: Vulcan Industries, a titan in the world of technological inventions that have helped humanity progress. Despite its influence though, their CEO remains a mystery to the world, content to simply invent in the shadows. That is, until a journalist uncovers the mystery that connects a simple car mechanic to the technology giant.

; A/N: I’m sorry it took so long to come out...I’m sorry it’s so long (RIP your apps)...I hope people enjoy :3 PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU DID BECAUSE THIS IS RIDE.

; Greek Gods Series

Hades; Poseidon; Zeus; Hephaestus; Artemis; Athena; Ares;

01 | 02

-

It takes more than a few days for you to get used to the tiny town you now inhabit. You’re used to towering buildings, air pollution, fast food chains on every other block and traffic that barely seems to move yet screams at you when you somehow interrupt them.

But here, it’s like time moves at a snail’s pace. In fact, you’d witnessed your very first traffic jam only the other morning. It was kind of adorable, given that there were only two main roads in this entire town but someone had been rear-ended at the one set of the traffic lights.

Even that had been an introduction into small town life as you’d watched in fascination as they’d amiably greeted each other with a back slapping hug before they began to talk. You’d wondered why they weren’t screaming at each other for the damage or exchanging insurance until you saw Hoseok pull up alongside them in a tow truck you hadn’t even noticed at the garage.

He’d greeted both men with his brilliant smile, so bright and wide that you’d seen it even from your apartment window, before checking over the damage. The town’s sheriff had taken it upon himself to wander over to the accident, chatting with everyone while Hoseok assessed everything.

You presumed that it was just a mere accident as no one seemed to get arrested or even written up, and Hoseok had directed the first car to drive back to his garage. He’d hooked up the second car, obviously deeming it to be undriveable, or at least not safe, before driving off.

And that had been it.

You’d been so fascinated by the whole process that you’d almost written a whole article on the eccentricities of small town life. It had only been when you’d realised how dumb it would sound that you’d meekly deleted the Word document, scolding yourself as you tried to remember that you were trying to uncover information about Vulcan.

It was nice overall though, and you quite enjoyed your little walks in the fresh air. You hadn’t quite realised what you’d been missing out on, living in the concrete jungle that is the city.

Although it’s not all roses. You’d kill for a Starbucks or something, and the lack of your favourite take out meant you were craving sushi so bad. It made you feel a little stuck up when you realised what you were doing, but you figured that you could cope with it for a while longer.

Because the positives really did outweigh the negatives, and if you ignored the assignment you had then it was easy to just pretend that you were on a long vacation somewhere. The mountain air was truly refreshing and you had an oddest urge to hike.

Though that may have possibly been because of one Jung Hoseok. The mysterious mechanic was still sending your journalist spidey-senses tingling, but you would be a straight up Pinocchio if you said that he wasn’t possibly the sweetest guy ever.

You hadn’t actually seen him in person in three weeks now, the accident not included, due to him being overwhelmed with work for the first two and then being away for work for the last. That on its own had sent your investigative feelings haywire, wondering how on earth a tiny mechanic’s garage in a teensy town in the middle of the nowhere could possibly be busy enough to warrant not seeing someone for two weeks.

And then going away? Where did he have to go? His workplace was literally only like...a hundred feet away from his home. He was a delightful mystery that you were positively itching to unwrap, even if you felt a strong sense of unease at potentially hurting such a sweet and compassionate soul.

Because he was. He really, truly, was quite possibly the kindest person you’d met.

Even though he’d been busy with his work, he’d made sure to message you once he finished to check that you were okay and query what you’d been up to. Multiple apologies had been sent for him being too busy, but he’d also sent you many suggestions about things to do both in the town and the surrounding areas.

It was because of him that you’d discovered the next town over, a whole twenty minutes away, had a movie theatre and a bowling alley. You’d also discovered that there were multiple hiking and walking trails around the mountains and forests that surrounded this tiny town when he’d casually mentioned it one day.

A further query had resulted in him telling you that he’d grown up around mountains and felt at peace on their tall slopes, reminding him of the peaceful times in his life. It had almost made you want to go on a hike yourself, before you remembered that this was the first time you’d ever even seen a mountain and you’d probably die from some stupid reason.

Hoseok had also been exceptionally patient with you and your incessant questions about the area, querying the history of certain places or even buildings. He seemed to have a surprising amount of knowledge for someone who was a self-proclaimed introvert, but was happy to let you be privy to his veritable wealth of information.

It was remarkable how comfortable he was talking with you for long periods of time through text as well, given how open he had been about not understanding how to communicate with people properly. He would often start texting at around 8 or 9pm and continue until he went to bed at 11pm.

You’d queried why he didn’t want to call once, and he’d taken a while to respond. Though not because he was avoiding the question, but more like he didn’t seem to know what to say given the three dots that kept appearing and disappearing constantly.

He’d finally simply responded by saying that he didn’t feel comfortable on the phone with people who weren’t customers, and so preferred text as there was no expectations on his responses. Which seemed reasonable enough to you, and you didn’t want to push him any further than he was willing to go.

His texts had become even less frequent since he’d gone away, so you’d settled for exploring more and trying to make at least a single friend in this forgotten town. June was happy to talk to you, but you didn’t really feel like you both had things in common enough to make proper conversations with her.

And everyone your age seemed to be working, leaving you to often simply sitting in your apartment and researching Vulcan. It had been through searching the forums that dedicated themselves to Vulcan Industries that you’d discovered a new pseudonym for the CEO had been found today, signed onto a document from five years ago.

Hannah Jameson, which had proven to be false almost immediately. The signature was appalling and you’d wondered how on earth the company got away with filing documents with such fake signatures and names. Though you presumed that they probably filed legitimate documents with the real CEO’s name and signature on it, but that they were never revealed to the public.

The government seemed to be very content to acquiesce to Vulcan, eager to keep the industrial giant inside its borders and ensure that American engineering remained at the forefront of the world. Not that Vulcan had ever given any intention that they wanted to move elsewhere.

Though Vulcan was a strange company anyway, choosing international headquarters in locations that perhap wouldn’t be someone’s first choice. Their Asian offices were based in Seoul, South Korea, and their European offices had raised more than a few brows when it had been announced they would be choosing Athens, Greece, instead of where the other international corporations often chose, such as Amsterdam, Dublin, London or Berlin.

So who knew what they would do if given the chance?

Three sharp knocks on your door though has you squealing in fright, hands quickly grabbing the laptop that’s about to slip off your knees before you’re glancing wide eyed to the dull brown door. Brows creasing in confusion as to who could be visiting you, you carefully close the lid on your MacBook before placing it onto the coffee table and heading over.

A peek through the peephole that’s installed in the door lets you see a sight you weren’t expecting, causing you to jerk back with a hand pressed to your throat. Glancing around at the untidy apartment, you curse quietly before looking down at your own outfit.

The cupcake shorts and baggy white shirt with a unicorn on it were what you’d gone to sleep in and with a day of nothing ahead, you’d simply not bothered to change.

Which was just fantastic when quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in real life is currently standing outside your door.

Glancing to your bedroom door, you let out a soft whine as he knocks again before stamping your feet on the ground in a tiny tantrum. Dammit Hoseok! Why hadn’t he texted to let you know he was swinging by?

You’d have at least dressed in normal clothes instead of your damn sleepwear!

But it’s too late now, and it would be rude to make him wait when you’re quite evidently inside. Pressing your forehead to the wooden door, you take in a deep breath and square your shoulders before letting it out in a long, slow exhale.

Unlocking the door, you open it slowly with a bright smile that you hope will distract him from your clothes. He looks magnificent, and your smile wobbles slightly as you swallow thickly at the sight of him.

Dark jeans with rips in them cling to his legs, ending in tough looking boots that are scuffed to high hell. A plain white shirt drapes over his torso loosely, the front tucked into his jeans and letting his belt buckle take the glory while a black leather jacket rests over the top of this.

A dazzling smile practically blinds you as he takes you in, his teeth perfectly straight and white while his dimples burst into view and his eyes crease from the strength of his expression. His dark hair gives no glimpse of the red that shines when he’s in the sun, but looks suitably messy enough to let you know that he’s been running his hands through it.

“Hoseok! What are you...I didn’t know you were coming here? Or even that you were back.” You stutter out, gripping the door tightly as your smile turns a little bit brittle as you realise he looks like a five course meal and you look like a squashed McDonald’s.

He lets out an awkward chuckle, bringing up one hand to rub the back of his neck slowly before he shrugs with a lopsided smile. “Surprise? I got finished earlier than expected and made good time back.”

You’re about to say something more when he makes a sudden noise, mouth forming an ‘o’ while he holds a finger out to you before producing his other arm from behind his back with a sweet smile. “Surprise! Turns out there’s a drive-thru now in the next town over. I saw it and thought you might like it. Sorry if it’s not very warm.” He says apologetically, but you pay no attention to him anymore.

Instead, your eyes are focused on the tall, white cup that’s held in one hand, the world famous green logo on the side letting you know he’d brought Starbucks. Squealing in excitement, you let the door swing open without a care in the world as you grip the cup, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip before letting out a sigh of happiness.

It’s not boiling hot, but is still more than warm enough to make your insides quiver at the delicious taste of the white chocolate mocha. You wish that you could say you’re surprised he remembered your casual mention of your favourite drink, but honestly you’re not.

On the list of surprising things about Jung Hoseok, that’s probably pretty low.

It’s only then that you remember to thank the man for bringing you this small moment of bliss, opening your eyes to thank him before noticing him admiring your clothes with a quirked brow. Glancing down, you feel your heats cheek with embarrassment before curling an arm around your waist.

“Thanks for the drink. And err...sorry about the outfit. I wasn’t expecting company. Obviously.” You mumble, shuffling to the side before gesturing for him to come in if he’d like. He does so with a gracious smile, toeing off his boots at the entrance before following you inside to your small living room.

He looks around with interested eyes before smiling at the sight of a random YouTube video that’s playing through the television. It’s one of those stupid list videos that you seem to have an undying love for.

They can take away your documentaries, but they can never take away your list videos!

“I’m sorry for just...turning up like this. I didn’t think properly.” He apologises once more, sitting on the edge of the couch carefully and looking down at his hands in contrition. You get the strongest urge to just run your hands through his hair and telling him everything’s fine, but you recognise that he probably wouldn’t like that.

Instead, you just smile and self-consciously clean up some of the crap that’s been thrown around the place since you’d started to live here. “It’s okay. I’m sorry it looks like a gremlin’s been at it in here.”

He snorts with that and you glance over to see him biting at his lip to try and stop his smile, your insides warming at the sight of his amusement. “Anyway, was there a particular reason for your visit or are you wanting to hang or something?”

Hoseok stays silent for a moment, leaning forward and taking an empty Coca-Cola bottle from where it lies on its side and picking away at the label. “Well...I mean I got home earlier than I expected like I said. And...well...I mean I do have jobs I could be doing, but I figured I’d ask if maybe you want to...you know...hang? Somewhere? I don’t know, it was just a thought that went through when I was driving back.”

He’s muttering by the end and you have to stifle a chuckle behind your hand as you grab the bottle from his hand and throw it into the recycling bin. “Sure. That’d be fun. I haven’t actually done a lot lately as, well there’s not many social activities to do in this place.” You ponder for a moment what the two of you could actually do before you suddenly remember his mention of metal working.

“Oh! Could you...I mean...do you think you’d be willing to show me your metal working stuff? I know you said you really like doing it and I’m kind of interested.” You ask chirpily, smiling at him as you rearrange the cushions on the couch around him.

Hoseok watches with amusement as you flutter around the place before nodding slowly. “Yeah okay. I mean, if you want. It sounds pretty boring but I can show you them. If you’d like, we can maybe go to the movie theatre in the next town later and watch something? I’ve not been to see a film in so long, and you can get another Starbucks.” He suggests, shrugging nonchalantly but his twisting fingers give away his nerves.

You pause and smile at the sight of him, trying to be bold even though he’s obviously cringing internally. “I’d like that. I’ve not seen that town either, despite you constantly going on about it. So it’ll be nice to see what’s nearby. Just give me half an hour to actually make myself look presentable or something okay?”

“Why? I think you look charming as you are. Unicorns are very in now I hear, or at least that’s what I’m assuming given it looks like a rainbow and a horse had sex all the time in the stores.”

A clean shirt thrown at his head is the only response he gets, causing him to laugh out loud as the door closes behind you.

-

Any worries that you’d had that the atmosphere would be awkward or tense between the two of you dissipates once you both get into his car. The radio is blasting out cheesy 90s music and you can’t help but giggle at the flush on his cheeks as he practically slams the radio in an attempt to change the station.

Pushing his hand away, you look at the fancy radio with a raised brow. “This is...very advanced looking. Did you install this recently?” You ask, finding a station that’s playing some 80s rock before pressing some buttons that appear on the screen.

A soft gasp leaves you as it suddenly projects a hologram above the dashboard, the station name listed along the top along the song currently playing. In the right hand corner is the temperature and weather status while a highly realistic looking 3D map takes up most of the space, the cars position perfectly visible as Hoseok drives along the street.

“What is this?!” Reaching out, you gently push at the air where the ‘Media’ button hovers and grin as a menu screen appears. You can’t even begin to understand the technology that makes this work, nor have you even heard anything about it.

Hoseok lets out an uncomfortable cough before he waves his hand through the holographic simulation, eyes remaining firmly on the road while it disappears into thin air. “It’s a...err...prototype. Yeah. Vulcan asked me to...test it, you know? I mean...it’s good but it’s not very road safe. As you just saw. We’re...I mean they’re working on it.”

You watch him quietly for a moment, eyes narrowing at the slip of his tongue. We? You’d question more before you rationalise it to yourself, figuring that he’s obviously their head mechanic and the best placed person to decide whether vehicle related tech is good or not.

But still it’s shocking to see something like this being used so openly. Your finger traces along the edge of the fancy radio before you place your hands back in your lap, lip quirking slightly. You could certainly make some money reporting on this prototype, but it’s with a content heart that you decide to pretend you never even saw it.

Instead, you refocus back onto the road and smile when you see Vesuvius Mechanics reappear along the side of the road. There’s a few cars parked outside but the main shutter is down and the lights are dark inside. You’d found out that he had two assistants, but they only worked for a few hours every other day.

The bulk was entirely done by Hoseok, which fascinated you.

But he doesn’t pull into the garage, and instead drives on a road you’d never noticed that runs alongside it. It continues on, simply a gravel road inbetween the trees and you watch with fascination as his house appears.

You wouldn’t be able to see it properly from the road, but it’s a pretty, two-story house that looks big enough to host a whole family inside. The walls are painted white while terracotta tiles line the roof in true Californian fashion, but it also kind of reminds you a little of the Mediterranean.

A porch wraps around the entire house and you note the swinging chair positioned out front along with a variety of colourful flowers, all in white pots that are decorated in subtle oranges and browns. Along the ground of the porch, a flowerbed is overflowing with bushes and plants that all clamour for attention while his lawn is neatly mown.

There’s a large building built separately from the house with a garage style door that opens slowly, allowing Hoseok to pull his car inside to protect it from any weather. The space inside seems a lot smaller, surrounded with tools and gardening pieces while a metal door is closed to the remainder of the space.

You note with interest momentarily the electronic keypad that keeps the door locked but look away quickly. Given the ridiculous technology installed in his car, you couldn’t even imagine what Hoseok had in that room from Vulcan.

Following Hoseok to the main house, you can’t help the noise of awe that leaves your mouth as you look over the entire area he lives in. It’s secluded from everything else, and you feel like Hoseok has turned what would be something unassuming into his own personal heaven. Quiet and peaceful, with only the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees.

“Hoseok...this is beautiful!” You coo softly, running your fingertips along the white wooden post that frames the archway leading up to his porch with reverance. He lets out an anxious chuckle as he stands in front of his door, watching your face closely.

“Yeah? It’s taken a while to get it to this point but...I think I’m okay with it for now. Give me three months and my opinion might change.” He teases, teeth peeking through his small grin as he inputs some numbers into yet another keypad. A loud beep is heard before the door unlocks, leading to him welcoming you inside.

For someone who lives on his own, you expected Hoseok’s house to look a little more bachelor. And for someone who works as a mechanic and is constantly covered in grease and oil, even today he’s still got some dark grime in his fingernails, you thought his home might like his garage part two.

But instead, it’s oddly beautiful inside. Everything is perfectly clean and looks to be in its place, and if it weren’t for the fact he’d been open about constantly redecorating his house, you’d suspect he had brought in an interior designer.

“Damn, if you did all this,” You spin in a circle as you enter the living room and eye everything with an intrigued gaze. “You’re missing out on a career as an interior designer. This is California, there’s always some soccer mom who wants their house to look like an IKEA catalogue.”

He leans against the door frame and watches you with an amused face, lifting one brow as he looks around the space with a slightly more critical eye. “You think? I appreciate your thoughts but there’s a reason I work with cars and not soccer moms. When a car whines at me, there’s actually something wrong.”

His tone is sarcastic and for a moment you’re left speechless, shocked at how your normally shy and socially awkward mechanic could have come up with that blistering rebuke to soccer mom’s across the United States. Snorting out a laugh, you cover your mouth as you follow him into the large, open kitchen and rest your elbows against the marble counter.

Watching as he pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge, you giggle as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “Had experience in soccer moms huh?”

He tags a deep swig of the ice cold water and you have to look away to avoid the tantalising sight of the muscles of his throat working, the golden skin looking biteable under the natural lighting. It’s only when the plastic bottle hits the counter that you realise he’s finished and you look up with an expectant gaze.

Hoseok is smiling as he shrugs, his expression a sweet mix of shyness and amusement. “I’m a, not totally, unattractive, single guy with my own business in a small town. I think some people harbour Desperate Housewives motivations or something.”

You gawp at him for the pop culture reference before laughing out loud, letting your head fall forward as you do so. “Oh my god! So you do watch television occasionally? But Desperate Housewives? Seriously?”

He’s biting his lip at your teasing before sighing, coming around the island and gesturing for you to follow him. “I’m not up to date on all that stuff. I only just found out Game of Thrones exists. Give me a break.”

You snigger at that and poke at his back lightly, pleased at the way he jerks ever so slightly but doesn’t pull away from the touch. “That’s a good show, I think you’d like it.”

He reaches a closed door and opens it up grandly, making a sweeping gesture for you to follow with a sardonic brow raise. “After you my lady. And it is, I’m only on like episode 6 of season 1 so...don’t spoil it.”

Anything you’d say is gone though as you walk into the room and freeze in place, looking around the place with wide eyes. His living room connects directly to his kitchen, with no walls blocking the space between and the island counter obviously serving as his dining room table.

This room must take up the rest of the space on the lower floor, as it’s huge. And filled with some of the most exquisite looking metal sculptures you’ve ever seen. Some are finished works, with their gleaming bodies just waiting to be housed somewhere else and they range from taller than you to tiny pieces that could be displayed on a fireplace.

Others look to be half completed, resting on tables that are in complete disarray compared to the rest of his house. A whole range of intriguing looking tools litters almost every surface, and you note that his back wall is pretty much balcony doors that leads out to his backyard.

Walking carefully through the room, you head towards those doors and open one up when he gives the nod to do so. Outside is an extended porch, and you note with interest that he has what looks like a bunch of forge things set up out here. Despite the chaos of everything around you, it’s still peaceful and the backyard extends out until it hits the forest line.

“Wow...this is...I’m not even sure.” You state quietly, turning back and heading over to a metal horse. It’s comes up to about halfway up your thigh and is prancing beautifully, the bronze colouring gleaming in the light that shines through the doors. Running a finger along the smooth edges, you smile at the surprising amount of detail on it.

A tiny metal cat is perched on the table next to the horse, while a Spartan style helmet rests next to it like a war prize. Across the room are some more abstract pieces of art, shapes that make no sense to you yet are pleasing to the eye.

“Hoseok...these are incredible.” The words whisper from you as you eagerly move from one piece to the next, taking in the smooth curves of musical note that stands on a stone base to the rough, unfinished edges of a sword in the making.

It was suddenly clear why Hoseok had never even been aware that Game of Thrones existed, as he quite obviously spent most of his time in here creating works of art that would last for lifetimes. The amount of skill he must have to create the items on his own was mind boggling, particularly as you couldn’t even draw a stick person without it going lopsided.

“It’s nothing. I mean...they’re just little projects I work on.” He mumbles, gaze down as he lets his fingers dance along the back of a leaping tiger. Moving over to him, you crouch down to get a closer look at the big cat, admiring the orange sheen to the metal while the black stripes appear to be engraved into its sides.

“Are you serious? These little projects are better than some of the stuff I’ve seen proper artists doing! I mean...god you’ve got a full time job out there in your garage and then you come home and do...this!” You say, amazement filling your voice as you gently press a finger on a curved fang.

Standing, you look around at the room once more before turning back to him with a grin. “Is there a chance you can show me how you do this stuff?” The question is innocent enough, but he stiffens slightly and swallows, eyes flickering everyone but yourself.

“Maybe. I mean...not now. It takes time to set everything up. But...I can show you in the future if you want? It’s not very interesting to watch.” He practically mumbles out and you lean into his space slowly, giving him plenty of time to back out if he felt uncomfortable.

He doesn’t though, instead standing squarely while you move closer to him with a pretty smile painted onto your face. “I think you and I have different ideas of interesting Mr Jung. Maybe not today then, but I’d love to watch you create something beautiful in here. Because you appear to have quite the creative imagination.”

Hoseok goes a deep red at that, spluttering slightly as he steps away and moves over to the door with a shaking breath. “Well...I do like to dabble in inventing every now and again but...this is just an outlet.” He pauses and looks back into the room, running his eyes over you as you turn your attention back to the metal work and his lips curve up gently.

“I don’t think I could ever create anything as beautiful as you.” He murmurs to himself quietly, rubbing his lips before freezing when you turn and look at him inquisitively, making a questioning noise.

“Nothing! Just...thinking out loud. Anyway, do you want to set off now? We can take a look at the film times and decide if we want to eat first or after?” You follow him out of the room and making thoughtful noises, completely unaware of the racing heart that moves in front of you as you decide.

-

The film and dinner went by surprisingly easy, with the conversation flowing between the two of you throughout the whole night without feeling cumbersome at any point. As had multiple other dinners since, along with many impromptu hang outs over the months.

You’d find it strange that he was surprisingly social despite his protestations, yet you’d quickly discovered that Hoseok was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma and decorated with a conundrum. He defied your descriptions and even when trying to describe him to your mom or the few friends you had back home, you’d found yourself floundering.

And yet, you found yourself wanting to be closer to him. He gave off an aura that you simply enjoyed; warmth and kindness mixed together with genuine caring. Everytime he went out of town, he made it a mission to bring you a Starbucks back or something else you were craving.

Not to mention the movie nights he’d designated Friday to, whereupon you would go to his and watch a range of movies streamed from Netflix onto his ridiculously big and fancy television screen. Even if he did made strange comments whenever you watched historical films. Watching Clash of the Titans with him had certainly been an experience as he’d spent the whole time whining about how it wasn’t historically accurate.

Despite his odd behaviour when watching things, you found that spending time at his house was both wonderful and strangely relaxing. Whether it was because you were increasing his knowledge of pop culture or simply watching him work on some hobby.

Hoseok had shyly called you a few days after he’d shown you his metal working room, asking if you wanted to come and watch him work as he was feeling inspired. By the time you’d got there after enjoying a walk over in the autumn evening, he’d had everything up and running and you’d been convinced that you’d died and gone to heaven when you saw him in a white vest, his arms on display.

A swipe of your lips had determined that you were not, in fact, drooling at the exceptionally defined biceps, nor at the toned shoulders that moved underneath the shirt with each of his movements. And you had definitely not let out a tiny whimper at the sight of him sweating once he’d been at it for a while, his skin practically glowing in the evening light.

It was quite possibly every straight or bisexual woman’s dream, seeing an incredibly handsome man sweating away over physical labour as he’d slammed down a hammer on the pieces of boiling hot metal. You’d thanked him for the seat, but internally screamed out your gratitude as your knees had felt weak at the sight of him.

There was something primal about watching him work, which was at odds with the soft way he spoke to you as he explained everything he was doing. It had taken two sessions of watching him to finally begin to understand some of the process, but you’d shied away from actually having a go yourself.

You’d no doubt burn yourself or something ridiculous.

But Hoseok, as per usual, was a sweetheart about it and simply accepted your request. Instead, he just let you watch as he created something wonderful out of a lump of metal. The man had the hands of a god, truly, and an unbelievable talent. It was almost like the metal just listened to him and formed the shapes he desired.

You’d even suggested to him that maybe he could create a YouTube channel so that people could watch him as he created things, to which he’d laughed sardonically.

“I don’t think people would be interested in that.” Hoseok said, brows raised as he looked up at you. A droplet of sweat was slowly trickling past his temple, slowly sliding along that luscious skin before reaching his jaw.

It disappears when he lifts an arm to wipe at it and you chew your lip thoughtfully as you watch him. You don’t want to tell him that there would likely be thousands of women who would watch his videos solely for him, but you certainly wouldn’t be wrong.

You’d watch them for him.

“I bet they would. You’d be surprised how many people watch stuff like that on YouTube. There’s a whole series on a channel dedicated to creating weapons from pop culture. It’s really successful, so I think you could probably make something of it.” You muse, running a finger along your lip as you watch him bring a hammer down on the metal sheet he’s levelling out.

“Well...if there’s already someone doing it, then why do I need to do it?” He asks, wet tongue licking his dry lips. He moves the metal over to the forge, heating it once more before moving it over to a what looks like a metal press.

“Well...Mr ‘I-Like-To-Create-Prototypes-In-My-Free-Time-In-The-Hopes-Vulcan-Will-Make-It’, why does Vulcan ever make anything then? We’ve already got televisions, why do we need them in bigger sizes or in different styles? The cars been invented for a long time, why do we need new cars? Va-ri-ety.” You sing out to him, smirking at his narrowed gaze.

You’d found a hand drawn blueprint for a prototype the other day on his countertop in here, the lines sketched to produce something that you didn’t understand. Honestly, you understood nothing about it as none of the words made sense to you, but you had understood the ‘Property of Vulcan Industries’ along the top.

Hoseok had flushed red when you’d teased him about it, saying that he occasionally liked to dabble in the idea of creating things but that Vulcan usually turned him down and it was an old idea. It was kind of sweet honestly, and you’d thought it impressive of him to put himself out there like that given his introverted nature.

“I guess. Maybe in the future or something. You could be my videographer.” The last statement was almost muffled, but you heard it all the same. You don’t comment on it though, simply letting it drift gently into the comfortableness between the two of you with a warm heart at the thought of him thinking about you being in his future.

Nothing further had been mentioned on the idea of a channel, but you noted that he seemed to be a little bit more receptive to ideas than you’d originally anticipated. And he certainly seemed to be loosening his grip on his work life by being more open to spontaneous activities with you.

In fact, it was only a few weeks ago that he had asked if you wanted to go on a hike, finally fulfilling your secret dream. It had taken all day, but you’d discovered that you enjoyed it and more importantly, you enjoyed his company.

And as much time as you spent at his, he spent almost as much time at yours. You’d be a little frightened by just how easy it was to let him worm his way into your life until the first person you thought of when something new happened was to let him know.

The only downside was that he still remained an intensely private person, with entire areas of his house still unseen and hidden behind keypads. And his history was basically non-existent as far as you knew. He’d never mentioned his parents or family, nor even where he was from.

It was only through a random meeting with June that you’d found out he’d done something big when he was around 15 that had resulted in him becoming well off. What that was though, you had no idea as he seemed to live a pretty quiet life with no real showings of wealth.

You didn’t even know what had caused his scars, which he had become more comfortable around you with. Though it had only been in the last week that you��d finally plucked up the courage to ask, frightened that he’d be offended by it.

Hoseok’s chest is warm and surprisingly comfortable, leading to you blinking at the screen with sleepy eyes. Game of Thrones plays on, the man you’re leaning against silent as he watches with interest while a hand almost lazily runs through your hair.

It’s...domestic. In a way you never expected nor demanded, and your stomach fuzzes slightly at how much you enjoy it. At how much you want to do this for a long time, and you wonder for a moment what it is about this sweet, kind-hearted man that has you so thoroughly wrapped around his finger.

His heart beats solidly under your ear, the sound reassuring and calming. Glancing down, you note the scars on his left arm with an idle eye. You were so used to seeing them, along with the rough tissue on his left cheek and throat, that it was almost like they weren’t there.

Almost.

But while you could never forget them, you never looked at him with disgust. He was far too good a person to ever think that.

Your mushy thoughts about him accidentally turn verbal, as the words tumble out of you without meaning to. “How did you get these scars?” It’s only once they’re out that your eyes widen, realising what you’d said to him and your body stiffens.

He stills as well and you wince, mouth opening to take them back and tell him it’s fine. Only he surprises you.

“Fires. When I was younger. I don’t...I can’t talk about them.” He murmurs out and your cheeks heat, mouthing out a curse to yourself before pressing against his thighs to push yourself up.

“I’m sorry Hoseok, I didn’t mean to-” Hoseok cuts you off, shaking his head with a smile that’s gracious despite the uncomfortable look on his face.

“No, it’s fine. You’ve been surprisingly good about it actually. I just...can’t talk about how I got them yet. I’m not ashamed of them. It’s just...if they’re on show then people stare. And I can’t handle people staring because then they’re looking at me and...I panic. I can’t cope with attention.” He runs his hand along the scarred skin of his wrist slowly.

“I just...can’t. The stares I used to get when I was younger...they hurt. And the things people said. They were cruel in way you can’t imagine. It made me never want to go out. It affects you. I moved out here as soon as I could to just...get away from people. I used to get anxiety attacks about going out or seeing people. I’m better now, not 100% as you can tell but...better.” He looks at you then, his almost supernatural eyes with their mahogany rims and hazel inners looking hopeful suddenly.

“I’m trying. I think I’ve spent long enough hiding in the shadows and licking my wounds.”

He’d been rather abrupt when discussing them, but you’d understood that despite his words it was still a touchy subject for him. But you’d felt happy that he’d at least talked about them with you, let you into his high walls even if it was only a glimpse.

You hadn’t queried him any further, respecting what he’d been willing to tell you but it had almost shifted your relationship with him slightly. The comfortable closeness you had both engaged in for the last few weeks had clicked softly into a mutual trust, full of warm smiles and gentle touches.

And sexual tension that you were positive could be cut with one of his exquisite swords.

Your own attraction to him had been evident the whole time, so bizarrely strong that you were positive it was written on your face whenever you looked at him. But the indifference he’d given you at first had ever so slowly changed the more you hung out.

His gentle gazes often turned molten when he didn’t think you were looking, and exposed skin garnered more than a second glance. Affectionate touches evolved into sensual strokes without meaning to, and you were beyond positive that you were both on the knife’s edge of desire.

One way or another, you were positive that it would all come to ahead pretty soon.

But for tonight, you were on your own. Hoseok was out of town again for a week with yet more work and you were left to browse the usual conspiracy forums to find out some more information about your Vulcan CEO.

Lazing on the couch with your laptop on your belly and a documentary about Pompeii on the television, you read the comments with a sigh. You’d become a bit more lax lately with your research, leading to you feeling guilty when you responded to any of Donghae’s correspondence.

You’d assured him that you’d found something, when in reality you hadn’t. If anything, there was something that almost seemed to be stopping you from looking into it, a sense of unease that you couldn’t figure out.

Someone had managed to find a project that had been scrapped by Vulcan, hidden deep in their servers that had been hacked the other week. Nothing of interest had been found apparently, except for the outlines of a prototype that had never happened.

The only reason it was even on these forums is because apparently it had been developed by the CEO, so of course the gold diggers were out in force. Clicking on the link, you look at the drawing with a frown, wondering what the hell you were looking at.

No one else had figured it out either as there was no explanation that made sense, the language used apparently a form of shorthand that the CEO had developed. Squinting at it, you tilted your head to the side and frowned.

It looked oddly familiar, and the words written around it looked equally as familiar. Which was bizarre, as you’re the least technologically minded person you know. Perhaps you’ve just seen it in some science fiction show or movie somewhere - you’d discovered that Hoseok really enjoyed that genre.

Closing the screen again, you scroll through the forum before you find yourself tuning back into the documentary. It had been talking about Pompeii today and the history of the archaeology that had led to it being discovered.

You watched with idle interest as it began to talk about the fateful day in 79 AD, describing how the Roman inhabitants had ironically been celebrating the festival of Vulcanalia the day before Vesuvius erupted.

This was ironic, as apparently Vulcanalia was the festival of Vulcan, the Roman god of fire and volcanoes. Raising a brow, your lip quirked at the strange turn of events before you suddenly frowned, head tilting as your mind worked a hundred miles a minute.

“Vulcanalia...weird how my life seems to be revolving around you, Vulcan.” You mutter, looking at images of the ancient god when you type him into Google. Clicking on his wikipedia page, you read with interest before pausing once more.

Maybe Vulcan Industries had something to do with why Hoseok’s garage was called Vesuvius Mechanics? The two were closely linked after all, so it made sense to name things that were kind of similar.

The Wikipedia page is full of information that would not be accepted as a reference in university, but you pause when you read that he was also the god of metalworking. Flashes of Hoseok’s metal creations appear in your mind and you look to the side as you recall the blueprint in his room suddenly.

Gasping out loud, your eyes widen while you frantically try to get back to the forum that showed the link to the prototype that had been scrapped by Vulcan. Clicking on it frantically, you take it in with new eyes as you recall the hand drawn version you’d seen in Hoseok’s house.

“No way...I mean...no. He did say they rejected it.” You murmur before you read the comments about the weird language, stomach going cold. Looking to the side, you let out a deep exhale slowly before grabbing your notebook off the table and a pen.

Writing everything you’ve just realised out, you note the similarities and scowl. How would Hoseok know the weird language that the CEO invented when he’s just a damn mechanic? He lives in a town with two set of traffic lights for crying out loud!

Hannah Jameson.

Floats through your head and you stare at your computer screen for a few seconds before typing in the forum search bar. The theorists keep a running list of the pseudonyms that have been used and you read through them all.

Hannah Jameson

Hope Justice

Heff Jackson

Jeon Hyuna

Harold Jackson

Helena Jupp

The list goes on and on, almost comical. It’s only when you scan the comments that you note the amusement of that fact that every name starts with H and the last name with J.

Jung Hoseok.

“No. No way. It’s just...a really weird coincidence.” You mutter, rubbing at your forehead furiously. It’s just a fluke that his name follows the same naming conventions of all the pseudonyms given. And that his prototype was somehow in Vulcan’s servers with the CEO’s language scribbled all over it.

“It’s not even logical. He’s not even old enough…” Your words trail off when you search for Vulcan, discovering that it was founded 21 years ago.

When Hoseok was 15. June had said he’d done something big when he was 15 that made him independently wealthy. Founding a multi-billion dollar company is certainly something big.

“No…” He wouldn’t hide this...would he?

I can’t handle people staring because then they’re looking at me and...I panic. I can’t cope with attention.

His words slowly filter through your head and you nod to yourself. Yes. Yes he would hide this. But Hoseok isn’t good at hiding things, which means that this is almost laughable how easy you’ve figured it out, despite everyone else failing.

You’ve only figured it out because he’s let you in slowly, letting you see clues that on their own are meaningless but together form the hastily constructed walls around the most elusive CEO in the world.

Picking up your phone, you find the post that lists the name and number of the assistant to the Vulcan Industries CEO. She was notorious for being the ultimate gatekeeper, refusing to allow anyone access who wasn’t supposed to and keeping the CEO’s identity on lockdown.

People try all the time to guess who it is by calling her, and the bubble of panic inside is consoled slightly by the knowledge that she’ll shut you down quick. There’s no way it would be this easy.

Dialing the number, you hold it to your ear with a shaking hand and take a deep breath as you hear the dial tone. It rings three times before it’s picked up.

“Hello, Annabelle King speaking.” Her voice is brusque and you can almost hear the irritance in her voice, probably ready to put the phone down as soon as it becomes apparent that it’s yet another prank call.

Clearing your throat, you begin to speak with a voice that’s far more stable than you feel. “Hello, I’m wondering if I can schedule an appointment with Mr Jung please? I know he’s in town for the week and would love the opportunity to speak with him about a possible investment opportunity in a charity?”

The lie falls from your lips like honey and you feel sick at it, wanting to put the phone down. You’re wrong, you’re definitely wrong and this is just the thoughts of a deluded woman coming through. But Annabelle hasn’t said no, in fact she’s hesitating.

“I’m sorry, Mr Jung?” Is all she asks, tone inquisitive and you swallow thickly. Maybe she has no idea who that is and it’s just another way of catching people out.

“Yes. Jung Hoseok? I was told he would be in the area from Monday until Friday.” There’s silence and you begin to breathe easy again, content with the knowledge that your mechanic really is just that. A brilliant and inventive mechanic.

“Mr Jung is in town this week, however please accept my apologies as he is unable to accept appointments at the moment. If you would like, you can leave your number with me and I can schedule an appointment when he is next here Miss…?” Her voice trails off but you’re hitting the end call button anyway as you sit there in silence.

Holy shit.

Holy shit. No fucking way. You did it.

You found out who Vulcan Industries CEO was. The mystery of the century.

It’s Jung Hoseok.

-

You ruminate over the knowledge you have for the next few days, agonising over whether or not you should write that article. The little you’d managed to gain about him in physical form was sitting in a file on your laptop, but you felt no inspiration to write anything.

It felt like betraying someone, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to do that.

Staring at the screen on your laptop, you sigh heavily and run your hands over your face before the buzzing of your phone catches your attention. A quick glance reveals the very person you’ve been thinking about, and your stomach twists into a knot at the sight of his name, normally from excitement but currently from guilt.

Watching it for a moment, your eyes flicker between your laptop and the phone. If ever the universe was asking you to make a decision, it was now. You almost appreciated the irony of it all before you reached out and took the phone.

“Hi Hoseok.” You whisper, slumping back into the couch. He pauses for a moment and you can practically feel his surprise and concern.

“Hey. Are you okay? You sound sad? I’m almost back in town and wondered if you want to go watch a movie or something? I bet you’ve not even left your place.” He teases, his voice sing song like and you can practically hear the happiness in him.

Smiling without meaning to, you flop onto your side and sigh heavily. “You don’t need to rub it in, my social butterfly. But...yeah. A movie sounds good.” It really does, because it’s Hoseok.

And as you listen to him chatter away, you feel a sense of warmth take over your body as you make a decision. Looking at the laptop screen, you get up and head into your room to change for him.

You found the elusive Vulcan Industries CEO, which was the paycheck of a lifetime. But it would involve destroying his happiness for material gain.

Shaking your head, you smile softly as you make a decision that will have ramifications for your future. There is no way you could destroy Hoseok’s confidence and trust just to further yourself. Not only is that not how a friend would act, but it’s certainly not how a potential love interest would act.

And you were just a little desperate to be seen as the latter to him. Because you loved him. You’d suspected for a while, feeling silly and childish, but you did.

His smile made your stomach flutter and his touch made your heart race. The very thought of him brought a smile to your face and you went warm at the thought of spending time with him. The tiny smile he got on his face when he danced self-consciously to a song when he was in the garage or the way his eyes lit up when he saw something he liked.

He was everything you ever wanted in a man, and so much more than you could have ever dreamed of. Jung Hoseok was so easy to fall in love with, but he was even easier to damage and you found that you could never do that.

The knock at the door brings you out of yours thoughts and you head out, slipping on your shoes and grinning at Hoseok as you close the door behind you. He looks beautiful, with his black hair swept off his forehead carelessly, the subtle red highlights shimmering slightly in the natural light that seeps through the hallway window while a responding smile of his own illuminates his face.

Your heart kicks slightly at the sight of him and you suddenly reach out for his hand, taking his work roughened fingers between your own and carefully lacing them together. Hoseok stalls, his face creasing in confusion as he looks down at the sudden, and obvious, intimacy you’ve initiated but he doesn’t say anything.

All he’s wearing are simple jeans and a black hoodie, and yet he looks like the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. “Shall we go?” You ask lightly, cheerful as you feel a weight lift off your shoulders.

He watches with bemusement before shrugging and following, obviously concerned about your sudden change in behaviour.

But you don’t care. Because you’ve figured out your mystery and decided it’s not worth it. It’s not worth losing this beautiful, handsome man and his kindness and love. So instead, you’re going to enjoy this for what it is.

“Is this a date?” You ask suddenly as you reach his car, watching as he goes bright red and splutters in surprise with shocked eyes. He’s so astonished by your sudden question that he even drops his keys, crouching down to pick them up.

Hoseok doesn’t rise though, and instead lets the keys dangle from his finger as he gazes down at the concrete below his feet. You hear him take a deep breath before letting it out slowly, the technique almost meditative before he speaks.

“Do you want it to be?” His voice is quiet, and you want to wrap your arms around his neck so badly. But you shove your hands into the pockets of your own hoodie firmly, determined to not push him past his boundaries. You’ve already violated one part of him so horribly, you would never do so again.

“I’d like that.” Is all you say and he stands slowly, keeping his gaze averted before nodding his head, tongue licking his lips slowly.

“Okay. Okay...a-a date. We’ll g-go on a d-date.” He’s blushing and you want to aww so badly at him, but instead you simply give him the brightest smile you can to try and make him feel at ease.

“I can’t wait.”

-

The mood is tense on the way to the next town, Hoseok’s fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel while he chew on his lip. Your own stomach fizzes with excitement and you wonder if he’s as excited as you are.

Turning your gaze from the passenger window you’d been staring out of, you watch Hoseok for a moment quietly. From this side, the exquisite profile of his face is made even more obvious by the low light. His elegant, sloping nose ends in a perfect point while his lips are just pouty enough to give them dimension, before his jawline takes over from everything else.

You’ve always thought he was stunningly attractive, from the very first moment you ever saw him, but seeing him in the fuzzy light of your new feelings makes him look like the highest form of perfection a human being can ascertain.

Reaching out, you take his hand without realising and watch as his eyes glance over to you, wide with concern that there was something wrong. Your lips kick up ever so slightly before you tug his hand into your lap, turning it over and slipping your fingers between his.

He’s a little slow to react, and from the nervous twitching of the muscles in his hand you suspect it’s because he’s not entirely sure what to do, but he finally closes his own fingers around yours. Smiling, you let your fingerpads run over the rough, scarred skin on his hand and take careful note of every point of interest on his arm.

You’d never thought you’d see the day when you thought an arm was beautiful, but here you were. “Are you okay with this being a date?” The words are soft, barely heard over the radio but you want to make sure that he’s okay.

The guilt over your discovery and original mission make you feel a little sick if you think about it too hard, but you were a little desperate to make sure that he wanted this too and you weren’t simply projecting onto him.

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he squeezes your hand, nodding his head a tiny bit as he lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I think...I think I am. No, I am. I’m just...I mean the people.” He mutters, eyes flickering down to your joined hands.

You sigh quietly, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing a featherlight kiss to the scarring there. The poor guy is worried about how people will react to the both of you and it turns your stomach at how people must treat him. He’s always a little self-conscious whenever you go out, and he usually prefers to do things that are solitary.

“We don’t have to go out, I’m fine with just hanging out in the back of your truck or something.” You gesture to the open bed in the back, causing him to laugh and shake his head.

“Really? So we can grab McDonald’s and you’re fine just sitting there?” He asks almost sarcastically, brow raised while his amusement shows clearly. Along with more than a little relief that you understood without him having to explain.

“With you? That sounds perfect.” Your words have his cheeks turning crimson in the soft light and you want to run your fingers along them so badly. He’s so unbelievably charming and kind, how could anyone hate or be mean to this ball of sweetness?

“Okay.” Is all he says, turning and heading towards the closest McDonald’s. A trip through the drive-thru leaves you with two Big Macs and a Coke for Hoseok and a quarter pounder and strawberry milkshake for you.

A meandering route through some of the forested roads leads you to what you presume counts as a lookout spot here in the countryside. But instead of a city view, you’re treated to some of the best nature can offer in these areas, with the mountains reaching into the sky in the distance while the sun slowly falls into their welcome embrace.

Hoseok turns the car around before getting out and pulling the back down, leaving you with a way to get into the bed and you watch as he pulls some blankets out from a toolbox that’s tied down. Once down, he gestures to the makeshift sitting spot with a shy smile, helping you up.

Sitting cross legged next to him, you look out at the view in front of you and sigh softly as you chew a bite of your burger. He’s watching it as well and you turn to watch him quietly for a moment, admiring not only his beauty but the strong personality that has let him build a multi-billion dollar company, all while keeping himself grounded.

Now that you know, it’s almost kind of obvious.

“It reminds me of home a little, you know.” He suddenly speaks and your eyebrows rise in confusion, wondering what he was talking about while simultaneously being excited that he’s willingly talking about himself.

As if sensing your confusion at his words, his lips tip into a fond smirk before he gestures with a fry to the landscape in front of him. “This. The mountains, the sun, the sky. There’s more forest here and no sea but it’s still beautiful.” His words sound almost longing as he speaks, eyes squinting in the setting sun.

“You sound like you miss it. Would you go back?” Even if you have no idea where he grew up, you can hear the homesickness in his voice suddenly. He stays quiet for a moment before smiling and shaking his head.

“I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to. It’s not the same anymore.” You reach forward and grip his hand comfortingly, simply letting him know that you were there in case it brought bad memories for him.

“You never talk about your family.” He stays quiet, chewing on his burger slowly before letting it drop into his wrapper. The only sounds that can be heard are the soft calls of birds and the wind rustling through the trees gently, blowing his crimson highlighted black hair.

“My family...is not a nice family. They are...egotistical, selfish, cruel and they like to play games. Both physical and mental. They’re vain, their reputation means everything to them and they think they’re owed everything by everyone.” You’re not sure if he’s aware of it, but he’s pulling apart the remainder of his burger bun as he stares at it unseeingly.

“I got these scars because of them, for them. But they...shunned me for it afterwards. I didn’t fit their idea of beautiful, so they isolated me. I was good enough to make their stuff for them, but not to be with them.” Dropping your gaze to the scars that scatter both hands and up his arm, you scowl at the thought of his family being so cruel.

“They don’t deserve you. You’re one of the nicest, kindest and sweetest men I’ve ever met, and if it helps you’re quite possibly the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. They don’t know what a great man they’re missing out on.” His head is bowed and you shuffle forwards, reaching out to touch him but hesitating.

Looking back up, you make a soft noise of unhappiness at the watery gaze he gives you before he shakes his head, laughing weakly. “I know this isn’t really first date conversation, but...you mean a lot to me. More than you realise. More than you can ever realise actually.”

Shaking your head, you move even closer to him, smiling at this compassionate man that stole your heart. His eyes flicker to your lips and you have to physically control yourself to stop from vibrating with excitement and squealing as he watches you lick them slowly.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, the words so soft that they’re barely audible and yet he’s nodding slowly with blown out eyes that focus on you. It’s the only permission you need as you close the gap between you, your lips finally pressing to his in a sweet, chaste kiss.

It’s short, and you pull away after a few seconds to gauge his reaction. His eyes are closed and he has an exceptionally adorable dopey look on his face before he focuses on you, cheeks tinging pink in the golden light of the sun.

Grinning, you gently run your fingertips over his cheek as you cup his face, watching as he flinches slightly as they run over the roughened skin of his scars. Leaning in, you capture his lips once more, enjoying the velvety feel of his lips beneath yours as you both kiss almost innocently.

Tilting your head, you want to smile as his nose bumps against your cheek before your tongue slowly tracks along the seam of his lips. There’s a moment of nothing before his mouth is opening, allowing you entrance as you deepen the kiss with him.

Without even realising it, you’re practically pressing yourself to his front as your tongues dance in a rhythm that is centuries old. His hands rest on your waist before tracking along your body to your hips in long, slow movements that raise shivers in you.

Hoseok is rather submissive in his approach to this, letting you take the lead and content to simply follow where you go. Pulling back slightly, you tug his lower lip into your mouth and release it ever so slowly, eyes focused firmly on his as you do so until he lets out the softest groan.

“Can we go back to mine?” You ask, uncaring if you’ve barely spent any time on this date but you want him. God you want him so badly, show him that he’s more than worthy of your attentions and love.

He’s quiet for a moment, breathing heavily with lips that are wet and puffy from the intense kiss you’d shared. It’s almost eerie how his hazel eyes always seem to glow like fires in the dying sunlight, but you’re distracted away from it by his slow nod.

“Yeah, yeah we can do that.” Hoseok whispers raggedly, his throat sounding gruff while his breath comes in short pants. Neither of you move for a moment before he’s suddenly bounding off the bed of the truck, gesturing for you to follow him as he latches it back together and then you’re both inside, Hoseok taking the handbrake off as he begins to drive.

The drive back to yours is filled with a sexual tension that has you feeling hot and bothered, but it’s with an impatience for him to drive faster. You’re almost on the verge of telling him to just floor it; given how much the sheriff likes him he probably wouldn’t even get stopped.

But you don’t, as you kind of enjoy the sizzling atmosphere that’s slowly building between you both. Hoseok is gripping the wheel even tighter than on the drive there and he seems to be focusing on breathing slowly. It’s almost cute how intently he’s staring at the road, but you don’t say anything that could potentially embarrass him.

You were aware that he wasn’t inexperienced in this area, but his shyness still made you want to take it slower than you normally would.

It’s still hard not to ravage him when he pulls the car to a stop outside your apartment, both of you staring at the brick and stone building for a moment before getting out slowly. Hoseok comes around the front and takes your hand in his, leading you to the door and you shudder with anticipation, your thighs squeezing together with a need you hadn’t even thought about in a long while.

Your hands shake as you unlock your door, the keys jangling in the quietness of the hallway and it takes everything you have to not curse at the physical manifestation of your need for him. But any prospective embarrassment is gone when you turn round to look at him and see Hoseok’s eyes.

The unusual colour almost looks to be glowing in the dim light of your apartment and you shudder slightly, watching as he carefully tugs off his hoodie and hangs it up. It’s almost hilarious, how polite he’s being when all you want is for him to ravage you.

But you know Hoseok, and you know that he’ll only do whatever you feel comfortable with.

Stepping up in front of him, your hand rests on the solid chest beneath his shirt and you reach up onto your tiptoes to press your lips to his once more. The kiss is slow and languid, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring at a leisurely pace.

You let out the softest moan at the touch, which seems to trigger Hoseok’s desire as suddenly he’s bending ever so slightly and then you’re in the air, pressed to him as your thighs wrap around his waist tightly. Even underneath the stiff fabric of his denim jeans, you can feel his hard length pressing against your core and a whimper leaves you, causing him to growl ever so slightly.

So consumed by your want for him, you don’t notice when he manages to manoeuvre you into the bedroom until you’re toppling backwards, back meeting the soft covers that lay on your bed. He follows quickly, knee pressing into the mattress as his mouth pursues your own almost desperately.

Sinking your fingers into his luscious hair, you keep his face firmly against yours as you kiss him deeply, enjoying how reciprocal he’s being before his hands graze the soft skin of your stomach underneath your shirt. Pulling away, you look up at him with sheer lust, pushing yourself up just enough to remove your shirt.

Without a word, your bra follows and you watch as he pushes himself up, kneeling between your legs and simply admiring the curves and lines of your body with the practiced eye of an artist. His tongue licks along his lower lip slowly as his eyes track you before his hands run along your skin almost reverently.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, his tone awed and you smile at him, the love you hadn’t spoken aloud practically emanating from your expression. At it, he hesitates slightly and turns his head to the left, hiding his face and you frown immediately, sitting up to cup his cheek.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t do that. Hide yourself from others if you really want, but please don’t hide from me.” His mouth opens before closing, jaw quivering before he nods quickly. Hoseok leans in to kiss you again but you dance away from him with a smile, reaching for his own shirt and playfully tugging it upwards.

There’s a pause from him as he resists for a moment before his arms lift, letting you take his shirt off to finally witness the incredibly toned torso you’d been craving to see for so long. And he’s glorious, everything you had imagined and so much more.

The soft pads of your fingers trace over the defined muscles of his abdomen, teeth biting at your lower lip in excitement at the smooth expanse of golden skin. Tracking upwards, you note that his chest is just as defined and it makes your mouth water.

You make no mention of the scarring that tracks down his left side, instead leaning forward to press featherlight kisses to his skin before evolving into hot, open mouthed kisses that leave wet patches that signal where you’ve loved him.

Each touch of your mouth causes him to jerk slightly and you feel him quivering as his breath exhales from him shakily. You’d like to say it’s because of how turned on he is, but the way he flinches when your lips press to his roughened skin tells you otherwise.

You don’t want him to feel like this when you’re together so intimately. In fact, you want him to forget about anything as he enjoys you, but you know it probably doesn’t work like that. So instead, you simply continue to tease him and touch at him, your fingers dipping into the waistband of his jeans and snapping them against his waist.

He moves away abruptly, standing at the side of the bed and you sit there for a moment in concern, wondering if you’ve pushed too hard. Instead though, he stares directly into your eyes before unbuttoning his jeans and pushing both them and his underwear down his legs.

Any thoughts you may have had vanish instantly as you stare at him, sheer lust and excitement bubbling through your veins at the sight of him fully naked. He’s quite possibly the most exquisite person you’ve ever seen, and he’s here for you.

Shuffling forward until you’re sitting at the end of the bed, you reach forward and grasp his hips firmly. He goes to say something but you simply shake your head and pull him closer with encouraging tugs until he’s standing close to you.

Reaching out, you take his hard length into your hand and give him one, long stroke that has him gasping out as his head rocks back. It’s almost bizarre how beautiful he is, even his penis is so perfect that it belongs in an x-rated movie or something.

Tugging at the silky smooth skin over his cock, you take note of the copious amounts of precum he’s leaking and feel a shard of pride take over at how much he’s obviously desiring you. Leaning forward, you kitten lick at the engorged tip of his head and internally grin at the almost pained whimper he lets out.

“You are beautiful.” You say to him, giving him another stroke before enveloping him in your warm mouth. Hoseok is almost the perfect mix of length and girth and he whines as you move down him as far as you can go before hollowing your cheeks out on the journey back up.

You continue on for a few minutes, simultaneously jerking him off while alternating between sucking on him and licking along his length, teasing all the spots that make him gasp out with need.

It’s only when his hips start to rock even harder that you pull away, eyes flickering up to meet his desire filled gaze as his chest heaves with gasps. Keeping your eyes locked to his, you carefully unbutton and tug off your own jeans and underwear before crawling back up the bed slowly and spreading your legs for him.

Immediately, his eyes focus on the glistening wetness that shines in the final strands of daylight that stream in through your window, an audible groan leaving him at the sight. Smirking at his want, you reach out for him before grinning as he practically falls over himself to put on a condom before he pounces onto the bed and inbetween your legs.

“Do you want me to…” He breaks off before glancing down between your legs but you’re already shaking your head, reaching down to grasp his dick and caress it languidly, enjoying the way his eyelids flutter shut while his jaw drops open.

“No, I want you. Now. Believe me, I’m wet enough.” You murmur, letting go of him to push yourself up and meet his lips. He responds immediately, his kiss almost aggressive but still allowing you the control that you’ve taken the entire way through.

He doesn’t do anything for a few moments however and you almost whine at him until he grinds his hips against yours. The movement has his hard shaft sliding against your engorged clit and you immediately let out a high pitched pant at the sensation, shifting your own hips to encourage him to find a perfect rhythm.

Each slow slide has his cock becoming coated in the clear slickness of your arousal while it sends lightning spears of pleasure through your own body. Moaning into his mouth, you grip his hair tightly to keep him close.

The slightest shift of his body suddenly has him penetrating you in one slow, long slide. Immediately your head slams back into the pillows at the intrusion that stretches your walls in the most delicious way while he in turn lets out a breathy grunt at the tight sensation as you grip him.

A stream of words you don’t recognise in a musical language escape his lips while his brow creases in concentration as he remains seated in you firmly. Recognising that he’s probably a little overwhelmed, you stroke along his back in long and soothing movement while you suck deep kisses into his neck and whatever other skin you can reach.

Finally, he begins to move in slow rocks that gradually increase in speed and depth until he’s moving at a good pace, the two of you moaning out your pleasure into the quiet room. “Oh god Hoseok, please.”

He’s not hugely vocal in bed you discover, but he doesn’t need to be when his body does all the speaking for him. Each snap of his hips has you jerking up the bed and your eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as bliss crackles through your veins.

“Is it good?” He finally speaks, and when you open your eyes you see the concern painted deeply in them. Hoseok wants to make this good for you, and your heart swells to see his concern for you.

Nodding at him, you let out a choked gasp as he hits a particular spot inside you that sends your body convulsing under him. “Fuck Hoseok, fuck I’m close.” You whine and your hand moves of its own accord down your body, reaching between your legs before you begin to play with your clit.

The engorged bud has been severely forgotten about, but as you begin to circle it with the right amount of pressure it intensifies the pleasure that Hoseok’s cock is providing you. Your other hand grasps at the bed covers desperately as you continuously clench around him in pursuit of your orgasm, causing him to moan out in turn as he maintains a good pace.

“Come for me.” He whispers into your ear, the words rough and gravelly from his exertion and the air tickling at your sensitive skin. The pounding of his hips into yours combines with the furious movement of your hand and then you’re exploding around him, mind blanking out for a few moment as long, animalistic groans leave you.

They quickly become the high pitched whines of over-stimulation as you pull your hand away as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, hips moving at a startling pace. The gratification of his dick inside you continues though and you can’t stop the breathy moans that seem to leave you with each thrust, but you look up at him lazily as your hands stroke along his body encouragingly.

“Your turn Hoseok, are you close?” You whisper, voice raspy from your vocal exertions and you bite your lip firmly as he nods with closed eyes. His face is a picture of pleasure and effort and you push up to bite at his defined jawline gently, squeezing your inner muscles around him encouragingly until he’s almost sobbing with his need.

A sudden jerk of his hips is the only inclination about his impending orgasm until suddenly his head is dropping into your neck as he grunts, his hips jerking forward in tiny movements as his length twitches inside you. Head dropped to the pillow, you watch with fascination as he orgasms, brow quirking as his skin almost seems to be illuminated but you dismiss it as the lighting outside.

He’s quiet for a moment and the room feels hot and stifling, a layer of sweat coating both your skin and his own. But it’s comfortable and you feel a swelling of emotion in your stomach as he lays there, your arms gently wrapping around his shoulders as best you can.

Hoseok pulls out and flops onto the side, letting out a heaving breath as he tries to catch his breath before looking to the side at you. Swallowing, he licks his lips before giving you a tentative smile.

“Was it good?” It’s almost adorable that he asks and you find yourself grinning as you lean forward to press a kiss to his abused lips, remaining close enough to him that your noses brush with each breath.

“It was amazing.”

-

The air is still when you finally gain consciousness the next morning, eyes bleary and crusted from the most restful sleep you’ve had in a while. While the sex had been phenomenal, truly amazing, it had been the intimate and quiet minutes afterwards that you’d enjoyed the most.

As you rolled over under the sheets, inhaling his scent that lingered deeply, you let a meek smile loose as flashbacks of the night before race through your mind. He had been so caring and attentive, with far more experience than his shy and awkward nature let on.

It had been all the better with the knowledge that you’d fallen in love with this compassionate man who had a smile that would put the sun to shame. Staring up at the white ceiling and listening to the soft chirping of birds outside your window, you couldn’t stop your lips from spreading into a grin as excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You loved him, and there was no way on Earth you were giving him up to the vultures of the media or your harpy of a boss, Donghae. They’d rip this affectionate and introverted man apart and the very idea of it made your breath hitch.

He froze up with tension and fear in a crowded place and in the months you’d spent with him, he’d only acquiesced to one photograph with you. A photograph you treasured beyond belief. No, Jung Hoseok did not have a personality that would survive the assault on his character and live.

Finally registering the fact that the apartment was quiet, you sit up with a frown as you look around your bedroom for the man in question. His dark ripped jeans are gone but the shirt he’d been wearing yesterday was still carelessly thrown onto the floor.

Climbing out of the bed, you smile to yourself at the gentle ache between your legs before bending to pick up his shirt. Pulling it on, you take a moment to bring the collar to your nose and inhale deeply, eyelids fluttering at the scent of cologne, oil, metal and the very essence of Hoseok.

You marvel for a moment at how it falls down to your just above mid thigh before remembering how you always have to look up at him all the time. Running a hand down the soft material, you grin with pleasure. You’ve never worn the clothes of your partners before and you kind of like it.

Before leaving your bedroom, you make sure to at least pull on underwear so that you didn’t appear to be too desperate for a round two. Though you certainly wouldn’t say no if he proposed it.

Heading outside, the constant silence is confusing to you. Given he wasn’t in bed when you’d woken up, it would only make sense that he was either in the bathroom or the kitchen. But there was no noise coming from either and you half entertain the thought that perhaps he really had just left and not bothered to put on his shirt or shoes.

You find him, however, in the living area of your apartment where he sits on the grey couch in silence. Walking over, you add what you hope is a seductive tilt to your walk only to see it goes completely unnoticed. Instead, Hoseok is focused on your open laptop in front of him.

It’s the deep frown lines that paint a map of unhappiness on his forehead that let you know that something is wrong. As you step towards him, he suddenly looks up with distress written all over. Immediately you want to wrap him in your arms and protect him from whatever has upset him.

“What is it? Hoseok what’s wrong?” You ask, coming forwards with arms open to embrace him. Only you freeze when he flinches away from you, his eyes that had been so vibrant with happiness yesterday rapidly cooling. Pressing his lips together, he swallows thickly before licking them and pointing to your laptop screen.

“Is it true?” His voice is hoarse, the tone husky and rasping enough to cause goosebumps to rise along your skin. Only it’s not from pleasure or anticipation, but fear. Edging your way around the coffee table, you look down at the bright screen of your laptop and focus on what he can see.

The sight causes you to freeze, your heart dropping into your stomach as you read the email that had been sent this morning. Coldness envelops your body as blood rushes from your face and you can’t think properly, mind going fuzzy with panic.

“Hoseok...it’s not what it looks like. I swear.” You begin, voice pleading immediately and your hands are moving of their own accord towards him. He stands up though, muscular thighs flexing as he darts away from you and you watch with despair as his shoulders close in, back hunching slightly like an animal that’s been cornered.

Hoseok lets out a frantic laugh, each sound tinged with a despairing note that makes your heart clench with trepidation. “So...you’re not a reporter then? And you haven’t been given the job of finding out who the CEO of Vulcan is? I know you’ve figured it out as you left your notes open on here. I just sat down to drink some coffee when I must have nudged your laptop into life and there it was...a full report on me and how you’d figured it out.”

Staring at him in distress, you find that the only thing you’re capable of doing is opening and closing your mouth. Any attempts to formulate a response, despite the fact your mind is screaming denials, simply comes out as an oddly soft, croaking and gurgling sound.

When he catches your eyes flicker to the screen, cursing the fact you’d left your Outlook open and that your boss has evidently finally gotten annoyed, his face crumples. Those cheeks that harboured dimples you were desperate to learn with your touch fell, mouth disappearing behind his shaking hand.

Stepping further back, his uncovered back hitting the wall with a soft thud and you feel like someone has reached into your chest and cruelly ripped your heart out. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall sounds like your happiness slowly dripping out of the hole that’s been left, but it’s the film of tears that shines over his eyes that sends your body cold.

Those beautiful eyes, so unusual and vibrant are dull and you don’t even need to see the rest of his face to understand the betrayal he must be feeling. His other arm presses to his stomach in the classic protective position of people across the world and it’s with growing consternation that you realise he’s afraid of you.

Afraid of the power you wield because of your job.

Gasping out, you bend over slightly at the metaphorical gut punch at that knowledge as you watch the man you have come to love recoil away. Slowly lifting your hand to him, your head begins to shake as tears slowly fall, internally willing yourself to stop being so selfish and focus on him.

“It’s not...Hoseok I swear. I swear I wasn’t going to. I...I’ve known for a few days who you are and it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! Please don’t, I’m not going to. I swear to you.” You plead, your throat quivering slightly as tears thicken it.

He watches you for a moment before slowly gesturing to the room. “Was this...all part of it? Moving into the town? Getting to know the people who know me best? Was it just...a way to get close to me?” At that, he suddenly frowns deeply and your heart breaks to see an innocent, confused look take over.

He points to himself slowly, almost as if he doesn’t want to ask. “Did you get close to me...just for that? Was last night just…” Hoseok can’t finish his words and immediately you’re denying it, moving closer and wanting to cry as he slips out of your grasp, dancing around your hand and to the door.

“No! It wasn’t, I swear Hoseok it wasn’t. Yes, yes it started out as an assignment but...you’re my friend and well...you’re my closest friend. And last night was...amazing and great and everything my past relationships have never been. I’m so sorry Hobi, please believe me. I didn’t use you, I’m not using you, I lo-” Immediately he’s shaking his head violently, messy black hair flying.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say that! You can’t, you can’t...not when. No, you can’t. I can’t...I need to...no!” Hoseok cries out, the tears finally breaking the dam and slowly trickling down his face in a trail of pain at your deception.

Staring at you for a few moments more, you choke on a sob as you watch his chest heave with the emotions he tries to keep locked down. “I trusted you.” He whispers low, wiping at his face furiously before he’s turning round. You’re not sure what to make of his actions till you realise he’s yanking on the black hoodie he’d hung on the coat rack.

It’s only when he’s grabbing his keys and shoving his shoes onto his feet that you suddenly come to your senses, mind screaming at his actions. “Wait, Hoseok just wait!” You call out but he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Staring at the door, you watch for a few seconds in shock before you’re grabbing your keys and running after him. He’s not in the hallway and it’s only while your feet are slamming against the stairs that you register you hadn’t even put on shoes.

Skidding to a stop just outside the entrance to the building, you let out a broken whimper as you watch the back end of his black pickup peel out onto the street. Hand pressing to your stomach, you try hard to ignore the nausea you feel along with the numbing fear. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now and it’s only when you look around with wide eyes that you see a few people staring at you with judgement in their eyes.

Looking down, you note your bare feet and legs before realising you’re stood out in public in just Hoseok’s shirt and some underwear. Flushing bright red, you run back inside to your apartment before standing in the entrance, hands fisting at your hair in anguish.

Swiping at your nose, you gasp on a choked breath before rushing into the bedroom. Standing still for a minute, you grip the roots of your hair tightly as you try hard to ignore the dark thoughts running through your head. You’ll pack your stuff, get your car and then leave. Simple, you’ll go back and tell Donghae you’d failed.

As you began to throw clothes into your suitcase, half of your mind was screaming to go after Hoseok and explain properly but the other half was too ashamed and upset. His reaction had been everything you’d been afraid of and you were far too cowardly to go after him.

Besides, for someone as skittish as Hoseok you had no doubt that he didn’t want to see you and was likely hiding somewhere till you left. The best thing you could do for him would be to vanish and never publish the information you’d found out. Even if it felt like your heart was shrivelling and dying.

You’d chosen to be selfish that day in the meeting with your boss, deeming your career more important over someone else’s privacy. But after getting to know Hoseok, you knew that while your life would improve exponentially upon revealing the information you’d found, his would crash and burn around him.

Dragging your suitcase out to the hallway, you abandon it for a moment while you focus on cleaning the apartment as best you can and throwing out the food. It wouldn’t be fair to June for you leave the place untidy; you may be running from your problems but you won’t be that rude.

It’s only when you sit on the sofa to turn your laptop off that you finally pause, rational thought finally making its way through your mind. Staring down at the dark screen, a press on the touchpad wakes up the screen to reveal the documents detailing all you’d found about Jung Hoseok and what explicitly linked him to Vulcan Industries.

Reading over your notes again, your palm runs down your face tiredly while another rubs the back of your neck. Why did you care so much? Why did anyone care so much? Hoseok had done so much good for the world, made so many inventions that had brought relief and happiness and he’d demanded nothing in return.

Nothing except for the ability to live peacefully and privately in his own private version of heaven; a small town where no one cared about big corporations, a home he’d made his own and a garage that allowed him to help in small ways along with the big.

Swallowing thickly, you open up the email that had led to him figuring everything out. Donghae is curt, demanding an article as soon as possible on whatever you’d found. It’s when you read the words that you’d sent to him weeks ago that you feel the hot tears prickle your eyes, filling to the point that they slowly trickle down your face.

From: Y/N

To: Lee Donghae

Subject: Project Vesuvius

Hi Donghae,

Please accept my apologies that I’ve been radio silent for a while. I’ve been doing research into the CEO and I think I’ve finally found something.

I will respond to you with an article once I’ve confirmed my suspicions and done extensive research. It should be within the next few weeks I believe, please wait for further correspondence.

Kind Regards,

Y/N

Unsurprisingly, Donghae had got annoyed at waiting for you to respond to him and taken it into his own hands. The resulting email had all the hallmarks of Donghae’s infamous lack of patience and it made your stomach shrivel to know that not only were you going back with nothing, but Hoseok had seen it.

From: Lee Donghae

To: Y/N

Subject: RE: Project Vesuvius

Y/N,

Where the hell is this article?! You’ve been gone for four months now, I’d expect to at least see something after this.

What am I doing? Paying you for a vacation? Send me what research you have now or I’ll be docking your pay for this waste of time.

Donghae

Deleting the email with a gulp, you instead open up the pictures folder. There were so many images in there of Hoseok’s metal work, each piece a small work of art that he had put his heart and soul into.

But that isn’t the one that makes you stifle a sob, instead it’s the one solitary picture you have of the man you’d fallen hopelessly in love with. It was from when he’d taken you hiking up one of the mountain trails that were dotted around the landscape here.

Wearing dark jeans, a pair of sturdy and well used walking boots along with a plain grey shirt and white hoodie, he’d looked an absolute picture of beauty. You’d felt more than a little ridiculous when he’d raised his eyebrow at your white linen shorts, pale yellow t-shirt and white Adidas trainers.

The reason for his dubious look had appeared only an hour into the hike, when you’d fallen over twice from the uneven ground and now had shorts that had turned a lovely shade of dusty brown along with scuffed shoes.

Still, the view had been worth it when you’d reached your destination. Hoseok had packed a lunch for the two of you and it had been perfection. At your shy request for a photo together, he’d acquiesced and there it was.

He was smiling so prettily, his face slightly turned to the side to try and hide his scarring while the red highlights in his hair had gleamed in the bright sunshine. His eyes were reduced to almost squinting from the bright light yet you still admired the pretty shape of them, the way the apples of his cheeks were so rounded and the dimples that always appeared so easily.

The tiny mole on his lips could be seen even while his smile was so big and you bit down on your lip hard as you realised he looked happy and relaxed. Because he had been happy and relaxed.

Changing screens back to your notes, you stared at the countless words and html links with a blank look for a moment. The letters blurred slightly from your tears and you shook your head, closing down the document.

Going into your documents, you found the file that contained all the information you’d found out about Vulcan and Hoseok and dragged it over to the recycling bin. Watching it disappear with a soft ‘woosh’ from your laptop, it only took a moment to right click and empty.

Shutting it down, you placed it inside your messenger back and sniffled pathetically. Wiping your nose with the back of your hand, you looked down at the black shirt that still smelled of him and willed your lips not to tremble.

It took no time at all to leave June a voicemail apologising for your sudden absence and informing her of where you’d left the key before you were walking towards Hoseok’s garage, a lump in your stomach as fear filled your limbs.

You didn’t want to face him. Not because you were afraid of him, but because you simply didn’t want to hurt him anymore and you certainly didn’t want to see that look of betrayal in his eyes again.

The suitcase trundling behind you was so loud and you wince as you reach the garage, noting with a sad relief that the main doors were closed and his car was nowhere to be seen. Shuffling quickly to the customer entrance door, you enter the six digit code that Hoseok had told you only two weeks ago, 790824.

He’d invited you over to his place for the evening and warned you that he’d be in the garage working on some repairs. As such, he’d simply informed you of the code to enter so that he wouldn’t need to leave. The reasoning behind his choice of numbers had only been made clear to you the other day, making you wonder for a moment if he’d wanted to be found.

Entering the clean waiting room, you look around and inhale the oh so familiar scent of oil and metal that had always been Jung Hoseok. Swallowing, you let your fingers trail slowly along the counter top as you move around it, spying the tray of keys to all the cars he has.

Picking out yours, you clutch onto them tightly before turning and practically running out of the building. It’s only once you’ve stuffed your suitcase into the back of your car and sat in the drivers seat that you finally pause to crane your head, trying to take a peek up the isolated drive that leads to his house.

From here, you can barely see the building you’d become so acquainted with over these last few weeks, but you can clearly see the black car parked haphazardly in front of it. Turning back, you rest your head on the wheel for a moment and fight the desperate need to go to him and apologise, beg on your knees and anything else you can think of to make him forgive you.

It’s only a deep, fortifying breath that shudders dangerously that gives you the strength to insert the key and turn the ignition. Your car starts immediately, the deep and almost choking rumble that you were used to filling the silence and you move away with a heavy heart.

A glance into the mirror lets you watch his garage disappear as you drive down the road, heading down the long and lonely roads that make up this part of the world as you drive back home. You’ll probably get fired from your job for wasting their time but it’ll be worth it.

It has to be worth it, because it will mean that his secret is safe.

-

Hoseok sat the floor of his bedroom, back resting against the bed as a bottle of half empty whiskey dangled from his fingers. Staring at nothing, he sighed heavily before running a hand through his hair and letting his head fall back against the mattress.

He desperately wished that he could get drunk, that when he drank this whole bottle of whiskey he’d be half comatose with inebriation. Instead, all he got was a burning sensation when he drank the foul liquid.

Damn his godliness that meant only alcohol made by the gods would work. He hadn’t had a good drink like that in centuries and he wasn’t particularly in the mood to go find some. Maybe Hermes had invented some online store for Olympus made products already? Musing on that, he tipped the bottle back and swallowed some more lazily.

It was over. It was all over.

He’d had a good run at anonymity, he thought to himself before a shard of pain lanced through his chest. Holding his right arm out, he looks over the scarring that always caught the human’s attention and let out a shaky breath.

It didn’t bother him that he had them anymore, he’d gotten over them a long time ago, but it was the staring he could never get over. The way people would turn slightly when they saw it, their eyes tracking over each point like a dot to dot puzzle and he could see the questions forming in their head immediately.

He’d experienced it for millennia, and no matter what mortal body he chose he knew that the scarring would appear in the exact same places every time. For these were wounds that had been caused by the fires of Mount Olympus and even his godly skin would not heal them.

Hoseok could only imagine what the humans would say to find out he was the genius behind Vulcan. It would be nice to think that they would be understanding and kind, focusing on the technological achievements that he had made throughout the years.

Perhaps note how he was a small town guy who had shunned the spotlight, instead letting his works take all the fame. Maybe even his philanthropy and how he tried to help improve not only human society but the environment as well. That he was an example for children across the world to aspire to.

But he knew what they would focus on. His scars, his anxiety, his pathological need to be away from crowds, his panic attacks. He had no doubt that there would be people in town who would happily take money to spill all his secrets, to gleefully tattle about the one or two times he’d lost his temper or been rude.

As he watched, his hand began to shake from the stress as his mind went into overdrive. Despite the terror that threatened to swallow him whole at the thought of his face being plastered across the media, his mind kept latching onto you. To the look of shock on your face when you realised that he knew.

Staring at his hand, he gritted his teeth as the tears began to fall once again and with effort he clenched his fingers into a fist. Hoseok had spent centuries on his own, millennia even. The gods, his own parents, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts and cousins, had rejected him long before any human language was first inscribed on stone.

To be a god was to be the perfection that humans looked up to. As such, it was only right that they were the pinnacles of humanity. They had to be the strongest, the fastest, the smartest, the wittiest and above all else, they had to be the most beautiful.

It mattered not that Hoseok was one of the smartest gods in the Pantheon, creating machines that humans still couldn’t comprehend even today. It did not matter that his strength was just as strong as any gods or that he could hold his own in a battle of wits with even Hermes, the flighty god who was a trickster personified.

No. They had taken one look at the scarring on him, the scarring that he had gained while building and creating the weapons and machines they had asked for, and deemed him unfit, ugly and not welcome amongst their ethereal beauty. And so he had been relegated to the harshest area of Olympus, surrounded by lava and searing temperatures. It was a place no gods visited.

None except the one who had become his best friend, the equally lonely and rejected Hades. The isolation he had experienced had continued for millennia, which had resulted in what the humans called social anxiety today. As he had told you previously, he had sexual experience but he was basically a virgin in terms of relationships. He didn’t understand how to navigate the complexities of society, and as society had become even more complex he had decided he didn’t want to.

Until you. Until you had come into his garage, with your sweet and innocent smile and the laugh that made his heart flutter. You had spent weeks with him, slowly chipping at the casing around his heart until you’d finally found her way inside, curling up within him and slowly spreading until all he could feel was you.

He had spent a large portion of the time ignoring his feelings, believing them to not be true and just a figment of his imagination. It had taken him a while to convince himself that you were being honest as well, that you truly wanted him for himself. That when you laughed, it was with him and not at him.

He had finally learnt how to love another, had been willing to ask you if you would be willing to try a relationship. Hoseok had no idea how to be a boyfriend - he had had many names over the millennia but that had never been one. But he had been willing to try for you, to look into how to be the perfect human boyfriend and simply love you as you deserved.

And then he’d found out it had all been a sham. That he had been wrong now and right long ago. He had written off humans as individuals millennia ago, deeming them to be selfish and stubborn creatures who would sell their own mother if it meant it would advance their own agenda. As a society on the whole, they had positives that he could see, but individually they were a menace.

It was simply his need to create and his wish to improve the lives of innocents who suffered and to try and stave off some of the illness that humanity had cursed the planet with that had spurred on his creation of Vulcan Industries. But humans themselves? He had no care for them, as they had regularly rejected him in turn.

It had always been a point of contention between himself and Hades, which had continually baffled him. His best friend, and uncle to get technical, who ruled over the Underworld and regularly saw the very worst that humanity had to offer get thrown into the eternal pits of Tartarus, believed in humans so strongly.

Whenever he’d pointed out the dichotomy, Hades had always shrugged. “For every one human that has done atrocious things that is sent to Tartarus, I watch two innocent humans enter the Fields of Elysium. I see children who do not belong in death and I see elderly who should have never reached the age they did. If I had the time, I would take every bad human and thrown them into the Styx before dumping them into the Acheron for extra measure and then let them make their own way to Tartarus in the Phlegethon. But the vast majority of humanity is not evil, just misguided.”

You had made him think that maybe Hades had been right. Maybe he had been wrong all these years and that there was much to celebrate and rejoice about humanity. And then you had proven him right, in the most painful way possible.

He rubbed his chest slowly, fingers pressing against the soft material of the hoodie before he clawed at it slightly. It felt like he had a gaping hole in his chest, exactly where his heart had once been placed. Lowering his head, he let the now empty bottle of whiskey fall to the floor as he let out a shaky sigh.

Hoseok had carefully, and with much trepidation, given you his heart. It was a big thing, for it was the heart of a god and carried with it much power and blessings. He wished he could say that it was easy for him to snatch it back, but that would be a lie. You still had it, and he wasn’t sure how long you would continue to do so.

Looking around his room with a depressed eye, he felt the inescapable need to just flee. Go somewhere and pretend that this life had never existed. Hoseok needed to go and recoup, come back to himself and try to forget you. He couldn’t do that here, not now.

The house was filled with your memories, from the sound of your laughter in the kitchen as you baked with him to your awe filled gasps in his workshop. Your very presence had seeped into the walls without his permission and it sounded like betrayal.

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he stared at the dark screen for a moment before pressing it to his forehead firmly. Closing his eyes tightly, he swallowed before finally speaking. “Vulcan, call Hades on speaker.”

Immediately his phone acknowledged his request and soon a dial tone began to call out. He waited with a patience that he was surprised he had, though in reality he was simply beginning to wallow in the despair of his misguided faith and love.

“Holy shit, Heph! Is the world ending or something? I think you’ve still got a way to go before you own it all you know. On that note, dude! What the fuck? Where’s my funky hologram phone. Some best friend you are. Millennia together and you can’t even be fucked to-” The familiar ranting of Hades begins and Hoseok simply listens for a moment, eyes closed before his lips tip up of their own accord. Yes, maybe this was the right choice.

“Hades...I’m sorry, Jimin. I keep forgetting that’s your name now,” He mumbles, rubbing at his eyes tiredly as he sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ll send you one. Or bring you one, if that’s okay?” The words are quiet, much more softer and shyer than he’d intended.

There’s silence on the other end before Jimin is speaking again. “What’s wrong? You don’t sound okay.” At his words, quiet and completely void of any joking or teasing, Hoseok’s eyes fill immediately and he bites his lip to try and stop any noise.

It doesn’t work though, and his voice cracks before a heart wrenching sob leaves his whiskey burned throat. “I did it Jimin. I did what you always said I should.” Blinking rapidly, he tries in vain to stop the gentle trickle of tears down his cheeks.

“...you finally had a six-some with the sea nymphs?” The confused tone to Jimin’s voice makes him laugh, the sound thick with pain. He wasn’t offended, the God of Death had never handled emotions well.

“No, I let a human in. I finally...I mean I...she made me think that maybe you were right. That humans aren’t all terrible and that maybe I was worthy of some happiness finally. But you were wrong. They are, and it turns out I’m not.” Hoseok’s hand wraps around his mouth at that, trying hard to keep his crying silent.

Jimin is quiet before he speaks again, his voice soothing and calming. “I’m sorry Hoseok. Are you okay?” Hoseok lets those words sink into his skin slowly, contemplating what his answer would be as he takes a shaking breath.

“No.” Is all he can manage to gasp out, the word so meek and quiet but he knows that if he tried to be louder then his voice would crack. There’s a couple of seconds of silence, the speaker barely even letting Jimin’s breathing be heard before he finally hears a long, deep sigh.

“You can come here for a while if you want? We bought a new place a few years ago, it’s gated and no one can get in. It’ll give you the privacy and solitude you need right now?” Immediately Hoseok felt a wave of relief wash over him, numbing his frayed nerves in a way that the whiskey never could. “Oh, you can meet my wife too! Finally. I know you’re a bit annoyed at humans but...she’s a good one. I swear. And she knows about us.”

Sighing softly, Hoseok let his phone dangle from his fingertips as he let his head tip forward to rest on his knees. Of course, he remembered that Jimin had gotten married a few years ago. Hades, of all the gods, had finally let himself fall in love. Hoseok remembered sending them some Vulcan stuff and one of his own metalworks to congratulate them.

“That’s okay. As long as she doesn’t, you know. Actually what does it matter. Whatever. I just need to...be away from here.” He whispered, just wanting to leave this damn house and forget the memories before his life imploded on itself.

The remainder of the phone call was simply Jimin agreeing and telling him that he would be expected. Once the call ended, his phone chimed once to let him know that the god had texted him his new home address.

It took Hoseok half an hour to finally convince himself to stand up and get moving, half-heartedly throwing a few clothes into a duffel bag. The garage would be fine for however long was necessary as he had no outside clients currently, only the Vulcan cars. Walking down to the door, he stopped into his workshop for a moment to grab the metal sculpture he’d created a few months ago and thought Jimin might like.

But he freezes in place when he sees the sculpture he’d been working on for a while now, taking the utmost care to make sure every inch of it is perfect and beautiful. A metal rose, so delicate that it looks like it would shatter if it was dropped. He hadn’t finished it yet, the edges of the leaves still sharp where he had yet to smooth them out.

Rage erupts from inside him, the emotion thick and molten like lava and without even thinking he’s gripping the rose head tightly. Muscles strain as he distorts it crumpling it in his heated hands until when he moves away, all that remains is a lump of deformed metal.

Sharp pains radiate from his palm and he looks down, staring at the deep cuts that bleed freely from where the petals had embedded themselves. As he watches, he feels the anger bleed from him with each drop until all he is filled with is despair and hurt, tears of sympathy falling from his eyes.

Turning quickly, he flees the room without even taking the item he’d originally intended, the sheer need to vanish overwhelming him. He threw his duffel bag into the footwell of the passenger seat and turned the ignition, listening to the satisfying rumble of his car. Stretching his fingers over the wheel, he took a deep sigh and willed himself to calm down.

He would be okay, he had to be okay. It had to be okay. Clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on breathing slowly. In and out, in and out, just like how you’d shown him how to cope with a panic attack. The thought of you had his eyes filling up again and his next exhale trembled viciously, almost interrupting his calming process.

By the time he was finally feeling stable, fifteen minutes had passed and he let out a sorry sigh. According to the sat nav in his car, it would take 4 hours to drive to Jimin’s place. But maybe that was good, he thought to himself, as it would give him 4 hours to come to terms with everything that had happened to him.

And everything that would happen to him. Was he ready to be outed to the world? No. But he didn’t have a choice now. As he drove along in silence, his mind ran at a million miles a minute. He was terrified of being revealed to the world, yes. Yet he’d come to realise what hurt the most was simply your betrayal, the fact that you’d used him so easily.

Hoseok came to realise, as he drove along the long, isolated road through the vast forest that linked his town to the next, that he was ashamed of how easily he’d let you in. The memories of you made his heart clench in happiness before he felt the sharp pains of hurt dagger their way through. Each memory became tainted suddenly and he found himself viewing every interaction with suspicion.

As he drove, he suddenly had a moment of panic about whether or not you’d filmed last night. Immediately he felt sick and he had to pull over to the side of the road, jumping out and heaving for breaths as he bent over. Even as he struggled to breathe, his mind scolded him for his thoughts.

You were cruel, but he doubted you were that cruel.

Straightening up finally, he took a few fortifying breaths with his eyes closed as he tipped his head back. The forest was quiet and it took him a few moments to realise that it was unusually quiet, the sound of birds were absent and he opened his eyes to look around in confusion.

It was then that he noticed the underbrush was disturbed up ahead, the grass flattened and the clear sign of tyres being the cause. He stared at it, eyes squinting slightly before he began to walk forwards.

There was no reason for a car to come off the road here, the trees of the forest were too thick and frequent to fit a car inside. Not to mentioned the slight dip in land that meant the car probably wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Walking over, he listened to the sound of his boots crunching in the dirt before he finally caught sight of why there were signs of a car. Because there was, and it was currently upside down and smashed forcefully into a tree around 30 feet off the road.

Eyes widening, he started to slide down the slight embankment as he made his way over. There had been no brake marks on the road to indicate that the driver had tried to stop, so there was no surprise that the car had tried to wrap itself around the tree.

“Hello?! Is anyone in there? Are you okay?” He called out, voice loud against the stark quietness of the forest. There was no response from the car and he felt an odd sense of trepidation.

Dried branches cracked underneath his boots as he walked forward, suddenly wishing he’d put on a shirt underneath the damn hoodie when he’d been home. As he got closer to the car, he winced as he saw how completely destroyed the car was. It’s front end was practically non-existent and he wondered how fast they’d been going to cause this much damage.

He glanced at the number plate for a brief second and it was only seconds later that his mind finally translated the upside down plate. Immediately he froze, looking over the car with new eyes as shock numbed his system.

“No, her car is still at the garage. I never fixed the bra..” His voice trails off as horror takes over the numbness, gasping as he rocks back. “I never fixed the brakes.” He breathes out, frowning instantly before he’s sprinting forwards.

Skidding to a halt next to the wreckage, he looks it over desperately while his hand gestures uselessly. Dropping into a squat, he prays to Olympus that some joy rider had just stolen your car. Please, please let it be some idiot, he chants internally.

But his prayers aren’t answered when he ducks down, looking through the shattered drivers window. “Oh god no. No, no, no. Please no.” He whispers desperately, falling forward to his knees and ignoring the glass that pricks at them.

“Hey, Y/N? Hey come on, wake up. Please wake up. Come on sweetheart, wake up for me please.” He calls out, encouraging as his fingers gingerly reach for your throat. There’s blood dripping from your head to the ceiling, which is now the floor, and he notes with a sickening feeling that there’s a good sized pool there already.

He feels a heart beat, slow and sluggish, but a gasp of relief runs through him. “Okay agapi mou, it’ll be okay. I’ll get you out. Stay with me okay?” He speaks, his voice oddly soothing despite the panic running through him.

Looking over the car, he winces when he realises that the engine had been practically destroyed, but the sheer force of hitting the trunk has wedged the dashboard onto your legs. The steering wheel is pressed against your stomach and he hopes that you’re not injured too badly internally.

“Okay, okay Hephaestus. You can do this. It’s fine, you just need to get her out without hurting her.” He has no idea where to start. He can take a car apart if necessary but that’s usually under controlled circumstances; it only takes one look at the door to know that’s not going to open.

Swallowing, he sits confused for a few seconds as his mind frantically works. He’d need an industrial saw to cut through the door and he needs to basically straighten the dashboard out enough so that he can pull you out.

But he doesn’t have that, and he knows that the closest fire station will take half an hour to get here. Taking a quick look at you again, he winces when he sees the constant stream of blood and knows you probably doesn’t have the time it would take to wait. Stripping his hoodie off, he tries to wrap it in a way to stem the blood flow.

Staring at the dented door frame, he takes a deep breath before muttering encouragements to himself. “It’s okay, you’re a god. You can do this, it’s fine. She’s not awake, she won’t know. You can do this. You have to do this,” Swallowing he places a hand on the door frame. “You have to do this or she’ll die.”

He’d been hurt by your actions and you were likely going to ruin his life, but he couldn’t escape the fact that he was in love with you. And the thought of you being gone forever made his chest constrict tightly.

Nodding, he placed his hands on the door frame, fingers squeezing against broken glass and he begins to pull. Groaning out loud, he strains hard as the car begins to creak and complain. An unholy loud sound screams around the silent forest as the metal begins to rip and he curses the fact that you’d chosen an old car instead of a newer one.

Yanking up, he shouts out as he strains desperately against the resisting door. Come on, he thinks internally, grunting at the pressure on his hands. Pausing, he presses his head against the cool metal and takes deep breaths, regulating himself before he’s pulling again.

The door finally gives way, causing him to almost fall backwards from the force but instead he’s simply throwing it to the side. Scanning over the dashboard, he groans softly as he wonders how the hell he’s going to sort this.

Looking back at you, his eyes trace over your delicate features quickly and his stomach twists. You’re paling rapidly and it frightens him, bruises already beginning to blossom on your face while all he can hear is the constant dripping from your head.

“I’ll get you out, I swear.” He whispers before looking at the front again. It’s going to require care, to pull the dashboard off you without causing any further damage. Looking everything over, his eyes flicker to you again before he makes his decision. There’s no other way.

Holding up his hands, he watches as the cuts slowly heal before his golden skin begins to shimmer slightly. As he concentrates, the shimmer turns into a soft glow that gets brighter and brighter until it looks like he’s been lit from within, arms burning a red glow. He desperately hopes you won’t wake up and see this, but it’s more important to simply get you out.

Take hold of the steering wheel, he presses a hand against where it connects to the dash before closing his eyes and hissing out. As he does so, the place he touches begins to bubble and burn until his hand is through the plastic and pressing against the metal connecting the wheel. He grabs hold of it and grinds his teeth together, concentrating to do something that he hasn’t done in millennia.

The dim interior of the broken car lights up as he channels through the power of Olympus, the direct contact he has with the seat of the gods activating and he begs for the power of the mighty volcano hidden inside.

Searing pain races through his arm as the mountain answers, his veins becoming molten lava and his hand heating a temperature that no human could withstand. He would pay for this, with new scars that the volcano would demand from him.

The metal began to heat, turning white hot under his hand and within seconds it was malleable enough for him to pull. Carefully, he removed the steering wheel and placed it outside, making sure that the heated end would not touch the ground and accidentally start a wildfire.

He burned his way through the car, the heated metal peeling apart with ease until finally he could free you without causing further harm. Waiting a few seconds till his arms return to their normal colour, Hoseok gently pulls you out until you are laid on the cool forest ground.

“Agapi mou? Please, please wake up. Please?” His voice cracks as confused emotion runs through him, the hurt and despair from earlier warring with his worry and love for you now. Shaking fingers trace down the side of your face and he notes the new scars on his hands with jaded interest.

There’s nothing from you until he suddenly hears the softest murmur. The reassuring sound has him lowering his head before he’s lifting you up, fully aware that he’s probably doing everything wrong but he’s a mechanic, not a doctor. But you make no noise and he’s moving back to his car, placing you into the bed of his pickup as gently as possible.

“It’ll be okay, I swear.” He whispers, brushing the hair out of your face before he’s darting back into the driver’s seat. The closest hospital is half an hour away and he drives as fast as he possibly can without attracting any attention to himself.

Screeching into the emergency bay, Hoseok is jumping out of the car as quickly as he can before running inside and calling for help. Internally, he praises humanity’s need to heal as immediately nurses and doctors are rushing to his car. As he explains to the nurse at his side what had happened along with the few details he knows about you, he watches intently as they place you onto a stretcher and you’re being whisked off.

Following until they disappear behind some sliding doors, he places a hand on the nurses arm hesitantly. She stops and turns to look at him, concern on her face. “Will she be okay?” He asks softly, voice filled with concern for you.

At his words she gives him a reassuring smile, her own hand coming to rest against his own and patting gently. “Your girlfriend should be fine, the doctors are very good at their job here.”

As his mouth opened to refute the title she’d given you, she quickly runs behind the doors and he’s left to stand on his own. It’s only when he looks down at his hands that he realises he’s shaking violently and everything catches up to him in a rush.

Pressing a palm to the wall, he gasps loudly and bends over as nausea takes over. His mind acknowledges that he’s in shock, even if another part of him is confused as to why he’s experiencing such strong human emotions. Clenching his eyes closed, he takes slow and deep breaths to try and calm himself down while he slowly slides down the wall.

Hoseok has no idea how long he sits there, with a hand pressed to his forehead and his eyes closed. The fire of Olympus is still raging in his veins, hot and demanding that he create but he can’t. For the first time in his long life, he has nothing that he wishes to create. Instead, he lets that fire slowly burn away, ebbing until all that remains when he turns his hand over is a soft glow from his veins.

Watching the slowly dimming light, he sighs heavily and lets his head fall back against the white wall with a thud. He can hear the busy sounds of the hospital all around him; nurses doing their rounds and patients complaining. Part of him wants to leave, to simply get up and walk out of the hospital and never look back. But a meek voice inside his head, so new and fragile yet hiding away from hurt, asked him to stay.

It was this voice that he listened to, hoping desperately that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake and potentially destroying that tiny, delicate hope. Pulling out his phone, he sends a quick text to Jimin to let him know before shifting over to one of the waiting room chairs and settles for what he believes will be a long wait.

-

“Sir? Sir?” Hoseok wakes with a startle, eyes wide and panicked as he looks around the unfamiliar place and anxiety grips his throat tightly. His mind soon recognises the hospital waiting room and he blinks rapidly, focusing on the blue uniformed nurse in front of him. Her blonde hair is tied back tightly and pink lips turn up into a gentle smile.

“You’re the man who brought Miss Y/L/N in correct?” She asks, noting the name on the clipboard she has in her hand. He nods slowly, sitting straighter at her words and looking around.

“Yes, yes I did. Is she out of surgery? Is she okay?” He peppers her with words, not even caring that he’s not being polite. An urgent need to know how you are is overwhelming him. The nurse gives another smile before nodding, a hand squeezing his shoulder lightly.

“She’s out of surgery now, we’ve placed her into room 201 and are just waiting for her to wake up. You may visit if you’d like?” She gestures down the corridor and he follows her movement, swallowing thickly before nodding and standing.

“The police are likely to want to talk to you later once she’s awake, if that’s okay?” She asks and he simply nods his acknowledgement, giving a tense smile before striding in the direction of your room. Reaching the door, he stands outside and lets out a shaky breath while looking at his feet.

Is he really ready to confront you so soon after what he had discovered? Rubbing his chest slightly, he knew that the wounds you’d caused were still so raw that they were bleeding and he figured that he wasn’t. But he also knew that he couldn’t leave you alone here, not when you had almost died alone.

Pushing open the door, he steps into the room with more than a little reluctance. The soft beeping of a heart monitor is the only noise that can be heard, while you lie on the bed in silence. A thick bandage is wrapped around your head and he notes the casts you wear. One over your left wrist and a second around your left leg up to the knee.

Bandages wrap tightly around your torso underneath the hospital gown, peeking out from underneath. That’s just what he can see too. Tears prick his eyes at the sight of you so broken and he moves the chair to sit next to you, gently taking your free hand in his own.

“I told you that you’d be okay agapi mou, and a god always keeps his word. Or at least I do.” Hoseok whispered, lowering his head to rest against your hand. Underneath the antiseptic and other medicinal smells, he inhales the scent that he’s become so familiar with.

It’s a smell that calms him when he feels his heart race and his breathing quicken, a smell that makes him smile without even realising. It’s a smell that he fell so in love with, and it’s with a trembling breath that he exhales it out.

Tears fall onto the white bedspread, the wet stains the only witness to his emotional breakdown. He’d thought he’d had enough earlier in the day, but it turns out that he was wrong. When it comes to you, he’s not sure he’ll ever get over it.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered brokenly, gripping your hand so tightly the skin ashen with blood loss. “I’m so sorry, I swear I forgot. I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t mean to.” He cries, guilt over the brakes he forgot to fix warring furiously with the heartache he’d suffered before. Hoseok had spent the morning crying over your betrayal and fearing the attention he would soon be given.

But now he cried over the guilt of almost killing you, of how his carelessness and procrastination had almost led to you dying alone in a forest. He’d put off fixing the brakes for so long, hoping that the longer they remained unfixed, the longer you would stay.

Of course, he knows now that it would have had no impact on your decision, but he’d let himself believe. Instead, he’d almost destroyed the thing he loved most in the world, even if that thing had crushed his heart into tiny pieces.

Finally, his tears dry and he simply sits in silence as he performs a quiet watch over you. He answers the questions the police officers ask, carefully dancing around their confusion over the ripped car and simply waits for you to wake.

Hoseok doesn’t know if he’ll forgive you, but he knows that he can’t leave you yet. Maybe he can get some closure from you, maybe his love will sour rapidly into hate. The gods are infamous for their fickle emotions after all.

It’s only because he’s staring intently at your hand, thought rushing through his head, that he notices the slight twitch of your finger. Glancing up to what little of your bruised face he can see, he watches quietly until your eyelids begin to flutter open.

“Y/N, hey agapi mou. Hey it’s okay, you’re okay.” He soothes, running his fingers over your hand as you look around in a panic. “You’re in the hospital. I don’t know if you remember but you were in an accident - your brakes went. I’m so sorry, I really am. The-” He gets cut off by your frown, the tips of your eyebrows just visible under the white bandage.

“Are you a doctor?” Your voice is raspy and his first instinct is to grab the cup of water and straw that had been left on the table next to the bed. It’s only when the plastic cup is in his hand that the words register and he falters, water sloshing over the sides.

“Am I a...doctor?” His own brow creases in a frown as he looks down at you. Automatically, he helps you to drink while his mind tries to compute this information. He may be one of the smartest gods in the pantheon, but right now he can’t quite understand. “No, I’m...I’m not a doctor.” He stutters out.

Coughing delicately, you wince in pain and your free hand rests on your ribs lightly. “Who are you then?” The question is innocent, the look in your eyes wary and he suddenly feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Any air he has is gone, leaving him gasping slightly as ice runs through his veins.

“I’m...I’m...I-” He can’t finish the sentence however, standing up and backing away slowly. Shaking his head, he moves over to the door quickly and tries to breathe as steadily as he can. “I’ll go get...the doctor.” He wheezes out, slipping through the door and closing it quickly. For a few seconds he simply rests against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as he pants for a breath his lungs simply won’t give him.

You don’t remember him. You don’t remember him. Months in the company of one another, playing the slow dance of flirtation around each other and you can’t remember who he is. Flashes of your laptop screen detailing his information appear in his mind and he lets out a laugh that sounds just this side of sane.

He’d spent hours panicking over his identity being revealed and now this had happened. Looking up at the ceiling, he lets out a strained chuckle. “After millennia of ignoring me, are you finally trying to help Moirai? ‘Let’s finally let Hephaestus have a break?’. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” He finishes, cursing the fates.

A passing nurse gives him a strange look and it’s only then that he realises he’d spoken in Ancient Greek, a language that had died long ago. Giving a tense smile, he informs her that you’d woken before slumping onto one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the hallway.

Sinking his hands into his hair, he tugs lightly while letting out a strained giggle. Even a god has their limits, and right now his mind feels fried from the tennis match of emotions he’d been under. Rubbing his palms over his face, Hoseok vaguely realises that his leg won’t stop shaking and it’s only then that he acknowledges the overwhelming feelings.

Standing, he makes his way to the exit and stands outside, bending over against the wall and engaging some of the breathing exercises you’d taught him. Surely this was a good thing? He could walk away and you’d never be any the wiser. Your laptop had been broken in the car accident, he remembered seeing it smashed on the ceiling.

Hoseok could go back to his quiet and peaceful life without the worry of being unmasked to the world. This could be his escape, the way to calm his panicking mind and soothe his anxious soul. But it came at the cost of truly losing any chance with you.

“Hoseok?” The light voice comes from his side and he looks up in confusion, brow creasing before realising he’s seeing Jimin in front of him. He takes a moment to look over his old friend, noting the blue hair that he’s paired with skin tight black jeans, a black shirt and silver outlined black jacket. Stylish sunglasses hide eyes that glow an ethereal blue, the effect of two gods near each other, and he notes the slight smile on the man’s face.

“Jimin? What are you...how did you?” Hoseok asks, bewilderment running over his face. Jimin’s thick pink lips spread into a sweet smile, spreading over half his face and causing his eyes to crease into tiny half moons.

“You told me you were at the hospital, this is the closest to where you live. I just drove here as quickly as I could. Something’s obviously wrong.” The God of Death states simply, closing his eyes and letting out a long exhale. At his words, Hoseok’s eyes fill once more and he wonders idly if a god could have his dry his eyes out.

Reaching out, he places a firm hand onto the smaller god’s slim shoulder, squeezing tightly as he lets out a trembling breath. He knows how hard this must be for Jimin to be here, one of his passive abilities is to attract those who are about to die without them knowing. A hospital is likely to be one of his least favourite places to visit.

Without a word, Jimin leads him over to one of the benches and Hoseok sits down heavily, head lowering as he lets his arms rest on his thighs. “So...what has got you looking sadder than that time I accidentally took your favourite sculpture.”

At that, Hoseok gives him a slight glare as he remembers that incident thousands of years ago. Immediately, Jimin’s hands are rising as he makes a placating movement with wide eyes. “Hey! Don’t get upset again. It’s not my fault you made it so phallic shaped,” He mumbles, glancing down. “You should consider a Vulcan line for that by the way, I know it wasn’t intended for that but it felt-” Hoseok raises his hand and cuts off the words.

“Please Had-Jimin. Not now. I don’t...I can’t right now.” He deeply, rubbing at his temples with a low groan. Jimin quietens down and turns serious, letting Hoseok have his time to himself for a few minutes. It’s only after a comfortable silence settles that he finally leans forward, trailing his fingers over the new scarring on Hoseok’s hands.

“This is new. I thought you swore that you’d never call on Olympus again?” Jimin’s voice is muted, his emotions carefully caged until Hoseok can’t tell what the god is feeling. Looking down at the new scars that have spread across his hands and wrists, he flexes them before sighing through his nose.

“I also said I’d never fall in love with a human but...here we are.” His voice is so quiet that he’s not even sure Jimin heard him until he notes the older gods clenched fists. “I had to. It was the only way to save her, otherwise you’d be very much aware of who she is right now as she’d be residing in the Underworld.”

“She must be very special to you then. Not only for you to fall for her but to willingly call that.” He gestures to the scarring and Hoseok swallows, thick tears slowly beginning to fall past his lashes as he nods.

“She was. Is. I don’t know,” Looking up, he sniffles and wipes his eyes on his wrists, only just realising that he’s still shirtless and no one even bothered to tell him. As if able to tell, Jimin gently drapes his own jacket over Hoseok’s bare shoulders and patiently waits for the story.

“She was perfect you know? Funny, sweet, kind and so curious. She was interested in my hobbies and smiled at me even when I made an idiot of myself. She taught me how to control my panic attacks and encouraged me to go out more, talk to people more. I was changing, and not just for me but because of her. She made me smile. She made me feel the same happiness I feel when I’m creating and when we’d curl up on the couch watching a movie, I’d feel content for the first time ever.” His voice breaks suddenly, emotion rising up his throat and thickening his words.

“She didn’t stare at me like there was something wrong with me, nor did she ask me to give her things or do things for free. I fell for her. I started to imagine a possible future. She never set off any alarm bells in my head.” Jimin watches him in silence, his expression open and icy eyes locked onto him.

“I was an idiot. No one has ever gotten close to me without wanting something except you, so I should have known. Thousands of years and what possessed me to think this human woman would be any different?” His fists clench tightly as the memory of finding out slashes across his soul.

“What did she do?” Jimin asks, fully aware that you must have done something tragic to hurt his closed-hearted friend so much. Playing with his fingers, Hoseok stalls for time as he mulls over how to explain this.

“She...my identity is worth a lot, right? And humans can never just...keep to themselves. I thought she felt the same way about me and we...you know. It was great, I’ve never felt that kind of emotional connection before. And then I woke up the next morning and accidently hit her coffee table. She had her laptop out and it came to life. I saw her notes.” Licking his lips, he grits his teeth to try and stop the overwhelming emotions from spilling.

“She’d told me she was a writer, that she needed inspiration. Well, I guess she was kind of right. She is a writer...only she’s a journalist and her job was to uncover my identity. She figured it out and she was going to write that article.” Pressing his lips together, he shrugs in a way that doesn’t give away the sadness he feels. “It would have made her career and it would have destroyed everything I’ve worked so hard towards in this persona.”

Jimin heaves a sigh as he slumps back on the bench, toned body relaxing as he runs his fingers through his soft blue strands. “Damn. And in today’s world, you’d have to ‘kill’ yourself and come back in another body huh? And with none of the money that Vulcan gives you.”

Hoseok scoffs at that, rolling his eyes. “As if I care about money. I like this life. It’s quiet and I get to indulge in my inventing and create things that change the world. I like the anonymity while being able to see my work doing good. I like knowing I’m changing lives and the world, why do people need to know who I am? I don’t want to give this up and I don’t want to start a new life.”

Neither of them speak for minutes, letting the idle sounds of cars and ambulances fill up the silence between them and watching as humanity continues on. Every single one of these humans will die one day, and even if Hoseok and Jimin never moved from this spot, they would live on long after the great grandchildren of these people died.

“I understand, but you keep talking about her in past tense.” Jimin finally notes, shifting his body so that one ankle rest against his knee and an arm stretches across the back of the wooden bench. Nodding slowly, Hoseok lets out a long sigh that tells Jimin a lot.

“I got hurt, and angry. And I left. Tried the human thing of trying to get drunk, failed, panicked a bit more and then called you. I was driving to you when I had another panic attack and that was when I noticed…” His voice breaks, the sound loud and suddenly Hoseok is stuffing his fist into his mouth as feelings overwhelm him once more.

Jimin immediately begins to rub his back in slow circles, his touch soothing and comforting until finally Hoseok can breath properly. “Her car. I think she made up an excuse for it, but the brake pads. I never fixed them and she never questioned and then she...she took it and they failed and I found her.” He looks away from Jimin’s concerned gaze.

“She almost died. She would have died alone, bleeding to death in that forest if I hadn’t stopped. But she wouldn’t have crashed if I’d just fixed the brakes. I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do. On the one hand I’m so angry at her and hurt but on the other I’m terrified after watching her bleeding out because of something I did.”

Chewing on his lip, Jimin sits forward again as if he can’t find a comfortable position and nods as Hoseok talks. Once he pauses, he looks towards the blue haired god and waits to see if he has anything to say. Unsurprisingly, the god who has always been more at home with dead souls than with emotions sits in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m angry at her, and I feel deceived and I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. But...I still love her. I love her enough to call on Olympus. I was so prepared to go in there, maybe even talk to her and listen and then the Moirai decided for once in my miserable life to try and help. She doesn’t remember me.” He mumbles, heart clenching painfully as he remembers the blank look in your eyes at the sight of him. Even though he’d wanted nothing more than to never see you again only hours ago, the thought of you not remembering your time together hurt him more than anything you’d done.

“She doesn’t remember who I am, which means she doesn’t remember who I am. Her laptop was destroyed, so everything I was terrified about is gone. I can just leave and she’ll never remember me. I can stay anonymous and no one will ever know why Jung Hoseok is important to the world.” Scowling at his hands, he stands suddenly and begins to pace.

Jimin shifts and when Hoseok looks over, he notes the scowl on the god’s face. Immediately he’s confused, wondering why on earth Jimin is annoyed when it’s him who should be irritated. After querying, he watches as the god removes his sunglasses, running a hand through his hair and letting out the longest exhale.

“Let me get this straight. She’s a journalist working to find out who you are?” Hoseok nods in affirmation. “Did she mention it? Did she send it off? Has the article been written?” Frowning, he thinks back and shakes his head.

“No, her boss had sent her an email this morning demanding that she send an article in about it.” Jimin lets out the loudest groan at shakes his head. Taking a step back, Hoseok’s shoulders hunch slightly as he tries to protect himself subconsciously from Jimin’s annoyance.

“So she hadn’t sent anything. And I’m going to presume she’s probably known for a little while, figuring everything out. So who’s to say she was going to send it in? The way you talk about her, I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like that. And you keep yourself so closed off to the world, I can’t see how she truly means you harm. Did she ever do anything suspicious? Did you find her anywhere?

Hoseok shakes his head slowly. “Did she ever ask weird questions about you or Vulcan?” Another shake. “I know it might be hard for you to consider, and believe me I’m not trying to undermine your hurt or anger here, but maybe she loves you just as much as you love her. Journalists have some integrity, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t sleep with you if she planned to expose you. There’s no reason for her to do that, unless she’s the world’s worst person and what you’ve told me doesn’t match that.”

Looking away from his old friend, Hoseok focuses his gaze on an ambulance that speeds into the emergency bay. As he watches, the back doors slam open and the paramedics begin to push out the stricken human on a stretcher, nurses and doctors surrounding as medical talk begins to be fired between them all.

“I know, I know that it’s hard for you to think this. I know you’ve always given to the humans and only received mistrust and hate back, but just this once, do you think you could look past that and maybe give her the benefit of the doubt?” There’s something in Jimin’s voice that makes Hoseok frown, turning back and letting his eyes trace over his figure.

Normally so boisterous and outgoing, the god is tense and unhappiness radiates from him as he twitches his foot. “What’s wrong with you? Why is this bothering you so much? Shouldn’t you be more upset for me that she lied?” Hoseok asks, tone curious and tentative as he begins to navigate the treacherous waters of Jimin’s infamous temper.

Perfectly white teeth chew his pink lips before he’s blowing out a sigh, cheeks swelling and making him look far more adorable than the God of the Underworld should. “I should be, and i am upset for you. I really am. But I’m angry with you too.”

At that, Hoseok steps back in shock and his hand immediately raises to his chest in a protective move. Blinking in surprise, he lets that statement settle between them until all that can be heard is the general lifeblood of a hospital.

“Why?”

“Because...because you finally opened up to someone and found her worth loving. And now you’re just going to throw her away because of a stupid mistake?” The words have a hissing tone to them and Jimin’s fists clench slightly.

“A mistake? She was going to expose me to the world! I’d have lost everything, you know I can’t cope with that attention!” He exclaims loudly, arms gesturing wildly as disbelief rolls through his body.

“Who. Cares?! You’re a fucking god Hephaestus! You’ve lived hundreds of human lives and you’ll live hundreds more. So she almost exposed you as a freaking CEO, who cares? You could have just asked her not to, or seen what she was going to do with it. And if she did it anyway, then you’d know that it wasn’t worth it. But even if she did, you can more than rebuild your life. You always do, that’s what you do. You build things.” The slighter god stands suddenly, arms flexing underneath his t-shirt as he points to the hospital.

“You have the chance for real happiness in there Heph, real fucking love and happiness. Olympus, the way you talked about her and the smile you got. I’ve never seen that on you. She’s a risk, I get that, but I’ve discovered over the past ten years that sometimes the best things are the riskiest.” Jimin clenches his teeth suddenly, looking firmly at the ground.

“I will never forgive our family for what they’ve done to us. They convinced both of us that we were unworthy of love. That love wasn’t for the God of Death or a scarred god, that we should just spend our lives alone, hidden away from sight. I hate that they got into our heads so much, and made us think we are so unworthy of being loved. But we are.” His hands come to rest on Hoseok’s shoulders, squeezing tightly while his eyes shine with sincere emotion.

“You are worthy of being loved Hephaestus.” Hoseok had been prepared to be angry with Jimin once he’d started his tirade, confused as to why he didn’t seem to be bothered by the prospect of you revealing who he was. But the final words have his throat closing up as his eyes swell with tears, an emotional punch that cracks through thousands of years worth of hidden hurt.

“But...the article.” He mumbles, trying really hard not to cry for what feels like the thousandth time today. Jimin lets out a tired laugh and simply places his hands on either side of Hoseok’s jaw, lifting up gently and giving a twisted smile.

“We’ve all made mistakes in our lives, and as gods we’ve made more than a few. Ones which were definitely worse than this. Think deeply, is the prospect of her potentially revealing your identity enough to stop you from loving her?” He’s quiet for a moment before his head is shaking, black hair falling into his eyes as he answers honestly.

“I love her so much. I didn’t even know it was possible, which is why it hurts so much.” Hoseok whispers, voice barely heard above the blare of a siren in the distance. At that, he’s tugged into a hug and the two just stand in silence for a few minutes.

“If there’s one thing I’ve discovered in ten years, it’s that love is possibly the scariest thing you’ll ever do, even as a god. And it also hurts in ways you didn’t even realise were possible, but it’s so rewarding. I swear. If it goes well, then you’ll never be happier than you are when she’s with you.” Moving away and sitting back on the bench, Hoseok chuffs out a laugh at Jimin’s tangent.

“You sound very much in love Hades. Careful, or I’ll start teasing.” The death god just smiles brightly, his eyes closing as he obviously thinks of his wife given the wedding ring he keeps twisting around his finger.

“I am. And if it turns out she isn’t going to do anything, then I will never forgive you if you don’t hold her tight and love her as much as you can.” His eyes open and Hoseok shivers slightly, the fires of the Underworld glowing fiercely in Jimin’s glacial gaze. “You have no idea what a gift you have, the opportunity the Moirai have blessed you with.”

And now it’s Jimin’s turn to sound choked, his cold eyes filling with unshed tears as he looks down at the ring he plays with. Hoseok hesitates at the sudden emotion before softly querying what Jimin means.

He takes his time to answer, throat working as he swallows thickly before giving a sad smile. “You’re one of the few gods who can give a human immortality. If everything works out well for you, then you can keep her young and love her forever.” A tear escapes its dam and slowly trickles down Jimin’s face.

“I love my wife, I love her so much it terrifies me. And it terrifies me because each day I wake up and each day I see time on her face. Each line and each grey hair is a visual reminder that she’s going to die one day and I’m not. I’d give anything to be in your position, anything.” A sad silence takes over while Hoseok rubs Jimin’s back comfortingly, unsure what to say that could possibly soothe the hurt.

“So if you decide to forgive her and go for it, then I want you to love her so much. I want you to hold onto her tightly and tell her that you love her, and if you turn her immortal then I want you to appreciate the gift you have forever. If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.” He gives a tremulous smile and Hoseok’s heart clenches, wishing desperately that he could help his best friend.

Squeezing his shoulder tightly, Hoseok stays quiet in understanding for a few moments as they both sit amidst the frantic nature of humanity. “I’m sorry Hades. Really. I am. But I hope you enjoy every moment with her.”

Jimin sighs at that and stands, ruffling Hoseok’s hair with a tired smile. “It’s Jimin now, remember? And I do. Just like I hope you’ll choose right.” At that, he says his goodbyes and lets Hoseok know that his door is always open before leaving.

Hoseok heads back inside and stands outside your door for a few minutes, simply staring at the white paint as he inhales deeply before letting it out slowly. He has a choice he can make here. A choice that could change everything.

He could run away and pretend this never happened. Or he could love you, despite what might come.

Opening the door, he heads inside and sits down at the empty chair next to your bed. You’re awake, and watching him with curious eyes that are tired and doped up on just a little pain medication.

“You’re back.” You mumble, jaw barely moving as the words practically slur out of you. He watches for a moment, eyes tracking over your face that is still so heart wrenchingly beautiful even when bruised before smiling.

“Yeah. I am.”

“The doctors said you brought me in. That we know each other?” Your voice is inquisitive, with threads of frustration interwoven that you can’t remember him. His lips quirk up slightly as he nods, tentatively reaching for your hand and running his fingers along the smooth skin.

“Yeah, I did. And we do. My name is Jung Hoseok,” He pauses for a moment, wondering whether he should go all in before squaring his shoulders. “And I’m in love with you.”

-

The doctors and nurses work out a plan with Hoseok when he informs them of his relationship with you, and he takes on the role of almost caretaker. Your memory loss is deemed to likely be temporary amnesia from hitting your head so hard, and they suggest that your memories are likely to come back on their own slowly.

It makes Hoseok’s stomach churn to think about you remembering who he is properly, but he makes no mention of it. Jimin’s words filter through his mind constantly, and he eventually comes to terms with the fact that he had been just as bad as you.

If anything, he was even worse as he was hiding two entire personalities from you.

One thing he does discover while you remain in the hospital is aspects of your personality that he’d never seen before that come to the forefront, including the shy and cute personas that appear along stubborn exasperation. You’ve always remained mature and almost professional with him, but vulnerable as you are, an almost childlike petulance emerges.

Refusing to eat certain foods and whining for other things, he should find it annoying but instead he finds it cute. It’s understandable though, given your frustration at being stuck inside the hospital. But what he enjoys most are the moments when you begin to remember who he is.

He has nothing to really show you to try and trigger your memories as there are no pictures of you both, so instead he brings in some of the smaller metal sculptures he’d made that you’d admired. Every time, you’d stared at them so intently before giving him a simple smile.

“Pretty.” You would murmur, tracing your fingers along the edges. But then you began to mention things that one of you had said during your many times together, whether it was a funny comment Hoseok had made or a casual observation that only the two of you would know.

And each time, his heart would clench before soaring, happy that you remembered some part of him. Because he had slowly worked through his pain and hurt until he realised that he didn’t want to be forgotten by you.

You’re finally allowed to go home two weeks after you entered the hospital, and he has to bring you back to his house as your apartment as already been rented out again. Due to the cast on your leg, he has to work quickly to turn the living room into a makeshift bedroom to which you thank him profusely and with much embarrassment.

He doesn’t care though, and enjoys his time caring for you more than he thought he would realise. And even if you can’t remember why he sometimes looked at you with pain filled eyes, he finds it cathartic to work through his hurt and anger until all that’s left are smouldering ashes.

As the weeks continuously pass though, you remember more and more and he begins to feel happier and more comfortable around you. Until one night though, when you’re both laid on the bed watching the large television screen as Breaking Bad plays. His hand is slowly drawing patterns on your uninjured arm, but he stops immediately when you suddenly speak.

“I deleted the files.” For a moment, he doesn’t understand until the memory comes back and he looks at you in a combination of fear and shock. Your gaze is somber on his, face carefully blank before you try to give him a trembling smile.

“I didn’t send anything. As soon as you’d gone, I deleted everything. I swear. No one will find out.” He stays quiet for a moment as the pain of your betrayal hits him once more, but its softer this time and a little muted. “I remembered it a few days ago, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Rubbing at his chest, he frowns slightly at the ghost of the pain he’d felt at that time before glancing back to you. “Why? You could have made your career with that.” It’s stupid of him to ask, but the knowledge that you won’t reveal him has his heart singing, even if his stomach sinks at the thought of what is likely your impending job loss.

A soft laugh leaves you, wincing slightly as your still sore ribs complain before shifting so that you face him better. “And I would have hurt you beyond belief. I couldn’t do that. I’d decided as soon as I found out that I would never reveal it. What kind of person willingly destroys the person they love?”

Your words make him freeze before he’s carefully looking up at you. “Love?”

Smiling, you bring up your hand to cup his cheek and stroke at the scar tissue fondly. “How could I not love you Jung Hoseok? You’re perfect, and I could never make you unhappy. I mean, you’re so...kind,” Your voice cracks as tears form. “I mean look at you, you’ve spent weeks caring for me, even knowing that I could possibly ruin everything.”

He shakes his head at that, grabbing your wrist while he shifts his head to press a kiss to your soft palm. “I stayed and cared, because what kind of person willingly lets the person they love suffer on their own?”

The words are careful and slow, his tone barely heard but you hear them all the same. Heart stopping, you look at him with wide eyes as he stares back with such fondness in them. “I love you enough, to stay even though you could hurt me. Because you’re something so special, that I’ve never experienced it in my long life and for once, I want to.”

His unusual words should have you frowning, confused about the phrasing but slowly your lips simply quirk upwards as you remember something else. Looking down at his arms, you slowly trace over the new scars that have appeared before giving him a quirked brow.

“Do those strange words have anything to do with these scars magically appearing?” Hoseok freezes at that, as he’d come to terms with you knowing who he was in terms of Vulcan but this is something else entirely. How can he explain this without sounding crazy?

“Err….well.” He starts but you interrupt him, flicking your eyes back to his unusual ones with curiosity deep set.

“I don’t remember much about the accident. I don’t remember coming off the road, or hitting the tree. I don’t remember you arriving. But...I do remember a few things that I thought were just weird, dream hallucinations.” He stays quiet, tongue nervously licking at his lips as he simply waits for you to continue.

“You called yourself Hephaestus. Which was odd. But then you...ripped the door off? And then...you were glowing? Like...so bright, it was like looking at molten metal. And it got so hot, and you...practically peeled the car apart? And when you stopped...you stopped shining and these scars were burning bright. What was that?” Your face is an expression of befuddlement, with your brows practically meeting in the middle.

Hoseok’s mind works frantically, wondering how he can explain this before his shoulders slump. Jimin’s wife knew, maybe you’d react well to his frankly, ridiculous statement?

“Remember when I said I grew up with mountains? Well they were the mountains of Greece. And...I’m not 36. I don’t actually know old I am, just that it’s a good few thousand years. You’ve probably heard of my family, they’re pretty infamous worldwide though they’re nothing like that Disney Hercules film.” Your eyes widen at his words as he doesn’t dissuade your ridiculous comments and you stare at him.

“Seriously?”

He laughs slightly, the sound a little manic as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve had many names throughout history. You might recognise some of them, but the two people know the most are Vulcan and Hephaestus. It might make some things make sense to you now.”

It feels almost good, to reveal himself so freely, knowing that there will truly be no secrets left between the two of you.

You gawp at him for a few moments before twisting into a position to stare at him, grimacing at the slight sensation of pain. “No fucking way. You’re saying you’re a Greek god?”

Immediately, flashes of the strange things about him run through your mind. His unusual eyes that often seemed to glow, the strange way he seemed to be lit from within when he orgasmed, the way metal worked so easily under his hands, the strange language he swore in and the fact he was so otherwordly beautiful.

“Yeah, I am. I wasn’t 15 when I made Vulcan, I just wanted to help. But I didn’t want the spotlight, I never have. I’ve always been hidden in the shadows, and that’s where I wanted to stay. These scars, come from when I called on the fires of Mount Olympus to create things for the gods. They’ll never heal.” You look down at his scars with your new knowledge.

“Wait...you did this...for me?” Reaching forward, your grasp his wrist gently to get a closer look. He sighs deeply before nodding. “Why?”

Smiling sweetly at you, you realise that you believe him. Hoseok has never outright lied to you, he just subtly shifted things around and hid them because they were too hard or unbelievable to explain. But he’d never lied properly. So why would he lie now?

“Because I love you. And I had the power to save you. It hurt, but the thought of you being gone forever hurt more,” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours, lips quirking slightly. “I forgive you for lying. Because I lied far worse, and it was a form of lying even if it would have been outrageous to explain. But just know, you have the heart of a god in your hands. Be gentle please, no one has ever had it before.”

Bringing your fingertips up to his cheeks, you grin brightly as tears slowly fall. You haven’t yet come to terms with everything that’s happened, and there’s no doubt going to be growing pains in your relationship with how fast everything has moved now, but for now you simply marvel at him.

“I’ll be gentle and loving. I swear. I don’t know how to love a god, but I’ll try for you. It doesn’t excuse you from leaving the toilet seat up though.” He grins so bright at that, his happiness overwhelming his senses and you watch with awe as his skin begins to brighten, glowing a soft gold from his emotions and it’s awe-inspiring to realise he really is a god.

“Sounds fair.” He doesn’t bother saying anything else though as he captures your lips with his own, hand cupping the back of your head as he feels a sense of contentment and bliss that he’s never felt before. But one he hopes to spend the rest of his long life feeling.

-

Epilogue

“Parcel for you Jimin.” His manager dumps a mailbox on the table in front of him, distracting his attention away from his phone as he reads the text from Hoseok telling him that everything is going to be fine in his friend’s relationships.

Smiling brightly, he exhales slowly as happiness bubbles for the fact that Hoseok was pushing past his comfort zone before bitterness slithers through his veins at the knowledge he’ll get forever with his love. Shaking his head, Jimin tries to ignore the feeling and instead focuses on the box in front of him.

There’s no return address on it, and he notes with confusion that there’s no delivery address either, just his name. It’s not until he sees the winged helmet stamp in the corner that he realises and he snorts, wondering how much pride Hoseok had to swallow to find Hermes.

The only reason he knows it’s from Hoseok is because of the anvil stamp in the corner, the symbol of the metalworking god. Tugging open the box, he looks inside and pushes away the packing chips until he finds an elegant, mahogany box.

Placing it onto his lap, he takes the accompanying letter and unfolds it with interest, noting the elegant handwriting that’s written in the god form of Ancient Greek. Unreadable to humans.

Hades,

Thank you. I can’t ever express my appreciation to you but I hope this will suffice.

Have her take one every month on the first. There is one for each month of the year.

I wish you both a long, and happy life.

Your friend,

Hephaestus

Jimin’s hands are shaking by the time he finishes reading and he lets the letter drop slowly as he stares at the box in awe. Opening the lid slowly, he bites his lip to try and stop the tears from falling as he sees the twelve pomegranate seeds carefully placed inside.

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btscreatorsnet #btssunshinenet #btssmutclub #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #greek god au #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #j hope fluff #j hope angst #j hope smut #hephaestus hoseok #hobi fluff #hobi angst #hobi smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you

[ahitworldshift]

I would make some sort of pun, but I ain’t cold hearted.

Chapter 2, Part 8: Deeper and Deeper We Go

Mannequin returned? Check. Played a few more bits in some of the movies? Check. Noticed that people have gone missing? Check- Wait. ...Nope, check, yep, those guys are totally gone.

Over the past few days she’s been here, she had noticed The Director and Vanessa being more sour towards each other in public, starting with backhanded comments to supposed sabotages on the sets to make one look bad in the spotlight. This hasn’t been happening before, has it? Especially not when she first arrived. What on Earth is making them act like this now?

Many questions wouldn’t get an answer, though, as she ends up being part of a sabotaged part, seen by her looking annoyed while she hangs from a rope by her caught ankle. A loud, yelled ‘CUT’ was let out, and soon, she was released by some sort of ghostly minion.  “W-wow you should really be careful! I don’t think they’d want you to hang out in that way!” The Minion laughed at his own joke, with the actress sighing and leaving the set to avoid hearing any complaints from the director of the studio. She’d rather investigate further into what that mysterious ‘puppeteer’ said more than anything. Hell, she was even planning to go late into the night, when others are most likely asleep, but then something caught her attention-

“Man, someone REALLY needs to fix that air vent. Don’t people usually complain about a weird smell that comes from it?” “Yeah, but I heard that it’s some new fragrance to give it an aesthetic of sorts! ...I don’t know what kind, though!” 

Air vent... AIR VENT. The vent was loose, and nobody was paying too much attention! She waited until they left the room, though. She doesn’t want anyone to tell about her acts of justice.  A few minutes later, the lobby was empty, and she was soon able to climb up to the vent, moving the metallic object to the side and crawling in. Nobody will surely notice that she’s gone, right?

...Right. Nobody may notice, especially since she was now in the maze of storage like she saw in that vision. It was dark, barely lit, and a chill was filling the air around her. She thought it was just how the basement was, but as she heard someone speak out, her heart stopped in her chest;

“It isn’t polite to go where you aren’t allowed to be...~”

That voice. It sounded a lot like Vanessa’s, but as if she had turned into some sort of monster! The only reason she snapped back into reality and ran is when she heard the footsteps draw closer, along with a glow of red coming from behind a wall of this dastardly maze. Now, what was the rule of the maze again? Always go left, then forward, then right? No, it was left, right, then forward. It depended on what turns there were, but she found herself following her left every step of the way, hoping that she wouldn’t reach a dead end as the voice echoed throughout the room.

“I don’t want to lose another to that M O N S T E R, please, come back...!”

“NO! You’re a monster as well!!” As she yelled that out, an instinct in her mind had prompted her to pull out one of her bombs, lighting the fuse ready to toss it back at Vanessa. The fuse began to burn low, and she was certain it would catch her off guard.

...Tss.

“. . .” The coldness. The cold air managed to put out the fuse, and her eyes widened more widely than they ever have before, her feet continuing to guide her along this twisted maze. The more she ran, the more she could feel that chill build up, the footsteps drawing closer, and her eyes focused behind her. 

When she saw the ‘beast’ in complete view, she lets out a panicked scream, rushing forward and closing her eyes, not watching what could be in front of her and soon running into a wall head first. An impact that hard caused her to fall back, a dizzied look in her eyes and her head aching. She felt as if it was the end of it all, as if she was going to be eaten by that terrible, cold monster...

“...Are you okay, dearie...? It’s not safe to be down here...”

...But yet. She spoke. Looking down at her and offering a hand, with guilt in her voice. Was she trying to be sorry for scaring her? Was she not trying to kill her? What was happening? “G-get... Get away...” She weakly raised a hand up, still holding the ‘defused’ bomb in the other, trying to threaten her.

Instead, the lady had some sort of odd smile, taking Gella’s hand and dragging her from the floor, meeting face to face as her cold embrace kept the other frozen in fear. 

“It’s not that I want to hurt you, it’s that H E wants to hurt you... Have you not heard about those who have gone missing, or perhaps, you knew, and you wanted to stop him without him knowing...”

The hold was cold, and she could feel ice begin to build up at her sides, her eyes widening as she shakes in a mixture of chill and despair. It was the end, wasn’t it? Being frozen like a statue and not being able to bring justice to that mysterious alien? ...No. No! NO!  She wasn’t going to take that for an answer, and she could feel the flames of justice build up inside of her! 

With a mighty push of her foot, she manages to kick herself away from Vanessa, her hands still covered in ice and her bomb looking vastly different. “I can handle myself! I’m going to bring justice to this city, and I’ll make sure that this fiend will stop his crimes of forced work and causing disappearances!” Though she roared like a lion, she was shaking like a kitten, thinking that the next move she could make may be her last.

To reassure her own safety, she grabbed the bomb, throwing it at Vanessa in hopes of making her back off. Instead of any sort of explosion, when the bomb hits the ground, a large spike of ice bursts instead, causing Vanessa to stumble back and fall onto her rump.

The two remained in silence, the cold air continuing to fill the room as she held the bomb close. “...Stay out of my way, before the scales of justice deem you guilty as well.” Vanessa could only look up at Gella as she spoke, a hand slowly covering her mouth and her eyes showing despair.  “Don’t think that your tears are going to work! I’m going to make sure he stops, even if this will be the last thing I will do!”

“...How hilarious. Going off from the script.” A voice echoed from behind, one that didn’t belong to either girl.  She could hear the voice coming from somewhere, but yet, it didn’t come from anyone. She even looked up above her, but nothing there. Instead, she turns her head towards where the center of the maze would be.

“An actress isn’t meant to go off of script, you know. And you want to know what happens when they mess up too many times? They. Get. Fired.” The voice grew louder, darkness covering the room to where neither could see where they were, with the maze now feeling like an endless void. “And guess who just tidied away all evidence of your existence within these studios?”

“...” Gella knew this wasn’t either of them, and that she was supposed to be scared. She wasn’t, though. Instead, she began to run away from the current scene, hands extended towards the darkness as she focused on finding the source of the voice itself. 

“...Time to say goodbye to another poor sou..” Vanessa only stayed within the darkness, letting the feeling of tension and paranoia build up as ice began to grow around her, the spirit’s laugh echoing throughout her head. “I’m so sorry. The ‘Snatcher’, he-”

“I know exactly who it is, and I’m not afraid to say it out loud. DIRECTOR SAMUEL!”

“...That’s right.”

“M e .”

#A Hat In Time #a hat in time au #ahit #ahit au #Once Upon A Broken Time Rift ⌛STORY⌛

[clerichoard]

when inches are miles

(or five times shen and ahaz almost kiss and one time they actually do)

the prequel to this (@darlingicarus​), shen & ahaz, atla campaign, 4.5k

i.

It’s subtle, the change in himself. He feels like he’s on the edge of something but he can’t place when he even stepped towards it all. It’s like suddenly he’s there; holding his breath and praying that he won’t step off.

Sometimes when he thinks Shen isn’t paying attention, he’ll catch Ahaz just...looking at him. It’s unnerving more than anything else, and it’s definitely nothing new, but now- after that night when Shen let him hold him close- Shen can’t help but look back. Even if it’s for a moment. There’s something heavy pushing at the vault door in his mind and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to keep it there.

He’s desperate for it to stay where it is and leave him alone (he knows he’s not that lucky).

So he starts a fight. He picks at the scab until it bleeds and tugs at the seams that have been holding them together as best they can.

They’re staking out a target, a possible slaver, and sitting on the roof of a building across the street from the target's supposed warehouse.

“Were not going to kill him, you know.”

The words come out of him in a rush and he doesn’t even realize how harsh they sound until Ahaz is looking at him with his eyebrows raised and his mouth set in a firm line.

“I thought we were over this by now,” Ahaz says carefully, like he’s stepping on eggshells. To Shen it feels like he’s stomping across them at all times.

“Maybe I’m not,” Shen mutters and moves away from the ledge. He always looks away, a coward and a fool wrapped in one. “It’s fine.”

“Apparently it’s not, dear,” Ahaz is saying as he follows close behind Shen. Shen has pulled them away and he regrets it the moment he does.

“Just drop it,” Shen says evenly as he turns back towards Ahaz. He stops suddenly in his tracks and they’re- very close. Close enough that Shen hears the stutter of his breath and feels the always present heat rolling off of him.

“I don’t want to kill him,” Ahaz says slowly. “Okay?”

The look Ahaz is giving him sends a traitorous shiver up his spine. His eyes are soft and his voice is quiet and- he’s looking at Shen in a way he can decipher. He has all the clues and the intelligence to piece it together, to let himself realize what look Ahaz is giving him exactly.

Ahaz looks down at his lips and Shen can feel his hand rise on it’s own and grip the sleeve of his jacket.

He wishes for a moment that he could let himself piece it together.

Instead, he pulls away. Like always.

“Fine,” Shen says and even he hears the light quiver in his voice. He clears his throat and moves back to the ledge.

Ahaz takes a moment to move back to his side. A heavy weight settles somewhere in his chest and it only moves again when he spots their target moving into the warehouse.

“Let’s go,” he says to Ahaz who grins at him, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

ii.

Shen has determined that fate truly has it’s fun when it plays with his string. It seems the universe is determined to keep Shen as the unluckiest man alive.

“Darling, could you maybe turn another way? I’m afraid the doorknob is digging into my stomach.”

Shen opens his eyes and yes, he’s still stuck in a storage closet with Ahaz.

“Maybe you should try and make yourself smaller,” Shen grumbles as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“A little hard at the moment but I’ll make a note of your request later on,” Ahaz quips back.

Shen begs his brain to be quiet as Ahaz shifts against him despite Shen's best efforts to keep to the corner. Clearly this storage closet was not made for two grown men to fit inside of it.

“How long do we have to stay in here?” he asks quietly.

They had been investigating in a closed off area in an estate when a guard had made his way around the corner. Shen had spotted the closet and pulled them both inside and had been regretting it ever since.

“Not much longer, hopefully,” Ahaz says, his ear pressed against the door and his eyes closed as he listens. They slide open to look at Shen as he raises a slow eyebrow. “Why? Are you worried about what this will do to your reputation, darling?”

And there’s that endearment again. How had Shen managed to get so used to it? Right now it feels heavier than ever with the air so thin between them. Even the insinuation that Shen worries about his reputation at all goes over his head with Ahaz pressed against his side.

Shen glares up at him, though it’s hardly one at all when he meets Ahaz’s gaze. Shen has to shift to look up at him and- oh. His chest is pressed against Ahaz’s and there’s barely a few inches of space between them. Any annoyance he felt at the previous endearment fades with the gaze that’s pinning him to his spot.

Ahaz angles his head away from the door. He moves his arm until it rests lightly on Shen’s shoulder. Shen doesn’t blink or move or even breathe as he feels the warmth of a hand seep through his clothes to his skin. If it stays too long he’s sure it’ll stain him for good.

Ahaz is looking at him so intensely but there’s a question behind his eyes. Shen can’t answer it.

The non answer seems to shut Ahaz down as he sighs and drops his hand.

“It should be clear now,” he says. Shen nods once and opens the door, moving past Ahaz as quick as he can.

iii.

There are many nights that Shen can’t sleep. He’ll find himself out on the porch or balcony, or roof if he can manage it, more often than he’ll find himself in bed at wherever they’re staying for the night.

Tonight it’s a front porch at an old inn in the middle of nowhere. It’s raining softly and Shen has easily formed his hand from the water dripping onto the porch. His unlit pipe sits in his other hand where he’s debating on lighting it for well over an hour.

The nightmare had involved smoke and he’s not sure if he’s ready to risk it just yet.

There’s a creak from behind him, followed by a set of loud footsteps. He’s sure they’ve been made purposely loud in order not to scare him. He already knows who it is who sits next to him and pretends to act a little surprised when Ahaz greets him.

“Can’t sleep?” Ahaz asks politely. There’s been many nights where Ahaz will find him like this. Most nights he’ll join Shen for a while, share the pipe for a bit, before following Shen back inside when he goes. Some nights, the nights when Shen is still shaking from the nightmares that continue to haunt him even when he wakes, he’ll talk. Ramble about anything, talk about his flower shop back home. He mentions his grandparents often, of their sweet kindness and how they cook his favourite meals when he returns to them.

It’s a solid to lean on when he’s sure he’s lost complete control of reality. He doesn’t know if Ahaz knows how much it means to him but he doesn’t plan on telling him any time soon.

Tonight, the nightmares don’t haunt him. Ahaz takes the pipe from between his fingers; Shen burns where their fingers brush against the wood. He summons a small flame to light it and takes a drag of it himself before handing it back to Shen.

“Thanks,” Shen mumbles. He takes a long drag, and Ahaz starts talking.

It’s mundane today, thoughts of the road and of some of the people they’ve met. He talks quietly, mirroring the rain in it’s delicate dance. Shen feels as if he’s been put in a trance as Ahaz speaks. He allows himself to look at him tonight, the memories of the nightmare pushed aside for even scarier thoughts.

He entertains a brief thought of what if? What if he let Ahaz break through the hole he’s been making in his walls, instead of reinforcing them further? What if he opened his vault door and let himself feel?

He’s reminded of the nightmares and what happens when he thinks about what he feels. Of who he is when he allows himself to feel the empty anger that plagues him.

No, it’s better this way, he thinks. Better to hide behind walls then to tear yourself into pieces over the thoughts in your head.

Ahaz is still speaking when he returns to the moment, though he’d gotten closer in the time it took Shen to rehash the inner argument that’s been with him for months.

He pauses as he meets Shen’s eye. The pipe has been forgotten, herbs almost burned down to ash, as he returns the gaze. The internal struggle from moments earlier disappears as Ahaz looks at him.

He moves closer and Shen goes still as his eyes flash down.

The rain still falls quietly behind him, the smell of the herbs in his pipe still linger in the air. The world has not stopped simply because Ahaz seems to have leaned even closer, still, but Shen is sure that it will if Ahaz deems to press their lips together.

The door creaks and Shen jumps away. Ahaz moves back slowly, blinking as if he too had been in a trance.

Bai-lee stands in the doorway, yawning.

“Are you guys alright?” she asks. Her voice seems too loud for the moment and he flinches against it.

“Fine. We’ll be in in a moment,” Ahaz responds, already pulled himself back together as he stands. He towers above Shen, offering him a hand.

Shen looks away and shakes his head.

The heavy steps retreat from the porch until it’s just Shen and the rain and a burned up pipe.

iv.

For the most part, his arm doesn’t bother him. He bends a water one when he can, when he really needs it, and has no issue doing most things with his right arm. He’d had to learn how to write with it and that was fine.

There are days where it’s still too much, too fresh. Where the phantom limb pain destroys him from the inside and the memories torch what’s left.

On those days he meditates alone, smoking the herbs that calm the burning pain and using the breathing methods he was taught after...everything. The bending helps and when it’s bad, he tries to find a river to surround himself in.

Today is one of those days. They’ve fought a band of rogue spirit and searched the woods for a missing person, and traveled miles in search of an okay place to make camp. Shen had requested they find a body of water but by the time they’d found a safe place to put up tents, there was no water to be found.

All through this the pain has been eating at him. He’s been waiting for hours to settle and smoke the rest of his supply to not feel anything but Suni had needed healing and Maya had already exhausted herself on Bai-lee earlier.

So he waits. As soon as watches are offered, he says he’ll take first and even second if they’d let him.

“I’ll watch with him,” Ahaz offers when the girls looks a little wary of leaving Shen on watch by himself for so long.

“I’m really fine,” Shen says through his clenched jaw.

He feels everyone’s gaze on him as his shoulders pull up to his ears. There’s a quiet conversation that happens behind him and as the girls settle down to sleep, Ahaz sits down next to him on the rock bench Bai-lee had created in front of the small fire.

Shen tries his hardest to ignore the searching look that Ahaz is giving him and turns to pack a very large quantity of herbs into the end of his pipe. It’ll do for now, though he vows to to turn to the rest later to really make sure he won’t feel the throbbing pain at the end of his left arm.

The silence between them sits uncomfortably on his chest, tightening the longer it goes on. By the time he’s made it halfway through the pipe he’s had enough of it to last a lifetime.

“Why are you staring?” he asks. There’s an inflection in his voice that he doesn’t put there; an undertow of a subtle creeping feeling seeping through the cracks in his walls. The more he smokes, the more will flow out as the walls become transparent with his drug addled mind.

He finds he doesn’t care right now.

Ahaz huffs a short, empty laugh and leans his head back to stare up at the sky. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

He takes a long drag on the pipe and sighs out a cloud of smoke. The pain in his arm has melted and his brain has begun to settle into the haze that’s surrounded it. Maybe he does know why Ahaz is staring. Maybe he’s realized at some point he’s going to run out of places to hide. Maybe Shen will look one day and Ahaz will have stopped looking back.

Maybe it’s the last one that scares him the most.

He offers the pipe to Ahaz who takes it swiftly from his fingers. When he exhales the smoke, he turns his head away, tilting it in the other direction. Shen frowns.

“I don’t understand you,” Shen says finally, slowly, like it’s being pulled out of him through molasses.

Ahaz laughs again. Shen doesn’t like it when it sounds so hollow.

“I hate to tell you, darling, but that’s my line,” he says. He turns back to Shen, closer than before. Shen doesn’t make the connection that it was him who shifted down on the bench until Ahaz raises an eyebrow at their sudden closeness.

He hands him back the pipe and Shen takes another long, slow drag.

Then, without moving, exhales just as slow. Ahaz shuts his eyes as Shen blows the smoke in his face and watches with mild curiosity when Ahaz leans into the smoke.

They’re much closer now. Ahaz opens his eyes and looks down through his lower lashes at him.

If he wasn’t as high as he was, maybe his brain would have supplied the fact that Shen is openly staring at his lips. Unfortunately, his brain has thrown facts to the wind.

Ahaz seems to be much higher than him because his hand reaches up and rests against the curve of Shen’s neck. Like it belongs there. It’s warm and heavy and calloused but Shen doesn’t resist against it.

“Is this what you want?” Shen asks through the haze they’re both steadily wading through. Ahaz blinks- once, twice- and a frown pulls over his handsome features. He finds he doesn't like it there. Wishes he could press his fingers against the corners and lift them up.

Ahaz drops his hand and moves away.

“Not quite,” he mumbles. His hand runs over his face and he turns his head away. “Not like this.”

They sit in silence for the rest of the watch and Shen can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong, but by the end he’s too tired to even remember what it could be.

v.

It happens so suddenly that there’s hardly a moment for Shen to stop it. One moment, his assailant is raising his sword and the next- there’s Ahaz facing him.

The point pierces through the front of his shirt and Ahaz blinks at him, blood spilling from the wound.

Then- he smiles. It’s soft and blurred at the edges with blood colouring his lips a dark red, but he seems like he’s accepting the sword in his gut. Shen hears himself yell, “No!” sounding like it was ripped from inside of him. When Ahaz falls to his knees, Shen goes with him, hands flying to the wound.

The sword is pulled from the wound by the man behind him and Shen acts on old war-forged instinct. He looks up and bends a whip of water that knocks him off his feet and sends him flying backwards.

He stops paying attention to the battle after that. Distantly he hears Bai-lee yell something at him and feels the presence of Maya beside him but all he can see is the blood on his hands. Spilling from Ahaz’s stomach. Dripping down his chin as he smiles.

“S’okay,” Ahaz mumbles, his eyes slowly falling shut. “It was worth it.”

Shen is still trying to heal the wound when Ahaz’s hand reaches and presses into his own. It’s slick with his own blood but he still manages to gently squeeze it as his body fully slumps onto the ground.

He pushes every last bit of energy he has, but he had already used so much in the battle, and Ahaz had already been fighting for so long, and he’s not breathing. He pulls water from the earth and wraps the brown liquid around the wound but nothing is working.

He’s been here before. He’s seen this before, he’s tried so hard to bring back the dead. But this is different. It’s Ahaz. He’s practically invincible. He can’t die.

There’s no pulse when he checks. There’s no pulse and Ahaz has just taken a sword meant for him- and he’s dead. He died for Shen and nothing he can do will bring him back.

He tries anyways.

The battle has died around them as he continues to bend dimly glowing water around Ahaz’s broken form. He realizes some of the water is coming from him, that he’s collecting the tears streaming down his face as he desperately still tries to heal him.

He remembers Ahaz telling him that he loved him. It feels so very far away now, Ahaz sitting in the bathtub covered in horrible scars and burns. How he had said the words so simply, so casually, like it was already a known fact between the two of them. He thinks of how Ahaz never mentioned it again, how he probably never even remembered saying it, but how he was still there. With his darling’s and his smiles and the way he would stare.

Ahaz had been there the whole time and now he was not. Shen feels the horrible realization hit him all at once: he’d never be able to tell him. He doesn’t have the strength to think the words but he knows them. He’s known them for while. They linger behind everything, waiting to pounce on him from the shadows.

It’s too late now. For once in his life he wants nothing more than to relive his past and dwell longer on the moments spent between them. Wants to stay forever on a porch with his arm pressed against Ahaz’s own and a pipe passed between them.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and there are voices murmuring softly to him but there is nothing anyone can do. If the spirits have taken him, he is gone from here.

No, he thinks, not yet.

There was a book he read many years ago when he was studying to become a healer.  One that said there was a way to bring the dead back, to channel your healing energy enough to recapture the thread of life and hold on tight.

He closes his eyes and thinks of nothing at all, closing himself off to everything but the water.

He opens his eyes when he hears a sharp gasp of breath, feels the life flowing back into the man in front of him, and drops the water he had pulled from everywhere around him.

The ground surrounding them for a few hundred feet seems to be leached of life but Shen can’t spare the brain power to care.

Ahaz is breathing, his eyes darting open, taking in his surroundings. Shen bends forwards and takes his head between his hand and the one weakly made from dark water. When he presses their foreheads together he hears a soft whimper come from Ahaz.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon, darling,” Ahaz manages between wheezing breaths.

“You idiot,” Shen whispers. He’s still crying but he can’t find it within himself to mind. “Why would you do that?”

They both know why. Ahaz laughs softly.

“Because I would do anything for you,” he says, his words quiet and serious and Shen opens his eyes to find Ahaz’s own tired ones staring right back.

He wants to kiss him, he realizes. The want fills him like nothing else has, ballooning inside of him until he’s filled to the brim with it.

But Ahaz’s eyes flutter shut softly. There’s a moment of panic as he thinks that he’s gone, but when he presses his fingers to his wrist there is a steady pulse.

Shen slowly lowers his form back down to the ground, gets up, and walks a great many feet away before collapsing into the dirt. He digs his fingers into the earth until he can’t feel them anymore.

The words sneak up on him again. He can’t ignore them anymore.

“I love him,” he whispers to himself, out loud, to the world around him.

It’s enough. It has to be enough.

+1

There isn’t much to be said after that. The girls busy themselves with cleaning Ahaz up once everyone has rested and it takes Ahaz a few days to recover. He’s in and out of sleep those days and Shen avoids being near him when he can. He has to check on his wounds but chooses to do it when Ahaz is in a very deep slumber.

They reach a town and an inn a few days later and Shen has managed to keep a clean professional distance from Ahaz whenever he’s awake.

Once they meet eyes over the fire and the question Ahaz has behind his own is enough to send Shen stumbling to his feet, begging off to bed.

They check into the inn and everyone gets their own room, thankfully. Shen practically runs up the stairs to his room and locks himself inside as soon as he enters. He doesn’t know how long it will take for Ahaz to finally talk to him but he plans on getting his thoughts in order as much as he can before then.

How can he explain that he doesn’t know how he brought Ahaz back from the dead? That he doesn’t know how he could possibly be powerful enough to invoke that kind of energy?

That he doesn’t know when it began, but it crept up on him all at once, and now he doesn’t know where to run to put this feeling back where it came from?

They don’t bother him, only insist he come down for meals after a whole day spent in his room.

He comes down for breakfast the next day and feels everyone’s eyes on him when he takes the only empty seat next to Ahaz. He feels like they did it on purpose but knows that he’s been sitting next to Ahaz for months. It would be weird if he didn’t sit next to him.

The familiar warmth of him does nothing to help his mess of disorganized thoughts. He doesn’t look up from his rice the whole meal.

When he moves to stand, he knows that Ahaz will follow.

He’s halfway up the stairs to the rooms when he hears his footsteps on the steps behind him. He’s never been one to be light on his feet.

When they reach Shen’s door, Ahaz finally speaks.

“You- you were crying,” he says slowly. The words are so quiet that Shen thinks if he breathes too hard he’ll shatter them. “I would not have you cry over me but. It was...:”

He moves closer and Shen presses himself against the door, the knob digging into his back.

“I thought I was dead,” he says after a moment’s pause. “I thought I’d died, and I thought you were there to bring me forwards. Because I- because you’ve saved me so many times before. I thought perhaps it was because of how I trust you.”

Ahaz’s hand lifts and raises, hesitating inches from his cheek. He looks...agonized as he tries to form the words to whatever sentence he’s trying to say. Shen’s brain has gone blessedly blank. Ahaz meets his eyes and there’s a flash of determination there before the hand gently rests against his cheek.

“I am fond of you, a great deal, and I know you know. You must, by now,” he says. “There have been so many times I would have liked to say it but- dying, or dying and living again, has put a new perspective on it. I thought I should simply- say it.”

He steps forwards and Shen has to raise his chin to continue meeting his eyes. Ahaz’s own flick down to his lips.

“I thought I should ask...or I wanted to ask,” he says softly, his thumb gently tracing a circle onto the pane of Shen’s cheek. “If I could continue to be fond of you. If you will allow it. If you will have me stay.”

Shen knows his eyes have gone wide-eyed at this point, and Ahaz’s own are so soft but scared. Like after so many times this asking, and telling, is scarier than any enemy they’ve faced. Ahaz is offering his heart to him and waiting with baited breath.

They’re closer now, Ahaz has managed to close the distance further, and Shen’s own eyes have settled on his lips. Not stained with his own blood and not pulled in an annoying grin and not settled into a thin firm line. They’re simply there, parted lightly.

“May I kiss you?” Ahaz whispers.

It’s almost funny. He remembers the moments that this has happened so many times before, where they’ve almost come together time and time again, and this time Ahaz asks.

Shen nods. A simple quick lower and raising of his chin.

They meet somewhere in the middle. Ahaz places his other hand on the side of Shen’s face and presses their lips together so achingly careful that Shen reaches out and grips Ahaz’s shirt between his fingers. He squeezes his eyes tight as Ahaz pulls back and kisses him again, this time angling his head to pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Ahaz pulls away and Shen rocks forwards, chasing his lips for a embarrassing moment. He collects himself and stares, wide eyed as Ahaz smiles. It’s a bittersweet, melancholic smile.

He leaves Shen standing shell shocked in his doorway, words sticking to the back of his throat like glue.

#r: blood and water #ch: shen #friends ocs #t: writing #i wrote this so long ago but like....its so emo god #theyre just like that huh #we out here being dramatic as per usual

[phantom-le6]

Episode Reviews - Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 7 (2 of 6)

Carrying on our look into the final season of Star Trek: The Next Generation, here’s the second round of episode reviews from that season.

Episode 6: Phantasms

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

Lt. Commander Data experiences a strange dream that begins with him walking a corridor within the Enterprise, then hearing a rotary dial phone sound, and seeing three workmen that he says are "dismantling a warp plasma conduit". When he tries to speak to them, he can only emit a high-pitched noise. The workmen turn and rip off Data's appendages, finally tearing off his head, before Data wakes from the dream. Though Data is worried about the odd nature of dreams Counsellor Troi suggests he continue to dream to explore the darker imagery he is experiencing.

 Captain Picard is invited to an Admirals' dinner, an event that Picard has been trying to avoid for several years as he feels it would be rather boring. Unable to provide excuses, he orders the Enterprise towards Starbase 219 where the banquet is to be held, but they find the new warp drive will not engage. Data and Lt. Commander La Forge attempt to diagnose the problem, but after double checking the new configuration, the engines refuse to engage.

 Later, Data finds himself in another dream, now set in Ten-Forward. In addition to the workmen, other members of the crew are present, in particular Troi as part of a large cake (a cellular peptide cake with mint frosting according to Lt. Worf). The workmen prompt Data to cut into the shoulder of the cake while Troi tries to convince Data to stop. Suddenly Data wakes, finding Worf, La Forge and Troi in his quarters, as he has been late for his shift. Data has never experienced this before, and tries to understand the meaning of his dreams with a holodeck-simulated Sigmund Freud. Later, while still working with La Forge to repair the engines, he begins to see imagery from his dreams while awake, including seeing crewmen with "small mouths" on their bodies, and an engineering tool appearing briefly as the cake knife. Later, Data attacks Troi on the turbolift, wounding her on her shoulder, where he claimed he saw one of those mouths. Data willingly puts himself under guard in his quarters, fearing what harm he might do to others.

 Dr Crusher takes care of Troi's wound but finds the spot still discoloured after her treatment. Investigating further, she discovers the presence of interphasic creatures that are feeding on the Enterprise crew, which can only be seen under interphasic scans. The crew realizes the creatures are where Data has been seeing the small mouths, and believes Data may know how to deal with the creatures through the dreams he has been experiencing. They hook up Data to the holodeck and watch as Data's dreams play out, helping Data to understand them. Data realizes that his mind has been telling him that he can adjust his circuitry to generate an interphasic pulse that will kill the creatures. After using the pulse, La Forge postulates that the new warp drive was infected with the creatures, and after confirming that they've been exterminated, is able to successfully engage warp, though the repairs take long enough that Picard is able to avoid the Admirals' dinner yet again.

 Troi later visits Data, who has since apologized for his attack. Troi shows no resentment, but jokingly remarks "Turnabout is fair play". She reveals has made a cake shaped like Data for them to share. Data wonders what Freud would say about the about the symbolism of devouring one’s self, but Troi paraphrases Freud and tells Data that sometimes “a cake is just a cake”.

Review:

This is our first, and I think only, episode that follows up on Data’s dreaming capability that he had activated last season. Ideally, it could have been used to somehow explore or expand on Data’s character, or as some kind of means of issue exploration, but again TNG falls short of what Trek should be.  Rather than using the dream program to create an episode of true Trek, it becomes a convenient deus ex machina for a ‘crisis of the week’, complete with the accompanying technobabble.  TNG, and indeed Trek itself, is always at its worst when the sci-fi trappings take centre stage instead of acting as window-dressing for something more substantive, and this episode is a case-in-point.  Granted, some scenes have become effective meme fodder in the social media age, but that’s not what Trek is.  I only give this episode 5 out of 10.

Episode 7: Dark Page

Plot (as given by me):

The Enterprise welcomes aboard members of a telepathic race known as the Cairn, who have only begun to learn spoken communication in order to interact with non-telepathic races. They have been learning from Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, who tries to set her daughter Counsellor Deanna Troi up with Maques, who is part of the Carin delegation. Maques has a daughter named Hedril, who has become Lwaxana’s star pupil as her younger age means she can pick up spoken language more easily than the adult Cairn. Lwaxana begins to display signs of emotional distress through random outbursts, which she initially brushes off as fatigue. However, after an incident with Commander Riker in Ten-Forward, an examination by Dr Crusher reveals Lwaxana’s levels of a neurotransmitter used in telepathy are depleted. To recover, she needs to refrain from using her telepathic abilities, and Deanna offers to help her mother continue educating the Cairn in spoke language without resorting to telepathy.

 However, during a trip to the Enterprise arboretum, Lwaxana uses telepathy when Deanna struggles with how best to explain the concept of ‘heaven’ verbally. Moments later, Hedril accidentally falls in the arboretum pond; she is unhurt, but for some reason at that moment Lwaxana falls into a coma. Dr Crusher is unable to find any physiological reasons for this, and an unintended side-effect of Cairn telepathy is subsequently ruled out as well. Maques reveals Lwaxana’s mind is collapsing in on itself, but cannot interpret the images in her mind to understand why. To find out, Deanna enters her mother’s mind with Maques’ help and the permission of Captain Picard.

 In Lwaxana’s mind, Deanna encounters a variety of barriers and is ultimately forced out by her mother when she encounters an image of Hedril. Suspecting Lawxana’s retreat from reality is related to a repressed traumatic event, Deanna begins searching for clues among her mother’s journal entries. With Picard’s aid, she learns there is a seven-year gap from just after her parents married to a month after her birth. The gap is highly unusual because Lwaxana was very diligent about her journal, and the entries have been deleted by her rather than not being made in the first place.

 Deanna re-enters her mother’s mind, and finally tracks down her mother in a representation of the Enterprise arboretum, which Lwaxana has equated with Lake El’nar on Betazed where the Trois used to live. At Deanna’s urging, Lwaxana relives her traumatic memory to stop it killing her. It turns out Deanna had an older sister named Kestra; one day while the family was enjoying a picnic by the lake, Kestra’s dog ran off. She went after it, the Trois too occupied with the infant Deanna to notice. As a result, Kestra got into trouble in the lake and drowned. Lwaxana blamed herself for allowing the tragedy to occur, but Deanna reassures her it was an accident and not her fault. After finally saying goodbye to a mental construct of Kestra, Lwaxana wakes up. Later, Deanna reveals Mr Homm had retained a photo of Kestra in case Lwaxana ever wanted to stop repressing what happened, and asks her mother to tell her more about her sister.

Review:

While some people might feel this episode’s darker feel coming right on the heels of ‘Phantasms’ is somehow not right, I think it’s good because you end up with a good example of how to use darker imagery and create a good psychological episode after we got a bad one. Moreover, it’s got a lot more to make it stand out than ‘Phantasms’, beginning with a guest appearance by a very young Kirsten Dunst; this episode was done a year before Dunst shot to wider fame in ‘Interview with a Vampire’, and almost a decade before she began appearing as Mary-Jane Watson in Sony’s first attempt at producing a Spider-Man film franchise.

 Second, this is the last time Lwaxana Troi appears in The Next Generation, with all her subsequent appearances being on Deep Space Nine, and it’s also about the only Lwaxana Troi episode I would deem as good. That’s because her normally over-the-top, nails-on-chalkboard personality is subdued very early on and we finally get a more serious, well-rounded take on the character.  The other advantage of this is we also now get to explore a bit more of the Troi family tree, as we end up meeting Deanna’s dad (albeit only as a construct in Lwaxana’s mind), and we also find out Deanna has a deceased older sister she never knew about.

 The idea of Kestra and her tragic loss is, for me, what makes this a great episode to watch, because normally Trek in general, and TNG in particular, don’t really delve into the idea of psychological trauma. I suspect a large part of this is down to the rules Roddenberry tried to lay down about how much more ‘mentally stable’ humanity is meant to be in the 24th century.  However, as I’ve noted on my earlier reviews for this show, a lot of his ideas in that vein were unrealistic and not credible. Seeing the show capitalise on Lwaxana’s alien nature to get a story like this was a good move, and I actually found myself feeling sympathy for her for the first, and perhaps only, time of watching her.  I think if TNG had toned down her flamboyance right from the character’s inception, it wouldn’t have taken something like this coming along to have that effect. For me, the episode gets 9 out of 10 (it’s still a Lwaxana episode, so by its very nature top marks are impossible).

Episode 8: Attached

Plot (as given by me):

The Enterprise arrives in orbit of the planet Kesprytt, whose population is divided into two peoples, the Kes and the Prytt. The former society is seeking entrance into the Federation while the Prytt are isolationists who are zealous to the point of xenophobia. This concerns Captain Picard, as at that time all other worlds admitted to the Federation have done so united, and the idea of only admitting part of a world trouble him. He and Dr Crusher beam down to meet with representatives of the Kes government, but a tractor beam generated by the Prytt diverts the transporter beam. As a result, the captain and the doctor appear in Prytt territory and are taken prisoner.

 Believing the Federation is forming a military alliance with the Kes, the Prytt implant devices in Picard and Crusher so they can determine the truth from their thoughts. However, a guard manages to sneak Dr Crusher’s confiscated tricorder to them with a food delivery; it has been programmed with an escape map and access code. The two officers begin to escape, while back on the Enterprise, Commander Riker and the rest of the crew begin working with the Kes to try and recover the captain. Their efforts to contact the Prytt fail, but Ambassador Mauric reveals that by using Prytt who are sympathetic to the Kes, they have engineered an escape.

 On the planet, Picard and Crusher soon discover the implants are now making them aware of each other’s thoughts. They cannot find any means of filtering them out, and any attempt to part company results in both of them feeling waves of nausea, forcing them to stick together. When the pair have to divert from the map they’ve been provided to avoid a Prytt patrol, Mauric learns of this and accuses the Federation of separately forming an alliance with the Prytt. That night, Picard and Crusher make camp, and Crusher learns that Picard was once in love with her. However, Picard felt guilty having such feelings for his best friend’s wife, and further guilt over Jack Crusher’s death drove the pair apart. However, Picard states that he now just sees her as a friend.

 Determined to rescue his missing comrades, Riker beams the Prytt Security Minister Lorin aboard the Enterprise against her will. He then explains to Lorin that the Kes will most likely not be granted Federation membership, as the paranoia of the Kes and the xenophobia of the Prytt suggest the planet is unlikely to be seen as a viable potential member. In addition, he notes that failure to return the missing officers will only attract more ships to the planet, something the isolationist Prytt would rather avoid. As Picard and Crusher reach the border between the territories of the two factions, they are located and their co-ordinates provided to the Enterprise.

 Back on board and with the implants subsequently removed, Picard and Crusher discuss their feelings for each other. Picard thinks they shouldn’t be afraid to explore how they feel for each other, but Crusher thinks the opposite, thereby turning down Picard implicitly. Picard accepts this, and is then left alone to process what has happened.

Review:

Ever since the show started, there’s always been some acknowledgement of not just a shared history between Picard and Beverly, but also some level of mutual attraction.  This episode is probably the first to address it in such a direct manner, though, and it makes for some interesting character exploration.  All of a sudden, two people who have feelings for each other but keep them private are forced to share those feelings via a tech-induced form of telepathy.  It’s a great concept and we get a good episode out of it.

 Unfortunately, the episode spends a bit too much time jumping back to the whole ‘Kes vs Prytt’ situation.  I know that’s somewhat necessary because it’s that plot which facilitates Picard and Beverly having this forced mental link, but at the same time it doesn’t really add anything to the episode.  Perhaps after ‘Phantasms’ and ‘Dark Page’, both of which were also quite psychological in nature and devoid of any real break from the main plot, the show was trying to mix things up.  However, ‘Dark Page’ was good for having a plot of substance to follow all the way through, where ‘Phantasms’ was largely or entirely devoid of substance. Adding a b-plot would have probably harmed the later episode, and would only have helped the earlier ‘Phantasms’ if it had explored a character or an issue.  Likewise, having everyone else do something doesn’t add anything to ‘Attached’; it’s just filler, some of which isn’t all that necessary.

 In addition, this episode had a lot of potential for some slightly longer-term continuity. For pretty much the entire show no main character ever seems to form any kind of long-term romance, and since the O’Briens left for Deep Space Nine there haven’t been any recurring guest characters of a married or otherwise romantically committed status. Picard and Beverly could have made for a good multi-episode romance, but instead the show fell back on its episodic nature.  It’s something of an annoying move, and a strange one considering some of what we’ll see coming as this season progresses.  However, all in all the episode isn’t bad; it just fails to realise the full potential of its own story.  End score, 7 out of 10.

Episode 9: Force of Nature

Review (as given by me):

While Lt. Commander Data begins trying to train his cat Spot on the suggestion of Lt. Commander La Forge, and La Forge engages in friendly rivalry with an old academy friend who is the chief engineer of another vessel in the fleet, the Enterprise travels to the Hekaras Corridor. The Hekaras sector is full of intense fields of tetryon particles, which can make warp-travel hazardous. The Hekaras Corridor is the only part of the sector through which warp-capable vessels can travel. The Enterprise’s mission is trying to locate a medical transport ship the Fleming, which has apparently disappeared somewhere in the corridor.

 After entering the corridor, the Enterprise locates a disabled Ferengi vessel. The DaiMon in command claims their vessel wis disabled by something they believed was a Federation signal buoy, but which emitted a verteron pulse that disabled their systems. The Ferengi claim to have seen another Federation ship elsewhere in the corridor, and Picard trades the assistance of his crew’s engineering staff for the co-ordinates. At the co-ordinates, the Enterprise finds a debris field and begins investigating it to determine if it is the remains of the Fleming. As they do so, they are disabled by a verteron pulse and then boarded by two Hekaran scientists, brother and sister Rabal and Serova, who claim that the Enterprise is killing them.

 The scientists explain that warp-travel in the Hekaras sector is damaging their planet of Hekaras II. Their research theorises that over time, sustained warp travel in the region will continually weaken the barrier between normal space and sub-space until sub-space rifts are created, and they claim their planet is already beginning to experience climate change from the gravitational shifts the breakdown is causing. Due to not having had their research taken seriously by the Federation, the siblings have resorted to mining the corridor in an effort to draw Starfleet in to investigate. They agree to assist in repairing the Enterprise in exchange for Picard and his crew looking at their latest research.

 La Forge and Sarova clash verbally with each other during the repairs; La Forge is angry at having extra repair work to do and is appalled at the lives the siblings might have risked if they’ve disabled the Fleming in the same way. Sarova, however, notes that the lives being put at risk on her world are also important, and the disabling of a ship’s engines is only an inconvenience. Rabal tries to act as peacemaker, explaining to La Forge he was originally a sceptic, but was eventually convinced his sister was right once he took the time to understand her theories.

 Data reviews the siblings’ research and notes that it cannot be proven as it would take a large amount of warp energy to do so. However, given that the theorised damage the siblings fear may be cumulative, he recommends they ask a dedicated science vessel comes out to investigate further. Picard agrees, and asks the pair to submit a proposal to the Federation science council. Rabal agrees, but Sarova refuses, seeing this as just another delay. In desperation, she returns to her ship and triggers a warp core breach just as the Enterprise locates the Fleming. The result is a sub-space rupture just as she had theorised, and the Enterprise is then faced with the challenge of rescuing the crew of the Fleming even though the rupture prevents the use of warp drive within it.

 La Forge laments that Sarova felt she had to go to such extremes before they would listen, but Data objectively highlights that she resorted to drastic measures no reputable scientist would employ. After extensive study of the rupture, Data proposes the Enterprise use a ‘warp burst’ to give them their initial momentum and then ‘coast’ through the rupture to beam out the Fleming’s crew. Picard agrees, but when the Fleming tries to engage its warp engines inside the rift, the increased distortion within the rift deprives the Enterprise of the momentum it needs to escape. La Forge then suggests matching the phase frequency of their shields with the distortion waves from the rupture, thereby ‘surfing’ out of the affected region, and on the second time of trying the ship manages to escape.

 Later, Rabal shows the Enterprise senior staff new projections of the sector based on new research in the wake of Sarova creating the rift.  In forty years, he projects the region will be mostly sub-space ruptures if warp travel isn’t prohibited, and the climate damage to his planet is already accelerating. Picard then receives a message from the Federation council;

"Until we can find a way to counteract the warp field effect, the Council feels our best course is to slow the damage as much as possible. Therefore, areas of space found susceptible to warp fields will be restricted to essential travel only, and effective immediately, all Federation vessels will be limited to a speed of – Warp 5? – except in cases of extreme emergency."

It is noted that while the Federation will share this with all other warp-capable powers, not all of them will necessarily follow the same restrictions. Picard also offers the Hekarans a weather control matrix to counteract the climate damage caused by the rift, then later notes privately to La Forge that he is worried to think his time spent exploring the space he loves might also be responsible for destroying it. La Forge claims it won’t come to that, and notes that they still have time to find a way of reversing the damage.

Review:

After three episodes with psychologically-heavy plots, we now come to something a bit more issue-centric as we get another Trek effort at addressing environmental issues.  Apparently from what Memory Alpha says, the writing staff found this a bit tricky in some ways because anything about o-zone depletion, climate change, etc. was a very tricky thing to put across for them.  However, I think this episode does a pretty good job of creating a metaphorical exploration of the concept.  It’s also very well balanced, as you’ve got the devout, almost fanatical environmentalist in Sarova, the out-and-out sceptic in La Forge and Rabal somewhere in the middle, while Data also has input as the voice of pure reason in the equation.

 It’s also interesting to note the scene in Ten-Forward between La Forge and Rabal where they discuss the ‘ease’ of giving up on something that is causing damage to the world around them.  Rabal’s comment that ‘it won’t be easy at all’ is a very poignant and apt one, because now as then giving up anything convenient for the sake of not messing up the world isn’t easy, nor is it meant to be. Look at how we’ve reacted during the pandemic we’re still in; a lot of things that are ultimately conveniences have been put on hold, and some may never return, or not in the way we knew them. Giving up on that is certainly not easy, but for our safety and survival, it is essentially necessary.

 That said, giving up things which are convenient to avoid damaging our world doesn’t always have to be difficult. Environmentally safe technologies like hybrid and electric cars have recently begun to be more widely used, for example, so before long we may still be able to drive long distances without having to worry about the world’s oil supply.  If this kind of shift towards eco-friendly technology was better supported and enjoyed a greater volume of research, we could probably shift to a lot of other eco-friendly practices with little or even no inconvenience at all. As La Forge notes at the episode’s end, we still have time to correct the damage; some of the environmental recovery seen during the first lockdowns of the pandemic shows nature can recover to an extent when we’re not in a position to keep messing it up.  What we need to do is capitalise on that time as best we can, especially the major corporations who contribute far more to the problem and far less to the solution than the general public in many if not every case.

 One final note; this episode marks the first occasion where Data’s cat Spot is referred to as ‘she’ rather than ‘he’; this would be later revisited in the episode ‘Genesis’ but never explained, as Spot had always been a ‘he’ until this point.  As such, this episode is slightly marred by this small but nonetheless noticeable continuity error.  End score is 9 out of 10.

[grad701-katie-shepherd]

Formative Feedback

Negative/dumb

Note 1 Branding is cool, but a little standard – is there a way to make it pop/more contemporary? Is Bauhaus overused? Will you include all-gender toilets? The dash marketing is a good avenue!   Social media is a good outcome. Merch is cool but can you be more original? See the Gen Less tote bag/backpack.   Sketches are cool! Clear. AT lite; ooh nice logo!   Commute: it takes me 1 – 1.5 hrs to get from Glen Eden to AUT on bus/train/bus. Not too bad; faster in some ways than car. Agree need more trains, trams, or light rail etc. Investigation: excellent focus question. Have you seen the murals on the trains? Stop, look, listen by Floc etc.

Note 2 Would love a light rail. Designing and selling merch where 100% of the profits go towards the construction of the rail will not bode well with 90% of residents and would piss a lot of people off. Taxpayer dollars are already spent towards these projects and people who are hardworking will not spend their additional leftover income on this. Particularly when transport projects are always delayed, and the cost is always more than the proposed budget. Shouldn’t the t-shirts go toward a social initiative? Or something that’s giving back to the communities.  

Note 3   In a design sense, would it not be more beneficial to create a new logo/company as Auckland's transport, rather than slapping ‘Lite’ at the end”?

Note 4 So, you’re advertising an already planned council project? What part of the visuals are authentically your own? The logo and visuals of maps and trains are council property, aren’t they? BE CAREFUL WITH PLAGERISM!!!

Note 5 How are you working around the expanse of the money issue? It would close much more than people could give, and would the money end up towards the train?

Note 6 Seems to be quite similar to AT. Perhaps you could use another name with the same idea? Love the designs!  

Note 7 Auckland topography (landscape) has so many hills and dips, how would you work around this? Also, areas of land/under buildings aren’t structurally sound to move Research that for more blog posts, haha :)

Constructive Feedback

Note 1 “Stuart Hall. Talks beautifully about modernism in terms of society.”

Note 2   “Instead of Bauhaus a very European and German design style why not make decisions to incorporate NZ landscape/Maori designs/patterns to make it unique and different to the rest of the world.”

Note 3   “Paula Scher did New York train lines  - interesting and timeless designs” “Clean design and very well thought out campaign.” “helpful to have all output supporting each other”

Note 4 “Possibly make sure you identify if this is your personal campaign or a contribution towards the pre-existing light rail project”

Note 5 Could make the train more colourful.

Note 6 Really need to sell it to people.

Note 7 Essential to locate in the now – the lauding and the collective information. Selling the idea to the public on getting funded How are you asking the population to participate? What do you want to know from the audience? Have you seen the train signage for the stop and look campaign? Collaboration with artists? An idea is to bring nature into the design of the trains, showing kiwis it’s a more eco way of traveling.

Note 8   Make sure that the designs are completely different to refresh the appeal to the new train love the app idea.

Note 9   Way finding could investigate augmented reality.  

Note 10 And the film on Helvetica that shows NY subway.

Note 11 If you use “...” you need a page to reference it properly

Note 12 Check the brand and infographics of London underground.

Note 13 Check if it is not too much in terms of outcomes it is quite a lot. Have you reached out to AT? They will have lots of info to help you and permission to use their logo. The outcomes are very thought through and cover all important aspects and some fun additions like the app.

Note 14 Agreed! Taking the bus takes so long! Really like your proposed visual styleHave you contacted the team working on the lite rail? They might give you some interesting insights.

Note 15  It’s easy to say that AT-lite will be more reliable and efficient but how can you make people believe this? Maybe through experiments from the game/app”

Positive Feedback

Note 1 Good job on the thorough research. As someone who often uses public transport, I’m very interested in your project. Looking forward to the final outcome.

Note 2 Really like the Bauhaus inspiration + look of your campaign – really well thought out.

Note 3 Well thought out project; the different design artefacts will work well together. Bauhaus style will work well with the goal for the project.

Note 4 Love the imagery and motion graphics

Note 5 I really like the combination of transport to design

Note 6 I really like the logo ideas.  

Note 7 Great concept sketches. Love that you guys went in depth with what you will be creating. Allows audience to understand well. It’s smart how you’ve used a simple, clean art movement for your aesthetic.

Note 8  Love the topic, Auckland Transport sucks and needs to be improved. I liked the poster series of the trains getting closer – simple but eye catching. Very professional looking.

Note 9 “Very well thought out design outcomes, can’t wait to see them.”

Note 10 “Very creative idea :)”

Note 11 “Presentation was super clear and well laid out, great topic and choice of artefacts.”

Note 12 “Well contextualised and good research.”

Note 13 “Love the design problem. Great way to give yourselves a nice baseline for design but also has enough gaps for you to design for.”

Note 14 “Very interesting, you are idealists, and the world needs more people like you.”

Note 15 “Cody, you opened well!!”

Note 16 “Well planned presentation, all of you spoke concisely and confident.”

Note 17 “Bauhaus design I think will work very well with your topic and help all your artefacts look cohesive.”

Note 18 “Wooow, I wish public transport was faster and more reliable. Sometimes it takes me nearly 3 hours to get home from uni. Love living in Pukekohe :) Your campaign looks like it is going to be sick! All of your inspo looks cool. Can’t really think of any feedback, just make sure you don’t over commit yourself, so you are happy with your final outcomes!”

Note 19  “Love the examples of driving times from each area.Like how you had graphs as part of your research.

Note 20 Love how you included logo design development + storyboards.Love the train wrap idea!

Note 21 Like how you’re using Bauhaus as inspiration”.

Note 22 “Great research! Really supporting why you chose to undertake this project.

Note 23 “Great research. Easy to understand”

Group Reflection

As a group, we organised and discussed the different areas of feedback for which we received.

In terms of negative feedback, there were some concerns around the overused nature of Bauhaus. However, our research supports our decision for this influence given its success throughout history and within railway designs around the globe. There was a suggestion to possibly look into more Maori native patterns and relate it more to NZ culture. Currently there is a lot of Maori culture used as a differentiation point for branding and systems in New Zealand however so we feel that perhaps our researched visual approach could be more refreshing and applicable. This could still be further discussed. And/or investigated if deemed relevant at a later stage (future thinking?). There was also some additional negative feedback, which we discussed; however, this was possibly feedback coming from a place where there was a lack of understanding.

There was then also feedback around our branding and how it would sit alongside AT. There was nervousness for the possible plagiarism of their branding, confusion around whether we were a separate brand/campaign to this system etc. We have considered this in-depth and made the decision to sit as an integrated brand with AT given the credibility it would give the brand. Additionally, the system plan is already existing, and it sits with AT so to ensure that our project is feasible we are approaching it in this way. Furthermore, we also believe there may have been some miscommunication where some of our peers may have thought the logo, we presented was the existing branding for AT lite when in fact it was logo we are currently developing. “In a design sense, would it not be more beneficial to create a new logo/company as Auckland's transport, rather than slapping ‘Lite’ at the end”?

Additionally, some feedback questioned the engagement of the logo as well as how considered simply “slapping lite on the end of AT” was. However, this was a researched approach based on existing AT branding methods e.g. AT. Metro etc. Additionally, there is the presence of an icon, which was not emphasised enough in our presentation. It is currently still in development, and this will be considered. There was only a couple of negative comments around the branding however, which allowed them to be heavily overweighed by the considered positive feedback around the same things. Additionally, we take confidence in our supporting research and development for our approach still.  

Feedback also raised the concept of feasibility. It asked us to consider the infostructure around the topographical landscape of Auckland as well as how we could ensure the system is faster etc. However, this is something we originally began approaching in the early stages only to realise, based on extensive research, feedback, and discussion, to be an approach, which is not so applicable for us Graphic Designers. Hence, we are well research in taking an approach of campaigning and branding around getting people to engage with this new system. The operational nature and funding are a responsibility held by Auckland Transport. This is currently just a concept that will be developed over the coming five years.

Despite the negative/constructive feedback given above, there was still an overwhelming amount of support for our project. People recognised the need for improvement to Auckland’s transport systems, discussing with us their own negative experiences with travel within the city. They felt we were well research with a clear focus point, and many appreciated the Bauhaus influence and basis for our projects visual approach. There was a lot of enjoyment for the range of design outcomes and how they would interconnect.

Moving forward, there are some additional points of reference/interest suggested to us as bullet-pointed below:

- Paula Scher - New York train lines and their interesting and timeless design - Stuart Hall - talks beautifully about modernism in terms of society - Helvetica film that shows NY subway - Brand and infographics of London underground - Reaching out to AT and/or the team currently working on the light rail -  -  -(something we are already currently considering)  - Investigation of augmented reality for wayfinding - Train signage for the stop and look campaign - collaboration with artists like Flox

Overall, the feedback we received for our formative presentation was supportive and encouraging for us moving forward, providing us with possible points of research and design direction.

[miki-agrawal]

Is the World Ready for Miki Agrawal and Her Next Big Idea?

Originally Published on Glamour.com By Eliza Brooke On April 4, 2019

She wants to talk about poop — if we all could just forget what happened when she tried to change the world with period underwear.

In late January the entrepreneur Miki Agrawal held a launch event for her book, Disrupt-Her, at The Assemblage, the latest coworking-slash-coliving space in Lower Manhattan. The room was decorated with wall rugs and cacti; Spanish moss descended around a nonalcoholic bar. Agrawal sat on a low stage with Lauren Zander, her life coach, and the stylist Stacy London, who was serving as interviewer for the evening. A crowd including Assemblage members and Agrawal’s friends and fans perched on couches, armchairs, and floor pillows, sipping water and nibbling on vegan snacks while the three women talked.

“I want to talk about what happened with Thinx,” London said, “because I think that that was an absolute, completely life-changing moment for you, and really worth discussing because we always talk about success and failure, which for me are words that don’t make a whole lot of sense. It’s all experience. So how do we use experience to our advantage, when it feels like we have been brought to our knees?”

Agrawal founded the period underwear brand Thinx in 2014, and as the company’s profile rose, she became a well-known figure on the start-up circuit. Suddenly, in March 2017, Jezebel reported that Agrawal had stepped down as CEO after several employees quit. Days later, Racked quoted, anonymously, employees who described the company as a volatile work environment with poor compensation and benefits; sources said that Agrawal pitted staffers against one another and implied that they were ungrateful for seeking higher pay. Then The Cut reported that Chelsea Leibow, Thinx’s former head of PR, had filed a sexual harassment complaint against Agrawal, alleging that Agrawal routinely made comments about Leibow’s breasts and touched them without her consent. It was a hard turn left for a start-up with a progressive, feminist image.

Miki Agrawal, photographed at her home Michelle Rose Sulcov

Agrawal with her son, Hiro Michelle Rose Sulcov

Speaking to The Cut at the time, Agrawal called Leibow’s accusations “baseless” and denied that she had touched her breasts; a Thinx spokesperson also said in a statement that the company took the allegations “very seriously” and that “the company commissioned an investigation that concluded the allegations had no legal merit” and declined to comment further. Agrawal also put out a Medium post characterizing Thinx’s HR issues as problems that many fast-growing start-ups face. Forbes reported the sexual harassment claim was withdrawn after a private settlement.

Agrawal didn’t mention Thinx by name when she answered London’s question at The Assemblage. In fact, she didn’t use the word once in the hour-plus she spent onstage that night. “There were a few people that needed to be restructured out that were kind of wearing the feminist T-shirts and the vagina necklaces but were singing a different tune, culturally, for the business,” Agrawal said, noting that when she did finally restructure, “it was just twisted out of context, and you know, it was one of the darkest times of my life.”

If this sounds like a vague description of events, it is. For legal reasons, Agrawal says, she can’t say anything about her time at Thinx, her work there, or her employees. I reached out to seven former employees; only two agreed to talk about their tenure at Thinx, and even then requested anonymity. This makes writing a profile of Agrawal challenging, and reading one potentially unsatisfying: Two years after the fact, the Thinx allegations remain a major piece of her public image and business backstory, but if you want the details of what really happened, there’s a blank space.

We’re left to fill in some of the void with reports from that time period. In the spring of 2017, the critique of Agrawal was swift and widespread. Her case seemed like an isolated incident. It predated a rush of workplace misconduct accusations; Harvey Weinstein had just wrapped what we didn’t know would be his final awards season. This was before pundits learned to parse the nuances of “bad behavior” and before scores of famous men issued their careful, vague apologies. As a culture we’re now figuring out what the rehabilitation of a disgraced public figure can and should look like. This is no easy process, and as Agrawal’s case shows, it doesn’t always come with a clear, public resolution.

At The Assemblage, Agrawal described how she got through those dark days, which took place when she was five months pregnant. She remembered crying “all the time” and calling Zander multiple times a day. She said the experience stretched her emotional capacity, and in that, she found gratitude. “I get to feel the depths of betrayal, the depths of sadness, the depths of pain, which only will then accentuate the heights of joy and the height of wow-ness in life,” she said. And it fed her book, Disrupt-Her: “All of that negative shit that I inhaled, that was so painful, that I wanted to just fight back so badly; instead I just pushed it down and put it into this book.”

Disrupt-Her spans the professional and personal, and instructs readers on how to question all manner of entrenched societal conventions, block out the haters, and fight gendered norms dictated by the patriarchy and sometimes reinforced by other women. In it Agrawal talks a lot about transmuting negative energy into positive action, but her underlying principle is this: If you’re a rule-breaking woman in the world, people will try to take you down.

In the book’s introduction, there’s a handwritten message that prompts readers to “press here” on a drawing of a bull’s-eye — “to eliminate all self-judgment + judgment of others.” Were this any other self-help guide, you might touch a finger to the button, earnestly or feeling a little silly, and move on. In the context of this particular book, the request to avoid judgment seems pointed, because many people are likely to go into it with preconceived notions about Agrawal — good and bad.

Agrawal has always positioned herself as someone in the business of taboo-breaking, and that paid off with Thinx: The brand came to many people’s attention when its ads, which mentioned periods explicitly and used photos of grapefruit halves as an artistic stand-in for vaginas, were initially deemed too suggestive for the New York City subway. Thinx effectively put period underwear on the map, and Agrawal became known as an outspoken, successful woman in the overwhelmingly male start-up world, albeit one who very much fit the mold of a Burning Man–going tech executive. (A key difference: While there she posted photos on Instagram of herself pumping breast milk while out and about, writing that she had given it to other attendees to drink.) Like so many entrepreneurs, Agrawal dresses distinctively. Her style identifier is a tall, wide-brimmed hat that adds to her small stature. She talks fast, in an energetic, almost muscular way, occasionally smacking a fist into her palm for emphasis. When she’s onstage at events and conferences, she gets laughs.

It turns out operating start-ups in spaces that, in her words, “make people uncomfortable,” is good business. She opened a gluten-free pizza restaurant called Wild in 2005, at a time when gluten-free food wasn’t as trendy as it has become, and it now has three locations in New York and Guatemala. Thinx came in 2014, and a pee-proof underwear line called Icon followed in 2015; by 2017 the CEO that replaced Agrawal reported that the company (which oversees both brands) was doing $50 million in annual revenue. As chief creative officer of Tushy, a company that makes bidet attachments, Agrawal now has her sights on changing how we poop. The brand is projecting triple-digit sales growth for 2019, with annual revenue under $20 million and, according to LinkedIn, a staff of 11.

“Over these last 15 years, so many people were like, ‘No one’s going to buy your products.’ ‘No one’s going to eat gluten-free pizza — it probably tastes like shit.’ ‘No one’s going to bleed in their underwear,’” Agrawal said at the book launch. “It took a long time to get investment in all of the business ideas, and it turns out that society was wrong. People did want to try these things.”

In fact, society is wrong about a lot more than just “periods, pee, poop, and pizza,” Agrawal said, drawing laughter from the audience. “This generation and the next is not interested in doing the things that people did 100 years ago. Not interested.” To that point, each chapter of Disrupt-Her names a common way of thinking, then explains where it came from in order to present an alternative. For the notion that “failure is embarrassing,” for instance, readers are instructed to “replace the word failure with revelation.”

Disrupt-Her isn’t billed as a memoir, and much of it focuses on universal topics like the importance of investing one’s money, cultivating a partner’s best qualities, and decluttering one’s home. It is a rebirth, in a sense: Before its launch Agrawal released a video-poem that begins with her crawling from a bleeding animated vagina. (A hat is conveniently waiting nearby; she puts it on.) While the public may view it as a comeback, the timeline isn’t so linear: Agrawal founded Tushy two years after she launched Thinx, then hired leadership to run it while she focused on the period-underwear brand; when she left Thinx, she seamlessly transitioned over to Tushy. If Disrupt-Her answers any question about Agrawal, it’s how she wants to present herself to the world after being accused of abusive behavior in the workplace. Less contrition, more ideology.

In her emphasis on transforming anger, betrayal, and pain into empathy and gratitude, Agrawal performs an amazing alchemical act. The book creates a space in which she’s able to comment on the bad publicity — effectively getting the last word — and land on higher ground. This puts those members of the public who are reckoning with how to regard her, post-Thinx, in the difficult position of arguing against positivity, against personal growth, if they question her at all.

Someone who worked with Agrawal at the time, who agreed to talk only on the condition of anonymity, says that Agrawal knows the value of building her personal brand through this kind of storytelling. Publishing a new book in the aftermath of the Thinx allegations reinforces a narrative in which, the former staffer says, “She’s the hero.”

In February I visited Agrawal at her home in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, a sleek space filled with colorful woven rugs and air plants. During our interview, her husband, Andrew Horn, popped in and out of the room on his way to and from errands. Their 20-month-old son, Hiro, occasionally toddled into the conversation, cheerfully making a grab at a water glass or one of the cell phones recording the conversation.

Agrawal wrote Disrupt-Her in the two and a half months following Hiro’s birth in July 2017. Laid up in bed healing from her C-section, she wrote between feedings and while the baby was asleep. “I had so many thoughts around the culture of complaining, takedown culture, feminism, patriarchy, fake feminists, people who wear the feminist T-shirts and the vagina necklaces but are really mean girls on the inside,” Agrawal says. These topics appear in the book, in chapters that deal with woman-on-woman hate and gossipy media coverage — the products, Agrawal writes, of scarcity mind-sets and a news business that rewards clickbait.

Agrawal says she believes in creating a culture that is progressive and supportive of people being themselves — but that doesn’t mean lowering her standards. “I demand excellence. I do,” Agrawal says. “Shouldn’t you demand it for yourself? And if I’m going to bring it out of you, that’s a good thing. If that sometimes requires tough love, like, ‘Hey, I asked for that three times, come on, you’ve got this.’ Then you go back and tell everyone, ‘She’s yelling at me!’ Like, is that yelling or just being like, ‘Come on, you’re better than this!’?”

In her book Agrawal writes that she learned to “constructively look at where I actually did go wrong as a leader and how I can improve.” When I asked what those areas of personal betterment were, she said that she had to become more cautious about who she surrounds herself with. As a more experienced boss (Agrawal is now 40), “I realized that, wow, I do shoot from the hip, and I just say, ‘Oh, you love my idea? Come work with me.’” At Tushy she’s looked for people with a lot of experience in the workforce.

“I spent seven months, myself, hiring my CEO. I spent all of my time calling everyone’s references,” says Agrawal. “I looked at everyone’s social media accounts…. I looked at people’s profiles, I looked at what they wrote, I looked at how they said it — if they sounded snarky or mean-girl-style, no. They had to be bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, loved life, came with a big smile, optimistic.”

While Disrupt-Her bolsters Agrawal’s public image as someone who’s overcome adversity, many of the professional changes that Agrawal has made since moving over to Tushy seem to have to do with protecting herself against a repeat of the Thinx affair. Being a consummate “Disrupt-Her,” she still lives her life out loud, but when it comes to Tushy’s internal operations, it seems she has created boundaries that help her feel safe. Agrawal no longer wants the sticky job of managing team dynamics, so she is Tushy’s chief creative officer, not its CEO: That’s Jason Ojalvo, who spent nearly a decade at Amazon-owned Audible before joining Tushy. Agrawal works from home, sitting at her long kitchen table, and staffers will drop by for meetings. Socially, she keeps a distance between herself and her employees.

“With my team at Tushy, it’s a relationship of respect,” Agrawal says. Earlier in her career “I thought, We’re all friends, we’re all doing this together. Then all of a sudden you have to make hard calls,” she says. It’s part of the complicated work of being a manager — a lesson she learned the hard way. “I’m just like, OK, clearly I get too connected with my team or I get too trusting, and I’m just — I’m definitely not going to do that again.”

Not being a CEO also means that she has more time for the creative marketing work she loves best, Agrawal says. When I ask Ojalvo about Agrawal’s leadership style, he touts her exuberance. “We have really complementary skill sets. Miki is great at getting everyone excited about her creative ideas. Her passion for our products, our mission, and the PR stunts we do is infectious,” Ojalvo writes in an email. “I can make those all a reality by growing and managing the team executing all of it, facilitating communication among the team, and making sure we have the outside funding and/or profit to execute on our dreams — but Miki always brings the enthusiasm and excitement to the next level.”

Agrawal’s creativity is one reason Ojalvo joined Tushy; he says he was similarly motivated by its product and accessible price point ($69 for the bidet attachment), its potential to change Americans’ hygiene habits, and, more jokingly, the opportunity to talk about poop all day (“My inner 14-year-old is living the dream,” he says). At the moment Agrawal is organizing a “funeral for a tree,” a cheeky means of talking about the number of trees that get cut down every year to make toilet paper (and that could be saved by her bidet attachment). “That’s going to be one of our biggest press events of the year, I just know it,” she says.

Agrawal has a complicated relationship with the media. She has deftly used it to raise her companies’ profiles and her own, and embraced stories like those about the Thinx subway ad controversy that cemented her products in people’s minds. The former staffer, who worked with her at the time of the allegations, recalls Agrawal placing a heavy emphasis on using the media to fuel growth. “It became clear to me that there was an increasing dependence on finding the next buzzy thing,” she says. The employee wished Agrawal would have focused more on growing the company than press opportunities.

But Agrawal could at times be critical of the press, even before the allegations of March 2017. After The Cut published an early profile about her, quoting her about how she started relating to being a feminist only when she launched Thinx, she put out a Medium post titled “An Open Letter to Respectfully Quit Telling Me How to ‘Do Feminism’ (and to just support one another, please!).”

In her book Agrawal takes aim at journalists chasing after “inflamed, exaggerated headlines” and writes about being interviewed by a reporter who was “almost licking her lips, like an animal about to get a big, bloody feast.” (Below this there’s a drawing, done by the author, of a wolf licking its chops.) As a reporter working on a profile of Agrawal, it’s hard not to think about this. It’s also impossible not to see a parallel with the current American president’s relationship to the press, a whirlpool of interdependence and combativeness that plays out every day on Twitter and TV.

During her book event at The Assemblage, Agrawal talked about a few of the mental coping tactics that Zander has taught her. One was pattern interruption: When a bad thought comes into your mind and threatens to fester there, you literally change position, stand up, or walk around. She turned this into a game at a recent press dinner.

“I had literally 13 of the top press at my house last Wednesday, and it was the first time that I had met with all the press, post–all the shit that went down a year and a half ago, and I was like, ‘Ha-ha-ha, in my lair, let’s do this,’” Agrawal told the audience, adopting a faux-evil voice.

“It was a 13-course disruptive dinner, and we had them play all these games,” she continued. “Like, dance like you’re three years old! Imagine the New York Times person dancing like she’s three years old.”

I attended the dinner, and that may sound like more of an exercise in humiliation than it was. The email invitation had instructed us to dress in our silliest outfits, which the reporters and editors in attendance did with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Agrawal had on a glittering hat, a bright pink wig, and a gauzy white cape that she’d worn at her wedding. I wore a blue tie-dye shirt. Each course of the meal and its corresponding discussion or activity was based on a lesson from the book, and dancing like children was chapter one: “You can still live in a childlike state of curiosity, playfulness, and awe and be a responsible adult, on and off the job,” Agrawal writes.

Agrawal isn’t afraid to dance. She isn’t afraid to talk about periods and breastfeeding and bowel movements. To tell you that what you think you know about covering and cleaning your ass is woefully misguided.

I am not a performer, and inventing goofy dance moves in front of my peers — or worse, dancing “sensually,” as we were later encouraged to do — felt awkward and embarrassing. But it was effective programming on Agrawal’s part. You cannot argue against this kind of activity, even as you internally debate its value. To not participate, or to participate with one eye on the clock, is to admit that you’re rigid and hemmed in by your self-consciousness, that you’re choosing to bind yourself to the societal conventions you’re supposed to be dismantling. Sooner or later you’ll have to commit wholeheartedly to finding your childlike sense of play and trying something new, because your rationalizing doesn’t matter, and the only way to relieve yourself of the agony of resisting is to give in.

Eliza Brooke is a freelance reporter. She lives in Brooklyn.

[daveliuz]