#it is to make every aspect of this universe poly

[timeandspacelord]

Okay, but like. Malinalai

[shaevilux]

Doomed by the narrative is a popular, fun trope. It's what superhero movies are all about. If you take the average superhero you already probably would know how their story is, what tragic backstory they had, what events shaped their life, etc.

So what you'll see whenever there's a new story about them is those major backstory elements rehashed or subverted or played with or at least mentioned in some way. Because that's the story. That's the narrative. And the character is established by that narrative and therefore also doomed by it.

ATSV is no different. In fact it goes full meta with it. (There used to be a time when being meta was so cool until it was so goddamn overdone that it became stupid and you just want the earnestness of the pre-meta stories. You can only furiously 'wink wink' and violently*nudge nudge* the audience so much before you lose their interest. Anyway ATSV is fully earnest in it's meta that you don't even register it as being meta until you take a step back and look at the story being told. Like it's a proper metamodernist piece. Also I like how the two great examples of metamodernist media are both multiverse stories. The other being everything everywhere all at once, of course)

What the movie does differently is having how different people react to the 'Doomed by the Narrative trope’ be the forefront of the story. That is the story, actually. It also explores how valid everyone's reactions are. Even Miguel's (my hot take).

Like Peter B has lived as Spider-man long enough and has gone through most of the Spider-Man canon and was in a slump when we first met him. Like he even separated from MJ. But he rolls with it. Because that's just who he is. But now?

It was because of Miles Peter B got back into his groove and found his place again. It was essentially because of Miles he got back with MJ and had a baby and found stability in being himself.

'How do I know I'm ready, Miles?'

'You can't. It's a leap of faith.'

Miguel is angry but resigned because the one time he tried to defy the narrative it fucked everything up so bad. An entire universe was lost because of him. So now he’s doing what he genuinely believes is the right thing to do. He built the spider society to really make sure no one else can repeat his mistake and lose everything. Like what Peter Blond said in the first movie, 'because the only thing standing between this city and oblivion is me' except change 'city' to 'arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse'.

So of course he’s angry when Miles suggests that canon can be changed. That he can deny fate. Both because he’s convinced Miles is wrong and is going to get people killed and also if Miles is right than Miguel has to reckon with the fact that he’s convinced so many Spider-people to just adhere to the canon that had engulfed every aspect of his life now and let their loved ones die because he was convinced there was no fighting the narrative. That not everyone is as doomed as he is. Miles challenging that notion while there is concrete evidence of the notion being correct is cool af.

And Hobie, who probably knows he's doomed but has his own agenda for joining spider society. He's stealing knick knacks, building his own watch and shit. He might accept the narrative but he's not gonna live by it. If the narrative is gonna take him down he’s not going down limp. So of course when he sees Miles rebelling against the narrative he is fully on board. Miles exemplifies Hobie's traits. That is a proper punk.

And Gwen. My god. She escaped her narrative of being a dead spidey gf only to become a spidey trope herself. Seriously, an alternate universe gwen that doesn't die at the bell tower and instead is that universe's spider-woman? How cool is that? Oh wait. Your dad's gonna die and your Peter is also dead. Sorry. Haha.

Anyway, the movie opening with her and us seeing her current mental place was done so well. She misses Peter. She misses Miles. But both of these people aren't in her life anymore. Her dad hates who she is. She's depressed. But she's still spider-woman. And then the story happens and vulture and Miguel and then boom. Her father knows her identity. And essentially disowns her. She flees to the spider-verse. She can't go back home and she’s even more stressed out and angry when she learns that as Spider-Woman she's gonna lose her loved ones no matter what.

She lost Pete. And now she might lose her dad. So now she's in a limbo. By not going back home she is saving her father because he can't die unless she's there to not save him. The narrative will still eventually doom her. But she can put it off by having spider-people adventures and upholding the narrative that wants to doom her. Goddamn irony.

But she stops going along with it when she sees Miles' reaction to finding out he’s doomed. He doesn't give in to the narrative. He doesn't care about canon. He fights back. And that one little push gives her the spark to try and find out just how doomed she really is. And that ending scene when her dad stops being a police officer and really just becomes her dad. The doom lingering over her 'canon event' vanishes. He's no longer the capt stacey doomed to die in a spider story. He's a dad who's accepting his daughter wholly. I fucking love Gwen's whole arc in this movie.

And then there's Miles. Goddamn Miles, man. He was trying so hard to figure out what his narrative even is, but is determined that he can figure it out, that he can spread his wings and manage on his own and find his place and be himself.

Like, I would've written a paragraph dedicated to Pavitr on here but Miles already saved him from the narrative. Pavitr, my wholesome boy I hope you face no strife in life and everything goes absolutely splendid for you at all times my precious baby boy I love him.

Anyway, Miles finding out he's doomed? And how he finds out is from the people he thought would truly understand what he's about? And them not only accepting the fact that him (and all other spider-people) are doomed but going along with it? That has to be the biggest 'what the actual fuck' moment for him. It's so out of left field for him, understandably so. This whole building of heroes are all 'yeah. Peter from universe 573683 can't clock in today. He just lost his uncle' like that's such a fucked up concept that Miles will not even look at the reasoning Miguel or anyone else puts in front of him.

And this radical rejection is the best character take. I seriously seriously can't wait to see the next movie and see just how Miles deals with a narrative hellbent on dooming him. Spider society will be in shambles.

Obligatory 'Do it, Miles. Break the fucking canon.'

This post was inspired by another tumblr post that I can't find but it expressed my thoughts about the 'doomed by the narrative' aspect of it all but not in the words I had in mind so I wrote it myself

[pikapeppa]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Oooh don't mind if I do since I'm on a kick of rereading a bunch of my own writing currently! 🤣 First off: tagging back to you, lovely @johaerys-writes, and forward to @crackinglamb @alyssalenko @sinsbymanka @vorchagirl @chloefraazers @mwasaw @himluv @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @contrivedchaos and anyone else who would like to play! Please, anyone and everyone, join in!

So okay. I thought wayyy too hard about this and had A LOT of difficulty choosing because I actually really enjoy rereading my own fics 😅 but I did my best! Answers below the cut for anyone who wants to keep reading:

- Fall Into The Tide: Dragon Age, Sten/f!Mahariel, ~54k words. The premise of this fic is that Mahariel decides on a whim to follow Sten on his maritime journey back to Par Vollen. This was actually the first fic that came to mind as a favourite, and to date, I feel that it's the best thing I've ever written; I'm really proud of Sten's characterization and the emotional beats. I still cry like a baby every time I reread it LOL.

- Lovers In A Dangerous Time: Dragon Age, Fenris/f!Hawke, ~525k words. This is my Fenris the Inquisitor fic. I just finished rereading it and I had a lot of "wow I wrote this? Good job me" moments while reading it! 😂

- Until We Meet Again: The Witcher, Geralt/f!Reader, ~250k words. The point of this fic was that I personally want to fuck Geralt so I made it everyone else's problem BAHAHA. This fic completely mutated from self-indulgent smut to accidentally-falling-in-love in a totally unplanned way, and I'm so thrilled with how it turned out!

- Just Hold On, We're Going Home: Samurai Champloo, Mugen/Fuu/Jin, ~38k words. SamCham is my favourite anime, and the end of it is so heartwrenching to me, even though it's a happy ending. So I wrote this fic to heal myself 🤣 This fic was entirely a gift I wrote for myself on the assumption that no one would actually read it, and it's been lovely to see how many people were craving a poly happy ending like I was!

- The Love That Grows From Violence: Dragon Age, Felassan/f! Lavellan, ~181k words. This is a post-Trespasser fic where a bitter Lavellan falls in love with Felassan, who was made Tranquil rather than killed in the Fade. This fic holds a hugely special place in heart partly because the idea was BRILLIANT (it was suggested to me by a wonderful reader-friend!), and because writing this became my cozy escape during the worst of COVID. I'm really proud of some of the emotional beats in this fic and the lore aspects, and I really hope that Veilguard will not end up proving me entirely wrong or I might just die LOL. 

HONOURABLE MENTIONS (I CAN'T HELP IT, THIS WAS REALLY HARD):

- Even The Hardiest Desert Blooms Need To Get Wet Sometimes: Horizon Forbidden West, Drakka/Aloy, ~365k words. I JUST REALLY LOVE DRAKKA, OKAY? I JUST LOVE HIM. A LOT. I had a ball writing every chapter of this fic just because I adore the disaster Desert gremlin, and I always love the opportunity to write texting in fics, which I got to do here a lot, so this fic makes me a very happy girl 🥰 The only reason this didn't make my top five is that I don't actually reread it very often!

- Inadvisable: Dragon Age, triple romance for Solas/f!Lavellan, Abelas/f!Lavellan, Felassan/f!Lavellan (different Lavellans LOL), ~668k words. This is my modern AU university fic collaboration with my beloved friend and artist Elbenherz. IT WAS SO HARD NOT PUTTING THIS FIC IN THE TOP-FIVE; the only reason it didn't make the cut is because it was either this one or The Love That Grows From Violence, and I just have such cozy-fuzzy vibes/memories of writing TLGFV. 

If anyone decides to check out any of these fics, I hope you enjoy! 🥰

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika xoxo

[spnfanficpond]

April 2024 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @charliethealpaccaso

Contentment Is A Pearl Of Great Price by ravelqueen (AO3)

This fic captures everything that makes transformation scary but fascinating to read from start to finish. The mental change later on during the fic, Sam has to deal with as the new part of him takes over. It leaves you on the edge of your seat as we have no idea if he will ever be human again or if he will lose himself and his humanity forever. I wish more people would try their hands at more transformation fics, as there are many interesting topics to choose from when creating a fic like this one.

~*~*~

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

God Save The Queen, And Her Handmaids by darali_starscream (AO3)

I have attempted to think up a scenario in which Charlie Bradbury might sit on Dean Winchester's face to no avail. This isn't what you think, I promise—there is no universe in which I'd be OK with a true Charlie/Dean pairing, but this works and it works well. BJ riffs on the spectrum of attraction and sexuality here. The pairing in Charlie and her girlfriend who is bisexual x Dean, and it's a very satisfying little story.

Sleeping Arrangements by @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

This is very cute and even sexy without being smutty.

~*~*~

Nominated by @zepskies

The Dangers of Hope by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

I had never read an "Endverse!Dean Winchester" series before, but this one completely blew me away -- from world-building to the overarching story to the romance itself. Beginning to end, it's beautifully written.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Living His Gray Flannel Life by @samanddean76

Warnings to start - As there is prostitution in this one, noncon must be mentioned. Also, this is a Wincest fic, so, you know, incest. That being said, this story is told from Jimmy's POV, so the Wincest of it all is less Wincesty. Which is right up my alley, man! This is the perfect amount of Wincest combined with outsider POV, where the outsider loves what he's seeing as much as we do. I can't say more for spoilery reasons, but know that there is delicious pining, sweet smutty smut, a fascinating monster, and fantastic side characters. I read it twice just because once wasn't enough!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @salt-n-burn-em-all

House Song by @accordingtothelore

Dean protects Sam from being killed by other Hunters and their dad. Starts Gen, does not stay that way. I just loved everything about it. Fabulous art in the last chapter.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

What happens in ApocalypseWorld… by masoena (AO3)

This is such an interesting aspect that I’ve never read for a/b/o. **SPOILERS** The moment Dean and Arthur step through the portal everything changes and the world heavily influences their biology. I loved how, of course, Ketch knew exactly what was happening, which really makes me wonder about wtf Ketch has been through. I really wanna know more about that dynamic change and I hope they really do write more. This is also one of the few stories I get to read a soft!Ketch. I love, love soft!Ketch. Gotta check them out.

Second Chances by @mayalaen

First, I am not a fan of incest. Second, I was really surprised how much I enjoyed this because it isn’t tagged. Finally, I love poly fics. It’s so hard to find a poly fic that isn’t just PWP/smut. I really enjoy how the premise is getting Sam to relax and teach him how to handle his health while managing school work in a healthy way. I really like how the relationship between Cas and Sam is setup, Dean gets introduced, and then all hell breaks loose in the different relationship dynamics. The thing is there isn’t an emphasis on their brotherhood and sex. This is NOT a wincest smut story. It’s a story about Sam learning how to be a healthy adult while finishing college and finds a place where he is wanted and feels like he belongs. I also absolutely love the dom/sub and domestic discipline aspects of Cas and Dean’s relationship. It’s really a background aspect until it isn’t. I highly recommend the read even if you aren’t a wincest or wincestiel fan. The plot is written and integrated so well with the character development for all three main characters. It really took me by surprise. I couldn’t put it down.

(Divider by @glygriffe)

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, and @heavenssexiestangel!

[venbetta]

Which one?

Monteddy or Glamrock Fronnie? And why?

I can't pick one, but I'll explain why I love both.

Monteddy's got a lot of angst potential like Fronnie and vice versa. Honestly I feel like both are similar if you choose to portray the dynamics in a certain way.

Fronnie has always been around, and you see it with every iteration of Bonnie and Freddy. It's like fate. They're soul tied, whether they're friends or lovers, they are bound together through every universe, and there's no way of separating them.

Then Security Breach comes along and suddenly severs that tie. You can still pair them, but knowing that they can never be physically in the same space is heartbreaking and adds to the angst. Also imagining Glam Fronnie interacting before it all goes to shit is another aspect that's enjoyable. You can imagine how sweet and playful they were, how they treated each other in private and how loving they are. They're so disgustingly sweet that it makes you want to puke. And now seeing that poster in Bonnie's room from Freddy makes it more painful. Fronnie has a lot going for it.

Monteddy is a new one where it gives the vibes of seasoned x newbie, Freddy's been around longer, and Monty's a new face. It can be taken in many different ways, and you can determine whether or not some of these are problematic (and idrc honestly):

Supportive and generally nice, a flustered mess of a gator

Jealous of their relationship and wanting either Freddy or Bonnie; killing/harming the other to do so

Killed Bonnie, but experiences immense guilt he can never shake off because why on earth would Freddy forgive him?

Shy and reserved with a whole lot of problems beneath the surface

Both experience the loss of Bonnie in different ways and come closer because of it

Unresolved anger but calms when he's around Freddy

Freddy doesn't see him as an equal and more as a nuisance and Monty is challenged by that and are constantly fighting

Really fucking heated make out sessions where they tell each other how much they hate each other but also God damn it feels so good.

Gets with both Bonnie and Freddy at different times or simply becomes poly with both.

Monteddy's got a lot of angst potential within it and also just general fluff as well. I love how mendable it is, especially if you switch them around or leave it as it is. It can go in so many different ways. I've read fics where Bonnie is not the best guy or has actively harmed Freddy, and Monty helps him.

I lean more to monteddy, but I also love fronnie just as much

So in conclusion

[vacantgodling]

🌻🌻🌻🌻

thank u for the excuse to ramble about celestial weddings cuz i haven’t talked about this wip much on this iteration of my blog lol

celestial weddings as a wip started when i was watching a series of documentaries in 2021… i think? or 2022 i can’t remember. but it was a series documenting different wedding traditions and rituals across the globe and that got me thinking about a story that explored a multitude of different wedding traditions being the main focus. this lead to the idea that it shouldn’t just be a bunch of random weddings but it should be a polyamorous vibe where the main character is almost in an otome game scenario except they have to marry a number of different suitors for one reason or another with MY overarching goal to make fun and interesting fantasy wedding traditions.

this developed into the character of dagmar. i don’t have any updated art of him but here’s the most recent art i have of him

and then the story started to snowball.

so, dagmar is non-binary; and along with polyamory that’s the other aspect of this wip: every character is non-binary and most of them tend to go by multiple pronouns. dagmar himself (i use him a lot bc he is inherently masculine and he is the first of his pronouns in preference) goes by he/they/she. and i think what’s interesting about this wip and about dag in general is that pronouns tend to shift in relation to the person that they’re around and the relationship they have. for instance with one of his lovers, lilliabet, dag mainly goes by he/they. however with another of his lovers vigustav (one of the only two who uses a singular set of pronouns) dag actually goes by she/her pretty exclusively. i don’t know why this is exactly but i’ll explore it more when i have more of a brain.

the reason dag is marrying all these people tho is bc he’s been chosen as a potential candidate for the celestial ruler, who p much oversees everything that goes on in the realm and throughout the 8 spheres (or realms) in this world. they all have names and the like which maybe i’ll ramble about later but we move on for now. the celestial ruler has a council of celestial lovers who help them in their decision making and ruling and it’s one person from each of the 8 spheres that they marry. marriage does not have to be inherently romantic btw but in this story and in anything about this universe i may do it will be cuz i personally like romance but it doesn’t gotta be so yknow.

anyway i love all of dag’s relationships with his partners. btw this poly circle is a one axis many spokes scenario. the other celestial lovers become friends and close like family but none of them are particularly attracted to each other in a romantic or sexual way (this does not mean orgies or group sex is off the table in any way tho yknow. ya can do what you want without attraction in pursuit of closeness and bonding etc etc i don’t feel like getting into the weeds) however there have been more complicated circles of polyships of previous celestial rulers so yeah.

ALSO i wanted all of the relationships to kind of speak to a different type of dynamic that i like tho i’m still working on the kinks of this as i learn more about the other lovers and their personalities. lillia, viggo, aenlin, and zhujen i have the best grasp of a personality and dynamic of so that leaves 4 others i gotta get to know better. but here’s a doodle of all the lovers it’s kinda old also and not entirely accurate but i need to make character and realm sheets for them LMAO. also now all the lovers have names but back then they didn’t LMAO. so going L to R top to bottom:

lilliabet (she/they) ; rhohanen (they/he) ; vigustav (he/him) ; almine (he/she) ; aenlin (he/they/she) ; zhujen (she/her) ; muu (they/she/he) ; izul (they/them)

and slightly better doodle of my faves

(vigustav, lilliabet, rhohanen, aenlin)

[markantonys]

you play the sims?! 3 or 4? do you use mods at all, and if so, which one? do you keep sim autonomy on or off? sorry for the barrage of questions, it's just exciting to meet someone else who's into them :D

oh my god yes!! sims is one of my biggest obsessions and i don't know that many other people who play (or at least who are as into it as i am) so i'm thrilled to talk about it!!

i will start by saying that my WOT sims shenanigans tag may interest you haha although i forget if you've read the books or not, so be warned of potential book spoilers in my commentary on the behavior of my WOT sims!

anyway, nowadays i exclusively play sims 4. i loved sims 3 back in middle/high school, but i didn't play it for ages after 4 came out, and when i went back to try 3 again a couple years ago, i just couldn't do it haha i know some people like to hate on 4 and yearn for the glory days of 3, but as someone whose favorite aspect is building stuff and creating sims, i prefer 4 because it's MILES better in those respects. i do have fond memories of many hours spent playing 3 though!

then for mods, i try not to go too crazy because i play on my laptop which only has so much storage space, but by now i've acquired QUITE a stash of custom content despite myself (mostly clothes & hair, not as much build/buy stuff). i don't use too many actual gameplay mods though, the only big ones i have are mc command center, lumpinou's open love life mod to allow poly relationships, and pandasama's realistic childbirth mod to add some more depth to pregnancy. romance & family gameplay is my favorite type of gameplay, so those are the areas i'm most likely to download mods for! i also have a few other small mods such as a dating app mod and choosing your own university roommates, just kinda some quality-of-life improvements but nothing majorly game-changing. i've also been getting into pose mods in the past year so that i can stage nice photos of my sims to hang up around their houses!

i keep sim autonomy on, i like giving them the free will to be able to take care of themselves without me needing to specifically command them to do every single thing haha and it keeps things interesting when they're able to take it upon themselves to do something unexpected! (not that i won't go "nope you're not doing that" and cancel the action if i disapprove of it too much djkfgj)

oh i am also curious to know whether you're an aging on or aging off type of simmer? historically i've always been 100% aging off, i've always done rotational gameplay rather than legacy gameplay and so i prefer to keep aging off and just repeatedly make new households within the same world and have my new sims become friends with my sims from the previous households i dropped after getting bored with them, and everybody lives forever and ever until i eventually feel like the world is too crowded and start a brand-new save file. however, just recently i've been playing with aging on in a separate save file because i'm trying a legacy challenge for the first time! it's the whimsy stories challenge and i'm on generation 3 now and am having SO much fun. i definitely can't see myself switching to legacy gameplay forever now, i do still prefer rotational, but it's nice to have one save file where i'm changing it up!

to conclude, i will put in a few screenshots of some of my favorite sims from the past year or so just because i love them so much and want to show them off as if they were my children djkfg please do not feel obligated to read all my rambling about my children! but if you have any favorite sims or storylines that you've done i would love to hear about them!! it's always so interesting to hear what kinds of storylines other people like to go for, it's either "wow you're just like me fr!" or "wow you're playing a totally different game than i am (affectionate and impressed)"

i will preface this by saying that 1) i don't play on super high graphics because i don't want to kill my laptop, so pardon the screenshot quality if any of them don't look great, and 2) half the male sims i've made this year have been redheaded boytoys and i 100% blame rand al'thor for that. moving on!

first, my 3 whimsy stories heirs so far! eva (gen 1, eco nut), iris (gen 2, professor & super parent), and kiara (gen 3, disaster hoe). if/when i finish the whole challenge i'll probably do a post about all the generations because i'll be so proud of myself for getting through it all haha but for now i'll add pics of each of their families as well! for eva and iris it's the final family pic i took before moving on to the next generation, but i'm still halfway through kiara's generation so this is a mid-series pic from her big fat poly wedding.

in whimsy stories i waited all the way until gen 3 to introduce a redheaded boytoy into the mix, can you believe it? i did not exercise such restraint in the rest of the households in this post.

next, literally just discount rand and mat, i have no excuse. discount mat is named jamie (personality-wise he's not mat-like though, he's a writer) and discount rand i straight up named josha djkfgj to be fair i actually based him off of josha's character in a gay dutch romcom rather than off of rand because i was like "you know what? gay punk jock with a buzzcut is not a genre of sim i've done before." anyway, josha struggled in his life for a while due to having no job and no friends and being a hotheaded loner who is very bad at making new friends, but eventually he became a husband and a dad and a college grad and i was so proud of him!!

rich single mom natasha acquired a boytoy (eoin), as she should, and had a friends-with-benefits-to-lovers arc with him. yes i did make these sims immediately after watching the randfear storyline in wot s2, why do you ask? also, random picture of a family power walk because i thought it was adorable haha

her daughter anya had a kickass girlsquad in college and ended up marrying one of them. oh my god they were roommates!

and finally, possibly my favorite sims of all time, joanna and alex! i don't know what it is about them, maybe just my inner 12-year-old being weak for the "popular jock boy falls for shy nerdy girl" trope jkjfg but i just loved them so much. alex grew from a partyboy into the best and most devoted husband and dad in the world, and joanna from an awkward nerd into a kickass lawyer and novelist. they are also bi4bi which is important information! granted, almost all my sims are bi4bi

[avulleonastick]

what abt S and T?

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

Oh hummmmmmm. I'm not sure I super have headcanons, tbh? Like... I sometimes take ideas and build fics and stuff around them, and sometimes I reuse those a lot, but I don't feel super attached to them? Maybe that's what a headcanon is?

Anyways...

For Naruto, I have "all ninjas are bi and poly" from the fic I never stop talking about and "orochimaru, tsunade and jiraiya were a triad before everything went to shit".

For RWBY, I have "Ruby is trans" because like 90% of the RWBY fic I've ever read was trans-Ruby fanfic and it's actually the greatest idea.

For Supergirl, I have... "Supergirl is transfemme" because like... it makes the shows everything so much more interesting! Like, the girl is so Rah Rah Girl Power, which I've personally found to be moderately poison as a trans woman. Like, how does being "Supergirl" make Kara feel? Like, the skirt and lipstick and the Everything Everything of that? Does she feel she needs to do that to not be subsumed into her (male) cousins shadow? Does she like those things? She is so Strong Strong Strong which is such a male-coded thing, and I feel like the show really leans into the Girl Power aspect of that but if Kara is trans than maybe she has weird feelings about that? She eventually switches to pants and ends up in basically the same suit as Superman, which is so very something! The way everyone in the fandom (and probably also in-universe, lbr) Thirsts for her arms and shoulders is also something that I think she would feel ways about! I could really go on forever >.>

Misc: "Chloe is important to Adrien because she was his first friend",

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

Hmmm. Does "Shadow Weaver abused Adora, too" count? Because I have some Strong feelings on that.

"Ruby RWBY is trans" and "Catilyn Arcane is trans" I consider mostly canon and will read every RWBY and Arcane fic from that lens unless I am provided with extremely strong evidence counter to that. (The joke is that there is no evidence strong enough to dissuade me from these points.)

Oh, I know! "Catra has a horrible cat tongue, and her body is completely covered in fur." I will fight people on this. I have been known to (internally) call people cowards for not drawing/writing her furry.

Yes, let's go with that last one.

Pay attention to me!

[spacexfucker]

I really struggle with making friends. On top of being autistic, most friends I have are friends I made through like people that friendopted me. My best friend and I have been friends for like 17 years now. Since I was in Jr high. And like...we became friends bc we had to spend time together in church as the only like fat, alternative people who had bad home lives.

At a certain point as teenagers we were in one another's beds, kept each other company on the toilet and in the shower, fed each other food, spent ungodly amounts of time together. Best friends. Cuddling, hand-holding, hugging, friends. And platonic. We have dated other people the whole time we've been friends and are both in long-term committed relationships outside of one another now. But she still keeps me company in the bathroom, we've shared beds to this day, cuddled, etc.

But adulthood friends are not like this? I think. I still haven't been able to make a new friend past acquaintance. And I have no idea how that starts and how fast it's supposed to go. The autism comes in here pretty strong. My best friend attracts autistic people I can't explain it but her three closest people are autistic. So she kind of rolled with a lot of my social issues and whatnot really well which made it feel like I didn't have any.

But now I don't know how much physical interaction is appropriate or how much interest is appropriate and I get bored doing the like clinical back and forth that most people seem like they want to start getting to know me with. If I'm not careful, I'm told I'm too much. If I overcorrect, I come across indifferent.

This is even more impacted by the way I view love and my difficulty parsing it. I do not get the difference between romantic love and friendly love. I have skept with friends (when single or with partner permission in a sort of poly set up) and I don't categorize people that are friends separately from friends I date/would date either. Not that I would ever cheat or steal someone's partner. That's not what I'm saying. I just don't get what the separation is supposed to be between friend and partner besides "I have picked this particular person for the socially acceptable position of Primary Partner and will now divide my relationships between potentially sexually involved and no longer sexually involved.

Which is also why I'm confused when people say "emotional affair" because how I feel for a partner is not separate in my brain from how I feel about a friend from an emotional point. I tell both everything I am feeling, and i express affection to both in nearly the same way (the exception being kissing my partner and sleeping with them).

So is that the line? Romantic kissing and sex? It seems like a small one. I accept whatever people say bc I don't want anyone uncomfortable. But if I call you a friend instead of an acquaintance, in my mind you've become some I love and could in an alternate universe easily be with romantically by societal standards.

I feel like it's because these relationships are defined in my head by like: I would take care of you when sick, I'd take you to a doctor's appointment, I'd lay with you in a bed, I'd hold your hand during birth, I'd make you food regularly, I'd talk to you every day, I'd work aspects of my life around so you can be included in them, I love you and feel very intensely about it, I like collecting info about you as a special interest, etc.

And so what's left for like socially forward romantic relationships is usually just romantic kisses and sex.

[scribe-to-the-pharaoh]

RELIGION

Ancient Egyptian was a polytheistic culture. This means that they believed in many (poly) gods and goddesses (theis). This belief in multiple deities shaped every aspect of their lives, from daily rituals to even a societal level. Religiosity was deeply woven into their culture, and it was often thought that the only way to achieve success in life was through the favor of the gods. But what made Egyptian religion unique is that there were many aspects to the pantheon. It included gods with many different roles for everything in the universe, to minor deities, even foreign gods or humans (deceased pharaohs).1

8

Much like how Catholics view the Pope as an intermediary between God and man, the pharaoh was also viewed in such a light. The role of the pharaoh was to maintain harmony in society and preserve and fulfill the god-given order, called the Ma’at. Upon his death, the pharaoh would become fully deified, able to be called upon by his past citizens for guidance in all aspects of life.2

6

Ma’at was an important concept in Egyptian religion. Meaning many different things like truth, justice, and order, Ma’at was considered to be the sort of center of the university, and vital to its survivability (without it, the world would crumble). Egyptians believed that their lives on earth were only just the start. While on earth, they were to uphold the values of Ma’at, so that when their time came, they would be entered into the Hall of Truth after death and be given an easy judgment by Osiris, the god of the dead. Egyptians also believed in a flat earth, called the god Geb. Over this flat earth arched the sky (goddess Nut), separated only by air (the god Shu). Underneath the earth was the underworld, and beyond the skies lay Nu, the chaos before creation.3 The Duat was a mysterious area associated with death and rebirth, and each day the sun god Ra passed through the Duat after traveling over the earth during the day. 4

watch this fun video explaining more about ancient Egyptian religion! ➡️ 🐫

When it comes to the impact of religion on the lives of everyday citizens, it was huge. Egyptians believed that the earth reflected the heavens. That the stars and planets all had meaning, and had a direct influence over one's personality or destiny. Not only that, but one of the pillars of Egyptian faith was harmony and gratitude, so much so that ingratitude was considered to be a sort of ‘gateway sin’, because it disrupted the harmony within one's soul and environment, allowing for the possibility of other sins to be committed.

Egyptians also liked to show their devotion through festivals. The nature of these festivals was to gather and worship as a community. These festivals (known as heb) were ways for citizens to give thanks for blessings, make more divine requests, make sacrifices in the gods' names, and plenty more.

Another well-known aspect is how the Egyptians buried their dead. Burial rituals were distinct and arduous, and as one can imagine, very dramatic.7 A quote from Herodotus, a greek history who lived from l. c. 484 – 425/413 BCE, recounts of the burial process: ‘As regards mourning and funerals, when a distinguished man dies, all the women of the household plaster their heads and faces with mud, then, leaving the body indoors, perambulate the town with the dead man's relatives, their dresses fastened with a girdle, and beat their bared breasts. The men too, for their part, follow the same procedure, wearing a girdle and beating themselves like the women. The ceremony is over, they take the body to be mummified.’ 5

[avtechnologysworld]

Benefits of Upgrading Your Conference Room with Audio Visual Technology

As more companies turn to video conferencing and collaborative technologies to conduct meetings, upgrade project plans and brainstorm new ideas, having the right audio visual setup in your conference room has become essential. An outdated or underpowered audio visual system can negatively impact productivity and creativity. When assessing whether it's time for an upgrade, considering factors like your projector throw distance calculator and collaboration needs will help you determine the right solution.

Why Upgrade Your Conference Room Tech?

Upgrading your conference room technology offers several key benefits for your business:

Enhance Collaboration

Advanced audio visual solutions make it easier for teams to collaborate effectively. Integrated video conferencing, wireless content sharing and digital whiteboarding encourage participation from both in-room and remote attendees. Everyone can clearly see, hear and interact with content.

Improve Presentations

A high-quality projector with a large display and support for high-resolution content allows all attendees to easily see presentations. Touchscreen displays and digital annotation tools enhance in-meeting discussions. Teams leave meetings confident they understood all aspects of the discussion.

Enable Remote Participation

Video conferencing brings remote employees and clients into meetings in a way that feels just like in-person attendance. They can actively participate via two-way video and audio. This inclusive experience helps drive engagement among all attendees, regardless of location.

Support for Mobile Devices

Adding wireless display capabilities and installation of collaboration software on mobile devices allows any attendee, whether in the conference room or dialing in remotely, to easily share content from a laptop, tablet or smartphone. This BYOD flexibility boosts participation.

Consider Your Conference Room Needs

When determining if your existing audio visual setup is still meeting your business needs, consider:

Room size and projector throw distance calculator - Can your current projector produce a large, clear image from the necessary distance?

Collaboration requirements - Do you need integrated solutions for wireless content sharing, whiteboarding and video conferencing?

Remote participation - Will your system support high-quality video and audio for those joining virtually?

Device support - Can attendees easily share from a variety of personal devices via wireless display?

Budget - What's your timeframe and funding available for an upgrade?

Top Audio Visual Upgrade Options

If your analysis finds your current setup is no longer sufficient, here are some top audio visual technologies to consider for your conference room:

Large Format Displays

For those moving beyond the projector, large format LED or LCD displays in 55-90" sizes deliver bright, crystal clear images. Many include integrated collaboration features.

Wireless Presentation Systems

Wireless presentation solutions like Crestron AirMedia or Cisco Webex allow any attendee to instantly share content from a device, without cables.

Audio Conferencing

USB peripherals or integrated audio systems provide microphone coverage for all with options like acoustic echo cancellation and noise reduction.

Video Conferencing

Integrate a video bar, tablet or dedicated system like Cisco Webex, Poly or Zoom Rooms for smooth, high-definition remote meetings.

Touchscreen Displays

Interactive flat panels or large touchscreen displays encourage active collaboration through digital whiteboarding, annotation and app sharing.

Control Systems

Universal remote controls or apps allow simple operation of all conference room tech from a single interface. Automated scheduling adds convenience.

Choosing the Right Solution

Every company has unique collaboration needs based on team size, meeting styles and budgets. Work with an AV integration specialist to assess your specific requirements then recommend the ideal display, audio equipment, software and accessories. An expert can also provide installation for a turnkey conference room upgrade.

Modernizing your audio visual setup provides many benefits for team collaboration and productivity. Use the tips here to determine if an upgrade will help take your meetings, project planning and brainstorming sessions to the next level. With the right solution, your conference room becomes a highly effective space for innovative work.

Conclusion

In this blog post, we explored the importance of upgrading conference room technology in order to enhance collaboration and remote participation. Factors like room size, device support and budget were discussed to help determine upgrade needs. Example audio visual solutions ranging from large format displays and touchscreens to wireless presentations systems and video conferencing were then reviewed. Working with an AV specialist was recommended to choose the right integrated technologies tailored for a company's unique collaboration requirements. With an optimized audio visual setup, conference rooms become highly productive spaces for meetings, presentations and creative work.

[sahaswigroupofinstitutions]

Things That a Postgraduate Degree Can Improve in Your Professional Life

The dilemma of starting a career with depth in specific topics and becoming experts in them can begin to bring us some doubts, mainly because it could be thought that by gaining more knowledge of one part of the career, the others could be neglected and both our experience how our knowledge can lose a certain balance. However, the reality and the constant changes in the world of work that new technologies leave us in connection with the whole world, are showing, among many other reasons, that taking professions to higher levels is worth it, and yes, among the advantages of studying a postgraduate degree is that it can improve our chances as long as we know how to take advantage of it.

Distance Education in Coimbatore

But what is a postgraduate? In the words of Felipe Hernández, head of Postgraduate Operations at the Poli, "this is a particular study of a discipline that allows delving into it and having knowledge and tools to be applied in the work activity, generating better results in the area of ​​work performance. Companies prize this skill because it shows a person's "depth of knowledge about the person" and increases productivity and efficiency.

 But in addition, this type of study can trigger different job options, for example, it is possible to join companies or organizations directly, but have you considered the academic world? Making a path in research and joining transfer processes in which your results can be applied in academic processes and even in companies can also be a great experience that can even lead you to work as a team with researchers at other universities in the world.

Corresponding Courses in Coimbatore

Is it time to do a postgraduate degree? According to Felipe Hernández, as a professional there are two moments in which you can analyse and draw conclusions to start a postgraduate degree:

When you already have work experience and you are presented with new challenges in which studying in depth is definitely the best option to gain more ground and expertise.

When you have finished an undergraduate degree, you identify interests in a specific aspect of knowledge and with the certainty that it is a topic that you are passionate about, you can investigate new options to move towards a postgraduate degree.

UG Correspondence courses in Coimbatore

How do companies see postgraduate professionals?

In the most recent study carried out by the Labor Observatory for Education (OLE), the salary of 346,076 Colombian graduates from professional careers, technologies and postgraduate degrees was compared. Among the findings, it was found that the latter can obtain double the income. Even more interesting is that the employability rate of postgraduate graduates was 15.2% higher than that of professionals who only had an undergraduate degree.

On the other hand, when doing a postgraduate course you have the possibility of developing or promoting projects both from a current job and from a personal project and to compare your initiatives with other professionals who share similar interests, which can allow you to enrich ideas that in the medium and long term term bring positive consequences for your career path. Also, if you are working and the goal is to grow in your current position, during the learning process you will find best practices to implement and optimize your work, something that will undoubtedly be remarkable for your work team. If you are still analyzing the path to take, you can identify from your work experience, even in professional practice, what you have detected that definitely allows you to project your career and your results towards growth, which is ultimately one of the goals of every professional. Taking into account the above, you can establish a comparison between your interests and these experiences to compare them with postgraduates in your field, it is more likely that you will find useful options. Another option to analyze that will be important is how long each postgraduate course lasts, because while a specialization can last two semesters, a master's degree will take twice as long, given the depth objective that each one has.

Distance education UG courses in Coimbatore

Finally, do not hesitate to search among the options that Poli has designed between specializations and master's degrees that can give you a focus on the real needs of the business sector, with teams of professors who have the ideal combination of teaching experience and direct work with companies and can guide you from these two fronts to drive your goals.

[grimmstar-grimmoire]

Varieties of Theism

Agnostic Theism Whereas atheism and theism deal with belief, agnosticism deals with knowledge. The Greek roots of the term combine a (without) and gnosis (knowledge). Hence, agnosticism literally means “without knowledge.” In the context where it is normally used, the term means: without knowledge of the existence of gods. Since it is possible for a person to believe in one or more gods without claiming to know for sure that any gods exist, it's possible to be an agnostic theist.

Monotheism The term monotheism comes from the Greek monos, (one) and theos (god). Thus, monotheism is the belief in the existence of a single god. Monotheism is typically contrasted with polytheism (see below), which is a belief in many gods, and with atheism, which is an absence of any belief in any gods.

Polytheism Polytheism is the belief in the existence of multiple gods. The prefix ''poly'' means many, so polytheists believe that there are multiple divine forces in existence. The Greek and Roman pantheons are excellent examples of these, as they consist of many gods that govern different aspects of nature and essences of humanity. Some argue that Christianity is a polytheistic religion because of the worship of the Trinity. However, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are all aspects of a single God, making it a monotheistic religion.

Deism Deism is actually a form of monotheism, but it remains distinct enough in character and development to justify discussing separately. In addition to adopting the beliefs of general monotheism, deists also adopt the belief that the single existing god is personal in nature and transcendent from the created universe. However, they reject the belief, common among monotheists in the West, that this god is immanent—presently active in the created universe.

Henotheism and Monolatry Henotheism is based upon the Greek roots heis or henos, (one), and theos (god). But the term is not a synonym for monotheism, despite the fact that it has the same etymological meaning.

Another word expressing the same idea is monolatry, which is based on the Greek roots monos (one), and latreia (service or religious worship). The term appears to have been first used by Julius Wellhausen to described a type of polytheism in which just a single god is worshiped but where other gods are accepted as existing elsewhere. Many tribal religions fall into this category.

Pantheism The word pantheism is built from the Greek roots pan (all) and theos (god); thus, pantheism is either a belief that the universe is God and worthy of worship, or that God is the sum total of all there is and that the combined substances, forces, and natural laws that we see around us are therefore manifestations of God. The early Egyptian and Hindu religions are regarded as pantheistic, and Taoism is also sometimes considered a pantheistic belief system.

Panentheism The word panentheism is Greek for “all-in-God,” pan-en-theos. A panentheistic belief system posits the existence of a god that interpenetrates every part of nature but which is nevertheless fully distinct from nature. This god is, therefore, part of nature, but at the same time still retains an independent identity.

Impersonal Idealism In the philosophy of Impersonal Idealism, universal ideals are identified as god. There are elements of impersonal idealism, for example, in the Christian belief that "God is love," or the humanist view that "God is knowledge."

Autotheism The term ''autotheism'' is composed of two parts: the prefix, ''auto,'' and the root/suffix combination, ''theism.'' ''Auto'' means ''self, one's own, by oneself.'' So, autotheism is the belief that one is a god themself. It has also been described as someone who mistakes one's inner voices as God's voice within them.

Kathenotheism The belief that there are many gods, but only one deity at a time should be worshipped, each being supreme in turn.

Ditheism (or Duotheism) The belief in two equally powerful gods, often, but not always, with complementary properties and in constant opposition, such as God and Goddess in Wicca, or Good and Evil in Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism. The early mystical religion Gnosticism is another example of a ditheistic belief of sorts, due to their claim that the thing worshipped as God in this world is actually an evil impostor, but that a true benevolent deity worthy of being called "God" exists beyond this world.

Misotheism The belief that gods exist, but that they are actually evil. The English word was coined by Thomas de Quincey in 1846. Strictly speaking, the term connotes an attitude of hatred towards the god or gods, rather than making a statement about their nature.

Dystheism The belief that gods exist, but that they are not wholly good, or possibly even evil (as opposed to eutheism, the belief that God exists and is wholly good). Trickster gods found in polytheistic belief systems often have a dystheistic nature, and there are various examples of arguable dystheism in the Bible.

Animism Animism is the idea that all things—animate and inanimate—possess a spirit or an essence. First coined in 1871, animism is a key feature in many ancient religions, especially of indigenous tribal cultures. Animism is a foundational element in the development of ancient human spirituality, and it can be identified in different forms throughout major modern world religions.

Totemism Totemism is a system of belief in which man is believed to have kinship with a totem or a mystical relationship is said to exist between a group or an individual and a totem. A totem is an object, such as an animal or plant that serves as the emblem or symbol of a kinship group or a person. The term totemism has been used to characterize a cluster of traits in the religion and in the social organization of many primitive peoples.

[charnelhouse]

soft spoken with a broken jaw

Pairing: Will Miller x F!Reader (TF! Poly Vibes Universe) Wordcount: 1.7K Warnings: rough smut. hate sex (but really love sex). violence. ptsd. self-hate. Summary: You and Will before it all. A/N: someone asked for the first time you fucked Will Miller before all the poly vibes happen. this really is all about dem years before shit goes down with the crew. title from Scar Tissue by RHCP. I made reader's call sign Bambi in this.

Santi does not know the reason behind Will hating you and you hating Will.

He doesn’t know how it happened or when. He doesn’t know when that piece fell away. Did it happen overseas? Did it happen as soon as you met? He’s asked Benny and Frankie and even Tom when he was alive.

Why the fuck are they always at each other’s throats? Did they hook up or something - have a bad break up?

Benny shakes his head. “The problem,” he says sagely, hand scrubbing over his overgrown facial hair. “Is that they need to fuck.”

It’s the strangest dynamic because you are perfectly in sync in every other aspect. You fight beautifully together - you predict the other’s movements. If Will is on the second floor and heading toward the East window, you are right there below him - only separated by wood and stone. You react like a machine - a well-oiled and stunning machine that works a treat.

Then the dust clears - the blood dries on both of your faces - your breath evening out to a slow, easy pace.

“Ironhead,” you hiss as you shove at his shoulder. “You fucked my shot up!”

He scoffs. “You need to check your eyes, Bambi.”

You huff and he scowls, turning your backs on each other like you can’t even bear the sight of the other’s face.

***

The first person Will fucks when he’s back on American soil is his high school girlfriend.

It’s his first leave - his first time back home where the world is startlingly different from what he had just seen and been a part of.

He’s a little ruined. The tinsel shines too bright. The red gift wrapping makes him think of spilled blood glimmering on hot sand. He gets sick at the sight of his mother’s pot roast - the pink meat making him think of a man he had watched burn to death due to the aftermath of an explosive. Flames licking at his fatigues.

But Will compartmentalizes. He keeps his expression cheerful for his parents’ sake and Benny who was still in high school. Still fresh-faced and velvet with young muscle.

He needs some release so he calls up his ex and takes her to a spot they used to visit during senior year. It’s a quick fuck - sloppy and awkward as he takes her from behind in the backseat of his ancient SUV. He’s got his hands in her hair - hips snapping up against her ass as she howls for him when suddenly the scene changes.

He thinks of you. The girl on his squad who took no shit especially from him. He sees your hair spill through his finger - your profile peering up at him over your shoulder as you thrust your ass back on his cock - meeting him stroke for stroke. Your cunt open and slick - red and dark around him - achingly tight.

It makes his balls lock up - his climax ram into his groin with the power of a freight train. Just your damn face - just the thought of you. He thanks God he wore a condom because he wouldn’t have had the time to pull out.

When his ex turns toward him - hands on his chest - his waist - the croon of a girl still hung up on their history - he flinches away.

He guesses that was the start of it. When he realized how terribly he wanted you. He’d recognized it and immediately pulled the clutch and hit reverse. He was your teammate and he couldn’t pound the ever-living shit out of his teammate because it was simply a bad idea. If he did have you - it would be all of you - it would be bone-rattling, bruising sex that made you both walk funny the next day.

But that was bad. That was wrong.

He burns the fantasy. Just as he burns and begs for you - he mentally shoves it deep. Lights a match and let’s it curl black like a flamed up photograph.

He rips away from the thought and image and idea. He channels his desire into something else.

It is simply easier to hate you.

**

You hate Will. You hate his face - his lean muscle - his ability to control and manipulate shit that goes beyond the damn lines of duty.

You hate that he has gotten better - matured into something stoic and logical. He likes to watch you when he doesn’t think you’re looking. His gaze weighty and thoughtful and deeply concerned as if you are a broken thing - a ruined thing - a lost fucking soul.

You are still part of his team. You are still tethered to him due to the intimacy of the things you've shared. You've killed together.

You are at Frankie’s condo as Santi goes over the planning for the next trip. He is once again dragging you down into something probably personal, but will pay you in kind.

It’s all you fucking know how to do. It’s what you are all good at. The heft of a fired gun in your hand - the taste of adrenaline. It’s not even about the money for you. Not really. It just feels kind of pitiful to admit that.

You walk into Frankie’s kitchen - trailing your fingers over the magnets on his fridge - the photos. Your face smiling brightly under Benny’s arm. They’re your family.

You’re a broken thing. Lonely as ever.

“You ready for this?”

Will’s voice strikes your nerves - the deep, grave weight of it.

The happiest I am is when I’m unconscious.

That’s literally so fucked up, Bambi. Jesus Christ.

“Aren’t I always?” you murmur as you turn around to glare at him.

He fills out the doorway - his broad shoulders - tapered waist - the black scrawl of his tattoos climbing up sun-kissed arms.

I got this for you.

No you didn’t

I did. Hurt like hell.

“You’ve been quiet,” he remarks - stepping into the kitchen - into your space. His blue eyes searching your face for something.

You miss the old Will - the Will who truly loved to antagonize you. Will in his twenties had been a fucking beast - fragmented and held together by just enough sense to keep him breathing. He’d found his head at some point - discovered relative calm. A solution.

You had been left behind - struggling to reach that same level and coming up empty.

He was still an asshole though.

He stalks forward - crowding you up against the counter. His chest at your nose - his breath warm on your face. You shiver despite the heat of him.

“I worry about you,” he says - like a coax - a curled finger - c’mon trust me baby - trust me sweetheart.

“Don’t,” you reply as you shove him backward. The crumple of his expression - the slight irritation - the blink of old Will who hated your stubbornness. “Don’t start.”

He isn’t completely enlightened.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you shout as you brush past him - down the hall - through the frames of memories before you slam the front door.

That night, you press your fingers between your legs - slide them through the seam of your pussy. You think of Will’s mouth on you - the pressure he uses when he grips your arms and pins you beneath him. How he carries his considerable weight because he never wants to crush you. (But that’s all you want - need - please bury me with you - drown me in your tattoos and your bones and your body, Miller.)

Listen to me. Listen. I’m here to help.

No.

You shake apart on your fingertips - thighs clenched together - stars behind your eyes as your skin drips sweat beneath your linen blankets. You remember the first time.

**

Four years previous - you fucked Will Miller and now that little memory sits between you.

There’s blood on your hands. The man who was about to blow Will’s brains to high heaven is dead on the floor. The combat knife clatters - bouncing off your boot and spinning out beneath a cupboard.

Will’s eyes are enormous as he whirls around to look at you. His complexion pale and chalky with shock.

You swallow thickly - the taste of viscera nearly making you sick.

“He was going to…” you shudder.

His jaw flexes, a sharp noise of frustration - as if he isn’t sure how to parse what just happened. What this means for both of you?

He grabs your wrist, dragging you forward. He lifts your face to his, his gun still locked in his hand - searing hot against your cheek. “You stupid girl,” he growls - sounding incredibly pissed. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You hate him. You hate him. You hate him so fucking much.

But love and hate are not far divided - they’re on the same spectrum - close - intimate - strung together and loosely packed. Will Miller had never treated you with anything beyond annoyance - frustration - disdain.

Still - he had watched you like he could force you over a hard surface and bury himself into you from behind.

Still - he found ways to run his knuckles over your hand - grip your waist.

Still - he had held you the first time you went into shock.

“I don’t know,” you whimper as he cradles your jaw. “I don’t know.”

Your tongue tastes like copper. There’s so much pain in your head and grief and all of that fucking love for him.

“You saved me,” he repeats - like even he can’t quite believe it.

“Asshole,” you retort. It comes out lame and broken. You don’t know how to turn back to the clean, clear lines of what you both were - had been.

His blue eyes go sea-dark. Hungry. Insistent. They trace your face - searching searching searching.

It’s the blood. The smell of cordite.

He knows - it’s plainly written on your features as you gasp for breath - as you start to cry.

He says your name softly and then he says baby and then he rips you toward his mouth and he kisses you wet and frantic. His tongue is searing and thick and it’s a messy meeting of lips as he nips and crushes and tastes you.

It’s all a blur. You’re near-blind to it. You’re pinned and your spine is scraping up the wall, your ankles crossed above his ass. He watches you as he presses in slow - as your pussy blooms around the bulbous tip of his cock. He pushes and pushes until he’s fully seated inside you. He exhales sharp and low before he suddenly pulls out. Another breath. A ragged snarl. He snaps his hips upward and slides back to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he hisses before he starts to thrust at a deliberate, powerful pace. There’s the blunt-edge of each groan he pants into your mouth. Your fingers slide beneath his shirt - nails scratching at the raised flesh of scars and bruises and swollen muscles.

You’re so needy for him. You whine and moan and sigh like it’s breaking you apart.

“You stupid fucking girl,” he husks. “You gonna keep hating me? Even if I make you cum? Just save my life and not expect…not expect…”

It’s so fucking inappropriate - totally - utterly - not by the book. But you are impossibly overwhelmed and Will’s cock feels perfect as it stretches you open - as each stroke makes you cry out against his lips.

“I hate you,” you bite.

“No you don’t,” he sighs as he dips his fingers between you to drag heavy over your clit. He swirls and pinches and shoves his thumb down over your bundle of nerves while your pelvis bucks up against him. Your lower muscles flex and quirk and Will’s cock pulses and throbs as he grinds himself to the hilt.

He’s so alarmingly handsome - his shoulders heave and roll as he uses every ounce of his strength to fuck you into the wall. His gaze too intense and heavy and drowning you on dry land as you meet his eyes and cling to his neck and exhale.

“Gonna cum-m. Gonna - fuck that feels good.’

“Do it,” he pleads. “Do it for me. Let go, sweetheart.”

You release.

**

Now

Benny and Santi and Frankie slowly step ahead of you - mapping the road and the trails. The scratch and slide of waxy banana leaves against your bare arms. The mud is giving beneath your boots. The taste of adrenaline as it surges through your throat and veins and head.

Will is at your back. The rain pelting you both - soaking your skin and hair and pants.

He’s different now - it’s different now. It’s too hard to be here with him with all this unsaid shit.

Easier to hate you. Easier. Easier.

Even though he’d left his fiance. Even though he stares at you like you hang the fucking sun. Even though you had tried to forget him with your ex-partner in a hundred cities. That sex had been something, but it hadn’t been Will.

“You ready for this?” he asks - soft as a secret - thick with concern and the kind of tenderness only reserved for lovers.

“Yeah,” you answer as you lean back into his chest - as you let yourself give in and hope. "I am.”

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?” 

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots. 

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder. 

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to. 

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.  

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.” 

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars. 

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?” 

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.” 

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it. 

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod. 

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it. 

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.”  They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away. 

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?” 

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off. 

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises. 

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements. 

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?” 

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation. 

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech.  “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.” 

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.” 

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem. 

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him. 

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself. 

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.” 

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.” 

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile. 

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger. 

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips. 

“I’ll do my best!” You say,  a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go. 

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.” 

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong? 

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation. 

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound. 

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?” 

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.” 

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.” 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater. 

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.” 

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.” 

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach. 

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door  just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you. 

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears. 

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.” 

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.” 

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor. 

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you. 

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director. 

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.” 

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth. 

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.” 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut. 

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back. 

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white. 

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding. 

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue. 

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster. 

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster. 

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.” 

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following. 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car. 

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn���t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad. 

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks. 

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart. 

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard. 

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys. 

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.” 

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you. 

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you. 

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you. 

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope. 

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind. 

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip. 

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now. 

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden. 

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful. 

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too. 

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.” 

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines. 

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian. 

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar. 

Your stomach turns. 

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him. 

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you. 

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day. 

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again. 

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down. 

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be. 

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden. 

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside. 

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest. 

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant. 

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.” 

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth. 

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.” 

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion. 

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him. 

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!” 

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints. 

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?”  It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him. 

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly. 

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?” 

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he  doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs. 

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.” 

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine. 

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim. 

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore. 

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow. 

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled. 

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot. 

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked. 

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence. 

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly. 

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy.  “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver. 

“...Yeah.” 

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through. 

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head. 

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions. 

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon. 

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that. 

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city. 

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king. 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier. 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come. 

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby. 

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout. 

Yoongi. 

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back. 

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low. 

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical. 

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls. 

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.” 

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger. 

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?” 

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.” 

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify. 

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat. 

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him. 

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now. 

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling. 

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period. 

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow. 

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

[national-nobody-writes]

Self Love Retrospective

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. Tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I was tagged by the absurdly talented @irolltwenties!

2021 was a very weird writing year for me. It felt like I posted a LOT (well, a lot for me anyway) but also like I didn’t get anything done?? Idk man, time is a flat circle. I’m both happy with all the fics I posted this year, and also weirdly detached from them bc the writing process often felt like I blacked out and suddenly there were words on the page I barely remembered putting there, lol.

ANYHOW, in 2021 I wrote a total of 45,254 words across 8 completed works and 1 WIP (which will prob ultimately count toward my 2022 works since it’ll be completed in January). Here’s my top 5:

5. More Alike Than Not - JayRoy | Rated T | 1.7k | Young Justice/Earth 16

A Double Red Week fic! Like every event I’ve participated in, my plans were more ambitious than I was able to accomplish, but I had such a good time playing around with YJ!JayRoy all that week. I have so many plans for longer/more in depth fics involving them, but this one shot is a nice summation of why I think Arsenal x Jason works so well conceptually in this universe, and what would draw them to one another. Though not a particularly in-depth character study, it does examine the odd dynamic & parallels between Roy & Will and how Roy feels about it.

4. Left on Read - JayRoy | Rated T | 2.3k | Young Justice/Earth 16

Basically, Roy is bad at texting back and Jason is like a grumpy cat in human form about it, lol. Tbh I keep flipping back and forth between whether I like this fic or Proximity more. Both were also for Double Red Week, but Left on Read is a bit fluffier and more humorous, whereas Proximity is more of a pining/yearning, hurt/comfort sorta deal. I think I just enjoy reading back Left on Read a bit more because 1) Jay gets to be sassier and more ridiculous, which I adore, and 2) While I’m happy with Proximity, I think I could have elevated it to another level had I taken more time with it and put it through a few more rounds of edits. But, you know what they say. Perfection is the enemy of good and all that.

3. Entwined - ThanZag | Rated E | 7.2k | Hades (video game)

Y’all, when I tell you Hades had me by the THROAT this past year?!?! Whew. I may never recover. Play this game, romance Death, and then go read this fic if you want an expansion on that whole fade-to-black situation between Than and Zag. I still can’t believe they’re not only canon but also poly with Meg. I love them so much it makes me look STUPID. Anyway, while 90% of the smut I write is just two Extremely In Love idiots being sappy af, this is like, EVEN MORE than usual. So, you’re welcome I guess, lol.

2. Marked For Death - ThanZag | Rated T | 12.7k | Hades (video game)

Oh, this was SO much fun. I love this fic, I’m actually so proud of it. Basically, there is a game mechanic I discovered that sent my mind spinning bc of the in-universe implications, and then this happened. The game’s narration is done in a fun, purple-prose-adjacent style, so I went ham trying to match it, which was such a blast. Also, I’d say action is one of my big weak spots as a writer, so this was a perfect excuse to work on that. It was super rewarding to complete, and felt like such a success when I got a number of people giving unprompted positive feedback in the comments specifically about the action aspect of the fic.

1. Love Me Tender - Bluepulse | Rated E | 8k | Young Justice/Earth 16

Okay, so this was never supposed to be it’s own fic. But, I needed to post it in order to stop myself from endlessly editing it for the rest of my existence (which did in fact work!), so that I could move on to the unfinished parts of (still in progress) Remember Me, Chapter 5. Like I said, 90% of the smut I write is just two Extremely In Love idiots being sappy af. That applies here for sure. All Bart’s POV. As silly and flirty and ridiculous as it is smutty. Possibly the best E rated fic I’ve written to date (at least I should hope so, considering early, and now unrecognizable, drafts of this scene date back 2-3 years). Def the one I was most afraid to share, and prob the one I’ve ultimately become the most proud of.

I feel like 2021 was a rough year for a lot of my mutuals in terms of creating/posting content (I feel you), but if any of y’all would like to share, please do!! And I’ll tag @ofmorninglory and @incorrectbatfam​ (though no pressure of course <3)