#we don’t stan violence on women

[slytherinslut0]

canon fact: slytherin boys don’t fight women.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Twelve

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 16.6k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi babes!! Welcome to the latest update (a crazy one!!) Lot's going on in this chapter, including a boatload of angst, a bit of fluff, some ~spice~, and lots of emotions. It is a pretty Yoongi-heavy chapter (nice) so for all my Yoongi stans-- this one is for you! I hope you all enjoy this update, and let me know what you think if you'd like, and I'm sending you all my love 💕

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Yoongi leaned against the grimy plaster that made up the back hallway of The Black Lodge, trying not to grimace as he felt the silky material of his button-down sticking to the years of smoke residue and alcohol fumes. The air was thick with wispy clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke, as it always was, and the strange, dark energy of the bar was still ever-present; but Yoongi wasn’t entirely focused on that, for once. 

He could really use a cigarette, himself. Yoongi quit smoking around the time his mother passed away– no, don’t think about it. Using his pointed incisors, he bit down on his lower lip enough to draw blood, the piercing pain chasing any thoughts of his mother from his mind, a coping mechanism he’d picked up over the past year. Refusing to cut his hair, abstaining from composing, gnawing his lips into shreds; anything to distract, or perhaps to punish, to forget. 

Time marched on, unfortunately. Mourning in an already mournful place was useless and made him feel like he was drowning in a pit of molten tar. Even clinging to hope, that one day he’d be able to manage breaking free and finding somewhere else to live, the hope grew dimmer by the day. 

The frown on the leopard hybrid’s face deepened as the sound of someone retching in the men’s bathroom he was standing across from reached his sensitive ears. Sometimes, he wished he could stick pencils in the spotted appendages– he’d take normal, dim human hearing from his other set over some of the shit he had managed to overhear with hybrid ears during his nearly 28 years of life. Absently, he reached up to fiddle with one of the earrings dangling from his lobe– the silver, pointed shape of a feathered wing gliding between the pads of his forefinger and thumb. 

His frown turned into the faintest ghost of a smile, that vicious and searing sensation of growing hope knocking the wind out of him as he caught the scent of jasmine– mingling with sharp botanicals, a saccharine underlying sweetness, and something uniquely human. He straightened up immediately, the door of the women’s bathroom creaking open and a great gust of that delicious scent smacking him square in the face. 

“I-? I what?” Y/N squeaked, not only unable to recover from the tender kisses Yoongi had showered over her wrist and hand, but the words that had come out of his mouth immediately after he pulled away from her slightly. “Y-yoongi. We kissed? I asked you to kiss me?”

Yoongi was now rather quiet, slowly moving away from her and staring out his window, his face somewhat closed off now that he had revealed what Y/N knew he was leaving out of the whole story of their first meeting. His tail was curling around his own waist mindlessly, and Y/N was cold and reeling with the absence of his body heat that was once accelerating her heartbeat into a gallop. 

It seemed that Yoongi was giving Y/N a few moments to process everything he confessed, a poorly-constructed imaginary wall in between them as she babbled nonsensically. 

“I’m? I don’t even know what to say. I never get that drunk, enough to ask for a kiss from a total stranger,” Y/N blurted out something that actually made sense after a few moments of stuttering, however, the statement that left her lips had Yoongi hissing and a flash of hurt sparking up his feline hazel gaze. Abruptly, Y/N wished she could collect her words from the air and stuff them back into her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry, Yoongi… I shouldn’t have forced you into a corner like that.”

Yoongi was astonished, his tail beginning to flick back and forth so sharply Y/N knew that he was very agitated. Deciding to shut up before she offended the leopard hybrid any more than she clearly already had, Y/N began to approach Yoongi at snail’s pace to prevent him from flinching away. 

“When did I say that you had forced me into a corner, Y/N? Are you serious right now?” Yoongi used her name for the first time in what felt like months, taking her off guard and making her swallow thickly. His voice was soft, but had a deadly edge to it, and the way his jaw was clenched had shivers rolling down her spine– Yoongi actually looked like the predatory leopard he was. 

“I was just saying, um, like I feel bad that I threw myself at you like that,” Y/N wished she could rewind time and relive the tender moment they had right before the bombshell was dropped, but that tenderness seemed to be leagues out of her grasp. 

“You did nothing of the sort. I told you, we talked for almost two hours. We were hardly strangers by the time I kissed you, by the way,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at Y/N with a dangerous look in his eyes. It made Y/N want to back up and shrivel beneath his gaze, but she knew that Yoongi would never hurt her, so she stood her ground, albeit shakily. “I liked you, Y/N. I wanted to kiss you.”

“L-liked?” Y/N couldn’t help but emphasize the end of the word, the past tense, where Yoongi had implied that his affection for her had disappeared over the course of the year. 

After all, she made him wait, got his hopes up, and was now implying herself that he was nothing but a drunken mistake. Heart plummeting into her stomach, she watched Yoongi’s nose twitch, likely picking up on her anxiety and rising stress levels, the stoniness of his features loosening up a tad. The air was charged, tense, and Y/N wasn’t sure who would cut it first, and where the complicated conversation was going. 

“Y/N–” Yoongi took a step forward, his hand raised as if to place it on her cheek, before the sound of his bedroom door being blasted open cut him off with a surprised grunt, blood draining from his face. 

“HEY, YOONGI. WHAT TIME IS DINNER?” Hoseok jogged into the room shouting, loud rap music coming out of the earpods he was wearing, his breathing labored. 

The fox hybrid must have just come back from a run, and nothing on his face indicating he had a flying fucking clue what Y/N and Yoongi were talking about– he didn’t even seem to notice the tension swirling around the room, Y/N’s stricken expression, or the fact that she was just standing in the middle of Yoongi’s bedroom. Urgently, Yoongi put space between her and himself, dropping back into his composed attitude, like nothing had occurred at all. 

Ambling forward calmly, Yoongi yanked one of Hoseok’s earpods out, Hoseok grinning at him cheekily and switching off the music on his phone. Still standing in the center of the room motionless, Y/N gawked at Yoongi’s flawless attempt to appear normal and nonchalant. 

“Foxy, you trying to blow out your eardrums?” Yoongi grumbled, frowning deeply when Hoseok plopped down on the leopard hybrid’s bed. “Dude, you’re fucking soaked. Get off my bed.”

Hoseok did nothing of the sort, simply repeating his question about dinner, flicking his sweaty bangs off of his forehead with a smirk and leaning back on Yoongi’s cushy beige comforter smugly. 

“I don’t know when dinner will be ready. I was going to make something carb-heavy because I have a game tomorrow night. There’s pasta dough in the fridge…” Yoongi began tying up his hair with a purple scrunchie Y/N had got for him at work, the sight of him both using it and the fact that he didn’t let her put up his hair for the first time in weeks, making her chest squeeze in pain. “Can you help roll out the pasta for the machine, Foxy? I think Y/N mentioned she wanted to shower before dinner, which honestly you should be doing instead of perspiring all over my bed.”

Y/N hadn’t mentioned taking a shower before dinner at all, and she didn’t know if Yoongi wanted space from her and didn’t want to come out and say it, but the lie stung nonetheless. 

“Ah, I’ll shower before bed. Especially if I’m going to be covered in sweat and flour,” Hoseok heaved himself off of Yoongi’s bed, following Yoongi to the door and out into the hall. 

Willing her legs to move, Y/N felt her throat grow thick, confused and left out in the cold. Swiftly, she made her way into her bedroom once she was confident Hoseok and Yoongi were in the kitchen, hastily getting right into the shower so she could put off a crying session. Having red eyes and a swollen face at dinner wasn’t appealing to her, and would attract way too many questions. 

There was a lot for her to think about surrounding the state of her and Yoongi’s relationship now, but Y/N knew if she dwelled on it for too long, her attempt to keep tears at bay would be spoiled. She would give anything to pull the memory of her night at The Black Lodge with Yoongi out of the deep corners of her mind; to relive it, to understand her thought process and how her brain absorbed it. Her body felt weakened after the intensity of what she had learned, head pounding and legs like jelly, and she wasn’t sure if she could make it through dinner acting like everything was okay when she really just wanted to burrow into her bed for the next three weeks. 

Y/N took her sweet time massaging her jasmine lotion into her skin, selecting a warm set of pajamas, and even tidying up some clutter around her room to make sure she was only in the kitchen long enough to choke down some food before she could pull her cozy quilt over her head and sleep away all of her confusing thoughts. It would be damn near impossible for her to get out of the nightly movie routine she had created with all of the boys, and it was her turn to pick out the movie that night as well, but perhaps she could act like she was too exhausted to stay up past dinner. 

Taking Yoongi to his game the following day ought to be awkward. It wasn’t like they could exactly continue their conversation– the rest of the hybrids were going to tag along, so they could grab some dinner afterwards and have a nice Saturday night out on the town. In reality, she wasn’t sure she’d get more one-on-one time with Yoongi until their next piano lesson, if he kept dragging other hybrids into helping him with meals rather than her. 

Slapping moisturizer onto her face, Y/N stared at herself in the old silver mirror hanging over her sink vanity, miraculously appearing pretty normal despite the pure bewilderment she was still experiencing. There was barely detectable puffiness around her lash lines, probably from the effort of holding back frustrated tears in the shower, and she was fairly positive no one would even notice– that is, unless Taehyung got close up to her face, which was always a frequent occurrence. 

 Hoseok 🦊: dinner’s ready, darling~~~

Y/N’s phone chimed, a message and photo coming in from Hoseok. He sent her a selfie, flour dusted across his nose, holding up a plate of fettuccine alfredo, with broccoli and chicken, from the looks of it. Immediately, she saved the picture and added it as his contact photo, loving the little grin on his face– it replaced the former incredibly attractive photo of him post-track meet sweaty and smirking at the camera. Brightening upon seeing Hoseok’s good-natured, radiant smile, Y/N felt a whole lot better about heading out into the kitchen. Whatever was going on between her and Yoongi would eventually be sorted out and addressed, but it wasn’t fair to the others for her to hole up in her room and ignore their nightly routines.

Exiting her room, she headed straight to Namjoon’s half-open door, the crackly sound of his Walkman playing an old Bob Dylan tape filling his cozy space. The room was filled with lamplight, and Namjoon even had a stick of amber incense going on his desk, and she felt immense comfort in even just hanging out in the threshold of his door. However, the wolf hybrid wasn’t in either of his usual spots– the wooden desk chair or the cushy window seat. 

“Joonie?” Y/N called out softly, wondering if he had popped out to his van to retrieve a book or something. 

In response to the sound of his nickname being called, the door to Namjoon’s bathroom creaked open, a mumbled ‘hold on’ coming from him gruffly. Y/N took it upon herself to enter his room further; ever since his birthday, Namjoon really didn’t have a problem with her in his space, and often invited her into his room when he wanted her opinion on something. Typically, it was over a Tarot card meaning or her thoughts on a passage in a book he was reading; Y/N thought it was really sweet of him, and besides– she loved talking to Namjoon, he was insightful and overwhelmingly intelligent. 

Finally, the wolf hybrid emerged from his steamy bathroom, silvery hair towel-dried and ears similarly damp. It looked like he haphazardly threw on a wrinkly gray sleep shirt and sweatpants, Y/N realizing she must have caught him just out of the shower. The reality of that had her stomach flipping over, sheepishly cowering by his desk as he tossed his towel into the hamper and turned the volume down on his Walkman. 

“Is that tape one of the ones you got from the music store last time?” Y/N tried not to snort at the reediness of Bob Dylan’s croon, Namjoon meeting her at his desk and stubbing out the burning stick of incense. “I thought you only saved the ones that weren’t grating,” Y/N recalled Namjoon’s comment from that day, which seemed years ago, with a fond, teasing smile. 

Namjoon shook his head with a playful grimace, catching her gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He smelled really good, homey and masculine, and he was close enough for Y/N to try and pick out the top notes of his body wash: honey, musk, pine?

“Believe me. Dylan was one of the least grating of the bunch,” Namjoon responded, a dimple appearing on his cheek as the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. “Besides. ‘Visions Of Johanna’ is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. Lyrically speaking.”

“I’ll make sure to give it a listen, if that’s what you think,” Y/N automatically responded, already adding the song to a queue on her phone. Lately, she’d been getting really fantastic music recommendations from each hybrid, which was a lovely thing to share with them. It allowed her a tiny window into all of their different, complex personalities. “Dinner’s ready, by the way. Wanted to grab you before I headed to the kitchen.”

“I know. Yoongi texted all of us,” Namjoon reached down to ruffle Y/N’s hair, as if she was being silly for even telling him. 

“Oh, really?” Y/N squeaked quietly, following Namjoon around his bedroom like a lost puppy. He was tidying up, something Y/N noticed he tended to do before bed (otherwise, he’d be sleeping with encyclopedias and chess pieces). “Hoseok texted me…”

“Yeah, in the group chat,” Namjoon murmured distractedly, not minding that Y/N was hovering behind him like a phantom while he stacked loose pieces of parchment onto his nightstand, her eyebrows furrowing. “That’s usually how Yoongi lets us know food is ready.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Apparently, all the hybrids had a group chat between one another, one that didn’t include her, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about that. She wasn’t even sure if Namjoon realized that he had revealed a secret– perhaps it wasn’t and she was just unobservant– but he sensed something was up when she was quiet, looking over his shoulder inquisitively. 

“What’s the matter? You look like I just stole candy from you,” Namjoon accused, though his eyes were soft and filled with concern. “Your eyes are a little puffy, too, have you been crying? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Namjoon, I’m okay. Just tired, is all,” Y/N didn’t even care if Namjoon could sniff out her lie, considering everything she had gone through that day. She didn’t have a shred of energy left to try and hide her emotions from her hybrids, and Namjoon usually wasn’t one to pry, so she prayed he’d take the hint. “Let’s go eat, okay?”

Before she could get too far, Namjoon caught a hold of her shoulders, two large palms settling over the joints and spinning her around so he could get a good look at her face. She was shaking, slightly, under his strong grip, eager to escape the scrutiny of those penetrating eyes of his. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me. If you’re upset, at least don’t try to cover it all up,” Namjoon said firmly, leveling a stern look her way. 

“Joon, please…” Y/N used her hands to ease his off of her, resigned. “It’s nothing, just some stress. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep tonight.”

Namjoon looked unconvinced, some unknown emotion flashing through his eyes, Y/N squeezing his hands before releasing them. She swore she could hear low growling coming from deep within his chest, but he composed himself and lightly cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the hallway. 

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Namjoon began heading out to the foyer, Y/N close behind. “Maybe you should read a book before bed to relax and get some good sleep. You’re really tense, I felt it in your shoulders. Have Yoongi make you some tea, too.”

Jolting at the mention of the very hybrid causing her rise in blood pressure, Y/N made a noncommittal noise. On the other hand, Namjoon’s kind consideration and concern for her well-being had butterflies coasting in her stomach. 

“You’re sweet, Joonie,” Y/N murmured, mirroring his earlier action by reaching up high to ruffle his still-damp starlight hair. “Pick out a book for me, please?”

Though he was in front of her leading the way to the kitchen, Y/N could see the very tips of his human ears turn red as he grunted out an embarrassed ‘okay’. Namjoon, she found out, was more of a softie than she originally understood. Besides, he always picked out excellent books she’s never read before, which was a bonus. 

The kitchen was warm and thick with the smell of roasted chicken and buttery, cheesy pasta, Y/N’s mouth watering against her will. Spite started to well up inside of her, surpassing her confusion and melancholy, and she desperately prayed to the sky that somehow Yoongi had screwed up the seasoning so she would have an excuse to not enjoy his food. Following Namjoon with a swish of his silvery tail, Y/N begrudgingly slunk further into the room. 

She caught sight of Taehyung first, seated at the breakfast nook by himself, adjusting settings on the camera strapped around his neck. His hair was wild and curly like he just washed it, a vibrant multicolored, vintage-looking sweater slipping over his wrists giving him sweater paws. Cooing, Y/N made a beeline for the Kodiak hybrid– trying with all her might to appear as unaffected as Yoongi took garlic bread out of the oven and shot the breeze with Jimin about the cold weather. Taehyung was a more than wonderful distraction.

“Hi, Tae,” Y/N scooched into the booth, having no trouble cozying up to his furnacelike side, his chest rumbling as he instinctively used one of his arms to hook around her shoulders and pull her closer. “Working on something for the next expo? It’s a week before Christmas, right?”

Smiling with his mouth closed, Taehyung let Y/N wiggle closer into his warmth, wordlessly passing his camera over and resting his nose in her hair as she took it gingerly. Being pressed up so closely against him, Y/N could feel his chest expand with the deep inhale he took, Y/N so used to him and Jimin taking a whiff of her hair daily that it didn’t even register as odd to her anymore. Turning on the camera’s display, Y/N flicked through a couple of Taehyung’s latest works, his editing more streamlined than ever before and each shot more creative than the next. The subjects were images of nature, primarily the backyard and around the neighborhood, but taken from unique angles and using natural light in interesting ways. 

“You’re getting so good at this, Tae. Pretty soon, you’ll have people asking to take wedding pictures for them!” Y/N passed his camera back to him, resisting the urge to totally curl into him or climb into his lap. He was just too cuddly. 

“Thank you,” Taehyung now offered her his toothy smile, wide and showing just how beautiful it made his face, conveying joy contrary to his ever-so-quiet voice. “I still need to work on taking portraits. That’s the assignment for next week…”

“Well it’s fortunate that you live with seven other people to practice on, huh?” Y/N teased, loving the flush that dusted his cheeks and tip of his nose. 

Their moment was interrupted by a black shadow, Y/N somewhat peeling herself off of Taehyung a tad to look up. It wasn’t a black shadow at all, however, it was just Jeongguk– dressed all in black, naturally, and with an enormous bowl of pasta and chicken in his hands. 

“How was your day, Jeongguk? The Tarantino movies you guys were watching… which one was your favorite?” Y/N reached across the table to poke the top of his hand with each word she was speaking to capture his attention, knowing that doing so usually irritated him enough to answer her questions. Since Halloween, though, he’d been much less easily perturbed, and usually regarded her attempts to agitate with amused midnight-black eyes. 

“Kill Bill. The first one, not the second. Pulp Fiction was good, but didn’t live up to all of that bullshit hype college kids drone on and on about,” Jeongguk playfully slapped her hand away from him so he could pick up a fork and start eating, a tiny wry grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. 

“I don’t think I really liked any of them,” a new voice joined the conversation, Seokjin filling up the last empty space in the booth beside Y/N, miraculously balancing three bowls of pasta on his forearm to deliver to Y/N and Taehyung. “Gory, lots of swearing and violence.”

“Grow some balls, Pink Panther,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, Y/N finding it extremely difficult not to laugh– he was quick on his feet to come up with that nickname, since Seokjin was wearing his favorite ballet-pink hoodie. “Why am I surprised? You could barely make it through an episode of Tokyo Ghoul, and that’s fuckin’ animated blood.”

“Oh, leave him be, Jeongguk. Action or gore isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s totally okay,” Y/N emphasized her point by using her slipper-clad foot to collide lightly with his shin under the booth, a free hand coming up to smooth over Seokjin’s back affectionately. “Also, it’s hard to take you seriously when you’re talking over a mouthful of half-chewed chicken.”

There was Seokjin’s squeaky-sounding laugh coming from her right, Jeongguk rolling his eyes again, taking a swig of whatever cocktail he had made for himself. Looking down at the food Yoongi made and Seokjin had brought to her, she felt her stomach turning. While it looked and smelled delicious, she didn’t want to give Yoongi the satisfaction of horking the whole plate down right away. Instead, she watched everyone in the booth tuck in promptly, Y/N glowering at her slab of garlic bread with feigned disinterest. 

“Not hungry?” Taehyung’s voice was in her ear, as always, low and indulgently rich. Concern lit up his eyes, his fork and knife paused mid-air as he studied the side of her face, even giving an animalistic sniff in her direction. 

“I had a big lunch,” Y/N admitted, even though that was a bit of a lie. She had been so nervous about her piano lesson with Yoongi earlier in the day, all she could choke down at lunchtime was a handful of baby carrots and hummus. 

Taehyung lifted a brow, definitely not buying the lie, but let it go without a word, mercifully. Y/N discovered that keeping her emotions under wraps from everybody while thoughts of Yoongi swirled around in her head constantly was more challenging than anything she had dealt with before. 

Yoongi’s words kept echoing like a pagan chant in her ears: ‘I know how you feel. About us, all of us’. Was Yoongi that keen, already able to intimately decipher her emotions and feelings through scent alone, or was she painfully obvious about her embarrassingly large crushes on each hybrid she adopted? Flames licked her cheeks, and she afforded a look past Seokjin’s wide shoulders to Yoongi sitting beside Jimin at the island, his back to her. Even now, Y/N could detect a whisper of tension threading through the lean muscles of his back through his shirt, and though she was puzzled– at best– by everything that went down between them in the last few hours, she was pleased to see how much he had filled out with muscle between consistent meals and his basketball practices. 

Sighing lightly, Y/N picked her way through her meal once tearing her eyes from Yoongi, not wanting to attract more attention by not eating dinner. Besides, her stomach was beginning to make embarrassing rumbling sounds, earning an annoyed side-eye from Namjoon across the room, pointedly using the tip of his nose to gesture towards her untouched plate. She resisted the split-second impulse to stick her tongue out at him, reconsidering upon remembering how intimidating Namjoon could be when teased. 

Throughout dinner, Y/N distracted herself from her thoughts and the lack of typical banter she’d have with Yoongi by cozying up to Seokjin and Taehyung; asking them about their preferences for birthday meals during fast-approaching December. Jeongguk asked her if she happened to celebrate Christmas– she replied yes; while her and her mother celebrated the pagan holiday of Yule, her father was more of a traditionalist and loved Christmas. 

“Yule lasts several days, and is made up of just some quiet rituals and whatnot– burning a Yule log, for example. But my dad adores all of the fun traditions of Christmas he had growing up, so he wanted to share that with me, too. We’d deck out the house in all of the lights, bake a thousand Christmas cookies, go out every year to pick out a tree… watch holiday movies in corny matching pajamas. My mom called it ‘Commercial Christmas’, but it was always really fun, and she was just poking fun at how silly my dad can get with it,” Y/N explained to the elk hybrid, him nodding along to her words while pushing broccoli around on his plate. “Oh! And there’s a Holiday Market in the city, too, if you guys are interested in checking that out next month. Food, decorations, music, all of that.”

It dawned on Y/N that her hybrids had likely never celebrated Christmas in the way she had in her youth. She had similar thoughts before, based on each of their strange, varied behaviors during the last three birthdays and Halloween, as well. It had her lower lip jutting out slightly, and she knew that perhaps the reason she worked so hard to make these events extra special in the past few months was because she was making up for their lost years of merriment and celebration of milestones. 

Dwelling on that, she totally zoned out at the breakfast nook, only coming to when Seokjin collected her near-empty plate from her, snapping back to reality when he stood and her hand slipped from the middle of his back, where she was absently rubbing circles into the cozy material of his hoodie. All the jaguar hybrid did was flash her a sweet smile, bringing the dishes to the sink with a purr. 

Shaking off her nerves, Y/N also rose from her seat, taking Taehyung with her so she’d have an excuse to cling to someone (and avoid Yoongi), by pulling him by the loose sleeve of his sweater, the Kodiak hybrid happily being hauled away from his camera and half-drunk glass of wine. Taehyung was one of the hybrids that didn’t drink as much as the others, or even Y/N herself, so sometimes a half of a glass of wine was all he needed for a pretty flush to color his cheeks and his tongue to loosen. 

“What are we watching tonight, Y/N? Nothing scary, I pray?” Y/N managed to scoop Jimin up in her grasp, as well, his expression filled with trepidation as she sandwiched herself between the two hybrids and dragged them into the parlor. 

The fire was roaring, and Taehyung broke free from her hold on his sweater to add another log to the tall flames in the fireplace– he was very serious about keeping it going strong until everyone headed off to bed, like it was an unspoken household duty he felt responsible for completely. Thankfully, he was quick to return to her, eager to claim one of the spots on either of her sides before anyone else could. As Ben had joked about over the phone with her, the hybrids did almost claw at each other in order to get a seat next to her on the couch, even Jeongguk, at that point. With Jimin and Taehyung being the ‘lucky’ ones that night, Y/N didn’t have to worry about sitting awkwardly inches away from Yoongi. 

“No, sweet pea, nothing scary. Just for you and Hoseok, though… on second thought, Seokjinnie, too. I’ll save the horror marathons for another time. I was thinking we could watch something funny?” 

Jimin’s shoulders relaxed downwards several inches, and his ears perked back up to their natural position as he handed her the remote, soothed that she wasn’t about to repeat her surprise showing of Suspiria from last month. Hoseok had to leave the room during the last few scenes of that one, in fact. 

Y/N scrolled through the options in her digital library, avoiding romcoms at all costs, landing on some random comedy with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. She needed something mindless, something that required not much critical thinking, so she could forget about the tangled cobwebs clogging up the cavity that once held her brain. 

The room slowly filled up with the rest of the hybrids, Hoseok tossing wrapped Klondike bars to everyone, Jeongguk taking up the recliner; Namjoon took his usual seat at Y/N’s feet, while Seokjin and Yoongi ended up sitting on the floor next to the couch. Yoongi minded his business, not even sending Y/N a glance as he sank to the floor with his glass of wine. Seokjin didn’t seem pleased that he was so far from Y/N, but knew that her rotating who she sat next to was in an effort to be fair– and he respected that. 

“I know how you feel. About us, all of us.”

“Ben, can you just listen before you say ‘I told you so’?” Y/N stirred cream into her coffee, her lower eyelid twitching when she tasted the concoction on her tongue. Somehow, ever since Yoongi started making her coffee for her each morning, she couldn’t seem to make her favorite ratio quite as precise as he did– even though she had been making it perfectly fine years before he took up the task for her. “I’ll let you say it all you want after I get some of this off my chest.”

Saturday morning, Y/N met up with Ben in the city at their favorite brunch spot on Newbury street, leaving all of her hybrids at home for a lazy morning by themselves. It was rare these days that she’d carve out time to go out with her human friends without at least one of the boys tagging along with her, but miraculously, she was able to break free for a few hours to catch up– or vent– with Ben. Ben cocked an eyebrow at her, taking a measured sip of his mimosa.

“I can do that, but first–” Ben reached into his briefcase, rummaging around within the depths of the leather bag, boldly pulling out a nip of Kahlua and swiftly dumping it into Y/N’s coffee. “You look like you’re one inconvenience away from a nervous breakdown. Happy Saturday, have a drink.”

“Thanks,” Y/N grimaced, sucking down the entirety of the scalding, now spiked, coffee in one go, Ben waving his hand as if to say ‘don’t mention it’. “Christ, I don’t even know where to start…”

Y/N had spent the night tossing and turning, even after the stupid movie she watched with the hybrids and a few shots of gin, waking up with dark circles under her eyes and two hours of sleep under her belt. In those two hours, she had dreams of red curtains, whiskey-scented whispers, piano, and hazel, feline eyes. 

“I think I have an idea of where this is going,” Ben broke the ice after several moments, once the waiter came by to take their brunch orders and bring another round of drinks. This time, Y/N got herself a mimosa, too. “Let me guess. You fell for one of them.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop, the Kahlua, coffee, and champagne churning in her gut as Ben stared at her expectantly. Ben was always quick to pick up on how Y/N felt, particularly when it had to do with her romantic life, but it wasn’t like she was around him enough these days for him to observe her around all of her hybrids… fell for one? She had to laugh, and the sound came out snorted and pathetic. 

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought. More than one? Taking cues from those reverse-harem animes you used to love in high school, huh?” Ben pressed, his nose scrunching up upon hearing the braying donkey laugh Y/N was trying to cover up by chugging her mimosa, a swig of it going down her windpipe. 

“Nnn–ugh! Fuck me, Ben. Lower your voice,” Y/N coughed into her cloth napkin, frantically glancing around the restaurant as if she was being surveilled.

“Relax, Y/N, they’re not even here. They can’t hear you all the way from the Haunted Mansion, even with hybrid ears. Get on with it, spill. You’ll feel better,” Ben pushed a hand through his coiffed red hair, sucking his teeth as he assessed Y/N’s frazzled appearance and erratic behavior. She must have looked like a nutcase. 

“I… Stop looking at me like that! If you’re so smart, you must have pieced together everything already, so why bother?” Y/N accused, but when Ben simply hardened his cerulean gaze, Y/N knew that he was encouraging her to talk through her feelings rather than squirreling them away until she exploded. “Fine. Yeah, okay. I have a crush on them, all of them, as a matter of fact, if that’s even humanly possible… and I know what you’re thinking, I’m batshit, I’m gross, and I’ve put myself in a horrible scenario.”

“Y/N, will you just take a breath, please? We’ve been friends for over a decade. Nothing you say to me is going to scare me off or make me ‘shame’ you Cersei-Game-of-Thrones-style. So, you’re attracted to all seven of them? I mean seriously, Y/N, I can’t blame you, and if you called Laura or Alice, they wouldn’t either. They’re all gorgeous,” Ben leaned back in his seat, both seriousness and amusement dancing across his features. 

Y/N wrestled the champagne bottle resting in the tableside bucket of ice up and out of the shards, pouring herself another glass and completely ignoring the orange juice pitcher nearby that would make her mimosa, well, a mimosa. 

“You know, Y/N… humans and hybrids can be in romantic relationships, and before you fly off of the handle, let me finish! Listen, I know, you know, and your hybrids know that you didn’t adopt them to use-and-abuse, obviously. You’ve always been a romantic, Y/N, it’s not like you can control how you feel, especially when it comes to love.”

Processing this, Y/N gawked at Ben, suddenly unable to come up with any kind of retort. Their waiter came by with their food, and the smell of Y/N’s French toast made her utterly nauseous as soon as it was placed in front of her. Grimacing, she pushed the plate to the side, Ben smirking over a bite of crispy bacon. 

“Love…” Y/N squeaked, the four-letter-word wheezing from her chest painfully, Ben having the nerve to roll his eyes. 

“You do love them, don’t you? Besides the fact that it's obvious to me, as your wonderful best friend, when you fall, you fall hard,” Ben nudged Y/N’s plate back in front of her, sticking a fork in her hand with mischief in his eyes. “It’s a different kind of love– but I love Daisy, she’s my daughter, and I can’t imagine my life without her anymore. That must be similar to how you feel, no?” 

For at least a month, Y/N kept herself in blissful, complete denial, trying to squash down her feelings as best she could in an effort to keep them from the hybrids. She didn’t know if she was fooling them, because she definitely wasn’t fooling Ben, who looked like he was trying to refrain from laughing. The more she thought about her recent behavior; stuttering, blushing, heart racing, constant cuddling, the more stupid she felt. 

“God, I’m a moron,” Y/N stuffed a piece of French toast into her dried-out mouth, the consistency like glue as she chewed. “They probably already know and are just too nice to reject me. Or they’re scared to.”

Ben didn’t say anything, just letting Y/N come to terms with the startling realization: she loved them. Seven different men, she was in love with seven, and the gravity of that realization was driving her to silent lunacy.

“Whatever scenario you’re coming up with in your head, stop it, you’ll start panicking,” Ben reached across the table to grasp Y/N’s hand lightly, his thumb smoothing over the back of it. “It’s kind of a scary, tricky… uh, delicate, subject, but how would you feel about maybe just talking to them about it instead of bottling things up? Even at the cookout in August, I could tell most of them cared about you quite deeply.”

“Can you imagine that conversation, Ben? ‘Hey guys, I know we’re in the middle of dinner and it’s not like you can get away from me after this, but I accidentally fell in love with all of you, so that’s why I’ve been walking around like a bumbling idiot’,” Y/N hissed, her face going hot just by visualizing that scene in her head. “Also, I haven’t even told you what happened yesterday, and if a confession to the seven of them went anything like what went down last night, I’d have to move to a rock out in the middle of the sea.”

 Motioning for her to explain, Y/N launched into the long, complicated report on her interaction with Yoongi post piano lesson, speaking in a hurried and hushed tone. Ben listened carefully, but Y/N chose to leave out some of the more supernatural aspects of her first meeting with Yoongi in The Black Lodge– Ben was a skeptic, at best, so she told him she had gotten too drunk and forgot about meeting Yoongi. By the time she had ended her story with how Yoongi seemed to be acting like nothing happened, Ben’s eyebrows were knitted and their breakfasts had long since been polished off and forgotten. 

“Uh…” Ben leaned back in his seat after he was stunned speechless for several moments, robotically passing his credit card to the waiter, his free hand coming up to rub his close-cut beard. “You weren’t bullshitting me with that text last night. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. He pretty much revealed to me that he knows I’m crushing on them all, totally called me out on it. Even went as far as saying it wouldn’t be long before the others figure it out, too,” Y/N moaned miserably into her hands, covering her face exhaustedly. 

“Y/N… from what you told me,” Ben started gently, as if he was trying not to spook a nervous animal. “I think Yoongi likes you too. I mean, he waited for a year for you to remember him, he said he enjoyed talking to you, and honey– he kissed you. You shouldn’t take that bit lightly, either. Predator hybrids like Yoongi, specifically the big cats or canines, are extremely selective when it comes to choosing their romantic partners. To them, it’s like finding their mate.”

“I– no. If that was the case, he would have told me, I’m sure of it. You’ve seen him, right? Met him? He’s gorgeous, funny, caring, can cook like a dream and is a talented pianist; he could have anybody he wants, and I’m not exempt from that, and he knows it… so that’s my reasoning, I guess.”

“Why are you spewing nonsense? You’re starting to tick me off. You were never this full of self doubt in the past, especially over a man. You have to talk to him about this, sooner rather than later. Tell him how you feel, and don’t beat around the bush. And even though I’m almost positive that he likes you romantically, you two need to sort it out before the others catch on and it spirals into something even more tangled,” Ben, as they prepared to leave the restaurant, helped Y/N shrug into her coat, his hands on her shoulders as he gave her a necessary reality check– though his expression was sympathetic and full of concern. “I’ll help you out. I can borrow a couple of your guys on Monday to watch Daisy while I go into the office, and you see if you can somehow get Yoongi alone, okay?”

“Monday…” Y/N blanched, not prepared to throw caution to the wind and admit her feelings that soon. “I-I guess I can make that work. Seokjin and Joonie will be at the library with my mom for the book club, Tae at the rec center preparing for his next expo…”

“Alright. I’ll take the other three for babysitting– the cowboy, the grump, and Foxy, am I correct?” Ben attempted to lighten the mood, holding the restaurant door open for Y/N with a wry grin. “You can do this, Y/N. You’re a smart, beautiful young woman, and I know how much you love those boys. They all deserve to know how much you do– but start with Yoongi.”

Y/N made a noncommittal, grumbling noise, grinding her teeth as the bitter wind whipped through the streets of Boston. Autumn was nearly over, and the harsh winter was well on its way, Christmas decorations already beginning to pop up on certain storefronts. 

“If it goes to shit, I’m calling you. You know how I am with romantic confessions. Remember Liam in high school? I broke out in hives asking him to homecoming,” Y/N muttered, grabbing Ben’s hand and shoving their joined palms into his coat pocket, her best friend snickering at the memory. “Can we change the subject? I’m starting to feel itchy. You can still swing by Copley with me, right?”

“Yeah, I have some time. What are you going there for?” Ben steered her in a different direction than they were going, cutting through some side streets to get to the mall. 

“I’m picking up some things for Seokjin’s birthday, it’s coming up really soon. I found some cookware online I think he’d like, he’s been into culinary pursuits recently,” Y/N felt some of her anxiety dissipate as she thought about sweet Seokjin. He had pouted that morning when she left to meet Ben, and it was hard to pry him off of her as she was heading out the front door. 

“Oh! That reminds me. Has Sarah gotten in touch with you?” 

“She did, actually. We’re planning to meet at some point after the holidays, probably in January. I don’t know if I should tell Seokjin, or keep it a surprise for a little while…” Y/N bit her lip, recalling the pleasant email exchanges she had with the woman who had adopted Hannah. 

“With everything you’ve got going on right now, I think it’s alright to hold off on telling him until the plan is more concrete. Focus on the two birthdays you have coming up, Christmas, and sorting out the thing with Yoongi,” Ben shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s fingers as they ambled down the frosty sidewalk. 

“Shit. I have to order Christmas presents soon…” Y/N used her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, thanking the sky that she had that extra income from the boarded horses– gifts for seven hybrids and her other friends and family would certainly add up cost-wise. “I wish I had an assistant to keep track of everything I have to do.”

“Ah, you say that, but I haven’t seen you this happy in years, Y/N,” Ben countered, winking at her. “Even with all of the romantic drama, adopting those boys brought you back to life.”

“Stop being sappy, I’ll cry. Seriously, I will! They’re not around to fuss over me right now and I can do so freely, and that’s an opportunity I would take if you keep it up,” Y/N nudged Ben in the ribs, separating from him as they reached the revolving doors of Copley Place. 

Once in the toasty mall, she and Ben changed the direction of their conversation, Y/N feeling merry despite the looming task of confronting Yoongi in two day’s time. They made plans to have a holiday get-together at her house, with Roy and Daisy, and the Santos twins as well, all while piling items into a cart for Seokjin’s birthday. 

“Come on, sweets, won’t you do it for me?” Y/N was perched on the velvet bench at the foot of Jeongguk’s bed, attempting to convince him to go willingly to Ben’s for ‘babysitting’ early Monday afternoon. She tried to make her eyes as doelike as possible, Jeongguk chewing on his lip ring with his arms crossed, staring down at her. 

“That pouting doesn’t work on me. Go find literally anyone else in the house it does work on, Y/N,” Jeongguk tsked, pulling a few buttons loose on the creamy button-down he was wearing. 

“Okay, shithead. You want to be sassy today? Be my guest. Just saying though, Daisy has been asking for you. Ben says you’re one of her favorites,” Y/N bit back, just to see if guilting him was the way to go. Jeongguk simply shook his head, having the audacity to look amused by her outburst. She was already on edge, and his nonchalance and stubbornness did not make things better. “Maybe this will sweeten the pot. Ben said he was going to pay you guys.”

“Bribery, coercion, ass-kissing… you must really want me out of the house today,” Jeongguk drawled, turning away from Y/N as he used his floor-length mirror to clasp the necklace her mother gave him for his birthday around his neck. Through the thin material of his light-colored shirt, Y/N could faintly detect the black lines of the mystery tattoo on his back. 

“No, but it wouldn’t kill you, Jeongguk. Don’t you want to get out for a little bit? You, Hoseok, and Jimin can take Daisy to the playground in the Common, get some food, walk around…” Y/N refrained from flinching when the elk hybrid accurately called her out for shooing him out. 

“How the fuck can we go out without a human with us? Won’t the four of us get scooped up by agents and tossed back into Gerry’s shithole shelter? Besides, why does a four-year-old hybrid need three babysitters, aren’t Foxy and Blondie enough?” Jeongguk approached Y/N once more, using his thumb and forefinger to gently flick her forehead. 

“Ugh, you’re such a little shit,” Y/N rubbed the spot he flicked, even though it didn’t hurt at all. “I ordered you all ID’s, remember? They arrived this morning. If you get stopped, you show agents your ID, and it tells them that you’re adopted and can roam even without me being present. Daisy has one too, the version for children… She needed it for enrollment in her daycare.”

Jeongguk paused in contemplation, his eyes scanning her face thoughtfully as she squirmed on the bench under his scrutiny, one of his ears lazily twitching. It was a stare-down, Y/N needed to have that talk with Yoongi, and she wanted the conversation to be as private as possible, and Jeongguk seemed a touch suspicious. 

“You really want me to go babysit the bunny that badly?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes, a spark of triumph lighting up inside of Y/N as she sensed him beginning to cave. 

“Yes, please! I’ll call in some baked ziti for you from Sal’s for dinner,” Y/N jumped to her feet, Jeongguk rolling his eyes and sticking his notebook into the pocket of his baggy black cargo pants. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re only saying that because I’m doing you a favor, and you probably want pizza yourself, kiddo,” Jeongguk grunted as Y/N elbowed him in the ribs, scoffing at him indignantly. 

“I’m only like a year younger than you. ‘Kiddo’, really?” Y/N paused by his bedroom door, softening up once seeing the twinkle of merriment in Jeongguk’s dark eyes. 

Suddenly overwhelmed with affection for the elk hybrid, considering how much he had warmed up to her over the past few weeks, she leaned up on her tip-toes, lips brushing over his sharp cheekbone for a barely-there kiss while he froze to a complete stand-still. Pulling away as quickly as she could before he could say anything, she giggled at how round his eyes became before heading out to the hall. 

“Thanks for the favor, sweets. Ben will be here in 15 minutes to pick you and the other two up!” She called over her shoulder, hurrying away with the image of Jeongguk looking adorably stunned burned into her retinas. 

Bounding downstairs, Y/N managed to round up Jimin and Hoseok from the backyard, both of them more than willing to watch Daisy for a bit– the both of them practically doted on her. She handed out their new-and-shiny ID’s, Y/N smiling at the pictures on the cards. Staring at Jeongguk’s picture, with a serious expression on his face, she snorted at the way his antlers didn’t quite fit in the frame. 

“Tae did a nice job with all of your photos for these, huh?” Y/N gushed, brushing her fingertips over the tiny picture on Namjoon’s ID, which she’d have to give to him later. “Next time I get my license renewed, I want him to take my picture too, I always look washed out and horrendous in the ones taken at the DMV.”

“I doubt that, Y/N. You always look nice in pictures, even the ones Taehyung takes of you,” Jimin disagreed with her, grinning when she pinched his fleshy cheek bashfully. 

“Such a charmer, Jiminie. Aw, her heart’s racing,” Hoseok crooned, squeezing himself in between her and the coyote hybrid, a wicked smirk on his face as he patted his chest to mimic heartbeats.

Hissing, Y/N tried to step away from the teasing bastard, even more humiliated now, but Hoseok was far too quick for her to make a feeble human’s attempt at escape. Boldly, he grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans, bending low to press one of his ears over her heart. Squeaking as she wiggled in his grasp, a few of his fingertips slipping into the waistband of her jeans to keep her in place, his skin burning hot with hybrid heat. 

“Hear that, Jiminie? It’s beating even faster now!” Hoseok continued gleefully, squeezing the flesh over her hip bones before he– mercifully– pulled away. “How cute, darling, you’re way too easy to flatter, and even easier to tease.”

“Hoseok,” Y/N used all of her strength to prevent herself from melting into the floorboards, not even noticing that Jimin’s shoulders were shaking with laughter and Jeongguk had crept into the foyer during the spectacle. “Stop fucking with me, the playing field isn’t even. I can’t hear your heartbeat, or smell your embarrassment, or whatever.”

“You could always try flattery, you have a knack for it,” Jeongguk leaned against the front door, seemingly recovered from the smooch she planted on his cheek only moments ago. 

“Brat,” Y/N sneered, though it was half hearted, and she was interrupted by a three-beat honk from outside. “Ooh, Ben’s here. Okay, I think you two have poked enough fun at me, get going. See you soon, sweetheart, have fun and be safe.”

Y/N murmured her last statement directly to Jimin, using a hand to shove Hoseok towards Jeongguk and out of the front door. Patting Jimin’s shoulder lightly, she leaned up to whisper into his ear. 

“You’re in charge, make sure those two don’t swear in front of Daisy, please,” though Y/N was whispering in Jimin’s ear, she was the one shivering with the proximity, intoxicating, dark lavender filling her senses and calming her steadily-climbing anxiety; it was almost time for her to look for Yoongi, who she hadn’t seen the entire day. 

“See you later, Y/N,” Jimin grinned like he knew something she didn’t, craning his neck sideways to press a kiss to one of her knuckles, her hand turning clammy as it slipped from his shoulder when he strolled out the front door. 

Y/N stood in the threshold of the door, watching the three hybrids get into Ben’s car, and stayed until Ben drove off down the street. The silence that followed their departure was eerie, Y/N wondering if Yoongi was taking a nap or was even in the house at all. Typically, during the early afternoon, the leopard hybrid would be messing around on the piano or reading a book in the parlor, but there was no music coming from upstairs and the heavily trafficked parlor was deserted and dark. Sighing, Y/N started to stack logs into the fireplace, knowing if Taehyung came home later and there was no fire, he’d be upset. She knew that she was stalling the inevitable, finding Yoongi and having the conversation she had been dreading for 48 hours, but she tried to summon courage to face him from the growing flames in the fireplace. 

Once she had mustered enough nerve, Y/N wandered through the house to find Yoongi. She searched every nook and cranny, every back hallway and hidden passageway, but clearly he wasn’t inside. Muttering under her breath, she dropped some clean laundry off in Namjoon’s room, pulling on the sherpa-lined jean jacket he had draped over his desk chair to prepare herself for traipsing around the yard. Inhaling Namjoon’s scent on the collar of his jacket, the oversized fabric swallowing her whole, she felt warmth fill her up with the notes of honey and Namjoon. 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Y/N whimpered as soon as she opened the slider to the backyard, wrapping Namjoon’s coat more tightly around her torso. In the distance, horses were whinnying in the stable, and there were some creepy looking turkey vultures sitting in the naked oak tree next to the picnic table. “Where’s my angel…”

The sky was a gloomy gray, and Y/N wondered if snow was on the way with the way the frost-dusted grass was crunching under her feet. That quiet, still sensation just before a snowstorm was present, as well, which is why the echoing sound of a basketball striking asphalt made her jolt in surprise. Bingo. 

Weaving her way past the gate to the driveway and garage, Y/N let out a nervous breath, becoming a misty cloud of white in front of her. The turkey vultures in the oak tree started making their disturbing, guttural shrieks, sending a chill down her spine. Quickening her pace, butterflies started fluttering in her stomach as the basketball hoop came into view. 

Aware that Yoongi could both hear and smell her, she paused several feet away, eyes sweeping the area for the leopard hybrid. He was just there, she was sure of it, but he was nowhere in sight. 

“Yoongi? Where are you?” Y/N called, annoyed with the possibility that he was avoiding her on purpose. She knelt down, numb fingers grasping the acid-washed hoodie Yoongi must have tossed onto the ground, when a pair of sneakers appeared in her line of vision, she glanced up at the owner, swearing colorfully. 

Yoongi was staring down at her, basketball tucked under his arm, very sweaty and very much without a shirt. Mouth drying up, she felt a range of emotions flood through her; fluster, affection, happiness, concern, before finally landing on anger. 

“Oh my god, it’s like thirty degrees out here! Put this on,” Y/N impulsively threw his sweatshirt at him, hitting him square in the chest before it unceremoniously fell back onto the pavement. 

“I was too hot. Hybrid body heat, silly girl,” Yoongi replied simply, his old nickname for her making a comeback. Unfortunately for Y/N, paired with his damp, long hair and naked chest, it sent a bolt of arousal through her unexpectedly. Hopefully he couldn’t smell it. “What’s up? Where is everyone?”

Y/N read between the lines– that was Yoongi’s newest code for ‘find one of the others, I don’t want to talk to you’. Gritting her teeth, she managed to straighten up, forcing herself to look him in the eyes and not the dewy skin over his collarbones. 

“They’re all out. It’s just you and I, at the moment,” Y/N cleared her throat, getting a strong blast of vanilla-and-cloves as Yoongi passed a veiny hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Please, for my sake, put on the sweatshirt. I don’t want you turning into a popsicle.”

“Nah,” Yoongi turned away from her, dribbling the ball and aiming to shoot it into the basket, his tail curling around his leg as it usually did when he’d play. “Why, don’t like what you see?”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she watched the muscles in his back move and flex, effortlessly sinking the ball into the basket and elegantly slinking to the hoop to retrieve the ball before it could bounce away. The pale skin of his chest was slightly flushed pink, making Y/N’s mouth water, and all at once she felt like a creep. 

“Cat’s got your tongue?” Yoongi drawled, his gravelly voice raising goosebumps on her flesh. Apparently, her hybrids felt like toying with her that day. 

Steeling herself, she approached Yoongi with determination, forgetting all about his sweatshirt, his expression growing curious and spotted ears flattening against his head at their proximity.

“Are you avoiding me again? We never finished our… conversation,” Y/N began, chickening out on professing her love right away, considering his lack of a shirt. 

“You reek like the wolf,” Yoongi dodged the question and subject entirely, moving like he was going to take another shot at the hoop. Before he could get far, Y/N reached out and yanked the basketball out of his hands, scowling. 

“We need to talk, Yoongi. You’ve hardly been able to stand in the same room as me longer than five minutes since that night,” Y/N averted her eyes from his face, finding it hard to look at him with all the emotions running through her. 

Yoongi sighed, the sound of it seemingly coming from the depths of his soul, scooping his sweatshirt off of the ground and shrugging it on. 

“Let’s go inside. Seokjin would die if he saw you out here without a hat,” Yoongi mumbled, resigned, and motioned for Y/N to follow him into the house. 

They were quiet, Y/N’s pulse thundering in her ears, positively dreading the conversation they were about to have. If Yoongi rejected her, she’d have to lock herself in her room to cry and  lick her wounds for hours, but if he didn’t… how on earth would she explain the situation between her and Yoongi to the others?

“So, what is there to ‘finish’ about our conversation?” Yoongi broke the silence as he followed her up to the music room– the most soundproof room in the house, lest someone come home early and interrupt them. Yoongi sounded bitter, like the words on his tongue tasted of grave dirt, Y/N wincing knowing that she was the cause of it. “I thought we wrapped it up already. What’s the use of beating a dead horse? We met before, you forgot, we kissed, now we’re here. End of story.”

“No, Yoongi, it’s not. I–” Y/N cut herself off, sinking down onto the couch with her head in her hands. “Let me apologize, first. I don’t want you to think that our kiss was a drunken mistake to me. I shouldn’t have insinuated that. I’m sorry, angel.”

Yoongi stiffened, at either her words or her nickname for him, she didn’t know. He remained standing in front of her, ears perked up and alert, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. 

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. Believe me, I want to, more than anything. I’ve been having dreams, though, flashes of a memory. Maybe it will return to me, in time,” Y/N peeked at Yoongi through her fingertips, nervously chewing on her lip. 

“Y/N–” 

“Please, just, can you hear me out for a minute?” Y/N interrupted whatever warning he was undoubtedly trying to dole out, desperate to get it over with before she lost her nerve. “Last time we talked about this, you said you knew how I felt, about you, about the others, but I changed the subject.”

Yoongi nodded, his eyes narrowing and arms crossing over his chest, waiting for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, Y/N dropped her hands from her face, finally making eye-contact with the leopard hybrid, who appeared to be taking in all of her micro reactions. 

“You were right, or are right, about my feelings. I’m only starting to, um, understand those feelings, but you noticed them before I even realized they were there,” Y/N fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, growing hot in the face. “I’m sorry for hiding it, and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Met with silence, Y/N’s worst fear was coming to life; he was going to reject her, their relationship would be permanently damaged, and her heart was going to shatter. Yoongi simply stared at her with that sharp feline gaze, a muscle in his jaw working and his expression giving away nothing as two what he was thinking. 

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore, and it’s totally fine that you don’t feel the same way, but I need to tell you,” Y/N’s voice became shaky, heart feeling like it was going to explode, ready to careen off the edge of no return. “I love you, Yoongi.”

The world went still, not even the birds outside chirping, and Y/N wasn’t confident that she was breathing anymore. Without a word, Yoongi turned on his heel, plopped down on the bench and slid a hand over the weathered keys of the piano. Baffled and heartbroken, Y/N sat frozen on the couch, stiff as a board and head spinning. 

Before her vision could go black, Yoongi began to play. Eyes snapping open, she couldn’t help the gasp that ripped from her chest; Yoongi was playing the song he had composed, the one he previously wouldn’t perform for her even upon her countless requests to. Though his face was blank of emotion, his playing certainly wasn’t, and the song almost breathed air as his hands floated across the keys. It was one of the most beautiful songs she had ever heard, so much so that she wasn’t even aware that she was crying until she felt the hot tears tracking down her cheeks. 

It was over too soon, the final note ringing out solemnly, Yoongi standing from the bench and heading towards the door, his ears flat against his head again. He stopped, hand twitching over the doorknob when he heard Y/N sniffle pathetically, looking over his shoulder. Heart bursting into smithereens at the look of anguish on his face, Y/N wanted to rush over to him, but couldn’t bear looking at him any longer. 

“I wrote that the day after we met. The first thing I composed in years. I wrote it for you.”

With that, Yoongi left the room, Y/N feeling her tears run down her neck, listening to the sound of him closing the door to his bedroom and turning on the tap to his shower. 

“So Y/N, it wasn’t exactly a rejection,” Laura soothed through the phone, Y/N humming noncommittally. She was in her car in the driveway, several days later, Seokjin’s birthday, his birthday cake sitting on the passenger seat beside her. 

“I don’t know what the fuck it was. He’s been walking around the house like a fucking ghost for days now, I think I broke him,” Y/N ran a hand through her hair, not believing that she had to resort to taking phone calls in her car to avoid eavesdropping. “I set out to see if I could fix things, or tell him my feelings, but now everything is even more messed up. I don’t know what to do.”

“Give him time, honey. He shouldn’t be leaving you hanging like that, but maybe it’s a lot to process for him. Your hybrids have been through a lot, he probably wasn’t expecting you to confront him,” Laura theorized, making Y/N snort. She had just accepted that Yoongi had been weirded out and didn’t reciprocate her feelings, but she humored Laura anyway. 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll keep you updated, I guess,” Y/N replied airily, eyes landing on the pink buttercream frosting spelling out Seokjin’s name on his cake, a small smile spreading across her face despite everything. “I gotta run, Laura. Have to round everyone up for Seokjin’s brunch.”

“Keep me updated!” Laura exclaimed urgently, Y/N grunting in response, before hanging up and hauling herself outside. She moved Seokjin’s cake to the trunk where his gifts were, making room for him to sit next to her during the ride to the restaurant. 

Y/N: Time to go! Reservation is at noon <3

Hoseok 🦊: Jinnie looks so handsome on his birthday 🤧

Seokjinnie 🌸: -_-

Jimin 🦋: We’re coming!

Y/N: Can one of you please lock the door on the way out

Joonie 🐺: I got it.

Making sure the heat was cranked up in the cab for Seokjin, she watched the front door like a hawk, waiting for everyone to file out. They came out in pairs, first Jimin and Taehyung, then Hoseok and Seokjin. Last out was Jeongguk and Yoongi, followed by Namjoon diligently locking the door and even giving the handle a jiggle to ensure it was deadbolted. Feeling warm all over at the sight of them, all dressed up in their unique styles, Y/N grinned, even though her heart was still bleeding for Yoongi. She pushed that aside, for now, for Seokjin, determined to give him the best birthday ever. 

“It’s so cold! Fuckin’ Boston weather,” Hoseok whined, the first one to the car, sliding in the seat behind Y/N. “Would moving to Florida ever be an option?” 

“Hell no,” Y/N twisted her face up in disgust even thinking about swampy Florida summers. “We can visit someday, though. Go to Disney World or something.”

“Where are your gloves?” Seokjin climbed into the passenger seat, Namjoon begrudgingly giving up his designated spot for the birthday boy, pointedly narrowing his orange eyes at her bare hands on the steering wheel. 

“Oh, somewhere in the house. I don’t need them, we’re going from the car to the restaurant,” Y/N blushed when he took her hands in his, his thick lips puckering to blow warm air onto them. “Happy birthday, my Seokjinnie!”

“You’re old as fuck,” Jeongguk commented from the third row of seats, his hair slicked back with gel as Y/N glared at him in the rearview mirror. “30? Judas priest.”

“Have some respect for your elders, fuckface,” Hoseok defended Seokjin, a lazy smile on his face when Y/N turned around to back out of her spot in front of the house. 

“Please, stop swearing,” Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose delicately, making Y/N snort. 

She drove one-handed to the restaurant, one of them captured by Seokjin, who was doing the thing where he lightly traced his fingertips over her skin in endless patterns. He was purring, too, Y/N stealing glances of him every once in a while– Hoseok was right, he looked unbearably handsome. Shiny, wavy raven hair, a cozy plum-colored sweater, and his expression content and relaxed. 

When they arrived, Y/N had Namjoon and Taehyung help her bring in the cake and the gifts, never letting go of Seokjin’s hand once. She shouldn’t have noticed, but she did, that Yoongi was keeping a lot of space between them, sitting the furthest away from her at the table and silently reading the menu while everyone else chatted. If the other hybrids had noticed his odd behavior the past few days, they were very good at pretending they didn’t. 

Shaking her head, she put all of her attention on Seokjin, who still hadn’t released her hand. He wiggled in his seat happily, tail curling around her lower back, scooching his chair closer to Y/N. 

“What are you going to get?” Y/N leaned her cheek on Seokjin’s shoulder, reading his menu instead of her own. With a purr, Seokjin pointed out a few items, his teeth digging into his lower lip. “Ooh, that sounds yummy! Eggs benedict?”

They ended up ordering an obscene amount of food, Y/N passing on the mimosas so she could drive home uncompromised, but ordered a round for all of the hybrids. 

“So, how’s the book of the week so far?” Y/N asked Seokjin, who was taking a dainty sip of his mimosa. “A Christmas Carol, right?”

“Mm-hm. It’s a little early for Christmas stories in my opinion, though,” Seokjin cocked his head, a contemplative look on his face. “Have you been sleeping okay lately, Y/N?”

Seokjin was too kind to not point out the very obvious dark circles under her eyes, but she knew that was why he asked. Truthfully, she was lucky if she got three hours of sleep every night since she told Yoongi she loved him, but she couldn’t admit that to Seokjin. The last thing she wanted was to concern him on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’ve just been having strange dreams that sometimes wake me up. I’m perfectly fine, though, honey,” Y/N attempted to soothe, Seokjin nodding and taking another swig of his mimosa. 

Thankfully, before he could pry, food arrived, and Y/N busied herself by stuffing her face so she didn’t have to talk. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever celebrated my birthday,” Seokjin admitted quietly, the food in front of him untouched as he seemingly soaked everything in. Chest squeezing, Y/N snaked an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through his sweater. 

“Good thing you’ll have plenty more to celebrate each year, to make up for that,” she replied equally as soft, Seokjin’s eyes softening as he returned a kiss to her– his lips stamping affection on the crown of her head. 

Flushing, she caught Yoongi’s eyes across the table, that same blank look on his face from when he played the song for her days ago. Her song. Hurriedly looking back down at her food, she stuffed the emotion welling up inside her deep down. 

“Try this,” Seokjin interrupted her attempt to not wallow, a fork with a perfect bite of eggs benedict on it appearing in front of her face. 

Automatically, she opened her mouth like it was second nature; Seokjin often liked to feed her bites of his food like that, and she was never one to deny him. His lips twisted up into a smug smirk, using his free hand to cup her jaw like always, angling her face upwards so he could feed her the bite of his entree. She felt eyes on her from the whole table, but she couldn’t have cared less, locked in on the way Seokjin’s gaze was fixed on her mouth. 

“How is it?” Seokjin asked through his shit-eating grin, his touch vanishing but his tail still curled around her waist. 

“Mmm,” was all Y/N could articulate, swallowing slowly and unable to break free from his spell. 

“Spoiled,” Seokjin murmured, tutting. Heart falling to her ass, she gawked at his gorgeous side profile with utter disbelief, ears turning hot with humiliation and something else. 

“H-huh?” She squeaked, though the jaguar hybrid simply resumed eating, striking up a conversation with Hoseok a couple of seats down, still smirking. 

Reeling, Y/N managed to choke down the remainder of her meal, only snapping out of it when the waitresses came by with Seokjin’s cake, lit up with sparkler candles. Amazingly, Seokjin didn’t even flinch when the cake was placed in front of him, despite his usual aversion to things that were on fire or noisy, his cheeks rounding out as he read the top of his cake and blew out the candles. Hoseok sang a rather off-key version of “Happy Birthday” with the waitresses, and Y/N noticed that Taehyung had brought his camera with him, furiously taking pictures with flash of the entire event. 

“You got the lavender cake!” Seokjin exclaimed while Y/N was cutting a slice for him, pink frosting covering the pale purple sponge; a very Seokjin color scheme. 

“I did! You said you liked it a few months ago, I hope you still do,” Y/N pushed the plate in front of him, wondering if she should have a slice herself, considering how stuffed she was from all of the food Seokjin had just fed her. 

This time, Seokjin was the one blushing, mouth full of cake. Chuckling, she ruffled his hair, sliding plate after plate of cake down the table for each of the hybrids, astonished that they still had room in their tummies. 

“Okay, so what did you get Jinnie for his birthday? Did you snag him an audition on Masterchef?” Hoseok asked, frosting coating his lips. 

“Oh! Joonie, can you pass me those bags?” Y/N exclaimed, Namjoon getting up from his booth seat to deliver the three gifts at the head of the table, his damaged ear flickering when she called his name. 

Seokjin, who wasn’t quite as shy as he was when she first met him, accepted the first gift bag with pink ears despite all of his opening up. The whole table– apart from Yoongi, who excused himself to the bathroom minutes prior– watched Seokjin peer into the bag with rapt interest. 

The first gift was from her mother, a lovely vintage watch that Y/N had helped her pick out at a pawn shop recently. When she spotted it in the shop, it had Seokjin written all over it; elegant and classic, and went well with his polished wardrobe. Hoseok oohed and aahed, reaching across the table to strap it on Seokjin’s left wrist for him. Giggling, Y/N admired the way it looked on his slim wrist, leaning against his arm while he went for the other two gifts; several sweaters and shirts in various shades of pinks and neutrals, a pretty set of silver dangling earrings (Y/N noticed that he had two lobe piercings on his left ear, but didn’t have any earrings to put through them), and a set of brand-new Japanese knives. He loved every single gift, gushing over the knives in particular, but he had to slap Hoseok’s hand away when the fox hybrid attempted to put the earrings on Seokjin. 

Once the cake was eaten and plates were cleared away, Jeongguk and Namjoon both began to grow antsy, probably hoping to leave soon and get back to their routines. She handed her car keys to Taehyung beside her so he could pull the car around– he was the only one Y/N was confident that he knew how to drive, and Namjoon was known to speed– everyone following the Kodiak hybrid outside. Yoongi had long since returned from the bathroom, but once he saw that it was just Seokjin and Y/N waiting at the table to pay the bill, he too went out to the car. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Today was…” Seokjin trailed off, like he was at a loss for words. They were standing by the bar, waiting for his leftover cake to be boxed up, Seokjin straightening out Y/N’s coat and making sure it was clasped correctly. “Perfect.”

“My Seokjinnie,” Y/N cooed, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in chest. She felt him purring, his own arms coiling around her back, rubbing circles over her coat. “I have one more thing for you.”

Pulling away, she chuckled at the look of bewilderment lighting up his features, Y/N reaching into the pocket of her coat for an envelope, offering it to him with a wink. Carefully, Seokjin tore the envelope open, fishing out the two pieces of paper from within and turning them over. His eyes scanned the text, his pupils blowing out wide and mouth dropping open once he registered exactly what he was holding.

“A cooking class,” Seokjin breathed, cheeks turning bright pink. “At Eataly?”

“Yeah! I heard the classes there are awesome, and in that class you get to have wine pairings with whatever you cook, you learn about the regions in Italy where the dishes come from. You’ve been so into cooking lately, and I thought the class would be perfect for you, especially with the wine pairing aspect,” Y/N explained, Seokjin hanging on every word and reading the tickets over and over. “It’s in February. I got two tickets, so you can take whoever you like. Hoseok, Yoongi, Joonie, it’s your choice!”

Seokjin froze, a curious look in his eyes, tucking the tickets back into the envelope and reaching for Y/N’s hand again. 

“You don’t wanna come with me?” Seokjin squeezed her hand, a frown on his face for the first time that day. Blinking, Y/N made a noise of surprise. 

“Me? You want me to take the class with you?” Y/N asked stupidly, Seokjin furiously nodding and his ears perking up. 

“I don’t want to take it with anyone but you,” Seokjin confirmed resolutely, taking his cake box from a waitress ogling him without so much of a glance in her direction. Heart soaring upon hearing those words, Y/N couldn’t help but give him another tight hug. 

“Okay, I’ll go with you. Can’t wait,” Y/N agreed, mouth full of his felt coat. 

Seokjin just grinned brilliantly, leaving her embrace, tugging her towards the door, where her Land Cruiser was double-parked with the rest of the hybrids. 

“Let’s go home,” Seokjin held the door to the restaurant open for her, uttering the statement like it had great meaning to him. 

Even though she shouldn’t have, she let Taehyung drive home, Yoongi sitting beside him, while Y/N squeezed into the backseat between Namjoon and Seokjin. It was halfway back to the house when she realized Taehyung wasn’t using GPS; he knew where home was by memory, or perhaps by heart. 

“It’s just a piano lesson, just act natural, like nothing’s wrong,” Y/N glared at herself in her bathroom mirror, pinching her own cheeks to bring life back into her complexion. “Just act like you aren’t in love with the teacher.”

Groaning, Y/N switched off the bathroom light, feeling a touch ill. She had barely spoken more than a handful of words to Yoongi in over a week, nerves still too raw. Last week, she skipped her lesson, not even bringing it up to the leopard hybrid, and spent much of that Friday out in the stable with Jimin taking care of the animals. That week, however, she ironically decided to face the music and resume with the lessons, an attempt to grasp a sense of normalcy between her and Yoongi. 

Y/N paused before she left her bedroom, shooting her crumpled sheets a dirty look. Sleep still evaded her, and her dreams had been getting more and more vivid and taunting, the locked memory of her first meeting with Yoongi driving her insane even while unconscious. Growling, she left her room, taking a peek into Namjoon’s bedroom to find it empty, disappointment flooding through her. He must have been in his trailer, where he and Jeongguk had been hanging out recently like a pair of Ghostbusters.

She could hear a movie going on in the parlor, but she didn’t stop by to see what was on or who was watching, not wanting to drag her feet any longer. Y/N knew that Yoongi wasn’t there; he spent most of his time those days in the music room with the doors shut. Poor Taehyung couldn’t even use the record player all week. 

Crawling up the stairs, once she reached the room at the end of the hall, she knocked on the closed doors. Of course, he knew that it was her, but there was still a chance that he wouldn’t open up. As the door opened, her heart throbbed at the sight of him– similarly tired looking, just like her. Yoongi stepped aside, letting her into the room, before promptly shutting the both of them into the silent room. 

The room was a mess, sheet music strewn everywhere, a throw blanket tossed messily over the loveseat, several dirty mugs on the coffee table. She half-turned, too grief-stricken to face him fully, she gestured around the room. 

“Have you been sleeping in here?” Y/N managed, picking a crumpled piece of sheet music off of the ground, instantly recognizing the writing on the paper to be in Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi ran a hand over his face, his clothing all wrinkled and pen ink covering his fingers. “Um, I guess as long as it’s comfortable…”

“What do you want?” Yoongi asked softly, Y/N flinching at the question like she was burned with a fire poker. 

“I just wanted to ask… If we could have a lesson? If you still want to teach me? I understand if you don’t,” Y/N felt her throat grow sore from trying to keep down tears, feeling like a giant crybaby. 

Yoongi grunted, trudging over to the piano, pushing sheet music off of the bench and sitting down. 

“Come,” Yoongi patted the bench, avoiding her eyes, tail wrapping around his waist snugly. 

Y/N’s legs moved on their own accord, perching on the edge of the bench as far away from him as she could accomplish, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by touching him. Scanning the sheet music in front of her, already able to read it pretty well thanks to his vigorous teaching style, she heard the notes in her head as her eyes roamed over the notes. 

“Is this…?” Y/N timidly pointed to the paper, unable to look at him whatsoever. This was a terrible mistake. 

“It’s your song,” Yoongi gruffly admitted, his voice coming out strained. “I can teach you.”

Nodding, she was surprised she was able to keep the waterworks at bay, Yoongi launching into his lesson patiently. Y/N was leagues better and playing than she was months ago, so Yoongi hardly had to correct her or fix her hand placements, but the air in the room was suffocating her. Being so close to him, so close yet emotionally miles apart, had the queasy feeling in her gut growing by the second. 

She made it halfway through the song, but the more complicated section of the piece was starting to trip her up. Fumbling through the same measure four times in a row, she huffed in annoyance, considering throwing in the towel for the night. 

“No, try again. Like this,” Yoongi snapped her out of her self-criticism, gently rearranging her fingers on the keys to form the correct chord, the contact shocking her so much that she yelped, her vision going black immediately. 

“Give me your number,” the girl– Y/N– demanded, apparently trying to sound confident, but her alcohol-flushed cheeks were countering her desire to seem intimidating. 

Yoongi chuckled, for what felt like the first time in years, watching the girl stick out her arm and using her free hand to dig around in her purse for something. With a triumphant grin, she produced a pen from her bag, shoving it in Yoongi’s palm. 

“Give me your number, Yoongi,” Y/N repeated, waving her bare forearm in his face. 

“Silly girl. Why don’t I just put it in your contacts?” Yoongi teased, though he was secretly delighted that she wanted to keep in touch with him. He prayed that you’d be the one to remember. 

“My phone died,” Y/N pouted– oh, she didn’t know how irresistible she was. “Just write it on my arm, I’ll plug it in to my phone tomorrow, I swear.”

She didn’t know that promises, when it came to The Black Lodge, often disappeared into thin air. She didn’t know that there was a strong possibility that come morning, she’d forget she was even at a bar, that she met him. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from it, reaching out to hold her wrist steady, uncapping the pen with his teeth. Yoongi could tell she was holding her breath, her heart rate picking up as he copied his cell phone number onto her smooth flesh. 

“What time is it? I have work in the morning…” Y/N looked regretful, like she couldn’t bear to leave the bar. It pulled at his heartstrings, embarrassingly enough. 

“Midnight,” Yoongi checked his watch before looking back at her face, trying to memorize every inch of it. “You should probably get going. I’ll call you a cab.”

Yoongi let Y/N cling to his arm, a little unstable on her heels, walking her to the back entrance of the bar. He felt the ache of having to say goodbye to the first person who made him feel like a real person in years, but there was nothing he could do– it’s not like he could lock her away in his apartment upstairs just so he could have someone to come home to. Breathing in deeply, he knew that he’d miss her scent as soon as she’d get in the cab and drive away. 

Leaning by the door, watching for the cab out of the window, Yoongi tried to appear nonchalant, but he was truthfully shaken. Y/N was talking about a concert that she wanted to go to with him the following week, an indie band he never heard of. If you remembered him the next day, there was a possibility he’d have actual plans with someone. Someone interested in getting to know him. 

“Hey Yoongi?” Y/N brought him out of his reverie, frowning as he spotted her cab waiting outside. 

“What’s that, silly girl?” 

“Can you kiss me?” She asked quietly, Yoongi positive that only a hybrid could hear her with how low she spoke. “Please?”

Stunned, Yoongi swallowed thickly, forgetting all about the cabbie waiting outside and honking furiously. She looked shy, and judging by her scent, she was anxious. Stepping closer, Yoongi’s body moved on its own, his hands slightly shaking as they reached to cup her delicate jaw. Y/N sucked in a breath, gaze dropping to his mouth, before her pretty eyes fluttered shut. Stooping, Yoongi shut his own eyes, his lips finding purchase on hers, her sweet sigh being swallowed up by him willingly. She gripped his wrists, still cradling her face, her teeth nipping lightly at his lower lip. Y/N pulled away all too soon, looking dazed, Yoongi equally as breathless. She reached up, flicking the angel wing earring dangling from his ear, giggling. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow, angel.” 

With that, she disappeared into the night, and the call never came.

“Y/N? Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay? What happened?” Yoongi, his voice somehow far away but definitely panicked, drew her out of whatever vision had taken over her body. She could feel herself being held, propped up against a heaving chest, a trembling hand cupping her cheek. “Y/N, please baby, open your eyes!”

Wheezing, Y/N could feel consciousness coming back to her piece by piece, the crack in Yoongi’s voice devastating her. Peeling her eyes open, she was met with Yoongi staring back at her, mortification and fear all over his face, ears pressed so flat to his skull she almost couldn’t see them. 

“What happened?” Y/N echoed Yoongi’s question back to him, her own voice scratchy. Yoongi, despite himself, pushed hair out of Y/N’s face, his whole body coiled with stress. 

“I don’t know. You passed out for a few seconds, but you s-sounded like you were having a terrible dream,” Yoongi’s voice cracked again, still holding her close to his chest. 

“I– it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t a dream. I think,” Y/N spoke slowly, like her mouth was full of molasses. “I think it was a vision, like the ones my mom has.”

Y/N felt sapped of energy, entirely sagging into Yoongi’s embrace, forgetting all about how estranged they had been for weeks. When he put his hand over her’s, she got the vision. 

“What did you see, sweetheart?” Yoongi seemed to calm down a bit, though still held onto her like she was going to dissolve into smoke. 

“The bar, you and me. But from your perspective. Our kiss,” Y/N whispered, trying to replay the vision in her head over and over again, trying to remember how Yoongi’s lips felt on her. 

“You– you remembered?” Yoongi exclaimed, color flooding his cheeks. “Wait, what do you mean, from my perspective?”

“Like I was seeing it from your eyes,” Y/N explained tiredly, slumping further into his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you the next day, angel.”

Yoongi went ramrod straight, a hiss coming from the back of his throat as he maneuvered Y/N upright by her upper arms so he could look into her eyes. 

“You need to stop apologizing to me,” Yoongi breathed, his eyebrows pulling together, pained. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” Y/N’s voice broke, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

“How many times am I going to make you cry?” Yoongi used a thumb to brush away the tears under her eyes, his anguished expression becoming even more pronounced. 

“I-I get that you don’t like me like that, Yoongi, b-but–”

“Y/N, I love you. I think I fell in love with you a year ago,” Yoongi confessed desperately, his other hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “As cheesy as that is. I love you, and it’s killing me.”

The world stopped, her heart stopped, and everything around her ceased to exist except for Yoongi. Tears drying up as if by command, Y/N searched for any sign of deception on his face or hidden in his body language, but came up with nothing. 

“You love me, too?” Y/N whimpered, heart aching from something else now. 

Yoongi leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes falling shut as he exhaled shakily. She twisted her fists into the fabric of his tee shirt, craving his warmth, savoring how close he was. 

“So fucking much,” Yoongi confirmed, voice above a whisper. “I love you so fucking much, baby.”

“Yoongi…” Y/N breathed, heart about to beat out of her chest. “Love you…”

With a purr rounding out into a growl, Yoongi moved one of his hands to the small of Y/N’s waist, dragging her closer to him. Inches away, danger, but also tenderness, filled his hazel eyes. He was beautiful. 

“Kiss me,” Yoongi’s barely audible request sent fireworks off in her gut, his eyes shutting again as he nudged his nose against hers. “Please.”

How could she possibly deny him, her Yoongi, her love, when he asked her so sweetly?

Pulse racing, Y/N released her hold on his shirt, tucking a long strand of jet black hair behind his ear, humming when he shuddered, placing her hand on the side of his neck, his own pulse thrumming as fast as hers was. 

“Please, baby,” Yoongi repeated, the pet name making her stomach flip. Without any more hesitation, Y/N leaned up, perfectly slotting her lips against Yoongi’s, gentle, slow, and impossibly sweet. 

His lips, full and soft, were yielding against hers, letting her take the lead, his hands remaining still– one holding her face, the other on her waist. Locking lips for several moments, innocent and so full of love, Y/N drew away, winded and over the moon. Yoongi stayed close, eyes lidded and breathing labored, before he spoke again. 

“More. Kiss me more.”

Yoongi pulled her into his lap, his tail curling around her waist, one arm around her back and the other traveling down to the outside of her thigh. Y/N, growing shy, gave him a simple peck, face on fire. She never imagined that this was how her night was going to go, but she couldn’t even remember when they weren’t like this before. Not satisfied with the measly peck she planted on the corner of his mouth, Yoongi chased after her, gripping her jaw tightly and descending his lips on her once more, Y/N gasping in surprise. Yoongi took that opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, swallowing the startled moan she made hungrily, the tip of his tongue flicking against the roof of her mouth. 

Melting in his grip, Y/N kissed him back with renewed vigor, a hand moving to tangle in his silky hair, pleased that he took over the kiss, lungs screaming for air as Yoongi sucked on her lower lip with a purr. As if sensing that she needed to catch her breath, Yoongi released her lip with a pop, his mouth peppering kisses along her sensitive jaw voraciously, hand on her thigh rubbing up and down. Sighing blissfully, Y/N’s head tilted back when his lips trailed to her neck, mouth wet and kisses searing her flesh.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Yoongi groaned into her neck, lightly sucking on a spot behind her ear that had her mewling. “Let me mark you…”

Words failing her, Y/N nodded desperately, eager to feel his teeth sink into her flesh. Chuckling darkly, Yoongi started muttering sweet nothings, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat. The hand on her thigh moved again, this time to grab a loose hold of the base of her neck, Y/N’s eyes rolling back into her skull with the weight of his palm in such a vulnerable spot. 

“Hold onto me, my love,” Yoongi murmured in her ear, Y/N obediently tightening her grip around Yoongi’s waist, whining at the sensation of his teeth tracing the vein fluttering with her erratic pulse making her see stars behind her eyelids. 

With one more open-mouthed kiss to her throat, Yoongi bit down, Y/N crying out his name, never feeling more alive than in that moment, in his arms, teeth in her neck. Tail protectively curling even tighter around her waist, Yoongi’s purrs were growing so loud, he sounded more predatory than ever. She didn’t know if it was the fact that he loved her, that he was kissing her, or the the side effects of scenting, but Y/N swore her soul ascended as he removed his teeth from the mark, a sensual swipe of his tongue sweeping over the wound to cauterize it. 

Growing entirely limp in his arms, Y/N barely had the energy to kiss him back when his lips returned to hers, whimpering at the tangy taste of her own blood on his tongue. And then, all at once, his lips were gone. 

“I don’t want to get carried away, sweetheart,” Yoongi’s voice was strained, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead with a hum.

“What if I do?” Y/N countered dopily, her head full of cotton and Yoongi. Yoongi barked out a hearty laugh, unable to help himself by pecking her lips once more, smoothing her hair into place. She probably looked like she got attacked.

“Not tonight, love,” Yoongi helped her stand, snickering at her whining protests. “Let’s take it slow, hmm? You need to get some rest, proper rest. So do I.”

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N admitted begrudgingly, though she wanted nothing more than Yoongi kissing her senseless all night, her body was sagging with exhaustion. “Your edginess has been keeping me up for nights on end.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Yoongi apologized sincerely, his ears flattening against his skull again. Before he opened up the soundproofed door, he stopped, lifting her hand to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “I love you.”

Realizing, until they figured out how to tell the others, they’d have to keep their affections to themselves, Y/N pouted even further. Now that she had a taste of him, she was insatiable. 

“I love you, too, angel.”

Silently, Yoongi walked Y/N to her bedroom, stealing one last kiss after making sure the hallway was clear, Y/N floating on air as she sunk onto her bed, Yoongi shutting the door and leaving her to relive everything that happened mentally. 

On her nightstand, where she had left it, her phone chimed, making her flinch and swear. Blindly reaching for it, still a little hazy from the scenting and makeout session, she unlocked her phone, only to feel dread wash over her as she read the text that she received.

Hoseok 🦊: What the hell is going on with you and Yoongi? 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @lilmxchis @7evensin @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @sometingreallycool @cathy-1997 @cerulean1riz

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[ofbreathandflame]

The visceral reaction to Ember’s rant towards Rhysand says a lot. There’s genuinely so much to unpack about how her concern is not only disregarded by Rhysand's stans but also mocked, to some extent. And this again, brings me back to my initial point about the extent of misogyny in this story and among its fans. I also think it’s interesting to see the difference between how Feyre’s initial sass is perceived (by fans and the story) versus how Ember is perceived by fans for standing up for Nesta. It brings me back to the point that (1) the story only believes Feyre should be empowered, and the story (and fans) don’t believe that all female characters should also have those traits. My second (2) point is how quickly people rush to invalidate and/or disregard domestic violence and abuse when less favorable characters react because of it. Here we have a human woman, who was abused and held hostage by a powerful Fae lord, so much so that she must take her daughter and run. She – in another realm – sees another woman in need and sees her body behavior and stands up to this man who could literally just kill her. This is interesting because when Feyre throws her shoe at Rhysand ‘in defiance’ of Rhys, we are supposed to think this is positive, yet when Ember does the same thing (and with the support of the narrative – this is a moment where SJM is attempting to hold Rhys accountable, to some extent) she is mocked. Laughed at. It isn’t as endearing to those stans. How quickly (potential) violence against women becomes suddenly a joke......

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Five)—Revised

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: aemond spying on the reader as she meets the council. council meeting gone wrong.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

Chapter Five: The Council

~Aemond's POV~

Hidden in the secret pathways, he was sure he was slowly losing his breath. Not because the profoundness of the Blacks and Greens have attended, or the conversation he has heard in countless times. Or the fact when Aegon volunteered himself to watch the council within to pass of as entertainment. Alicent insisted on her sons to stay put. As always, they behave. Especially the new encounter in King’s Landing.

As much as Aemond hated to admit, he couldn't abide anymore to what's in store for the council, especially to a certain name he expected to hear.

“I still don’t know what you find so special about this girl,” Aegon commented, peeping through the secret view from the secret tunnel.

Swallowing, Aemond paid him no mind as the meeting was about to commence.

“I thought you prefer to a company of older women,” Aegon added.

On his thirteenth nameday, Aegon has taken the young Aemond to Streets of Silk. His innocence is ruined by the time he returned back to the Red Keep.

“Quiet,” Aemond said, not facing his older and drunken brother, now that Aegon carried wine in a pouch. “We don’t want mother to scold us again, do we?”

“Daemon is here,” Aegon whispered in his ear with dismay.

With certain guests like Daemon came for one thing. To question.

“But our father isn’t present,” Aemond said. "Even if he is, I doubt he’ll live to see the forging tale before us.”

“Who cares about him? He’s in his bed, slowly dying away even when he’s already a rotten corpse.”

Aemond ignored him.

“This might be a chance for us to survive from the fate of our house,” Aemond whispered, but Aegon is unsure and oblivious to what Aemond meant.

The moment the doors droned a creaking sound, the council ceased their talk and focused on the main objective they have been longing to grasp.

You, appearing as miserable and beaten, limped legs dragged.

It was quite clear either Otto—or Daemon—ordered the guards to escort you.

Aemond held his breath. He has seen countless women in the Street of Silk, but has never seen like a strange aura exuding, something he can’t quite put. He has seen many women in tourneys and gatherings and ceremonies, he has seen them in training yards for a good long look of his training, and gardens and lavish gatherings and lessons with the septa—all are stiffened with false courtesies and sweet smiles. But the air of your presence filled him with conundrum, raw and ethereally indescribable he couldn’t pinpoint to how he reckoned you, regardless of exchanging words once.

His eye laid watching the soft sways on your locks and cinch of your waist clung tight nightwear. The suppleness on your skin somewhat bruised. Other than that, you’re in your broken state; bandaged and eyes averting to look below.

Watching you tossed your hair over after the guards pinned you down, the twinge in his chest lightened. As soon as he learns your name, he’ll endow you. But quickly faded when he spotted to how their mistreatment.

"What in Gods’ name happened to her?" Aemond muttered.

Aegon discerned Aemond’s eager impatience.

“Patience, Aemond,” Aegon said, eyes twinkled at your quiet presence. “You wouldn’t want your special lady to be feared by you if you show yourself again.”

Aemond leaned in back to mutter Aegon’s ear. “Perhaps it’s you who’s impatient.”

Only Aemond could watch afar, despite the distance is at its proximity between the secret walls. Soon, he abided, await for your lowering gaze to come alight and basked in glow.

~Your POV~

The guards released you after a sudden drag they put you from your deep sleep. Men in the council weren’t the only thing to watch out for; at the corner of your eyes, the guards were there, Daemon is also present in the council.

“At last,” Otto stated in quiet merry. “I was afraid you might not show.”

Still drowning under the influence of Milk of the Poppy, you said nothing but you head bobbed in sleepiness; shaking on the inside; your hands clamped in cold sweat, rubbing your palms altogether, gawking your lulled eye down on the ground.

You said nothing; eyes narrowed in drowsy exhaustion.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions regarding to your first arrival at the Red Keep,” Otto informed, wearing the sincerity of his smile. Daemon, on the other hand, observed you by the pillar; his posture was exteriorly calming in a calculating way. You’d think meeting with the cast is a good for setting up pranks, but turns out the meeting is set for an intimidation. In other words, King Viserys is nowhere to be seen.

“You’re well aware to why you’re summoned in the council,” Otto asked.

Without looking, you felt the eyes of the council members and the guards sent their pierced gazes at you before you responded, “I know.”

“The King wishes to acquire of your existence,” Otto resumed. "But he's ill, as of late. Would you kindly introduce yourself to the court of the small council?” he demanded.

The sky outside the Red Keep thundered.

Over your veiled face and bandage from your tousled hair, Steady, you eyed on each member, not knowing on who to look; you didn’t want to make a miscalculation that could lead your early demise.

Beside you, Alicent’s hues sparked with encourage; a tiny curved quirked upward upon her lips.

Behind the council walls, there was none other than green shadows of her sons. Although while Aegon peered with amusement as Aemond with intrigued notion. Darting your eyes at Aemond, the sensation in your body faltered with alerting thrill and admiration. Without realizing, corner of your melancholic lips twitched, one dimple dented, but reformed back to a scowl, bandaged hands, your back slouched as your hands folded and rubbed altogether.

Drowsy, your head threw back in lazy gesture, released a heavy sigh, your vision blurred.

Otto inclined back in his seat with his hands folded, attentive. “Might I acquire ask to where are you from?”

Your heart thumped.

“Based on your accent, you neither sound like one of us as Westerosi. Are you from Essos?”

Subtly, you shaken your head.

“Great Moraq? Leng? Quarth? Yiti?”

You licked your parched lips, eye frantic below your lap. “Where the fuck is my cigarette,” you hissed.

Startled, the council is confused with your question.

"I beg your pardon?" Otto spoke, stunned.

“I'm not going to give the answer you wanted unless I have my belongings,” you answered, your quiet voice deepened with loudness, lounging back against the chair frame as your arms resting on the armrest, you head tilted back against the frame. This time, your eyes pierced directly, knowing this information you’ll provide won’t take overnight.

Otto unyielding eyes shot back. “Whatever it is, you can retrieve your possessions back after you answer, my lady.”

You scoffed.

Meanwhile Alicent whispered—inquired Criston where your belongings are.

After a couple minutes passing, the knight returned with none other than your clutched purse.

Sweeping your hair back, huffing as you gave the council members the glare.

The council exchanged concerns.

Otto conceded. “I’d like to say my gratitude on saving my granddaughter. However, I would like to know how you got here into Westeros. More so in King’s Landing.”

You paused and adjusted yourself in the seat again, putting your folded hands on your lap. “Look, I don’t know how the fuck I got here. I went to a party, got drunk and then slept on my bed in my apartment. The next thing I knew that I was cold and wet, and someone pulled me over back to the shore from drowning at Blackwater Bay; I was unconscious for two days until the third day and then I was being chased by three men in armor.”

“Do you remember what house they’re from?”

You leaned your back and pondered. From what it appears, it’s all too hazy until it struck. “No. But this one knight saved me from them—Ser Remon Blackwood.”

“Must’ve been the Brackens chasing after her,” Daemon concluded. “Damn Brackens and Blackwoods never cease to shed grudge and the indulgence of their pettiness.” Daemon darted his unpredictable glare at you. “What I want to know is how in the Seven Hells did you survive? Or was it Ser Criston who murdered them in Kingswood?”

Some council members collectively gasp in silence, rather in a quiet outrage, anticipating.

Gritting your teeth, you explained, “For the record, I only saw Ser Criston when I woke up, when he took me to King’s Landing. Before Ser Criston found me, those three men were hunting me, saying that I should be bred with their children, called me a whore—one said he wanted to eat my flesh after done raping me and then other said whoever makes me scream the loudest wins and give birth,” you answered. “In return, I stabbed them in the knees, cut their cock off, then disfigured one man’s face with the knife. Is that good enough for you or should I spell it out for you?”

Each and every one of their faces blanched.

“Why aim for the knees?”

Your long locks shielded your good eye. “They exposed their weak spot.” The corners of your lips twitched.

“Is it true you found her in the forest, Ser Criston?” Otto asked.

Criston’s shoulders shrugged. “It’s true. She was lying on the ground when we reached to the exit, all smothered in bloodshed.”

The silence collectively ensued, replacing with coherent whispers.

“Knights often had armor on their knees, even their cocks.”

“I’m certain she’s a wildling.”

“For Gods’s sake, Wildlings would never set their foot here, not even King’s Landing!” Daemon is annoyed by the other council’s statement.

“You’ve never been into the Wall,” one council member said.

Daemon folded his arms. “No, but I heard stories of their customs—filthy animals they are as they come.”

“You mentioned Ser Remon Blackwood,” Otto said, facing you. “He managed to pull you back out on the shores from Blackwater Bay.”

Your voice lowered. “He did.”

“From what I’ve gathered, when Alicent and Rhaenyra saw you in the Maester’s room, your peculiar clothes and your hair are covered in dark sand, you were at Dragonstone while unconscious at the time?”

Everyone was looking at you intently.

“I was.”

“On that night, there was an occurrence that awoken the dragons—the whole Westeros. Nobles and common folk often talk for the past few weeks, regarding to the incident. The green star befell from the skies and plunged into waters of the Blackwater Bay—in Westeros. Have you heard of it?”

Confused, you didn’t answer.

“Daemon was there, that’s when he last met Ser Remon Blackwood—Ser Criston saw to it.” Otto then exchanged glances with Alicent. “We were…I hate to be the bearer of news or gaining the notions of accusing. But…we believed that you’re the green star that fell from the sky.”

At the very least, nothing surprises you anymore. You were drunk at someone’s birthday party, then off to sleep in your apartment, but off to sleep and find yourself awake in the middle of the forest, in Westeros, is utterly mind blowing, but soon accepted the fate that’s been thrust onto you until the reminder.

You scoffed, your hand gestured in. “Wait just a damn fucking minute,” you interfered. “Whatever you’re thinking, you—”

“So you’re the one who causes my Caraxes to nearly bitten my hand off in half. My dragon couldn’t sleep well for the last few days,” Daemon fumed as he went closer to you. Daemon clutched the side of your neck, fingertips pressured. But you were unfazed.

“Fuck off,” your voice raised, eyes hardened, shoving Daemon away, but he wouldn’t budge, his clutch tightened on you.

“Daemon, spare her—she did no such treason; she protected and defended your life with hers on the bridge and the life of children,” Otto said, but you detected his sarcasm. Otto never cared for the Blacks.

Behind you, you felt a heavy presence towering over you. But no one was there, as if someone’s watching over you.

Daemon studied your features. “I find it hard to believe that a young lady like you who could fend off your opponents with a blindfold. Tell me, how did you manage to strike under such vulnerable condition,” His fingertips caressed you on your cheekbone, leading down on the side of your throat, thumbing across the smooth flesh.

Your hand clutched his, nails deepened.

“None of your goddamn business,” you answered, cold expression in your good eye unwaver, shoving his touch back in lenient motion; your body leaned back. “A little “thank you” for saving your royal, arrogant ass would’ve been nice.”

Daemon clicked his tongue and stepped back, giving you the broken knife you once held underneath the folded handkerchief. “You attacked the men in armor with this. You stole this Ser Remon Blackwood, didn’t you? The sigil marked on his dagger,” he seethed.

Quietude engulfed the air.

“Think what you like, princeling. But Ser Remon Blackwood gave that to me for protection. I promised him that I’ll give the knife back the next time I see him…”

Daemon shaken his head. “His body has been found, buried. His family were in mourning. Seeing them would consider to be the worst idea.”

Hearing Remon Blackwood’s death, you carried no hope or peace of mind. Instead, you sulked, but insisted on not showing the upsetting factor invaded in you. When you veered Daemon’s eyes, he could offer nothing but sympathy, but molded to indifference. Somehow, it left you clouded in anger.

“This is certainly a waste for our time,” one maester said. “We’ll never get information out of her!”

“Filthy as her mouth, spiteful as a venomous beast.”

“Surely she’s a born Wilding.”

While the council spoke over, nose scrunching, you assumed, almost sinisterly ill from the flips and coils in your belly, watching the young knight carrying on what it seems to appear—your clutched purse.

Your eye fixed on the object, glaring at the young knight, who was taking his sweet time to chat another guard—a report, you assumed.

At your attentive gaze, Alicent ordered the young knight in order for you to retrieve your belongings—all which are intact due to the quality of your clutched bag.

The young knight handled your possession, but as he called you, you stare into space, contemplating. The world you admire was starting to piss you off. You understood that you’re the outsider. With your unhealed wounds, what can you do? In a world of Westeros, men and women died often.

You stared into space so much that you didn’t sense others watching you. All you wanted was a peaceful sleep, but the guards are strong, with your weakened health, you fought them off, but they got the upper hand.

But each time their discussion extended, you rarely responded; blanked expression, white noise ringing louder, and concentration in your head afloat elsewhere.

Until—

You gripped the young knight’s hand, without looking back over your shoulder and twisted his fingers; he yelped, his body collapsed as you twisted his hand and arm farther with your good hand, with your position changed—then with both hands, you shifted—slammed his weight against the marbled table, his arms twisted on the back, leaving everyone standing in shock. The council collectively had their breaths inhaled, paled at the sudden shift within you.

“I said, don’t touch me,” you reminded him, voice darkened.

Criston tried to hauled you, but you resisted.

“He has your possessions,” Alicent begged, motherly as she sounded, while the guards prowled at your direction to arrest you.

At once, you released the young knight and reclined back to your seat. From there, you opened your purse after retrieving it, inspecting all your items are intact. He hissed, appeasing the pain on his hand. The council members slowly arrived back into their seats.

“Seems you’re no ordinary maiden,” Otto said.

You ignored him. “I haven’t had a chance to get a fucking break. I think you got the answers by now that I’m not from here. I’m neither a prostitute nor a foreign bitch or a Wildling from those places you mentioned, one that you people are accusing me of.”

Nobody moved.

“I don’t think you understand the occurrence, my lady,” Jason Lannister barged in with soft voice. “In fact, you have no clue to why you’re graciously summoned.”

“I didn’t know being “graciously” summoned in the meeting by guards dragging me out of the blue.”

“You don’t know what it’s at stake. You have woken the whole seven kingdoms in Westeros! And the dragons barely slept—flying about the skies and roared as if they’re dying. I suggest you start acting like a noble maiden instead of being a foolish common whore in Street of Silk,” Jason Lannister suggested.

In paused silence, everyone was waiting for your answer.

Opening your clutched bag, you took out your dragon lighter and the pack of cigarettes; lighting up the cigarette and blew a smoke as you turned away.

The council watched in astonishment as you held a foreign object in your hand.

“Where I come from won’t matter, and as far as I’m concerned I would worry about something else more important, if I were you.” Your eyes narrowed it almost shadowed.

“Father, she’s in no better shape. It would be best if we leave her for a proper recovery to regain answers,” Alicent said, giving you sympathy. “Dragging her from her bedside while under the Milk of the Poppy won’t do much good.”

You looked at her with a smile in gratitude.

Shutting his eyes, Otto rubbed the bridge of nose. “We will continue this tomorrow. King Viserys would like to witness the accountability of the young woman.”

The council absconded the meeting, as you watched them up and left, you did the same, leaving to your quarters, but the Cargyll twins followed and escorted back.

~Aemond’s POV~

Under a stricken of nightly hour in King’s Landing, after a long watch in the secret pathway, Aemond’s internal aggravation simmered and worsened as time struck pass. Hands flexed and fingernail scratched against the palm, recalling on you exiting the council, despite the Cargyll brothers kindly escorted you back to a spare room that Aemond assigned since your first arrival. He could never undo the memory of you.

Soon, Aemond learned that Daemon ordered them to a quick way “summon” you. Ser Criston and Aemond abducted the men in armor who mistreated you, yanking the sleeping guards buried deep the underground of Red Keep, only for their tongues to be cut and their bones to be bloody and fractured.

He got up and under the lavish wooden box, it contained in miscellaneous items. But underneath, he had the possession of your clothes—all washed and dried. No blood stains or mud was to be seen.

Once he gathered the materials, Aemond lounged back on his velvet chair near at the great hearth, not averting from the bright fire, clenching your attire in his arms, and lifted to his nose; a fainted scent of vanilla and strawberry wafted, aroused his cock.

His heart aflame, determined and tribulation all at once. He must have you. He must claim you as his only lover. He must claim you and your smile alone. His white flower, his hope, his wandering light. He must succeed.

No matter what.

Taglist: @galactict3a @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @hufflepuff1700 @me753 @fredskum @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @darylandbethfanforever9 @blackswxnn @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @colored-tr-panels @valeskafics

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy - all rights reserved.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

love love love ur parentification analysis on sokka and katara especially katara’s section! it puzzles me so when KA’s say ZK’s do not understand the show nor katara when to me it’s so obvious we do 😭

thank you so much anon! I’m so happy that my post resonated with you!

A while back I saw a Tumblr survey about favourite characters and ships. It basically showed that for people whose favourite character is Katara, Zutara is the most popular ship. Obviously the Venn diagram between Zutara shippers and Katara fans isn’t a circle, but I think the overlap contributes to why so many ZKs are passionate about Katara. Also, ZKs who are Katara fans tend to be pretty flexible with Katara ships: many people like Harutara / Jiangtara / Yuetara / Sukitara / Azutara (though most shippers of Azutara tend to be Azula stans first and Katara stans second). What’s really funny and a little sad to me is that non-ZK Katara fans who dislike her canon arc get accused of being ZKs by antis (this happens weirdly often to @sapphic-agent). It’s like some antis can’t comprehend the idea that people might just love Katara without the ship war.

I generally like reading POVs from Katara fans of all ships, but I recently discovered that I tend to disagree with POVs from Zukka shippers. They often try to defend Katara’s “childhood” by pointing out that Katara sometimes goofs off and Sokka also takes responsibility, so she’s not just the “mom friend.” To be clear I’m not disagreeing with those points, but I don’t think downplaying her parentification trauma is defending her childhood, especially since goofing off & being impulsive make her parentification more realistic, not less. It feels kind of disingenuous to accuse the fandom of being the ones to parentify her when The Runaway exists, especially since they downplay Katara’s parentification in order to play up Sokka’s parentification. There’s nothing feminist about ignoring the invisible labour performed by a woman in a cartoon, not when brave women IRL have been agitating to recognize care work for literal decades. I wrote my undergrad thesis on invisible labour performed by women, especially women of colour, in radical activist spaces…so I feel really strongly about this.

I think it’s interesting that a lot of ATLA fans claim Katara shouldn’t be with Zuko on the grounds of her colonial trauma, but refuse to entertain the notion that maybe she shouldn’t be with Aang (a kid who evades responsibility) because of her parentification trauma. The murder of her mother stems from imperialist violence, but her subsequent parentification stems from patriarchal gender norms around divisions of labour and assignations of responsibility. The patriarchy is a thing in ATLA, and it’s canonically something that Katara hates almost as much as the Fire Nation (incidentally, reason 27363729 why the fic Southern Lights is so special to me is how it deftly explores both anger at a colonial apparatus & anger at your own people for their patriarchal oppression).

[aroaceking01]

Truly heartbreaking to see so many young fans - majority of them being girls - not sending support to Caiti, Shelby, Andi and to everyone else coming forward with their stories. You should always support the victims, even if the abuser is someone you like/stan a lot.

Your favorite uwu white boy streamer could literally have done this to you.

YOU DONT KNOW THESE MEN! The one you see on camera is only a persona, THATS IT. They are grown ass adults, they should know better. Why are you playing a drinking game with someone you assumed was 21? You should check that shit. It LITERALLY takes two seconds to check that info. You said that one of her friends had a 21+ bracelets and assumed she was 21 too. Im fucking sorry but that’s dumbass logic , you are a literal 27 years old man friend with a 24 yo and a 23 yo. Ur own group of friends has a 3-4 years age gap difference. Just bc one of Caiti’s friend is 21 that doesn’t mean anything. And even if Caiti was actually 21 when it happened, the behaviour was still creepy asf. Why are u cuddling and putting ur hand under her shirt to this girl you just met?

For people sending shit to Caiti bc she didn’t say anything at the moment, while she already explained her point of view a bit on Twitter - even if she shouldn’t have to- I want to add to that a bit. We heard thousands of stories where women said no to men and they still physically abused them. Put yourself in her shoes for a goddamn second, she’s 18 and drunk in a room with two grown ass men that she doesn’t know well, she only know their online persona. She doesn’t know how they’ll react if she says no.

It might be a stretched idea for some of y’all, but I’m basing this on women experience with those types of situations. In a lot of cases, when you say no, worse things can happen. More violence can happen.

Im sending support and love to all the victims and wish them to heal well. You are all strong coming out with your stories against those men with gigantic fandoms.

P.s : before anyone tells me that I also don’t know these women streamers, I prefer defending and supporting a « potential » victim than a potential abuser, but that might just be me.

[nrilliree]

No matter how many times I get messages telling me that I can't reduce Aegon to "one trait", I will still think that the fact that he is a rapist invalidates any positive qualities he has.

⬆️ THIS!!! And yes we can. A rapist is a rapist. There’s nothing else that justifies that. No trait that changes that. Period. I don’t care what else he does, ever. Team Green is so desperate to ignore that fact.. because that means their fake ‘king’ is an absolute POS.

And then they turn around and say we ignore that crap in the finale, and say it didn’t make sense. BECAUSE IT DIDN’T. Both actors said so. Neither wanted to film it and neither understood it at all.

But Aegon abusing a young girl was a natural progression of how he’s always acted. Especially at Laena’s funeral. It also tracks with the book him as well. That scene made sense. Just like his mum immediately after he did it.. manipulating the poor girl. Both scenes make sense to who the two characters are, neither were OOC.

Daemon never physically harmed any of his wives in the book. It's a fact. He didn't kill Rhea because he wasn't there. He never raised a hand against Rhaenyra, never forbade Laena from returning home. I actually honestly had deja vu when I saw this scene. It reminded me of the scene where the Darkling started choking Alina. Same wtf. Sasha didn't physically attack Alina like that. There was never a scene where he choked her. Do screenwriters these days have some fetish for adding senseless scenes of violence where a woman is choking?

But back - TG stans can defend themselves as they want, but even if we don't look at the series, Aegon in the book is still a sexual predator. He molested maids, there were rumors about his sexual distortion, and there were rumors about having sex with a 12-year-old girl. Aegon continued to sexually abuse women.

And the fact that his fans will say "a maid is a thing, you can't rape her" or "it's not rape, we didn't see him penetrate her" won't change anything. This only shows about these people.

[greenqueenhightower]

about the supposed r*pe thing that MIGHT be related to the alicole scene

i don’t doubt they would take that route for two things:

1. Alicent is the woman who is shown to suffer all kinds of abuse on screen, and she always receives unnecessary scenes (the foot scene!). Saying that i also saw on twt that during s2 filming some rumors spreed about Olivia wanting to quit because of a disagreement or problems with the intimacy coordinator and the amount of nude scenes… that also would explain her lack of enthusiasm about s2 and the press in general.

2. Criston, although he worships alicent and have this madonna whore complex with her… at the end of the day he is still a man and nonetheless a violent and impulsive man, and well we can’t trust men especially in a medieval society and especially inside AWOIAF because violence and violence against women is almost like a celebration to it.

and i am saying all of this outside of a writing standpoint because if we go there all sides (rhaenicents, alicoles, alicent stans and criston stans) are losing because this is poor writing at it’s finest. but i suggest we all lay low and stay calm about it (even though is hard…. i am almost biting my hand off), if the leaks were true they would be put down because that’s literally violation of contract and NDAs and all that

What is with this show and making male characters as r*pists? Viserys was one, but so he was in F&B, then they made Aegon one for the shock value, and now there is the possibility that so is Criston. And let's not forget Daemon's portrayal, who kills Rhea Royce in cold blood. So yes, there very much is violence against women in HOTD, and even more so in the ASOIAF world (there are so many examples of characters as well as customs: see first night).

I am still very hesitant to believe that Criston will r*pe Alicent though, because of course it is OOC for him and it would ruin his character arc in S2. I cannot imagine him staying in the council or becoming Hand after all this comes to light.

If he does, the writers really hate Alicent. Because this means that Alicent does not speak up for herself yet again, and she is being victimized and taken advantage of once more, so nothing has changed. As you said, Alicent had two SA scenes in S1, and if that is where her character is going in S2, then they really want to inflict the most pain and utter humiliation on that woman. Her role would serve to satisfy a projection of some male fantasy which I would hate. I mean, if this is true, I do not blame Olivia for being uncomfortable and pessimistic about it.

Now, do I believe it? I don't want to. I am thinking that the backlash the writers will receive if the characters of both Alicent and Criston are butchered in such a shameless way in S2 would deter them from ever making that decision, yet, as you highlight, we have already seen how careless and ruthless they can be with their own characters in S1 so I am not expecting top tier writing and character development either.

I guess that, as you said, we have to wait and see.

[bohemian-nights]

As a WOC, I will never be able to sympathize with Rhaenyra. She’s such an over privileged and lazy person. I just can’t bring myself to sympathize with her for getting usurped because I feel like that’s mainly her fault for being lazy and thinking she’s entitled to everything.

And then we have nettles. A girl who comes from nothing. She manages to claim a wild dragon, she fights for Rhaenyra’s cause and how does Rhaenyra repay her? By trying to murder her. How can anyone sympathize with Rhaenyra over nettles? This white woman’s trauma and paranoia do not excuse her trying to kill a black woman.

So many of her Stans like to pretend they have the moral high ground while also defending Rhaenyra trying to murder nettles.

Yeah, that’s my main complaint with her and why I get so frustrated when people think I’m being mean, petty, or overly critical about her character.

Yes, she is objectively a victim of the patriarchy, but she’s also a privileged white woman who tried to exercise her privilege by attempting to commit a racially motivated hate crime against a Black woman(Nettles).

And yes she’s a fictional character, but there have been so many women throughout history who have behaved in that same exact manner. Women who despite being discriminated against based on their sex still managed to punch down and ruin real lives, separated families, and got innocents killed all at their command.

I don’t know if this was GRRM's intention, but from my perspective as a Black woman, Rhaenyra is just another reflection of that painful history. She’s not someone I can project onto and see myself in even though she’s a woman. She’s still very much just a part of the machine(just in a feminine form).

Before anyone comes for me, it’s perfectly fine if you like Rhaenyra. Again she’s fictional, but not acknowledging what she represents and how she’s both oppressed and an oppressor means that you don’t acknowledge her victims or see the importance of characters like Nettles.

And if you have a hard time acknowledging and understanding how a fictional Black woman is being victimized by a white woman I doubt you’ll have a much easier time dealing with real life victims of racial violence.

Not to mention the fact that it’s incredibly offensive to see things like Nettles should be cut because there are five other Black-ish people in a mostly white cast and she’s unimportant and people only like her because she’s Black and yet have people swear up and down they don’t have a racist bone in their body.

This isn’t even getting into the people who have literally used the n-word compared Black characters to animals, and mocked Black hair and features. Just know you guys are the same cause racism isn’t limited to spewing out slurs.

Those statements(which are solely focused on her race) are very much rooted in anti-Blackness. Those statements are the epitome of reducing someone down to just their skin color and dismissing them because of that. Nettles may be fictional, but you are using racist tropes that have been pushed on Black(that we somehow aren’t deserving of our positions in life and are only where we are because of quotas and wokeness) to trash her character.

Nettles is an incredibly interesting character. Hell, even George finds her fascinating.

Of all the secondary characters in F&B she’s the one who he wanted to write a novella about. Her story has all the tropes that people usually like. Girl from nothing who despite all odds makes it and thrives. She’s there to teach a lesson, but they don’t see her worth because she’s Black. All they see is a Black face who they think doesn’t belong since she’s not a walking stereotype.

I’m not exactly shocked by this behavior, but it’s still stlrange asf to see people who scream up and down about misogyny(which is valid) then go on and perpetuate misogynoir without blinking an eye.

[sad-daddy-long-legs]

So I went to the Hozier concert on Friday, and it was lovely for all the reasons I wanted it to be of course, but at the end, Andrew spoke about the US voting against the ceasefire in Palestine. You can find a clip someone posted here. He said, truthfully, that the only reason Ireland knows peace is because of the intervention of the international community.

Some people on Twitter and tik tok have decided that his decision to mention and condemn the Hamas attack on October 7th in conjunction unnecessarily “muddles” and “softens” his otherwise pretty clear anti-colonial and pro-Palestine stance and I am over it. This is not actually coming from a place of stan culture and defending Hozier on the internet. It is coming from a deep disgust with the way my fellow white leftists consume war as if it’s a sporting event and ever acknowledging the humanity and pain of the “other side” makes you suspect and disloyal.

What took place on October 7th was horrific. It was terrifying. It was an act of unspeakable cruelty inflicted on the vulnerable. The collective punishment and war crimes perpetuated by the Israeli government in retaliation are inexcusable. To do so in the name of victims, many of whom have family members speaking out against the war crimes of the state, is awful. The Palestinian children, women, and men who have died as a result of Israeli war crimes over the previous decades and in the past few weeks deserve to be grieved with the same rage and lament as the Israeli victims of Hamas. All of these things are true.

That is basic humanity. It is not a sudden condoning of the actions of the Israeli state to acknowledge this. To pretend like Andrew, or anyone else, expressing similar sentiments was condoning or softening the violence of the Israeli state is the purity testing nonsense that continues to damage and divide leftists spaces. It is also deeply decontextualized.

Most Americans—again, especially white Americans— do not know what it is like to live with the the threat of violence and war daily. We do not even have a memory of domestic war on our land. Domestic war in 1998 in Ireland. People remember this violence. It’s not hypothetical. A desire and a call to action and a call for peace is fucking bold. A call for a cease fire is a call on the behalf of the Palestinians people. It’s realistic, though we may not want to believe it, but we must remain hopeful. Hope is a discipline.

I don’t know man. I’m so tired of Twitter fingers screaming for blood they’ll never shed, never bury, never know, and condemning people for grieving for lives that were truly lost. War is not sport teams with unfailing loyalty and anything that insists on dehumanizing a side to “win,” means we’ve already lost. I desire to see freedom and justice for Palestine, and I will not apologize for this. I will grieve for every brother and sister and child who is robbed of their life at the hands of violence, and I will not apologize for this either. I will continue to call my representatives and ask that the United States vote for the ceasefire and supply humanitarian aid for the Palestinian people. I will continue to donate and march.

We may all have opinions about the different methodologies that will be used for our own liberation and the liberation of oppressed people throughout the world, but if your methods require you to close off the part of yourself that is able to recognize the humanity of your neighbor, of a child on either side of the Gaza Strip, then you will only ever reinvent violence to inflict on those who were not able to preform loyalty the way you wanted.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

House of the Dragon Finale/Series thoughts

As someone who finished Fire and Blood a few days ago… oh boy do I have some thoughts.

Obviously spoilers below the cut for all of S1 and for F&B, don’t read if you don’t want spoilers, etc etc.

Oh fucking BOY what a goddamn mess

Let’s get the rant/complaining out of the way first:

Just to be clear, the cast are all amazing, my complaints are NOT directed at them, I love them, they did the best with what they had. The writers, however: 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

The writers so wanted to make Team Green as likeable as possible, it’s actually pathetic, and they basically whitewashed every single one of their actions instead of allowing them to do morally bad things - instead, everything was a misunderstanding or an accident.

Like hear me out, the reason Team Green is even interesting to read or watch is BECAUSE of the bad things they do. That’s literally ten times more interesting than “oopsie daisy! Accidentally started a war” and no one actively choosing to do anything

All of the key Team Green players have basically no agency, it’s actually sad: this is especially obvious in regards to Alicent and Aemond

In F&B, Alicent intentionally ignored Viserys’ wishes of putting Rhaenyra on the throne and put her r*pist son on there instead. In HOTD, it’s “Alicent misunderstood the ramblings of a clearly delirious and dying man and is not in the wrong”. Also in F&B, she is much older than Rhaenyra, who is only 10 when Alicent and Viserys marry - which makes it kind of funny because Alicent is literally beefing with a 10 year old. But in HOTD, they aged Rhaenyra up and Alicent down to be the same age, and invented some “they were clearly lesbians” BS for no reason - and no, it’s not me being “homophobic”, the fact is that Rhaenyra and Alicent’s friendship/relationship has constantly reminded me of a toxic friendship that I was in for more than half of my life, so no, I don’t ship that thank you very much

By the way, accusing Daemyra fans of being homophobic because we don’t ship Rhaenicent is so fucking dumb, most of us are gay/lesbian/bisexual/not straight?!? And most of us are mad that they erased Laena/Rhaenyra in favour of some toxic nonsense with Alicent

I don’t even like Alicent but the whole Larys-foot-scene was so unnecessary. What was the point in showing her as a victim even after her husband’s death? What was the point in showing yet another example of abuse? I’m so tired of shows using abuse and violence against women for shock value or plot drama, it’s so gross and it’s never treated seriously or with the sensitivity it deserves. This whole show has basically made the female characters defenceless weak victims and made the men key players

And no, I’m not saying victims of abuse/assault are weak or whatever. I’m saying that the show has gone out of its way to make every single female character a victim instead of showing any of them actively making any decisions/taking any action, and instead of giving them actual character development. And I’m also saying that this show hasn’t dealt with the topic well, it’s been very mishandled.

Basically… Let let women be evil! Let women be fucking unhinged!

Then there’s Aemond: his character defining moment is him becoming a kin-slayer and murdering his teenage nephew in that Storms End moment. He celebrated the fact he did it. But in HOTD, it’s painted as “oops he didn’t mean to! He just couldn’t control his dragon!”… which is so lame for him as a character, like what makes him and Team Green interesting is that they do awful things. It being reduced to accidents is just so lame.

The fact that people out there are actively stanning Aegon II even after seeing the scene of the maid sobbing after being r*ped AND knowing he’s done it before… y’all are sick. Literally sick. And I also blame Sara Hess for basically saying “yeah he’s a r*pist but we can still redeem him”, like no??? Shut the fuck up and stop trying to say we should like a r*pist?!?!

It’s so painfully obvious that the writers for each episode all disagreed with each other and never tried to work together because characterisation is all over the fucking place

In one episode you’ve got writers like “daemon is evil and I don’t know why people like him”, and then another it’s “he loves his family and he’s got light sides too”… it’s a MESS

Can I just say that Rhaenyra has also been diminished and denied any agency as a character either; we saw some of that fire and fierceness in her when she was younger, but then when older she kind of just became really complacent and lost that fire. And that’s not me blaming Emma, they did great with shitty scripts they had, but it’s a problem.

Like you seriously think that book!Rhaenyra would have just accepted being choked?!? She’d have fucking murdered the man who did that

WHICH BRINGS US TO DAEMON

Matt Smith clearly pissed someone off at HBO because how is it that every single scene that shows Daemon in a remotely positive light is deleted?!? Eg. Hugging his daughters, comforting Rhaenyra after Visenya, etc. Matt Smith HAS to have somehow rubbed someone the wrong way because that poor man has been done so dirty

Matt Smith is quite frankly the ONLY one who fucking understands Daemon at this point, judging by his interviews, even GRRM is getting the side eye from me at this point given how he signed off on this travesty of an adaptation, especially given that he said Daemon is his favourite Targaryen

Daemon would NEVER hurt Rhaenyra is the thing (not unless it was in a kinky way), and anyone who respects the source material knows that. Are they the healthiest couple? No, not in the slightest, but this is the world of ASOIAF, pretty much no couple is 100% healthy in this universe, and they were actually one of the healthier examples quite frankly (as opposed to Aegon/Helaena, Sansa with Joffrey and Ramsey, etc)

“Why are you so surprised he choked Rhaenyra? He killed his first wife” — that’s just it, in F&B he was nowhere NEAR the fucking Vale when Rhea fell. Like the book made it painfully clear that he was not there when she fell and died several days after… but the show had to make him evil somehow, because apparently feminism is now “all men should be evil”.

By the way, you think a little OOC choking is gonna stop me shipping them and writing fanfics for them? Bitch, you wish, I’ve shipped pairings with worse problems than a little tension-charged choking

One thing I will say is that at least the show made their relationship less of a probable “groomer” thing. Although, in the context of the world of ASOIAF, a teenage girl would be considered of age and married off - by modern standards, no, that’s wrong, but that world isn’t running by modern standards so 🤷🏻 but yeah, I felt like the show made it less like Daemon was grooming her at the start and more like they had a chemistry simmering under the surface that they were both playing around with? Idk

Also, no, don’t give a fuck that they’re uncle and niece: incest is quite literally a Targ tradition, literally all of them marry their brothers/sisters/uncles/aunts/cousins etc. In real life? Absolutely agree, in real life that’s gross and I don’t condone that, but this is a FANTASY show. Also, if you’re watching a show about a family that is literally built on incestuous relationships, then don’t complain when there’s incest 🤡

This show has given the show-only fans brain rot because they literally saw Rhaenyra go “I’m not a child, I want you” to Daemon and STILL think he forced her into their marriage, like no sis, girlie was gagging for him and I don’t blame her!

I literally don’t care what the show runners and writers say, they’ve proven they don’t know what the ever-loving fuck they’re talking about: I am going to continue firmly believing that the reason Daemon left suddenly at the brothel is because he didn’t want to fuck her in a dirty brothel because he knew she deserved better than that - that, and he realised that she was still very young and inexperienced, and he didn’t want her to jump into it spur of the moment only to regret it later. If Rhaenicent shippers can believe Alicent and Rhaenyra are in love (lmfao) and that Alicent cut her arm open out of love (🤡) I’m allowed to believe this if I want to!

I will admit that leaving her there with her pants down was a shitty thing to do, but hey, it’s Daemon, he’s morally grey and that’s why we like him! I’m going to theorise that he had to get out of there as soon as possible because he knew if he stayed, he’d do something he’d regret (like taking her against a wall)

The fact that Baela and Rhaena had barely any lines, especially in the last episode, is fucking disgusting. Like truly disgusting. The show had time to show us that disgusting feet scene as well as Aegon wanking out a window but NOT to give those two girls any lines??? Especially since they’re black???

Also, Baela in F&B is described as having cropped her hair as short as a boy's, so it would not whip about her face when she was riding, and as being a tomboy - not just as a child but as an adult too. We saw a little of that when she was younger but they seem to have abandoned that since aging the kids up?!?

By the way, Laena was done SO dirty by the writers; changing her death from childbirth to basically offing herself was… definitely a choice. On the one hand, yes, showing her dying in childbirth five episodes after Aemma dying in childbirth may be repetitive, but guess what? That’s life for women in this universe! And it’s like she decided that it’s more honorable to kill herself than die in childbirth, like the way she talks about not wanting to die giving birth is very… off. It’s like the writers are saying it’s not feminist to die giving birth or some shit???

I do genuinely feel like some of the time skips (especially the one after Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding) were a mistake. I personally didn’t feel connected to most of the characters who died because we didn’t get to actually spend that much time with them or get to know them. Like Harwin??? Laena??? A lot of what happened between time skips was simply told and not shown, which is lazy storytelling quite frankly.

The way that Visenya’s death was handled was so bad, oh my god?!? They didn’t even mention her name, the fact Rhaenyra in E1 had named the baby in Aemma’s stomach Visenya if it was a girl, also the fact that Dark Sister (Daemon’s sword) was wielded by Visenya in the days of Aegon the Conquerer… none of that is there. It just comes and goes like it’s nothing.

Also the fact that Daemon’s grief over the simultaneous deaths of his brother and his daughter are just… brushed over completely. It just really pisses me off because men’s feelings are often brushed aside when it comes to miscarriages/stillbirths, and also for any kind of loss quite frankly; we got two quick shots of him on the beach and that’s it. And we know Matt Smith shot more because there’s photos of him on the beach shooting it, doing all kinds of shit like on his knees in the water etc. It hits especially hard considering a) he already lost Laena and their third baby under similar circumstances, b) he’s also grieving his brother, and c) according to leaks, he was supposed to comfort Rhaenyra after she gave birth to Visenya. They were supposed to have a moment of grief together… and HBO/this show shat all over that.

I’ll write a fic to explore it, I swear-

And now for the bridge scene in E10 because that BULLSHIT deserves its own fucking section

You’re telling me that Rhaenyra is more emotional over a book page she ripped out of a boring old history book twenty fucking years ago than she is about losing her only daughter?!? Than she is about her father’s death?! You can fuck off with that bullshit right now

To me, that’s just more proof of Alicent’s manipulation - it’s a crap attempt but it’s still toxic and manipulative as fuck. “Look, this page from 20 years ago that you ripped out of a boring history book while we were under the tree - we’re friends, remember! Now let my rapist son sit on the throne and we can be friends again 💚”

If I were Rhaenyra, I’d send that page right the fuck back with the words “an eye for an eye, a son for a son” written across it in bold

Like I don’t know how Rhaenicent shippers think that’s a win, that’s literally Riverdale levels of cringey and crap writing, I would be so embarrassed if I shipped that

It does make me laugh that people are ripping that scene apart like literally most of us know how fucking dumb it is - and people are so busy making fun of it that they’re not even that mad about Daemon, so that’s a win in my book

I also need to say something about Rhaenicent shippers in general: yes, maybe there are some Daemyra shippers out there who have been dicks - there are literally shitty people in every fandom. I’m sorry if any Daemyra shippers out there have harassed or bullied Rhaenicent shippers because that’s not okay, most of us don’t condone that. But it’s not like Rhaenicent victims are all innocent because on the Daemyra discord, for nearly two months straight, we’ve had numerous trolls (including Rhaenicent shippers) come into our chats and harass us, saying we’re disgusting and even a few privately messaging me to tell me to end my life over a fucking tv show pairing. Like if you don’t like it, I understand, I truly do - but harassing us over it isn’t okay. Just stick to your corner and we’ll stick to ours.

Anyway, there are some wins out of this whole trash heap:

DAEMYRA 🖤 I’m gonna write the fix it fanfics for you, don’t you worry, it’s my week off this week and I got you

I’m just gonna come out and say it, that brothel scene was hot and you know I’m right, stop booing me

That beach sex scene was beautiful, especially since there’s a copy floating around that’s removed the music and increased the breathing/kissing noises 👀

We got to see Matt Smith’s bare ass, I’m not complaining even if that scene was awkward and uncomfortable as fuck

The acting was phenomenal throughout, I may hate certain characters and also the writers, but I can’t fault how brilliant the actors are

The soundtrack was really top tier the entire show, Ramin Djawadi NEVER misses, every piece of soundtrack absolutely fucking slaps, THANK GOD IT GOT RELEASED TODAY

The Valyrian wedding ceremony was perfect, I just wish we’d seen more of it and heard the words!

DAEMON CROWNING RHAENYRA AND KNEELING TO HER FUCK YEAH

When I say I will defend Caraxes with my life, I mean it, I love that huge boi with his squeaky deviated septum roar

I love the designs of the different dragons and that no two look the same, especially Vhagar - they did not make her pretty and I respect that wholeheartedly

RIP Luke 😭🖤 knew it was coming, still hurts so bad

Kind of shipping Jace and Baela even though I know what’s coming and also that knowing these writers they’ll make him sleep with Sara Snow

And finally…

“I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king.”

Daemon Targaryen, you will always be a fucking iconic legend 👏🏻 it’s also especially fitting given that both of his sons with Rhaenyra become kings!

[edmundhoward]

15,16,17,18,25

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

the ariana grande-ification of anne boleyn in fanart is truly something. and as an olive skinned white woman, i don’t think white tudor fans know what olive skin looks like. also i think there is a frankly bizarre relationship certain tudor fans have with race (ab as an Other™️ because she was supposedly swarthy, trends surrounding coa being fair and spanish, jane seymour being ‘so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise’).

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

i truly do not understand the appeal of characterising female historical figures (largely royal, aristocratic) as powerless victims — with no thought to their complicity in an inherently unjust institution. catherine of aragon (as one example) was immensely privileged to the detriment of the majority of people: she believed in this superiority as morally just and fought for it. remembering what her queenship meant should colour how we talk about her: lauding her as brave for fighting for her status can and should coexist with acknowledging what she was ultimately fighting for.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

i myself am guilty of this, but we absolutely need more content about non-courtiers (and content in general that is active and honest about acknowledging the fundamental value of those outside of the aristocratic sphere). wolf hall came close but veers into trying to have it both ways; ‘she [Mantel] wants to relish the bejewelled surfaces, the highly wrought fabrics, the flashing beauties of the Henrician age, while also having a go at the people and the institutions which enabled that agglomeration of riches. The aesthetic delight and the political outrage are on a collision course’. becoming elizabeth’s take on kett’s rebellion was hateful. one of the best jobs i ever had was transcribing local court records for an archive, and getting to meet dozens and dozens of men and women, and hear them talk about their lives.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

critical thinking skills 🥴

i would be remiss if i didn’t plead katherine howard’s case yet again. she’s such a force of personality — charming and delightful and ‘fired with ambition’, when i think her ability to be as successful as she was as queen, given her lack of experience and the brevity of her reign, is nothing short of remarkable. i think people are genuinely missing out on someone so engaging when they dismiss her as either whore or victim. it’s a constant frustration, for me, that the way we talk about her remains so superficial.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

god, i have so many of these; you could just send me 25s repeatedly atp haha. i think the most annoying thing though is the people who get weirdly offended by the insinuation that this fandom is, indeed, a fandom. there is this hypocrisy over how legitimate engagement can be — but ofc., certain people can be called ‘stans’ (indeed, ab fans can invent terms like ‘heneven eleven stans’ and ‘seyhive’, because people are just that painfully uncreative) but god forbid somebody, in turn, calls them ab stans. ‘i’m not a stan, i have a BA/BS/BE/LLB’; you write fanfiction — you are not serious people lol. it’s not an academic conference… nobody cares about you. you can leave if you’re not having fun, nobody is forcing you to be here.

[absolutebl]

Hi ABL,

I've seen someone say that Gong Jun had better chemistry with his male co leads than the female leads in his het dramas and you made a mention of watching his het dramas and that they weren't good. I know you can't give a concrete answer but can you theorize why his acting is livelier in advance bravely and Word of Honor than in others.

❤️ Mimi

I have talked about this a little bit before. And someone in a comment once mentioned that Ohm (bad buddy and many other BLs) also said something to this effect :

If you are from a culture where male-to-female physical contact is extremely restricted (like China or South Korea for example), it’s sometimes easier to act intimacy with another man because you’re less freaked out about being accused of pushing things too far or taking advantage of the situation. 

In other words, in places where you are trained by every social moray and stricture into “ gentlemanly” behavior around women (but not around men) it’s easier to act intimate with a man, especially if you have a certain personality type. 

(The rest of this is about me and my baggage hon, not you the lovely human who asked a perfectly innocent question.) 

Begin an ABL Anthropological Rant, skip as needed for your blood pressure 

It’s one of the biggest issues I have around IRL shipping within the global Kpop stan communities. Because a lot of westerners are so uncomfortable and unused to (and internally homophobic around) men showing physical affection to each other, they assume 2 boys in a group who are physically demonstrative are automatically gay. When, in fact, it’s just men are more affectionate with each other in general at that age and in that culture. 

(This is different from Thai BL couple branding and skinship baiting, which is a can of worms because it’s: intentional, commercial, mercenary, and possibly contractually abusive to some pairs.) 

Back to Kpop ranting...

All those YT channels making videos about Kpop “gay” relationships are actually just displaying the “creators” own rampant internalized homophobia and complete misunderstanding of another culture. 

And do I think some of these idols are gay? Well yes, of course, statistically speaking, some of them must be. Just like some BL actors must be. Yes, even the ones in China. But that’s so entirely not the point. Frankly, the gay ones are more likely to be reserved about showing affection, BECAUSE THEY’RE SCARED OF THIER FANS. 

Let’s call a spade a spade shall we? (rather than a not-gay a gay). 

This is touch shaming men, which is frankly disgusting, given how many problems we have (in the western world particularly) with men being touched starved. Should I make the correlation between this and toxic masculinity, incel behavior, and higher rates of suicide (and violence) amongst men? Well I COULD, but I’m not gonna, because it’s an incredibly complicated issue. And I’m exhausted by the whole conversation. 

Frankly, being queer means we gotta deal with higher rates of abuse, violence, and suicide ourselves... I don’t got a lot left over to worry about the straight boys, except on an anthropological level. 

In conclusion: IRL 

don’t assume sexual identity from the physical contact or physical comfort levels you observe, especially within a different culture 

ask permission for whatever you wanna do to someone else

don’t touch shame, celebrity or otherwise

and don’t let or teach your kids to do any of this, either, no matter how young they are 

Yes, as a breeder, it IS your responsibility.

It’s not complicated. 

BAH. 

This is supposed to be a happy blog. 

Anygay... 

I talk about this a lot in this particular post on skinship and Thai BL. 

#MOOD

[phoenixtakaramono]

The Boys - 2 or 9

From the 🔥Choose Violence Ask Game🔥

Hullo, hullo, Anon! Apologies for taking so long. I don’t mind answering both. (*´∇｀*)

9) Worst part of The Boys canon

CW warning in this paragraph, but I despise The Deep for SA-ing Starlight (Annie January) and I despise *Homelander (John Gillman) for SA-ing William “Billy” Butcher’s wife, Rebecca Saunders. I have to put an asterisk next to HL though because it depends if Kripke decides to make TV canon follow comic canon where it turns out the “Homelander” who had SA-ed Butcher’s wife was actually Black Noir aka Homelander’s clone. I mean, I get why they went with the women getting s*xually assaulted (shock value, and to show that even superheroes in high positions can abuse their power) and they were able to make me discomforted which means they were successful at getting me to feel sympathetic for the victims and dislike Deep and HL (I’m neutral to Deep tbh but because of S1E1 I can never stan Deep on principle…but I get why there are people who thirst after his character; he’s the comic relief side character who’s amusingly pathetic and the actor who plays him is conventionally attractive).

Ironically though Homelander is a fun character to write as a milk-obsessed psychotic narcissistic sl*tty manchild who needs to be spanked (*coughs delicately* bullied *coughs*). So knowing comic canon, coupled with a writer and reader bias, has softened my stance on HL. He’s not quite my homicidal babygirl that I will defend to the grave, but I do have a soft spot for fictional crazy yanderes.

Another part of canon I’d say I don’t like is…we all know the pain that is awaiting us at the finale. It ain’t a happy story. It’s a Shakespearean tragedy—with the anti-capitalist commentary on the establishment/ system in place being the true enemy. It’s gonna be the whole Plato’s Cave Allegory.

And only Hughie (and Annie?) is going to be the survivors in the end. Yaadaa yaadaa about how power corrupts. How Hughie was the only one who broke from the cycle of revenge (notice how his fiery motivation to avenge Robin seems to be dwindling with each episode?), and how he’s going to use this as a learning experience to not follow in Butcher’s footsteps.

Watch. It’s my show prediction. But you can’t tell me it isn’t very likely the show won’t go in this direction. I’m anticipating a bittersweet show finale (personally I’d make Ryan perish towards the end so it can serve as the straw that broke the camel’s back and make Homelander go off the deep end):

But it’s very possible Kripke chickens out from the absolutely devastating annihilation of all The Boys main cast (save H+A) and preserves Ryan’s life in the end as an emotional send-off for Hughie and Annie to raise (because it also presents an opportunity for the writers to tug at our emotional heartstrings by making a S2 callback to Billy’s promise to Becca to protect her son; he protects Becca’s son from Homelander and from himself, leaving Ryan in the hands of the people who Billy can trust to take care of him in his stead and to give the boy the life that he deserves which Billy cannot provide for him). It all very much depends on the writer’s intent—and which option that the showrunners will think can make the largest impact.

2) A compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Ah, see, this is a wee complicated because if I’m being honest, my fave is, unsurprisingly, Kimiko. (*coughs* Asian solidarity *coughs* if you do Asian representation right and I like the character, I will automatically like the Japanese or Chinese character in your show.) And between her and Frenchie…let’s just say Kimiko is the one who pegs in the bedroom.

(You cannot tell me, looking at this photo of her, that you cannot see her Top energy. She might be a total sweetheart, cute and petite and lovable, but she can benchpress Frenchie to kingdom come and back—and he’d love it.)

But I know that’s not what you come here for. You’re here for:

Homelander (my favorite psychopath to write about—and why I think he’s a pretty Bottom Pillow Princess):

…Do I even need a compelling argument? Mind you, I can see him topping (it’s instinctual)—but this be a man who we saw bossed around by Madelyn and Stormfront during their “bedroom activities.” Indulge him, stroke his ego, coddle him, treat him like a precious precious handsome boy, give him the unconditional love and human connection that he so desires—and he’s putty in your hands. Face it; he’s got the Bottom energy. Tired of the constant missionary s*x and want to spice things up in the bedroom? Curious about, I’dunno, BDSM? Homelander might hesitate at first, worrying about his super strength and the possibility of breaking you, but he’ll pretty soon be all for it once you get him hot and bothered. Want to be adventurous and suggest he take a d*ildo or strap-on or finger up to the prostate while you suck him off? *claps hands* It’s electric boogaloo time. This is the type of guy who probably destresses from his daily hero work and the pressure of being the face of Vought (and all the expectations that come with) by wanting to be pampered, petted, kissed, etc on his down time—and he’ll go down on his knees to eat you out or suck you off. It’s safer, you see, with your hands tangled in his hair, guiding his every move and being vocal with your wants and taking the control out of his hands—and he takes pleasure retreating into his little headspace with the knowledge that he’s making you feel good. He feels good. And you’ll reward him later for that, even if it’s a crazy idea like f*cking in the sky floating above the Empire State Building when it’s lights out or getting him off hidden out of view while he’s having a Zoom call with Ashley and Vought’s board of directors.

He’s the type of guy I can see, after a mindblowing org*sm, enjoying the aftercare that comes after.

Butcher (my favorite kind of Male Lead to write—and why I think he’s an absolute Top):

…You’re telling me, this 6'1" muscular guy who has SAS and Royal Marines and CIA field operative experience and duked it out with Homelander whilst on Temp-V, does not top? Excuse me, have you seen this GIF? Have you seen this episode? (Have you ever heard of a honeypot or honey trap operation? I bring it into my fics; it’s a genuine seduction tactic that a CIA officer may employ.)

Nuff said.

Plus, he’s the defacto leader of his ragtag motley crew of crooks, terrorists, Supes, and Hughie. He bosses them around—and they listen. You cannot tell me that bossiness doesn’t translate into the bedroom. For him to bottom, he’d lift his brows at you, smirk a little over the rim of the glass in his hand, and say he’ll think about it—provided you give him a little striptease show, darling. And maybe, just maybe, he might just give it a shot. And you’re flustered, face red and heart pounding, because he’s f*cked you within an inch of your life and your panties are hanging off your ankle, clothes disheveled, with his calloused fingers pressing deliciously against your thighs.

I can see him bottoming as a Special Occasion (anything for his babygirl who’s been good), but he’s Daddy. He’s Service Top vibes.

[asteria7fics]

I see like no Wendy content😔🙏 can we pretty please have headcanons abt her😻

🏳️‍🌈 A sexuality headcanon

🏳️‍⚧️ A gender headcanon

🧸 A headcanon about their childhood

👻 A headcanon about what scares them

🎶 A headcanon about music

👽 A headcanon about a weird quirk of there

💝 A headcanon about their love language

🫂 A friendship headcanon

💔 An angsty headcanon

🪢 A headcanon about their family

📓 A headcanon about their hobbies

👗 A headcanon about their clothes

🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence

🌟 A headcanon about their desires/wishes

🍫 A headcanon about food

🎭 A headcanon about what they lie about

❤️‍🔥 A romantic headcanon

💄 An appearance headcanon

🖕 A headcanon relating to anger

😬 A headcanon about the worst thing they’ve done

😶 A random headcanon

(I’m srry for giving u so many‼️) -😨

Wendy is SO under represented in the fandom!! Outside of her relationship with Stan at least, but I personally think she’s too interesting to be reduced to his future housewife (or just an obstacle for Kyle)!

Barely spoilers for EWILY under the cut, just including this in case anyone wants to go into the fic totally blind.

🏳️‍🌈 - Wendy is a severely closeted bisexual, with a strong preference for women. You’ll probably find that I head canon most of the kids as being either bi or pan, but with specific leanings to either end of the spectrum. Just some of my personal view on sexuality that I won’t get into here ahaha

🏳️‍⚧️ - Cis woman, though I do think she would lean into some degree of flexibility in her gender expression as she gets older.

🧸 - Wendy had a very happy and healthy childhood, all things considered. I do think she went through a phase of wanting a sibling when she was maybe 6 or 7, but filled that void pretty quickly via her friendship with Bebe.

👻 - Failure, and not being good enough. She’s constantly being made aware of what an uphill battle it will be to become a successful woman in our extremely patriarchal society, and she’s under a lot of pressure to prove herself. Truthfully, having to deal with Cartman has probably been great practice for her! But I think this fear also speaks to why she struggles to let Stan go; by not still trying to help him, she feels like she’s failing him.

🎶 - Though growing up Wendy listened to whatever was popular, as she’s gotten older her music taste has gotten a little pretentious. Lots of indie artists on her playlist, and I think she probably enjoys jazz and classical inspired sounds the most.

👽 - I’m not sure if it qualifies as a quirk, but Wendy does very few things casually. She’s the kind of person that will annotate a book she’s just meant to be reading for fun, with detailed analyses of the book’s themes and recurring metaphors.

💝 - Wendy is a mixture of quality time and acts of service. You may be able to gather why she and Stan break up so damn often.

🫂 - I think Wendy maintains friendships very well, and can jump social circles without much issue. However, her best friend in the whole world has been, and always will be Bebe. They’re pretty different people on the surface, but they have a bond that runs so deep it would be extremely painful to separate them.

💔 - She hides it fairly well behind a pretty smile and good grades, but Wendy is a MESS!! Like, if you guys think the Style angst in EWILY is rough, you just wait till I get around to writing Wendy’s side of the story. I-… don’t wanna say any more than that, heh.

🪢 - Wendy’s pretty close with her mom, but I think she’s not as close with her dad. Partially because he isn’t crazy about Stan (for understandable reasons) and partially because he strikes me as kind of a dick, in only the way that dads can be sometimes. They still love each other though, and their relationship will improve as she gets older.

📓 - I don’t get to explore this much in EWILY, but Wendy stays very busy! As I said previously she does read for fun, and she’s also a bit of a cinephile (something she and Stan bonded over, to an extent), but I also think she would participate in tons of other after school activities to keep herself occupied. Student government obviously, on top of cheerleading, field hockey, glee club, the list could go on. And of course, when she’s not doing all of that she’s hanging out with Bebe and the girls! Or Stan, I guess.

👗 - Dark academia queen, with a hint of twee I fear. Lots of pleated skirts and v-neck sweaters, Peter Pan collared dresses with tights, sensible sneakers or penny loafers. Hints of pinks and yellows, but her favorite color to wear is purple.

🔪 - Look, she can’t afford to get anything put on her permenant record so Wendy left her fighting days in elementary school. However she WOULD fuck a bitch up if tested, but nobody really messed with her after that whole fight with Cartman… and the, uh, entire war where she beat the shit outta several boys with her silly plastic sword.

🌟 - Wendy is very focused on proving herself, and I don’t think she truly stops to consider what it is she actually wants until she’s out of high school and able to thrive in a new and more comfortable environment. Her largest goal in life though is to make meaningful change that benefits humanity. Awww what a good kid.

🍫 - While not picky per se, Wendy does her best to be healthy. She’s a really athletic and busy person, so she gets up early to make herself a balanced breakfast and will sometimes bring her own lunch to school if what’s on the menu is particularly unhealthy. She does, however, never pass up Taco Tuesday.

🎭 - Being happy with Stan :-) And being straight :-)))))

❤️‍🔥 - As much as she tries to be highly logical, she’s a total hopeless romantic. Loves love, and loves to be in love. Sometimes it becomes a bit of a distraction for her, but she gets better at balancing these parts of her life with age.

💄 - I haven’t gotten a chance to post any of the sketches I’ve done of Wendy yet, but I picture her as being fair skinned with soft, delicate features. She’s pretty slender, and on the shorter side compared to the other girls. She also probably wears minimal makeup, maybe just some concealer to hide when she’s had a sleepless night. Oh, and she’s kept her hair pretty short ever since The Great Chop during The War of Trojans.

🖕 - Oooh Wendy is second only to Kyle in the anger department, let’s be so honest. And maybe Cartman? Though 9/10 times he’s the reason anyone’s pissed off in the first place, so we’re not counting him here. Wendy’s a passionate rager, meaning she gets pissed off about things that matter deeply to her, or when she sees blatant injustice in the world.

😬 - Aaahahaha, breaking Stan’s leg wasn’t great!! But, well, I think perhaps her most selfish move is yet to come. Stay tuned!

😶 - Sometimes when she’s sleeping alone she still cuddles with an old stuffed animal, especially when she’s feeling especially lonely (i.e. on the tail end of another messy breakup). She would never do this in front of anyone though, not even Bebe. She’s a little embarassed to show anything close to a sign of weakness, or a reminder that there’s still a little girl in her.

Whew!! Alright, I’m pretty sure I got them all, but let me know if I missed any! I really had to think about some of these, so thank you for giving me the chance to explore Wendy more than I’ve been able to!

Also, if you enjoy the way I write Wendy then hopefully you’ll enjoy a little something I’m cooking, just for her! (It’s in the crock pot though kids, slow cooking for as long as possible!)

Thank you for sending me more of these!!

[rotationalsymmetry]

Re the presidential election that is happening an entire year and several months from now in the US:

Presidential elections are scary and stressful. A lot rides on the outcome, which is unknown ahead of time and not directly under any individual’s control, and yet it is not unambiguously clear that individual actions are irrelevant either.

People do not handle this combination of factors well. People can generally handle situations that are entirely up to them and can generally handle adverse situations that they have no control over and know for certain that they have no control over.

People tend to respond to this sort of stress and fear by attempting to increase personal and social control.

(Another way this manifests is rape/sexual violence. The prevalence of sexual violence is not entirely under the control of potential victims, but it is also not a situation where it is clear that what potential victims do is completely irrelevant. So sometimes people get big into don’t leave your drink unattended and don’t wear that and don’t walk places alone and always carry pepper spray, and so on. Specifically women who have been raped will often do this to other women who they are afraid might get raped, and to themselves. Hypervigilance is a trauma response.)

It is for many people more comforting to blame adverse election outcomes on leftists voting third party or not voting at all, as illogical and thoroughly unconstructive as that is, rather than to accept that the election outcome is not actually something that can be guaranteed with adequate social cohesion.

This is not without negative consequences.

But moreover: social media as it is currently configured makes social cohesion on a large scale impossible. Look at any issue of discourse: it splits into two wild extremes. (Eg: outdoor cats, the value of avoiding meat, whether it’s morally acceptable to read Harry Potter fanfiction, whether ao3 is good or bad, whether any given celebrity is good or bad, what the deal is with the word queer, what the deal is with bigotry towards trans masca specifically, whether people wearing puppy masks at Pride violate other people’s consent, what “culturally Christian” signifies, etc etc etc.) And then each extreme will often get extreme levels of social cohesion within the group, but at the cost of hating the guts of the opposing group (and in some cases literally believing the other side is entirely composed of people who want to abuse children sexually.) This is what happens with the voting discourse: it splits into one “vote blue no matter who” group which is ideologically consistent about the need to vote and vote Democrat (how many of them actually do vote is not entirely clear, because the social pressure only applies to insisting people should vote, there is no way to confirm members of the faction actually do or refrain from doing anything offline) and a “voting is useless wake up sheeple” group which is ideologically consistent about the utter futility of voting. That…is not actually a good outcome. But it’s the outcome you get, because it’s the outcome that happens with everyone one of these discourse topics. And if you want to make sure your mutual-sphere is free of the anti voting crowd, it’s effective at that, but since we are talking about a behavior that happens offline I hardly see how that can be a good thing.

There is a particular level of irony I really can’t stomach around this. One of the things the Democratic Party clearly does better than Republicans is that they’re the bodioy autonomy party, on abortion (sorta, officially Dems tend to still express that abortion is suboptimal and should be infrequent, but still, they do want it to be legal), and on trans health care, and on gay rights stuff, and on drug stuff. And yet. The tumblr Democrat stans apparently believe in neither personal autonomy nor democracy when it comes to elections. Don’t fucking tell me what I have to do you fuckers.

and there is an extra layer of irony when it comes to the people who genuinely prefer the bleeding edge of the Democratic party, like Bernie Sanders. Have you not been paying attention? This is how we always get the moderates. During the primary you have to vote for the moderate because tue moderate is “more electable”. Why? Because it’s for some reason viewed as acceptable for people to refuse a progressive in favor of a conservative but not to refuse a moderate in favor of fuck you it’s someone worth voting for or nothing Don’t you see? The terms of the public debate negate the legitimacy of ever supporting a progressive. Because as long as not voting for the moderate in the general election is seen as a morally unacceptable act (and therefor one that doesn’t have to be accounted for when determining someone’s “electability”), the moderate is always going to be “more electable” and we can’t have a progressive ever. Because it’s also morally unacceptable to vote for the “less electable” candidate of the attitude is “vote blue no matter who”. And then you have Democrats literally giving money to the primary campaigns of the more extreme Republicans so they can face a “less electable” candidate (it’s not about electability in the sense of who the right will vote for, the right is happy to vote for extreme candidates, it’s about who will scare the Democratic base into opening their pocketbooks and turning up at the polls) and it’s a never ending cycle of blue no matter who candidates vs the biggest horror shows the republicans can turn up with. The only way we can break out of that is to take a stand and say no, we’re not going to just vote our fears, we are going to give in to blackmail, we are actually going to vote based on what we WANT and not what we fear, and it’s not going to end at voting either, and we are not going to be fooled into believing our true power is in elections and that we can lose our true power if we lose the ability to have elections.