#in case that whole turning to stone thing applies to them

[akanemnon]

But they refused

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

#deltarune #undertale #utdr #crossover #crossover comic #deltarune fanart #undertale fanart #twin runes #twin runes comic #my art #frisk #chara #ralsei #hey chara your abandonment issues are showing again #but to be fair #if I had no one to talk to for presumably centuries I wouldn't like to be left behind either #Ralsei is just looking out for them #in case that whole turning to stone thing applies to them

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Imagine, Shibusawa accidentally activated his ability in real world.

The whole house is covered in fog. And all abilities are on a loose.

Even Crime and Punishment are gone.

But, they don't attack their respective ability users.

They are nowhere to be found.

You are also nowhere to be seen.

Worst of all, Dazai is also missing.

BSD Cast are panicking.

What, if abilities hurt you?!

BSD Cast is searching through the house.

They found you, surrounded by abilities, on the attic.

And all abilities are trying to get your attention.

🐯 Beast Beneath The Moonlight is chuffing, rubbing its head against your chest.

📒 The Matchless Poet creating knick-knacks for you.

👘🗡️ All Men Are Equal is guarding the window, taking short breaks to pet you.

🩺 Thou Shalt Not Die is applying cute bandages on smallest, almost healed cuts.

🌨️ Light Snow is recreating movie scenes with its power.

🐄 Undefeated by the Rain create stone figures with its bare hands.

🐰 Demon Show holding a plate with snacks.

Futon is manipulating electronics, changing channels, so you can watch some interesting show.

🍰💉 Vita Sexualis is making accessories for you.

🍷 Upon the Tainted Sorrow making things float for your entertainment.

🌂 Golden Demon is bringing you nice clothes.

🇫🇷 Demonic Beast Guivre is curled around you.

🎧 Illuminations is creating a hyperspace over you.

🗣️ Lippman's ability is sitting near you, guarding you.

🧥 Rashomon is glaring at everyone, who is trying to get close to you.

🚬 Falling Camelia entertain you by pushing around different things.

🩹🧲 Midwinter Memento is controlling metal pieces to create some cool figurines.

⭕⭐ Dogra Magra, as a little doll, sitting on your lap.

🍋 Lemonade is creating fireworks for you.

🍛 Flawless is playing cards with you.

⛩️ Hail in the Begging Bowl preparing non-alcoholic drinks for you.

💻 Discourse on Decadence is writing down interesting memories, it read from anything he could find.

🥷 Yesterday's Shadow Tag is sitting near Rashomon, protecting you.

🕶️ Another is bringing you dolls from Ayatsuji's collection.

💰 The Great Fitzgerald is bringing you cases, full of money (don't worry, it simply took them from Fitzgerald).

🦝 Black Cat in the Rue Morgue is ready to send you in any book you want.

🐋 Mody Dick is floating outside the window, ready to fly with you anywhere you want.

🍇 The Grapes of Wreath is growing grapes for you. Don't worry, they are edible.

☕ Annie of Abyss Red is playing ball with you.

🪶 Little Women is planning your weekends, while sitting in the next room

👒 Gone With the Wing is using wings to make paper butterflies fly around.

♊ Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer are floating above you, telling jokes.

✝️ The Scarlet Letter is writing your name in the air with its power.

😷 A Feast in a Time of Plague simply observing you from the corner.

🫖 The Precipice is outside, rumbling happily.

👻 The Perfect Crime is bringing you mystery novels.

⚔️ Mirror Lion is entertaining you with its sword skills.

🦇🧛 Bram's ability is handing from the sealing upside down. Protecting you.

🃏 Sigma's ability is laying near you, with its head on your lap.

🤡 The Overcoat is doing a circus performance for you.

🐀 Crime and Punishment is playing with your hair.

👧👩👵 Gasp of the Soul is cuddling your left hand.

💧 Priceless Tears is floating through the vents all over the house and bring you whatever you ask for.

🌸 Plum Blossoms in Snow is using its power to cut fruits.

⌚ Strait is the Gate is observing surroundings.

🐈‍⬛ I am a Cat is purring and doing tricks for you.

🪢🦀 Dazai, somehow, got captured, and how is in a cage, far away from anyone, he can touch to nullify.

The moment, BSD Cast stepped to the attic, abilities turned towards them, glaring at their 'hosts'.

So, you, either, will be stuck here, until Abilities decide to let you go.

Or, until BSD Cast manage to free Dazai.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

[deltadex]

(I took a screenshot to keep the post short)

I agree that, when push comes to shove, keeping Powder (and anyone else who is close to her) safe is her top priority. But when she isn't protecting those she loves, I see her as someone who cares about protecting the Undercity as a whole, as Act one demonstrates:

Claggor: What if Vander finds out we're all the way out here? Vi: Look around you. You think anyone topside's going hungry?

Vander: We stay out of Piltover's business. Vi: Why? They've got plenty while we're down here scraping together coins. When did you get so comfortable living in someone else's shadow?

Vander: We make ourselves a problem for Piltover and they will send the enforcers. Vi: So? Why answer to them? These are our streets. Someone should remind them of that.

Vi: ...and one day, this city's gonna respect us.

Vander: No one is taking anyone. Vi: It's already happening, you heard them. We need to fight back. And if you won't, I will.

Vi: What I don't understand is how you can work with them. We were here, we saw what they did. I grew up knowing that I'm less than them. That my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that and I'm willing to fight for it.

Vander: So was I. I was angry, just like you. I led us across this bridge, thinking things could change. If I hadn't your parents would still be alive. I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose?

I expected a continuation of this theme in the rest of the series, but after the end of Act 1, Vi's primary goal shifted from fighting for the Undercity to reuniting with Powder. Nevertheless, we see her desire for justice resurface in this scene:

Vi: You ever been to Stillwater? Jayce: No. Vi: So you just wave an arm? Have someone dragged off, don't bother to find out what it does to someone being stuffed in a stone box for weeks or months or even years?"

As well as this one:

Vi: You've always been a part of this, you've just never had to look it in the eye. One dead kid? There's hundreds more where he came from thanks to Silco and thanks to people like you who stuck their heads in the dirt.

The only difference is, Vi has now realised that it's not as simple as Piltover vs Zaun. There are good AND bad people on both sides.

This and the fact that Vi's main goal shifts away from fighting for the Undercity is what makes her seem "apolitical" in acts 2 and 3. At the moment, Ekko, Silco, Sevika and Viktor are better representatives of revolutionaries because their goals have stayed the same for several years and they've made actual progress in reaching them.

"Vi cares about individual people...more than she cares about...oppression of Zaun" is currently the case. But I don't think she's ever NOT cared about the other Zaunites who were negatively impacted by Piltover. Act 1 shows that.

Since then, as you say, Caitlyn has proven to Vi that her opinion of a place isn't always a reflection of an individual from that place's character. So yes, I agree she has no loyalty to Zaun ANYMORE. Despite her initial stubborness, her philosophy has evolved. Her loyalty now lies with those who share her ideals and values, whether or not they're from the Undercity. And yes, this includes Caitlyn.

We are yet to see if she applies this same philosophy to her sister, who's values have turned out very different from hers. And if it so happens her sister isn't her main goal anymore in season 2, her focus might shift back to implementing justice, this time not just for those in the Undercity, but for Piltover as well. And what better way to achieve that than becoming an enforcer?

#arcane analysis #arcane discussion #vi arcane #sorry this is kinda all over the place #but i agree becoming an enforcer isn't going to bother her anymore #it will bother those who still hold biases towards all enforcers #embershroud108

[darklovecat]

March favorites?

Tretinoin and a 2% BHA serum.

These 2 are a very powerful combo. I only use BHAs once a week, there are people who use it every single day and it is true that is a lot more gentle compared to other chemical exfoliators but I do not want to overexfoliate my skin or disrupt my skin barrier again like last year (when I would use the highest percentages of Vitamin C, AHA, Retinoids every day) so I make sure I only use it when I really need it. I use Tretinoin for anti-aging purposes only, it does not require a prescription where I live so I can get it at any pharmacy. 0.1% is the highest concentration available on the market and some people purge like crazy but I have been using it for on and off 4 years so my skin is used to it. My skin is far from perfect and sometimes I break out due to hormones, stress or lack of sleep and I need products to improve my skin texture. One of my favorite things is applying my 0.1% Tretinoin on Friday night and on Monday my skin begins flaking, I take my BHA Serum massaging it into my skin and it gets rid of all my dead skin cells and I love how my skin looks smooth and glowy the next days.

Garnier Hyaluronic Aloe Replumping Superserum.

I would never really purchase something from Garnier. However, my aunt was recently diagnosed with preoral dermatitis (it's terrible) and her dermatologist told her to stop using any makeup or skincare so she gave me most of her cosmetics that I have been trying out the past few weeks. This is one of my favorites. Whenever I use a hydrating ingredient I always spritz my face with water first to maximize its benefits and this serum makes my skin feel so much more hydrated and fresh, it has a very calming & pleasant smell, and I sometimes add another layer depending on my skin's needs. It gives me the perfect base before I move on to applying my skin makeup. What makes this serum amazing is that it includes so many different hydrating ingredients - Aloe, Hyaluronic Acid, Glycerin... My skin loves this superserum so I use this one quite often.

Missha A'pieu BB Maker SPF 30/PA++

This is another product that proves to me that Korean makeup products are amazing. The BB creams I've tried from Western brands have been lackluster at best, they never match my skin tone, they look off on me but I bought this in 212 Natural Beige and it is so perfect. It's called 'BB cream' but this product is so high coverage that I would almost call it a foundation. When my order first arrived, I was shocked at how small the product was, I thought I'm gonna finish it in two weeks tops but the thing is you put 1/2 a pea size on the back of your hand and realize you could easily cover your whole face with it. I don't know how that's possible but you really need soooo little, only a teeny tiny amount and it's something I still need to learn, I put a 3/4 pea just to be safe and it always turns out to be way too much. I know someone who works for Missha so I got this product at a heavy discount, I ordered 2 and she sent 4, what a darling and what an amazing excuse to buy more products!

Apple AirPods (3rd Generation).

These were a gift from my mom, my Huawei Freebuds stopped working and I've been complaining about it nonstop so she surprised me with a pair of Airpods 3, she was torn between the 2 and 3 so she gave me the receipt to let me decide. I went in the next day and got them exchanged, and I love them. I can do calls, binge my shows, participate in virtual meetings, listen to podcasts on my way to uni, listen to music for hours on end with no issues and I would recommend it to anyone who is looking for a pair of good headphones, the battery lasts a long time as well. The headphones may feel weird at the beginning, like they could fall out any second which is why I was hesitant in the beginning but I got used to it, it does not bother me anymore. I also got a cute little case, it's silver stoned and I am not really a bling person but I did not want to get silicone because they stain and rip, I wanted to try something different, so I just went ahead and bought this one, I love how it sparkles and it is pretty much impossible to damage.

A White Long Sleeved Leotard.

I am obsessed with this long sleeved leotard, it is a game changer and I think this is the best purchases I have made this year. It literally solves 90% of all my cloth-related problems. When I go to the dance studio, I throw this on with my black leggings as a base layer, I just have to take off my skirt and I am good to go within seconds. The material is stretchy but very fitted and I love how the fabric feels on my skin, I also how it looks on me and how it emphasizes my slim arms and my small waist. The fabric is very thin but it is not see through so I can wear my cropped wrap tops and all my see through tops over it without looking frumpy. I love a fitted look so I can wear it on its own with a pleated dark navy skirt or a black pencil skirt (my favorite) as well. It is a 10/10 and I have already purchased many more in various colors and this is the type of thing I never knew I needed.

Love, Cat.

#hypergamy #hypergamous #hypergamous beauty tips #hypergamous beauty #hypergamy tips #leveling up #level up #glow up #high maintenance

[shoppncarticles]

The Yamask Family

Just like what I said about Dark types, you know that you’re bound to get something noteworthy when it comes to Ghost types, and Yamask here doesn’t disappoint. This fledgling spirit is infamous inside and outside the Pokemon community for being explicitly stated to having being born from tortured human spirits, with the golden mask Yamask carries apparently being shaped after the face they had in life. The Pokedex makes sure to clarify Yamask retain all their memories of their former life, too.

What’s worse, Yamask are frequently seen mourning and weeping over their masks, as if lamenting the life they’ve since lost. This is even reflected in its design, with Yamask’s eye having a little extra nub on the bottom like a welling tear.

Never you mind that you can, y’know, mass produce Yamask from a breeding ground if you so chose. The whole story works a lot better if you just apply it to Yamasks found out in the wild, in desert ruins and such.

Things escalate quite a bit once Yamask evolves into Cofagrigus, a killer golden pharaoh-sarcophagus coated in ghostly shadow and wispy hands. Its idle animation shows that Cofagrigus can hide its face by retracting the plates of its headdress inwards, which it presumably does to camouflage itself.

Sure enough, Cofagrigus is said to dwell in vast, ancient tombs and graves, and snatch up would-be explorers and grave robbers, with the Pokedex stating Cofagrigus straight-up mummifies them on the spot. Despite that though, Cofagrigus is said to have a diet consisting of gold nuggets, meaning it at least doesn’t eat people. But then I ask why it bothers capturing people at all, especially when ANOTHER Pokedex entry says it has no memories of being human anymore. It probably doesn’t care about the sanctity of its former grave in that case. Surely someone here has got their information wrong.

Nevertheless, the idea of this haunted coffin that traps explorers and turns them into mummies is surprisingly morbid for the series, which helps make Cofagrigus all the more interesting. What’s more, while it’s never stated, it is entirely likely that those killed by Cofagrigus then become Yamask after their deaths, perpetuating the cycle of this species. I bring this up because of Yamask and Cofagrigus’s unique ability, Mummy, which replaces the enemy’s ability with itself whenever physical contact is made, like some twisted pharaoh’s curse. That’s a really cool detail, and even if the parallel was unintentional, I still like the similarity on display.

Not to copy Bogleech’s observations too much here, but I would like to also make note of how Cofagrigus is portrayed to locomote.

Usually, it just floats around slowly, but presumably if it wants to get anywhere in a hurry, it’ll do so by walking on its hands like a beetle! Or a maybe more specifically, a scarab. That seems more appropriate.

You can always go with this more goofy bipedal walk, if that’s more up your alley, though.

Score: 5/5 – PERFECT!

Amazingly morbid additions to the Ghost type, I dig these two and their lore a ton.

Things don’t stop there, because Yamask was also a Pokemon who received a regional form come Gen 8. Galarian Yamask here is a Ground/Ghost type, and is said to be the remnants of a vengeful spirit that was drawn to an cursed tablet and became stuck to it. Apparently, the shard is draining Yamask's 'dark power,' which I imagine can't be healthy for the poor thing. As healthy as a ghost can be, anyways.

I question why it isn’t a Rock/Ghost type considering the stone it’s attached to, but the Pokedex says it’s made from clay, something usually attributed to the Ground type in the series rather than Rock.

Oh well. Galarian Yamask is also never stated to be a human spirit in its ‘dex entries, but considering they’re still classified as the same species more or less I’m inclined to believe it still is one.

Galarian Yamask is one of the few regional forms to get a unique evolution as well - giving us Runerigus. What's lovely about Runerigus, at least in my opinion, is that unlike several of its fellow Gen 8 regional forms Runerigus actually has a purpose in being native to Galar. Runerigus seems to be based upon English Runestones, huge slabs of rock with grand symbols and pictures inscribed on them, several being like the serpent painted on Runerigus here. Half of them seem to be in Sweden rather than England, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

Runerigus is titled as the Grudge Pokemon, and seems to be the result of the previous Yamask spirit being fully absorbed into the cursed stone. That doesn't seem to have slowed it down at all, since Runerigus here has split it apart and made it into a shattered body, with its shadowy limbs weaving in and out of the stone. I really dig that single, uniquely shaped purple eye. Runerigus technically only has that as its singular facial feature and lacks a visible mouth like Cofagrigus, though the serpent painting helps give it some pareidolia to work with.

Outside of battle, or during certain attack animations, Runerigus will close itself up and reassemble the runestone, which is a cool detail. I imagine given the whole energy-draining thing that it must be very taxing for the spirit to be out and about at all times. It also probably works well as a defensive maneuver.

I juuust wish Runerigus had some character or recorded tendencies like Cofagrigus does. Cofagrigus has the benefit of time to provide itself several Pokedex entries to flesh itself out, whereas Runerigus only has the two of its home generation. I'd love to learn more about its lifestyle, like how the spirit has been degraded by the stone or how much stronger the cursing power of the stone is now that it's fueled by a consumed spirit, but oh well. It's still an extremely strong design regardless.

Oh yeah, speaking of curses, Runerigus has its own version of the Mummy ability called Wandering Spirit, where it transfers that ability onto the opponent whenever it makes contact with an attack, rather than the other way around. That somehow makes Runerigus feel like the more aggressive, offensive of the two whereas Cofagrigus is the defensive one.

Score: 5/5

[Gen 5 Archive]

#pokemon #pokemon review #yamask #cofagrigus #galarian yamask #runerigus

[everybody-loves-purdy]

Bird is disabled. They physically cannot work an 6-8 hour job, the money off their comics is their only source of income, and yet, you’re gonna bitch at them for being friends with someone who is a “proshipper” (and if you bothered to do your own research rather then your immediate gut reaction based opinions, you’d SEE yourself in toffee’s pinned post that they neither want antishippers or proshitters interacting with them. Need I remind you too that toffee is also disabled?

Y’all preach about how ableist some wc maps etc are; and yet, do this shit because god forbid artists want to explore ideas/topics that they find interesting.

You knew what you were doing by responding to that anon, you all were always looking for reasons to cancel Bird all because they dare to explore ideas that make them happy. This fandom all gave them shit for stone x willow, and even when they tried their best to fix the relationships and remove the incest, this fandom still had things to bitch about - and I honestly fucking hate that you are willing to risk someone’s livelyhood over fictional cat ships.

You are all willing to risk fellow severely mentally ill disableds lives, over fictional cat ships.

Bird put their mental and physical health on the line for this fandom to make comics for you all to enjoy, and this is what you always give them in return; ungrateful, shit-talking nitpicking; always trying to control them, and they lost a family member while making these comics, yet put their grief aside to continue making them for you all.

Yet you all still have to turn in them and make them feel bad.

Yeah, their friend ships uncomfortable (gross) ships, but you should have the balls to block and move on. Teenagers aren’t helpless little baby dolls need saving, you all know to use the blacklist and block button, to move on.

That anon and this whole thing is selfish of you and other users to be doing. You all know Bird is vulnerable to insults and harsh comments of any kind. You don’t care about “warning” Bird. You only care about seeking an easy target to control. This fandom is not as pure and kind as it makes itself out to be and I wish you’d all stop lying.

Wow, why send me this? How on Earth did you get the idea that I was trying to cancel Bird from this:

I am not looking for an excuse to cancel Bird at all and I believe that should have been clear by their post. I love their comic, and I have a great respect for Bird. I was just surprised that they might have been interacting with a proshippers and just expressed hope that they were not aware. If anything this post is a defence of Bird by not assuming they are aware of such things. Also why bring disability into this? I am certainty not saying this is the case here at all with Bird (they haven’t done anything wrong as far as I know) but why should someone’s disability excuse any questionable or bad views/actions? And I mean this just in general not applying to this particular situation.

How on Earth is any of what I said going to risk anyones life or livelihood? How is anything I said above a lie either? I have not shit talked, I have not sought control of anybody - I have literally not said anything about this beyond what I said above - and the fact you have accused me of such malice is very upsetting to me.

I apologise if this isn’t very well put but I have literally just woken up to this.

If you think such things of me the that deeply saddens me and I advise you to look back though things I have said on this blog, or leave and not come back at all. I am always happy to receive constructive criticism and learn from any mistakes I may make - a fact I have always made abundantly clear on this blog. But this ask isn’t constructive in the slightest, it is just cruel.

Edit: Just to clarify something I forgot to mention I know certain mental disabilities mean that those who have these disabilities are not fully accountable for their own actions. I was not referring to such people above in regards for accountability and I apologise for neglecting to mention them sooner.

#anonymous #tw

[darkpoisonouslove]

Marvel Phase 4

I haven't watched everything Marvel has released in phase 4 so far and some of what I've watched, I don't remember that well but I've noticed certain themes, messages and objects showing up quite often. I believe the common core elements of phase 4 have already started to emerge.

The first and most obvious common thread is, of course, the multiverse. That was already set up in Avengers: Endgame and they have been branching out to it more and more. The multiverse is probably going to be the new Infinity Stones in phase 4 and possibly through phase 6. That isn't a perfect comparison because the Stones are objects and the multiverse is decidedly not. It cannot be collected the way the Stones were. However, it looks like we will be dealing with saving the Multiverse in a lot of the Marvel media in phase 4. I'm not sure how to feel about that. I liked Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness a lot but not exactly because of the multiverse elements. If anything, I was glad to see they were holding back on the multiverse front. The exploration of other universes was tamer than it was in What If...?. And I wasn't a great fan of what they did in the season finale of What If...?. It was too much like the battle over the Infinity Stones we've already seen but at the same time they were trying to make it grander because now the fate of the whole multiverse is at stake. It feels like a classic case of "it's a sequel so we have to up the stakes" and that usually doesn't go too great. I think that's part of the reason why I still don't know how to feel about the end of Loki's season 1. I'm tired of watching super CGI-ed battles and I think that phase 4's greatest hits have been quiet(er), emotional moments. They should focus on their themes because they certainly have what to work with there.

A thematic element that's been running through a lot of the phase 4 media is that you are your own worst enemy. We see it with Wanda, Loki, Stephen (both in MoM and What If...?) and perhaps even Peter Parker to an extent. (I'm thinking this might also apply to Shang-Chi and his father but I haven't analyzed that in-depth to say for certain.) It is what is the driving force behind the bigger part of the plot in phase 4. And I think that could make for compelling and sympathetic villains. It's been working so far and I think there's a lot to be done with it since we're branching out to the multiverse. We can literally see the characters wrestle with themselves... or with their worst possible alternate self. There's a lot of room here to explore why the characters are heroes and what could turn them into villains, a lot of interesting questions not just about morality but also about psychology, nature vs nurture as well as the multiverse itself.

Another theme that's emerged so many times in phase 4 is that no one can deceive you the way you deceive yourself. We see it again with Wanda and Stephen (maybe even Natasha and Peter, too) as well as in Loki and to a certain extent in What If...?. It ties into the theme above but also isn't limited only in that. Lying to yourself does not necessarily need to make you a villain or make you do questionable things. It could simply prevent you from becoming who you're truly meant to be and it can be groundbreaking for the characters to meet versions of themselves in the multiverse who have overcome that and see their reactions to the truth they've been trying to avoid.

And another thing that is also all over phase 4 is that you have to trust in others, in their good intentions and their ability to work for a better future. That is perfectly demonstrated with Ultron in What If...? And He Who Remains in Loki. Except in Loki's case it's still unclear whether releasing the other timelines was a good idea (the motivation behind the action that caused it wasn't so great). But that's a major theme in What If...? - you have to know when to act and when to trust others to get the job done. Otherwise, you fall into extremes and you might destroy the whole multiverse. That theme is also in the core of what Stephen needs to learn in MoM. And maybe even Peter in NWH is suffering a little from trying to do everything himself and not letting anyone help (although the movie certainly didn't frame it that way but for my gripes with that - some other time). This sounds like it can build up to something interesting. Especially if they take it to the point where it becomes clear that in the multiverse, there is a lot more evil but there is also a lot more good, and the good will always prevail on a multiversal scale.

I really think there's potential in what they're doing here and Marvel seem to have dialed back a little on the grand action sequences, which is probably a good idea because how much more spectacle can you show after Endgame? Betting more on emotional moments and thematic connections is the better approach here and I'm glad to see they are taking steps towards that at least.

#marvel #mcu #phase 4 #themes #multiverse #wanda maximoff #stephen strange #peter parker #loki #what if? #meta

[selfhelp4all]

From Struggle to Strength: My Experience with 'Mend The Marriage' - A Review

By : mendthemarriage.com

REVIEW OF "MEND THE MARRIAGE" BY BRAD BROWNING

OVERALL: 9.7 / 10 EFFECTIVENESS: 9.8 / 10 FORMAT: 9.4 / 10 VALUE: 9.9 / 10

SUMMARY: Brad Browning's "Mend the Marriage" program is easily the most comprehensive and most effective guide to stopping divorce and saving your marriage. After reviewing a number of similar products, I recommend "Mend the Marriage" as the #1 choice for anyone facing a marriage crisis.

FULL REVIEW: When I first stumbled across Brad Browning's new "Mend The Marriage" program, I thought it would be more or less the same as all the other similar products for sale on the internet.  Boy, was I wrong. This is one seriously awesome program, and I'm confident that it will give anyone whose marriage is 'on the rocks' the best possible chance of turning things around and living happily ever after with their spouse.

First of all, "Mend the Marriage" is easily the most thorough and comprehensive guide I've seen (and I've bought them all). It leaves no stones unturned: you may think that your situation is unique, and that any book on the topic can't possibly address the issues you're facing. Well, with "Mend the Marriage", that's definitely not the case! Brad has covered every possible scenario and "what if," meaning that by the time you've finished reading the program, your questions are almost certain to have been answered in depth.

Not only is it the most comprehensive program, it's also the only guide we're found that actually provides hundreds of real-world examples on how to apply Brad's techniques. Brad's chapter on how to handle arguments with your spouse, for example, has a bunch of incredibly effective and innovative techniques that will resolve conflicts quickly and without any lingering hard feelings... and the whole book is full of this kind of stuff.  Brad calls these "Immediate Impact Actions" -- things you can do to make an immediate positive difference.

Perhaps most importantly, it's very clear that the psychological techniques recommended in "Mend the Marriage" have been researched and tested by men and women in the real world.  Brad Browning is an experienced marriage coach, and his time working with married couples facing divorce is very evident throughout the book. He also includes a number of "Ask the Counsellor" boxes where a certified couples counsellor weighs in on a variety of hot topics.

Brad claims that almost all marriages can be salvaged, even if things seem hopeless right now... and while that may sound unreasonable at first, I actually tend to think he's being completely honest.  It's no stretch to imagine that, as he states on his website, anyone who reads and applies his techniques is almost guaranteed to see dramatic improvements in their marriage.  The testimonials on his website are clear evidence that this program works, too.

What about the program itself? The core of the program is a 240 page e-book, professionally written & presented. There's also an audio version and an excellent 7-part video series, plus three bonus e-books and some handy team-building worksheets.

The best part? It's all available *instantly* from Brad's website... there's no shipping fees and no waiting around for the mailman, because you can download the entire program within 2 minutes of ordering. That's great news, considering that when you're trying to stop divorce and win back your partner's love, time is of the essence!

If you're ready to get instant access to all of Brad's sneaky psychological tips and techniques, head over to his website and watch the free video presentation now. Trust me, you won't regret it... and it might just make the difference between "divorced and lonely" and "happily ever after".  Wishing you all the best.

#marriage #love #dating #seduction #relationship #dating articles #self love #self reflection

[kevinszabojrplumbing]

How to Clean Your Yard Effectively

In order to ensure that the next growing season is a fruitful one, you must prepare your yard now. Most people clean their yards before the winter season comes. Having a clean yard ensures that it is not overrun with pests so that it can be prepared to begin growing again when spring comes.

 Why Is It Important to Clean Your Yard?

During the fall season, the leaves begin to fall, so this is an obvious time to begin cleaning the yard. Along with raking the many leaves that fall to the ground, you also must apply fresh fertilizer to your cool-season grass. This is also the time to reseed.

You might find that yard work is a chore that you would rather do without, but keeping your yard clean is very important. The first thing that anyone sees of your home is your yard, so you want to look beautiful. This will especially be the case when you want to sell your home. A clean yard increases your home’s value and makes it stand out amongst the other houses on your street.

When you keep your yard clean, it actually becomes an air conditioner. A clean yard releases a large amount of oxygen into the air, but it also traps a lot of dust and dirt around the outside of your home. This keeps the oxygen level high in your home and keeps it clean too. A clean yard doesn’t leave bugs and other pests places to hide, so they will go elsewhere.

As you remove extraneous shrubs, vines and branches, there isn’t anything that can damage the paint or possibly break the windows. The leaves that you rake up will not be able to find their way onto your roof or into your gutters, and this is what causes leaks.

 How Do You Effectively Clean Your Yard?

 Shred Rather than Crush Your Garden Refuse. 

When it comes time to reduce your branches and other garden materials to smaller pieces, it is better to use a shredder than a crusher. A crusher is generally used for crushing heavy-duty objects, such as stones. In most cases, that is not what you want to eliminate from your yard. A shredder is an environmentally friendly device, and it can shrink very large pieces of wood and other materials. A crusher, on the other hand, is a device that is extremely loud and is also hard to handle. Therefore, shredding would be preferable for your yard.

 Choose a Sharp Mower Blade.

When you decide to mow your lawn, make sure that the blades are sharp and balanced. This will ensure that every blade of grass is cut evenly and cleanly. If the blade is dull, it will not be able to cut the grass. Instead, it will tear it and damage it. When this occurs, the grass turns yellow, and it needs to be watered more often. It will also become diseased more easily.

 Mow the Top One-Third of the Grass Blade. 

After you mow the top one-third of your grass blades, you will not want to rake them up. These blades will decompose quickly after they are cut, and this provides your lawn with one-third of its nitrogen. The layer of clippings also prevents water from evaporating and keeps weeds from appearing. For warm climates, it is best to maintain a lawn with blades of 1 to 2 inches, and for cooler climates, 3- to 4-inch blades are best.

 Soak Your Lawn Rather than Sprinkle It.

Soaking your lawn causes the roots to develop so that they can reach subsurface water. If you are only providing light sprinklings, the roots cannot develop as deeply, and you need to water the lawn more often. The best way to water is to give your lawn 1 to 2 inches of water each week and every three or four days. The best time to water your lawn is in the morning when water evaporates less. This keeps the lawn from being wet overnight when it is susceptible to disease.

 Spot-Control the Weeds.

Spot-controlling the weeds is easier than having to tackle a whole bunch of weeds at one time. Scotts Spot Weed Control for Lawns helps you accomplish this goal. It’s easy to use because all you have to do is point and spray the encroaching weeds before they can spread their seeds and cause other weeds to take root.

 What Are Other Ways of Keeping Your Yard in Shape?

The time comes when you must call an arborist to have your tree diagnosed. If you notice that your tree leans very far to the left or right in the wind, is shedding a lot of branches or makes creaking sounds after the sun goes down, these are those times. The arborist may inform you that it is time to cut down your tree. Then, you may hire a tree service to cut down the diseased tree and any other trees that may need to come down as well. The tree service will be able to shred your trees so that you can take the wood pieces and use them as mulch.

 What About After a Storm?

After a storm, you must take some time to clean up your lawn. Many branches and leaves will have entered your lawn during the storm. Winds are strong, and they have the capability of damaging your plants and trees. So, you must examine each plant or shrub to see if there is any damage. Then, you need to remove it. The wind may have also weakened or damaged the trees. In this case, remove the damaged branch so that everything looks healthy.

 Written by Taylor McKnight, Author for Murrysville Machinery

#This Summer #Guest Author #Guest Blogger #Guest Contributor #Guest Post #Guest Writer #Best Ways To Prevent The Most Common Plumbing Problems #Plumbing Problems #broken pipes #leaking pipes #clogged toilets #garbage disposals #prevent drains from clogging #plumber in tinley park #tinley park plumbers #plumber in orland park #orland park plumbers #plumber in homer glen #homer glen plumbers #plumber in frankfort #frankfort plumbers #plumber in mokena #mokena plumbers #plumber in lemont #lemont plumbers #plumber in new lenox #new lenox plumbers #plumber in oak forest #oak forest plumbers #plumber in homewood

[perubutane93]

We're Underestimating How Many People Lack Sanitation Services

Thus, the info in desk 9.3 provide a more realistic picture on how many deaths are considered preventable by WASH interventions. Creating sanitation infrastructure and public companies that work for everybody and maintain human waste out of the environment is difficult—and it isn’t a one-size-fits-all proposition. The bogs, sewers, and wastewater remedy systems that made sense prior to now aren’t essentially one of the best options for the lengthy run, especially in poor countries. These forms of techniques require huge amounts of land, energy, and water and are extraordinarily costly to build, maintain, and function, even by the standards of wealthy nations. They are notably tough to introduce as new infrastructure into dense city settings and informal settlements, where the impact of unsafe sanitation on folks is the greatest. Providing citywide, inclusive sanitation requires new service fashions and market structures, in addition to totally different approaches and applied sciences to serve completely different group wants and settings. Train workers to use a take a look at strip to ensure the sanitizer is blended appropriately. Many managers maintain monthly, weekly, and even every day training classes to be positive that employees bear in mind important meals safety principles. Try utilizing our coaching suggestions to improve food security at your establishment. Peroxyacetic Acid has been known for its germicidal properties for a really long time. However, it has solely discovered food-industry utility in current years and is being promoted as a potential chlorine alternative. If it’s not possible to clean toys regularly, make certain you wash them a minimum of three to 4 days a week. The Details summarize the most effective practices for efficient cleansing and sanitizing in dairy and meals crops. Milk minerals include calcium, phosphorus, magnesium, with hint quantities of different minerals. Milk stone is a whitish or yellowish construct up of mineral residue on surfaces. Water conditioning may be used to assist forestall regular deposition of water and milk minerals on processing and environmental surfaces. Disinfecting trash cans, bathtubs, bogs, sinks, and flooring also wants to be carried out every week. Since viruses can stay on surfaces for hours, different areas should be disinfected every two to three days. Disinfect safely and effectively by following the manufacturer's label. 13 Things You Should By No Means Stress Wash When there was a delay to the initially scheduled service, they were quick and honest with rescheduling. There are a number of methods you can find the best window cleaner close to you, most notably by placing a lot of belief in on-line critiques. Reviews are useful because they tell the reader about someone else's experiences with the enterprise. High water pressure is used to take away the filth and filter out all of the downspouts in your whole gutter system. You also can call professionals to wash your home windows perfectly within a brief time. A waterfed pole makes the job of washing windows simple. If you do use a stress washer to wash your automobile, at all times set it to a low-pressure setting. Do not strain wash any fixtures housing electricity, even those on the outside of your house or in your yard. Though constructed to resist a rainstorm, strain washing can drive water into cracks and crevice and cause damage and expensive repairs. High-pressure cleansing removes dirt, grease, oil, and gum construct up from sidewalks, walkways, and courtyards. If your interior is clean, it will upgrade the look of the living space. And in case you have a glass window, you must clear them all the more as a end result of it could obstruct your property's view. A soiled window is at all times a turn-off, so higher wash and brush them away. Faculty Cleansing Janitorial Providers Mn Viruses stay and pose the danger of infecting others for as a lot as forty eight hours on a floor corresponding to a desk, workstation, or table. In Nevada City and Grass Valley, there are a selection of shoppers preferring green merchandise as opposed to chemical products. Our janitors carry specialty eco-friendly merchandise for all of our business and residential clients and shoppers. If you or someone in your workplace has sensitivities to primary cleaning merchandise that comprise chemical compounds, let us know and we will use solely green merchandise. Let’s give you a facilities technique that may guarantee the protection of your college students and employees without costing you tons of cash.We understand your needs! No matter how genuine your faculty cleansing company’s motives are, with out plans and systems they don't seem to be likely to succeed. Delivering the highest degree of service requires stable plans and methods fromhiring and screen employees, to training to janitorial inspections and extra, all designed to deliver reliability via accountability. Beginners usually work with a extra experienced janitor, studying how to use and keep gear such as vacuums, flooring buffers, and different instruments. On the job, they also learn to restore minor electrical and plumbing issues. Works with purchasers to create programs that match the precise wants of your group. If your disinfectant product label does not specify that it can be used for both cleaning and disinfection, clear visibly soiled surfaces with cleaning soap or detergent earlier than disinfection. Read the instructions on the product label to determine what safety precautions are needed while using the product. This may include private protecting equipment , similar to gloves, glasses, or goggles, additional ventilation, or other precautions. In the Netherlands, the variety of cleaning companies grew from 5,000 in 2003 to 8,000 in 2008. With a large team of workers, we at Team Clean must work together with each other and with our purchasers to realize our objectives and preserve the standard that we have turn out to be recognized for. DNC Facility Services present exceptional professional workers who are prepared to ensure that your services are maintained in a truly outstanding way. Cleaning chemicals and supplies are another space of potential savings. A school cleansing service will present, handle and retailer their own supplies, which they will buy in massive volumes. Not solely is that this method more reasonably priced, however it additionally ensures that chemical substances are correctly saved and discarded. As an added benefit, this administration can shield kids from improper chemical publicity. Professional cleaners, then again, can work round faculty schedules. How To Clean Your Toilet This contemporary white toilet contains a freestanding tub that is positioned near two giant home windows partially lined by a white and tan valance and shade window treatment. A frosted glass-paneled door lets additional gentle in, and an upholstered fauteuil sits subsequent to the tub. Keep children, pets and different individuals away through the software of the product until it's dry and there's no odour. When making a bleach answer, both go exterior or discover a well-ventilated room. Create a cross-draft by opening windows opposite one another or utilizing a fan to direct the air. Keeping a clean home is necessary for any household, but it's particularly important for people with autoimmune conditionsor other well being issues like cystic fibrosis. Let sit in a cool, darkish place for 12 hours before utilizing. Our handy bleach-free method has been proven to dissolve soap scum faster than different main bathroom cleaners. Use a hose from any water supply to join to these transportable concentrated chemical bottles and output ready-to-use cleaning and disinfecting options. (If you are involved about microfiber shedding, you should buy a laundry bag to catch debris within the wash.) No streaks, no lint, no muss, no fuss — simply clear mirrors and counters. Diluted disinfectants and sanitizers in spray bottles should be labeled and saved out of the attain of kids. The label contains directions on how to use the product and particular directions to keep you secure. Keep disinfectants out of the attain of youngsters.Check the label to find out what personal protecting equipment you should use your product safely . When you are trying to avoid mixing cleaners, don't use them on the same time. Industrial Cleaning Contracts With Faculties A faculty district may select, instead of a master plan, a developer payment justification doc or a five-year plan if it addresses enrollment projections, wanted colleges, and site sizes. The site shall not be adjacent to a highway or freeway that any site-related traffic and sound level studies have decided could have safety issues or sound levels which adversely have an result on the tutorial program. Sufficient acreage is out there but it might not be economically feasible to mitigate geological or environmental hazards or other web site issues which pose a menace to the well being and/or security of students and workers. Evolved from a statement of educational program necessities which reflects the college district's academic targets and objectives. Despite a private or charter school’s familiarity with contracting companies, O’Mahony says BSCs must be careful not to assume any college shoppers — public, private or constitution — are the identical as their non-school clients. A BSC would possibly be ready to wrangle a charter college account through a small faculty or university it already cleans, since these universities fund many constitution colleges, says Lazorik. Given the optimistic result of this system, in 2008, it has turn into a everlasting exercise within the faculty calendar where all schools nationwide are mandated to implement this system weeks before the school opening. Restaurants of every kind must also be excessive on the list of companies in search of cleaning companies. When it involves meals security, there’s no such thing as being too careful with cleanliness. Whether it’s a fast-food place, an off-the-cuff restaurant, or a five-star institution, a professional cleansing of the kitchen and eating area is a good thought. After all, any successfully-run restaurant wants to maintain compliance with the health department, so they want to be motivated to find professional cleaning services that may keep them forward of the curve. Even smaller businesses like cafes, bakeries, and butcher outlets should find out about the advantages of skilled cleansing providers. A excessive standard of school cleaning services is crucial to a school’s safety, safety and busy daily operation. Square Feat takes proven measured steps to make sure the impeccable cleanliness of your faculty. With a transparent understanding of your considerations and challenges, we provide cost-effective applications backed by unparalleled service. Similar to creating industry pages, blog posts associated to highschool cleaning can even assist you to get cleansing contracts with faculties. Creating weblog posts is essential as a outcome of it may possibly entice new clients and place your company as an authority in the space. They should be succesful of make routine repairs, corresponding to repairing leaky faucets. In poor health and convinced he doesn’t have a lot time left, the husband offers to be involved in recruiting the subsequent mate for his wonderful bride, however she’s not interested. Carson’s thought last yr was for the district to regain control of these companies and dump Aramark and Sodexo. You should start preparing your small business for development by utilizing a digital resolution, like Connecteam. See Homebuilders and Real Property Services for extra information. This implies that if your workplace exists in a number of areas, you will have to get a Duns quantity for each of them. 8 Primary Tips For Residence And Apartment Cleaning Between Tenants Small space rugs at doorways can also help to lure plenty of the incoming filth. For furry associates that come out and in, have a an old towel by the door to quickly wipe down paws as they come in . It doesn’t have to be a lot – just a quick 5 minutes or so should do it. I know some folks suppose that making the bed is a waste of time, nevertheless it really makes an enormous difference in how tidy the room appears and solely takes a couple of minutes. Plus, I suppose it begins off the day properly and I love climbing right into a made mattress at the end of the day. The hundreds of microscopic fabric hooks on a microfiber cloth make it good to chop by way of the dried grout haze left after a tiling project. You'll nonetheless need to rinse and repeat, but the haze will clear up sooner than it will with an odd rag. Dust enters by way of doors and home windows in the type of pollen, mould spores and airborne pollutants. If you've allergy symptoms, improve to a sealed-body bagged vacuum with an hermetic 'sealed filtration' system that works along with a True HEPA filter. With cleaning supplies, it is price paying a bit extra for quality. It's additionally a good suggestion to skip dear "shortcut" or disposable-style products in favor of well-made instruments and multiuse cleaners. If you might have carpet or area rugs in your home, proudly owning a vacuum is just about non-negotiable. It could also be useful to consult The Sweethome’s guide to vacuum kinds, Which Vacuum Should I Get? For stains, a carpet and fabric cleaner is an efficient thing to have when inevitable spills occur. Don’t underestimate the impact that taking a minute or two to fluff cushions, fold throw blankets and straighten decorative pillows can have on the look of your lounge. The Way To Clean Window Coverings Then you possibly can wipe down each the front and the again of the window blinds. From right here, it would be finest to reverse the blinds by switching the deal with so the front and back surfaces are reversed from how you first wiped them. You will be capable of get all the sides of your office blinds in this manner. Make certain to regulate the perimeters of your blinds the place cleaning tools would possibly miss because of the angle of the blinds or the positions in which the instruments are held. Once your blinds are wiped down, make certain to work in this kind of cleansing into your common cleansing schedule so the deep clear is a thing of the past. To spot clear, use a damp rag with a very delicate, mild detergent or soap. Because of their unique development, handle with care when cleaning so they maintain their form. Just dust and wipe with a easy dry rag for a quick buffing up. Loosen up and blast dust away in hard-to-reach or hidden locations, such because the header of your blinds, using a powerful blow-dryer on a cool setting. Dampen a soft fabric and swipe across the again and front. 清潔公司 from facet to side, beginning on the prime slat and dealing your means all the method down to keep away from mud and filth falling on areas you’ve already cleaned. If you've vertical blinds, wipe every slat from the top down, holding the bottom of it to keep it from moving around. You need to wipe in a downward motion in order that they don’t come unhooked.

#清潔公司

[cloudteawrites]

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

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

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

“How do I look?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Jimin-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you were his attorney.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Y/N-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room is a veritable Eden. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m not-”

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

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach turns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

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

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

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

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

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

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

“...Hello?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

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

“...Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#thebtswritersclub #hybridbtsnetwork #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Reassurance

masterlist

part one

Summary: Spencer feels insecure, and Reader puts his worries to rest. 

A/N: I got several requests to write a follow-up to Avoidance , and after writing almost the whole entire thing, only to scrap it all because it was literal trash, here we are! I initially planned to go a different route with this, but it didn’t flow right and I ended up changing the entire plot line somewhere along the way. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom!Reader

Content warnings: cursing, Spencer being insecure, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, pegging, light degradation, Spencer experiencing sub-drop

Word Count: 6k

           Spencer’s lips drag against mine at a slow, deliberate pace as I sit perched on his lap, my hands tugging lightly at where his hair curls at the nape of his neck. One particularly harsh tug has Spencer gasping into my mouth and tightening his grip on my hips, pulling me down until I’m fully sat on his lap. The bulge tenting his slacks comes in full contact with my clothed core and I hum appreciatively against his lips.

           “Getting excited there, baby?”

           Spencer lets out a whine of protest when I pull away, leaning forward in an attempt to reunite our lips. I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back until he rests against the couch cushions.

           “I thought you wanted to watch a movie tonight?” I ask him, my lips curled up into a knowing smile. Spencer’s thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into my hips as he fixes me with a shy smile.

           “Maybe later,” he replies, sheepish. He looks breathtaking - bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light, shadows dancing across every perfectly chiseled inch of his face. Faint purple bruises dot the underside of his jaw line, remnants of the last time we had been afforded enough time to get tangled up under the bedsheets. I press my thumb to one of them, applying just enough pressure to cause Spencer’s breath to hitch. In another day or two, the purple and yellow discoloration would be gone, leaving no trace of our time together.

           I release my hold on his jaw and make a mental note to see to it that he has another set of pretty marks before the weekend is over.

           “Later?” I lift the hand that was splayed across his chest until I’m able to fiddle with the top button on his dress shirt. “You talk as if you have something else you’d like to do first. Care to share?”            Spencer squirms underneath my gaze, eyes flitting between my lips and where I’m pressed firmly against his erection. I watch him flounder to come up with a response before deciding to forgo words completely and rut himself against me, eyelids fluttering closed as he lets out a low whine.

           I click my tongue at him and raise up until my center hovers over him, torturously close but not quite close enough to touch.

           “What’s the matter, Doctor? It’s not like you to be at a loss for words,” I taunt as I pop open the last three buttons of his shirt. Now that the milky white skin of his chest is on full display, I waste no time in dragging my fingernails from his collarbone down to his navel, light and teasing. The action elicits a shiver from Spencer, who looks up at me with glossy eyes and blown pupils.

           “P-Please,” he stutters out.

           “Please, what?” I prod, cocking my head to the side. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

           Spencer’s tongue pokes out to run across his bottom lip.

           “I want you,” he breathes out, low and sultry. “Now. Don’t wanna wait.”

           I let out a pleased sigh as I lean forward to capture Spencer’s lips in a heated kiss. Spencer’s quick to reciprocate, eagerly licking into my mouth as soon as my lips brush against his.

           It’s not long until I feel the hands on my waist begin to tug me back down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from me.

           “Such a needy little thing,” I murmur against his lips.

           Usually, a comment like this would be met by some sort of mumbled affirmation. But this time, as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel Spencer’s whole body tense up beneath me.

           “Does… Does that bother you?”

           I pull away and give Spencer an inquisitive look.

           “Does what bother me?”

           Spencer averts his eyes, “That I’m so submissive.” He spits the word out like it burns his mouth – like it’s something to be ashamed of – and I can’t suppress my frown.

           “Why would that ever bother me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble shrug of his shoulders, still refusing to pull his gaze from where it rests on the floor.

           “I read an article in Psychology Today that discussed a survey in which 172 German adults completed a personality questionnaire and then measured their own preference for a dominant partner. Not only was the general consensus that both genders prefer dominant partners, the participants also agreed with statements like ‘a very nice partner is often boring’ and ‘I feel attracted to assertive partners.’ So, it’s only natural that you might get tired of me always being such a pushover and search for a more exciting partner than can keep you stimulated-”

           I clamp my hand down on Spencer’s mouth, effectively ending his self-deprecating rant and forcing him to look up from where his eyes were burning a hole into the floor. When I know he isn’t going to try and continue down that particularly awful train of thought, I remove my hand.

           “First of all, you are not a pushover. Insinuating that you are a pushover would also be insinuating that I’m taking advantage of you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Spencer’s eyes grow wide and he frantically shakes his head.

           “Absolutely not. I… I love what you do to me – with me. What we do together. I-I just want to be sure that you like it to. That you’re not just humoring me until someone who can actually give you what you want comes around.”

           I feel my mouth fall open from shock somewhere during the middle of his spiel. He can’t actually be so oblivious to the fact that I enjoy the hell out of our sex life, can he?

           Apparently, he can and he is, because Spencer takes my silence as affirmation.

           “I could try? To d-dom you, that is. I’ve been reading up on it and-”

           “Spencer, where on earth did this come from?”

           Spencer blinks hard, “I told you – I read it in Psychology Today.”

           I shake my head at him and slip off of his lap and onto the couch cushion beside him.

           “No, that’s not what I meant. What made you think that I’m not happy with our sex life?”

           “N-Nothing in particular,” Spencer stammers. “I just know that I’m not exactly the most masculine guy, and I want to make sure that you’re, you know… happy. With me.”

           And there it is.

           I reach for Spencer’s hand and link our fingers together.

           “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that comment Derek made this morning, would it?” Spencer doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes drop to his lap tells me everything I need to know. I tighten my grip on his hand. “You know he was just messing with you, right? As out of line as it was, he was just being… Derek.”

           “He wasn’t wrong, though. I am extremely docile – along with a litany of other very passive traits. I’m not strong or assertive or confident like Derek; I’m basically the complete opposite of the ideal male partner. All I’m good for is spouting out information that’s only sometimes useful. No wonder you don’t want to-” Spencer clamps his mouth shut and his cheeks burn red. “Forget it. C-Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

           “No wonder I don’t want to what?” I prod, brows furrowed in confusion. But still, Spencer refuses to meet my eyes. “And as far as all the other stuff goes, it doesn’t matter if you’re assertive or strong. I prefer my sweet, gentle boy over guys like Derek Morgan, any day. My ideal male partner just so happens to be pretty boys with curly brown hair and massive IQs, not aggressive alpha males with overinflated egos.” I bring Spencer’s hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m being serious, Spence. There’s a lot to love about you.”

           Spencer’s next words are hushed, so quiet that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Then why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?”

           In the two months since our first time together, neither of us had been brave enough to broach the subject of what exactly we were doing. With neither of us quite sure how to go about defining the relationship, we’d fallen into a sort of routine. Whenever it came time to pair off for the night and retreat to our hotel rooms, Spencer and I always made sure that we were paired together. Hotch never seemed to care – he was just happy that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other anymore - and the others were kind enough to keep their suspicions to themselves. On the weekends, or really any time that we weren’t working a case, time off was spent in each other’s company, be it at Spencer’s place or mine. Days full of impromptu adventures to farmer’s markets and niche antique shops devolved into passionate nights spent learning every inch of each other’s skin until no stone was left unturned. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Or at least it would’ve been, if Spencer and I hadn’t managed to fall half way in love somewhere along the way. It was glaringly obvious early on that it was way more than just sexual chemistry that kept us both coming back for more, but owning up to that fact was a whole other issue that neither of us was ready to deal with.

           Until now, apparently.

           “I-I mean, we haven’t talked about what exactly this is, so I wasn’t quite sure how to go about that,” I stammer. “But now that you’ve brought it up…”

           Spencer finally looks up and his eyes are filled to the brim with equal parts fear and hope.

           “I-I really want there to be an us,” he whispers. “I kind of thought that much was obvious.”

           “And I thought the fact that I have absolutely zero complaints in the bedroom was obvious, but here we are,” I tease, and Spencer lets out an involuntary giggle when I poke at his side. “I want there to be an us, too. And for what it’s worth, I like you just the way you are, Spencer Reid - just so we’re clear.”

           “Really?” Spencer persists. From anyone else, it would seem like they were fishing for compliments, but from Spencer? I knew my sweet, darling boy just needed some reassurance.

           I lean forward and capture his lips in a long, languid kiss.

           “Really really,” I mumble when I pull away. “Have I done a thorough enough job drilling that into your head, or do you need some more convincing?”

           “More convincing,” Spencer replies as he ducks in for another kiss. “Lots and lots of convincing.”

           I smile against his lips, “That’s good to hear, because I sorta had a little something special planned for you.”

           “Something special?”

           I slide my hand from its place on his knee until my fingers glide across the tip of his clothed cock.

           “Remember that thing we talked about last week?”

           I can feel the way Spencer’s cock twitches under my hand and I have to bite back a smile.

           “Y-Yeah?”

           I give his bulge a light squeeze that has Spencer moaning low in his throat.

           “Only if you want to. There’s no pressure at all. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’d be perfectly fine if you just wanna watch that movie and cuddle a bit - you know that right?”

           “Yes, but I still want to,” Spencer chokes out. “Very, very much.” And then he’s bringing a hand up to cup my face before slotting our lips together again.

           The kiss is sloppy, seeing as we’re both much too excited to worry about being precise. Spencer spends time exploring my body with his free hand, starting at my hips and then dipping underneath my t-shirt. Spencer’s hand is just shy of skimming over my bra when I pull back and he lets out a frustrated whine when I pull his hands off of me.

           “I wanna ask you a few things before we do this, okay, baby?” Spencer flushes a deep crimson as he nods. “Have you ever experimented with any sort of anal play before?”

           “N-No, I haven’t. Is that okay?”

           Spencer Reid, you are going to be the death of me.

           “That’s perfectly fine, sweet boy,” I coo. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going to be the most comfortable for you. We’ll start small and work our way up, okay?” Spencer nods, prompting me to tack on an, “Assuming that you want to, that is. This is all on your terms, and I need to make sure that you know that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t expressly consent to first.”

           Spencer’s lips pull up into a sweet smile.

           “I know, and I trust you,” he says. “And I consent to it. To all of it.”

           “You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that,” I chuckle. “What exactly are you consenting to?”

           Spencer shifts in his seat, “Y-You know.”

           “Yes, but I want to hear you say it, baby.”

           Spencer gulps hard, “I-I want you to fuck me. Please.”

           I let out a satisfied hum and remove my hand from Spencer’s lap.

           “I want you to go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Then I want you to lie in the center of the bed and if I walk in and see you touching yourself, I’ll walk right back out and I won’t touch you for a month. Are we clear?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss.”

--

           I spend much longer than necessary in the living room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through my phone for nearly ten minutes before getting up and making my way to the bedroom. The anticipation is half of the fun, in my opinion, and I take great pleasure in imagining Spencer squirming against the sheets, desperate for me to walk through that door.

           I rid myself of my skirt and blouse as I make my way down the hallway, leaving me in only my panties and bralette. I can hear Spencer’s heavy breathing before I even reach the bedroom, and it makes my stomach flip excitedly as I push open the door.

           Spencer lays in the middle of the bed, hands grabbing at the sheets as he rolls his hips in vain. His cock stands painfully hard, leaking precum and bobbing up and down with every motion of his hips. Spencer doesn’t see or hear me when I come in – his eyes are closed tight and his bottom lip is nestled between his teeth, blissfully oblivious as he ruts up into nothing.

           “It seems like my poor, needy boy has worked himself up into quite a state.”

           The sound of my voice startles him and he immediately halts the movement of his hips. Spencer’s eyes watch on and I walk over to the night stand, taking my time as I remove a bottle of lube, my harness, and the newly purchased dildo bought especially for my sweet boy.

           Spencer’s eyes linger on the silicone member, wide and curious as I set the items on the bed and crawl in between his legs. He spreads his legs without being prompted, leaving him completely exposed to me, and the action makes my heart swell with pride. My good boy has learned so much in the past two months.

           “M’gonna suck that pretty cock of yours now, and I want you to keep your hips still. Can you do that for me, baby?”

           Spencer nods frantically, “Y-Yes, Miss. Please – I need your mouth. I’ll be still, I promise.”

           I let out a pleased hum as I take him into my hand, dragging my fist up and down, spreading precum across the entirety of his length.

           “I know you will, baby. You’re always so good for me. So eager to please.”

           I lean down and begin placing kisses to the sensitive skin of his thighs, all while continuing to work my hand against him. I nip lightly at the skin above his right hip and Spencer sucks in a ragged breath when I suck a pretty purple bruise in the very same spot. It contrasts starkly with his porcelain skin, and I enjoy the way it looks so much that I continue until a plethora of love bites litter his inner thighs. When I finally sit back and admire my work, Spencer’s writhing so pitifully against the mattress that I decide to put him out of his misery.

           Spencer devolves into a whimpering mess the moment I take his tip into my mouth, his head thrashing wildly against the mattress when I swirl my tongue around him. I take my time with him, not at all rushing my descent onto his cock, choosing instead to tease him with a slow, steady pace. If Spencer minded my slower than usual pace, he didn’t say so. He was too busy choking out an unrelenting string of the most wanton moans I’d ever heard as he watched himself disappear into my mouth.

           I decide now is as good a time as any to up the ante and I pull my mouth away from him.

           “W-Why did you stop?” Spencer stutters, chest heaving up and down.

           I raise an eyebrow at him, “Are you being ungrateful, Doctor? Because if you are, I could always just leave you here like this - cock hard and leaky with no way to get off other than your own hand. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having me fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

           “No, please! I’m so sorry,” Spencer mewls. “I’ll be good, just please don’t leave!”

            I loosely grasp Spencer’s cock in my hand and run my thumb across his slit.

           “You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. I can’t wait to hear how pretty you are when you’re begging for me to fuck you harder.”

           Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth hangs open, panting hard.

           “I want it so bad. Please, please, please, Miss.”

           I use my free hand to reach up and push two fingers into Spencer’s mouth, “Suck. I want them real nice and wet so that I can use them to get you ready for me.”

           Spencer moans around my fingers, laving his tongue around the them as he hollows his cheeks. When I retract my fingers from his mouth they’re practically dripping and I reward his effort by tightening my grip on his cock.

           “Good job, baby. Are you ready for me to finger that tight little hole of yours?” I ask him as I release his cock and grab the bottle of lube. I drizzle a healthy amount onto my fingers before dragging one across his puckered hole, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Spencer.

           “Yes!” Spencer gasps as he attempts to wiggle closer. “So ready for you, Miss. Use your f-fingers on me, please!”

           I start by slowly pressing one in, so as not to overwhelm him, and to my endless delight, it glides in almost effortlessly.

           “Already so ready for my fingers, Doctor. You sure you haven’t touched yourself here before?” I ask as I begin to work my finger in and out in slow thrusts.

           “N-Never. O-Only you,” Spencer stutters out between moans. “C-Can you add another, Miss?”

           I pull my finger out, only to add another and resume my efforts at a slightly faster pace. Spencer’s back arches up off the bed when my fingers brush against his prostate and he lets out a half startled, half delighted yelp.

           “Oh fuck!” Spencer moans as he grinds down onto my fingers. “Again, please, Miss!”

I comply, and with every press of my fingers against the fleshy bundle of tissue, Spencer’s body jolts from the sensation.

           “S’that feel good, baby? Do you like how my fingers feel?”

           “Oh, God, yes! F-Feels so good. Never felt like this b-before,” Spencer sobs. “I-I’m getting close, Miss.”

           “I didn’t say that you can cum, baby. I wanna save that for when I’ve got my cock buried inside you. How’s that sound?”

           “Y-Yes, Iwantitsobad,” Spencer slurs, his words running together as he draws nearer and near to the end. “Want you to fuck me, Miss! Please, I’ll do anything-”

           I take pity on him and withdraw my fingers, which makes Spencer keen in protest.

           “Calm down, greedy boy. Just gotta get ready so I can give you what you want.”

           I crawl off of the bed and step into the harness, fastening it in place and making sure that the dildo is secure before I crawl in between his legs. Spencer watches on with rapt fascination as I pour lube into my palm and work it over the silicone cock until every inch of it glistens.

           “What’s your color, baby?” I ask as rub the tip of the cock over his hole.

           Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and his whole-body tenses with anticipation.

           “So green, Miss. So fucking green,” Spencer whimpers.

           I raise a hand up to his hip and begin to rub soothing circles into the skin there.

           “Gonna need you to relax for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”            Spencer bites his lip and nods his head. I watch as the tension begins to melt away, and when I see him relax back into the mattress, I bring up my hand to stroke his cock. I keep my touch light, barely applying pressure – I knew if I applied too much, Spencer wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than a few thrusts. He was already teetering on the edge as it was.

           Mine and Spencer’s eyes meet and he smiles up at me, dopey and drunk from pleasure, and it’s all the permission I need. I press into him slowly, and I’m left in awe as I watch Spencer Reid completely unravel beneath me.

           “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer curses, head flying back and hitting the pillows. It never ceases to amaze me at how fucking responsive he is, and tonight is no exception. It’s like his body is a live wire, trembling beautifully as I press in further and further and further. I stop just shy of being fully sheathed inside him, trying to allow him a moment to adjust, but Spencer seems to have other plans.

           “Keep going, Miss, don’t stop, please! I want all of it, please give it to me! I can take it, please let me show you!”

           He looks up at me and those beautiful brown eyes are so wild, so positively feral that I can’t even entertain the idea of denying him any longer.

           Spencer looks positively ruined by the time I bottom out inside him. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat that gathers on his forehead, and his lips look positively abused from the way he’s been biting down on them. His eyelids flutter closed every few seconds, and every time he blinks them back open, I’m able to see that his pupils are so blown that his eyes look almost black.

           I pull back until all that’s left inside him is the very tip of the cock, and just as he opens that bratty little mouth to beg for more, I give particularly harsh thrust of my hips until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Spencer lets out a surprised cry as I set an unforgiving pace, all the while still loosely jerking him off as I bury myself inside him again and again and again.

           “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Spencer chants loudly, face contorted beautifully in an expression of pure ecstasy. I spare a brief thought to Spencer’s poor neighbors and make mental note to invest in a ball gag.

           “S’that feel good, baby? You look so pretty taking my cock like the good boy you are. My pretty little cock slut. Such a shame nobody’s fucked you like this before,” I hum as I focus my attention on the head of his cock, thumbing lightly at where he leaks for me.

           “D-Don’t want anyone else, just wanna be good for y-you. Wanna m-make you proud,” Spencer whines, tripping over his words as he struggles to form a coherent sentence. The sentiment sends a jolt of heat down to my already soaking core, but I do my best to ignore the slickness running down my thighs for the time being. Right now, my only focus is the boy chanting my name, praying for a type of salvation that only I can give him.

           I smile down at him and my hand drifts lower to where I’m steadily thrusting in and out of him. Spencer’s body jolts as the pad of my thumb brushes against the sensitive skin of his hole.

           “Of course, I’m proud of you. Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. It’s like you were made to take my cock,” I praise him.

           My words, mixed with the way I’m working both Spencer’s cock and his tight little ass, seem to be getting the better of him, because Spencer doesn’t even try to formulate a response. He just continues to let out strangled moans that almost sound like sobs as his hands grasp at the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

           It doesn’t take long until I feel the muscles in Spencer’s stomach and thighs begin to tense, and when his cock twitches in my hand I can tell Spencer won’t last much longer.

           “Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” I ask him as I grind my hips against his, and Spencer’s reply comes in the form of an incoherent, garbled moan.

           “What’s the matter, baby? Have I fucked you so stupid that you can’t answer me anymore?” I taunt him. I use the leverage I have from the hand placed on his hip to propel myself deeper. “Is my poor dumb baby incapable of replying?”

           Spencer makes a feeble attempt at a reply, “P-Please let me – f-fuck – cum! Oh, God, m’socloseMiss. Harder, please!”

           I take a minute to bask in the way he’s completely fallen apart at my hands - relishing in the way his eyes are glossy and dark with lust, in the way that his chest is flushed a deep red, and in the way that precum beads at the tip of his cock, aching for a release. He looks beautiful like this, whining and squirming, hips grinding down in search of more, more, more. I’d never imagined in a million years that I’d be so lucky as to see the illustrious Spencer Reid fucked absolutely senseless, but here he was, waiting for my permission to throw himself off the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.

           “Cum for me, pretty boy,” I say in the softest voice imaginable. “Show me how good you are.”

           The tension that had been steadily building since the first press of my lips against his snaps in an instant, and copious amounts of cum spurt out from his cock, painting his chest in thick, white ropes. Spencer chants out muddled thank yous as I fuck him through his release, pushing in and out of him in shallow strokes as slowly comes back down from the high.

           When his breathing slows down to a normal rate, I pull out of him, quickly freeing myself from the harness and tossing it aside to be dealt with later. I crawl up until I’m at eye level and begin pressing soft, sweet kisses to Spencer’s face.

           “You did so well, Spence,” I murmur against his skin. “You’re amazing, baby. Thank you so much for trusting me to be with you like that.”

           Spencer lifts a shaky hand to my hair and pulls me down into a heated kiss. I indulge him and pour every ounce of passion I have into my efforts, hoping to express my gratitude with every swipe of my lips against his. And when I pull away, my pretty boy smiles up at me, sated and full of adoration, and it’s beautiful.

           “D’you think you can handle taking a shower with me?” I ask as I pull away, and Spencer gives a shy nod in response. He sits up in the bed and swings his legs until his feet hit the floor. I’m just about to stand when his hand comes down on my wrist to stop me.

           “What about you? You didn’t . . .”

           “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Tonight was all about you.”

           I move off of the bed and help him to his feet, holding him steady when his legs begin to shake. “Might be a little sore for a while, but it should go away within a day or so.”

           I help him to the bathroom and turn on the shower, and when it’s warm enough I rid myself of my bra and panties and motion for him to join me. I urge Spencer to step under the spray first, but his arms snake around me and pull me with him.

           Spencer nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck and he lets out a deep sigh.

           “You okay, bubs?” I ask him as I tangle my arms around his torso and begin to rub soothing circles into his back.

           “I just feel a little… down? I-Is this a sub drop? I read a little bit about them, but I don’t k-know…” he trails off, sniffling pitifully against my neck. “I-I just know that I want to hold you. Is that o-okay?”

           My heart lurches painfully in my chest as his voice wavers, and I pull back just enough that I can look into his weary eyes.

           “Baby, that’s more than okay. Sub drops are a perfectly normal thing to experience, and I’ll be right here to hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

           Spencer’s eyes fill with tears and he makes no attempt to hold them back, choosing to let them fall freely and mix in with the water pouring from the shower head.

           “T-Tell me you want me,” Spencer begs, lip wobbling pitifully. “I-I just feel like I’m not good enough for you, and I know it’s all in my head, and I know how you feel about me, but I just think it would help if you just… s-said it. Please?”

           I feel my heart break for the man that stood before me. The implication his words carry - that this wonderful, kind-hearted, extraordinarily gifted man could ever think so little of himself – was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and, with all the sincerity I can possibly muster, I reply.

           “I want you, Spencer Reid. I don’t want anyone else – only you,” I tell him, never once breaking eye contact. “For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

           Spencer chokes out a weak laugh, “And if I want you forever?”

           I nudge his nose with my own, and the act feels almost more intimate than everything that preceded it.

           “Then forever, it is,” I murmur. I press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo. “Now, turn around, pretty boy. Let me pamper you.”

--

           “Y/N!” Penelope calls out, sauntering over to me in a flash of hot pink taffeta. I’m in the middle of throwing my satchel over my shoulder when she runs up to me, excited smile on her face. “Me, you, JJ, Elle, and a bottle of tequila. You in?”

           On a normal day, the answer would have been a resounding hell yes. But today? I let my eyes wander over to where Spencer lingers near the glass doors, trying to look like he isn’t listening in. Very subtle.

           “I’m gonna have to pass on this one, Penelope.”

           Penelope’s smile transforms into a pout.

           “This is the third weekend in a row you’ve ditched us!” she whines, stomping her kitten heeled foot like a petulant child. “Either you’re avoiding us or you’ve got some secret lover we don’t know about. And if that’s the case, then we have a whole other problem, because that’s the kind of thing I expect to be told about immediately.”

           The giddy smile that stretches across my face gives me away before I even have the chance to open my mouth, sending Penelope into an absolute frenzy.

           “Oh my God, I cannot believe this. We’ll talk about how angry I am about being kept in the dark later because right now, I need details,” Penelope gushes. “Who is he? Where did you two meet? Is he hot?” Penelope barely gets the words out before she’s shaking her head. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Of course, he’s hot - just look at you. Do I know him? When do I get to meet him?”

           I can’t help but laugh at Penelope’s enthusiasm.

           “Slow down, Pen,” I chuckle. “I didn’t tell you about it because it’s still relatively new, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that we finally decided to put a label on it.”

           “A label? Does that mean this guy is your boyfriend? Oh my God, I thought this day would never come,” Penelope sighs dreamily. But the far-away look in her eye quickly fades and Penelope begins to grill me with renewed fervor. “Y/N, you have to tell me who it is. It’s like, practically a crime that I’m only just now hearing about this, so you owe me this much. And I’ll be needing his first and last name, along with a DOB so that I can run a full back ground check ASAP. Don’t even try to talk me out of it – we deal with enough freakiness during our day jobs, and I insist on making sure the freakiness ends there.”

           I can feel a flush spread over my cheeks and I fiddle with the strap of my bag.

           “I, uh, don’t think a background check is going to be necessary. You know this guy pretty well already.”

           If Penelope had been worked up before, she was practically vibrating with excitement now.

           “I know him? Oh my God, this is so huge. Is it Brendon from down in sex crimes? Or maybe James from counter-terrorism?” Penelope muses aloud, before her eyes go almost comically wide. “Holy hell, it’s Anderson, isn’t it?”

           “It definitely isn’t Anderson, or any of the others, for that matter,” I laugh. “Do you want a hint?”

           “What I really want is for you to just tell me, but if you insist on dragging this out then yes, I would very much like a hint!”

           I cut my eyes over to where Spencer stands, and it’s impossible to miss the giddy grin on his face. So much for trying to remain subtle, Doctor Reid.

           I fake like I’m looking around for anyone within earshot before motioning for Penelope to lean in. She’s quick to comply, and I do one last exaggerated sweep of the room.

           “Alright then, here’s your hint,” I whisper into her ear. “He’s got an IQ of 187, and he’s a pretty kickass magician.”

           I lean back and adjust the strap of my bag, sparing one last, parting glance at Penelope, whose jaw is practically on the floor.

           “See you on Monday, Pen.”

           “W-Wait, are you serious?” Penelope calls out after me. “Reid is your mystery man?! Y/N, get back here right now and explain yourself! Derek, did you hear that?!”

           By the time I reach Spencer, Penelope’s voice fades into background noise as I focus all my attention on the way he smiles down at me. I link my hand with his and I’m vaguely aware of an increase in volume coming from Penelope’s direction, but I ignore in favor of smiling back at him.

           “You ready to get out of here, boyfriend?”

           Spencer squeezes my hand in his and he nods.

           “Ready when you are, girlfriend.”

-

-

-

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[heliads]

Breaking Promises

When Julie has to suddenly drop out of a Julie and the Phantoms performance, the role of lead singer falls to her best friend Y/N, as she’s the only other person who can make the boys visible to the world. When Y/N seems betrayed by this, it falls to Luke to figure out why the girl he’s been crushing on seems so hurt.

masterlist

Luke is bent over his guitar, fingers mindlessly strumming the strings. He’s supposed to be tuning the instrument, he knows that, but every time he tries to set himself up for some small task he can’t help but start trying to figure out another song. It’s like he can find music in everything, and sometimes, the call to come up with another few chord variations is too hard to ignore. Especially now, when he should have finished tuning his guitar ten minutes ago.

Well, it’s not like he has a whole lot to do anyway. The different members of Julie and the Phantoms (minus Julie herself) are strewn about the studio. Reggie is lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling. Alex, for some reason, is trying to figure out if he can walk all the way around the room without his feet touching the floor once. His gaze is laser-sharp as he focuses, arms held out for balance as he carefully steps from ottoman to couch cushion.

Luke frowns over at him, attention finally broken from the guitar. “You know, walking on the rug does still count as having your feet touch the ground.” Alex holds up a warning finger. “Actually, the rules are that you can’t touch the floor itself. The rug is not the ground, so I’m fine.” Another voice rings out from across the room. “That’s a lie and you know it. Rugs have never been safe.” Alex folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve been playing The Floor is Lava for decades longer than you, Y/N, so I think I’d know.”

Y/N, however, is undaunted by this. “You can’t pull the age thing on me if you’re wrong. The lava would soak through any rug. It’s an obvious fact.” Alex makes a face at her. “I’m still right about this. Luke, back me up.” Luke shakes his head, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry, Alex. Y/N’s right. Rugs are totally out of bounds.” Alex shoots him a sour look. “Somehow I’m not surprised that you’d pick her side.” Luke’s mouth falls open as Reggie bursts out in laughter. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Y/N’s smiling now as well. “It means that he’s still jealous that we’re right. Pay it no attention.” She turns back towards the notebook in her hands, leaving Alex with the opportunity to look meaningfully between her and Luke. Luke shoots him a glare, which just makes Alex’s grin even broader. Sometimes, Luke wishes he wasn’t in a band with such idiots.

Luke’s irritation begins to fade away when he looks back at Y/N. Her hand is strewn across her lap as she studies her scrawled chemistry notes, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the go. It’s strange- Y/N seems like the perfect person for music. She always knows the beat to a song, and she seems to walk, talk, and breathe melodies just like Luke. Even now, when she’s focusing on her homework, she’s still coming up with drum beats on the fly. It’s astonishing.

Yet every time Luke asks Y/N about music, she always changes the subject. It’s never interested her, she claims, or she has always left that to Julie and Flynn, her two best friends. Those excuses don’t make sense, though- Luke’s been to Y/N’s house before and she’s got piles of sheet music stacked up in the corners, and dusty instrument cases hidden in the attic. Y/N has definitely had a history in music, Luke just can’t figure out why she’s hiding it.

Music isn’t the only mystery lingering around Y/N L/N. She isn’t a ghost, yet she can still see Luke, Alex, and Reggie as if they were all lifers. Luke remembers when they first met- Y/N had been Julie’s best friend, and so she had been inevitably dragged over to the studio to hear the boys perform and prove that Julie wasn’t crazy, just like what happened to Flynn. Unlike Flynn, however, Y/N’s eyes had caught on the boys from the second she walked through the door, even before they had started playing music.

She had greeted them with no problem, and then her easygoing smile had started to fade when she saw the looks of utter confusion on Luke and his friends. A wave of troubled realization crested over her eyes when Julie explained that they were ghosts, as if she knew exactly why she could suddenly see them. Julie had been confused as well, and then she had turned to Y/N with a look of thunderstruck understanding. 

“You can see them because of-” Her voice had cut off and Y/N had nodded quietly. “Yes.” The girls hadn’t said anything more, but Luke can still see the silent sadness that wrapped around both Y/N and Julie before they hurriedly changed conversations. They were clearly hiding something, but Luke doesn’t know what it could possibly be. They haven’t brought it up again, and they seem keen on hiding any possible reasons as to why Y/N has no problems seeing ghosts.

After a couple of minutes, Julie bursts through the door of the studio, out of breath from running to them. She stands in the doorway for a second, looking distinctly panicked. “You guys remember the gig we have planned in a couple of days?” Luke nods, along with the rest of his band. How could he not? It’s a fairly big show, at a premier jazz club. It’s no Orpheum, but it’ll give them some excellent street cred that the band could use to get even bigger.

Julie closes the studio doors behind her, and walks over to the assembled band. “We have a problem.” Y/N’s forehead creases, and she starts to rise out of her chair. “Here, I’ll let you guys talk this over in private.” Yet Julie shakes her head, gesturing for Y/N to sit back down. “Actually, I’m afraid you have to be here for this.” Y/N sits back down, looking troubled. Luke can’t blame her- Julie’s gaze keeps flickering over to her friend with a distinctly guilty expression.

Julie steeples her fingers in front of her. “Something came up with my family and I can’t make it to the show. I know the performance is a big deal, but I can’t miss this thing with my family. The only problem is that the jazz club has a strict policy on band cancellations, and we’ve already missed the window for backing out. We have to perform, but there’s no way I can make it in time.” Luke’s gaze falls. How are they supposed to play if they don’t have Julie? Without her, nobody will be able to see them.

Julie squares her shoulders, as if readying herself for a hardship. “We have to have someone performing with the boys so they can be seen and the club won’t think we’re backing out on them. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it has to be you.” Instantly, Y/N’s gaze drops. “What are you talking about?” Julie holds up her hands as if to defend herself from an attack. “I know how it sounds, but hear me out. You have an incredible voice, and you already know the boys better than anybody else.”

Luke looks over at Y/N, and is surprised to see that she looks distinctly unhappy. Angry, even. Reggie, on the other hand, does not seem to have picked this up. He beams over at her. “Y/N, I didn’t know you could sing! This is going to be so good!” Y/N glares over at Julie. “Judging by the fact that the boys don’t know about this, I’m assuming that this was all your idea. You want me to sing in a band in front of a large audience? Why not ask Flynn, or even Carrie? She would be better for this.”

Julie winces. “I know how you feel, but it’s our only option. The boys have to perform with someone who can see them so they can be visible to the audience. It has to be you.” If looks could kill, Julie would be as dead as Luke. Y/N’s voice is slow and cold. “You know what this means to me. You know exactly what this means to me, and you’re still asking me to do this. I can’t believe you.”

Julie starts to speak again, but Y/N holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it. After all, the future of this band is far more important than any of your friends, isn’t it? I know the songs, I’ll be ready. That’s what you really care about.” Y/N stands up, looking down at Julie with an expression of utter loathing. “When you didn’t want to make music because of your mom, I was there. I understood. But the rules only apply to you, don’t they? I will never forgive you for this.” With that, she walks swiftly out of the study, muttering something about needing to be alone.

Luke looks from the slamming door to Julie. “What was that about?” Julie looks sick to her stomach. “I never should have asked her to do this. She’s right, it was a bad idea.” Alex shakes his head, confused. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Y/N having to perform?” Julie just sighs. “It’s personal. If she doesn’t tell you, I don’t think I should either. I’ve already upset her too much.”

Luke gets up slowly. “I’m going to go talk to her.” Before Julie can say a word to stop him, Luke is already poofing out of the studio. He can see Y/N’s figure disappearing around one corner, then two. He follows her slowly, and feels a dull surprise creep over him when he realizes that she is heading towards the cemetery. What could possibly be waiting for her there?

Something in the back of Luke’s head is telling him that this is too personal, and he’s about to witness a scene that was not meant for his own eyes to see. Something else tells him that Luke needs to see this to understand Y/N, and to learn how to fix whatever problem has just split her friendship with Julie down the middle. So, Luke continues to shadow Y/N’s footsteps, always just behind a tree or out of sight when she looks back. He has a feeling that if he is sighted or makes a sound, Y/N will back down from whatever she is about to do.

Eventually Y/N stops moving, and kneels beside a gravestone. It seems fairly recent, not chipped away and eroded like the others. Luke peers closer at the stone and realizes that it’s inscribed with a girl’s name, and the last name is L/N. Also, the death date occurred about a year ago. All of a sudden, Luke realizes who Y/N is visiting. Could this be her sister, a sister that died? Is that why she’s so upset?

Luke’s thoughts stop churning for a second when he realizes that Y/N is speaking quietly to the stone. “Hi. It’s me again. I just had to come here because-” Her voice drops off and she takes a second to collect herself before she begins speaking once more. “I need to apologize. You know that band I’ve talked about before? The one that’s made up of my friends? Well, they have this performance coming up in a few days, and they need me to sing with them because they’re ghosts and I’m one of the only people who can see them. I know how it sounds and everything, but I have no choice-”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she stops speaking. There, standing a few inches in front of her, is a girl. She looks only a couple of years older than Y/N, and even without the inscription on the headstone Luke can tell that this is Y/N’s sister. He can see it in her eyes, the shape of her face. However, unlike Y/N, this girl has a distinctive scowl that never seems to leave her expression, not even for a second. Y/N seems startled at the sight of her sister. “You’re here? I thought-”

Y/N’s sister cuts her off. “What, you thought I wouldn’t be here and so you’d feel okay with pretending everything is fine? We had a promise, don’t you remember? If I have to die and never play music again, you have to uphold the bargain. That’s how it works.” The girl starts walking forward, and Y/N scrambles backwards out of her way. “It wasn’t my choice- I didn’t want to- I have to be there! I tried to argue but there’s no way out of it.” The girl clicks her tongue in disappointment. “I hoped that you would try a little harder. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping my memory? Well, I can think of another way to keep the promise.”

Luke’s head snaps up as he realizes what the girl is about to do. Just before the sister’s arm reaches Y/N, he has poofed into existence in between them, stopping the blow just before it lands. Y/N stares at him. “Luke? Where did you come from?” Luke flashes her an apologetic smile. “I was trying to find you so I could figure out why you were so upset. I think I get it now, though.” Y/N’s sister huffs an irritated sigh. “Look at you, a friend to the rescue. This doesn’t concern you. The promise is between us.”

Luke shakes his head. “You don’t get to hurt her. Not like this, not in the promise. I want you to leave her alone. Only come back when you’re ready to apologize or treat her better.” Y/N’s sister scoffs. “And why would I do that?” Luke’s gaze grows steely. “Because I have friends who can make you. Have you ever heard of Caleb Covington? He knows me, and if I needed something I know he’d show up.” Y/N’s sister’s gaze falters. “You’re in touch with Caleb?” Luke nods. “I take it you know him?”

The girl looks terrified. “Any ghost who’s anybody knows about Caleb.” Her gaze cuts over to Y/N. “I’ll stop, I swear it. Sing with them. I don’t care. Just don’t set Caleb on my trail.” Luke squares his shoulders. “I won’t unless I have to.” Y/N’s sister fixes him with one last look, then poofs out again, leaving Luke and Y/N alone. Luke offers Y/N a hand, which she takes. She’s shaking slightly, which twists Luke’s heart like a knife. She glances over at him, confused.

“Wait, why did you bring up Caleb? I thought he hated you guys. You talked about him like he was a friend.” Luke spread his hands. “She doesn’t have to know that. I mean, all I really said is that Caleb knows who I am, and he does.” Y/N laughs incredulously. “You were bluffing that whole time? Even I believed you.” The two of them walk out of the cemetery, and only after they’re out on the sunlit sidewalk does Luke finally turn to Y/N once more.

“Was your sister the reason you didn’t want to perform with us at the club?” Y/N sighs. “Yes. We were closer than anything, and we had a little gig going as a joint act. We sang and wrote music together. We had plans of being this great band, and then she died one night in an accident.” Y/N stifles a broken laugh. “When I saw her again, I thought I was hallucinating. Then she broke my window and I realized she was actually there, albeit in ghost form. She made me promise that I would never perform again, because it wouldn’t be fair to her memory. Some part of me knew it wasn’t right, but I was afraid of her, I guess.”

Luke sees the doubt beginning to creep back onto Y/N’s face, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It wasn’t right at all. That promise wasn’t something she could ask of you. That’s not dedication to music, that’s just her controlling her. A real musician would want you to move on and grow. I mean, we all hate Bobby because he stole our songs, not because he kept performing. I mean, I’m proud of him for doing so well, even though he tried to write us out of history. The issue isn’t with you singing, I promise.”

Y/N looks up at him, and Luke feels lost in her gaze. “Thank you for having my back. I know I shouldn’t have blown up at Julie, but I was so upset that she would make me perform that I guess I just lost it.” Luke frowns. “Julie knew about the promise?” Y/N nods. “I dropped out of music class and she wanted to know why. I told her that my sister had died and she didn’t want me to perform anymore, but not about the ghost stuff. Obviously.” A slight smile begins to creep onto her face. “Honestly, I’m excited about performing. I haven’t sung in front of people in a long time.”

Luke returns her smile. “I’m excited to hear you. To be honest, I’ve been hoping to hear you perform for a while.” Y/N’s brow furrows. “You knew I did music?” Luke shrugs. “I knew music was important to you so I took a guess. I know you’ll be amazing.” Y/N laughs. “How do you know that?” Luke leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I just have a feeling.”

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms oneshot

[chihomichannel]

of candy wrappers and unprecedented endings

| pairing: choso x reader | genre: angst & fluff | warnings: mention of death; sad things blended with happy things | word count: 2330 words | a/n: hi! this is clem! this is the 3rd and final part of “bittersweet lollipops” so read the first two parts before this but it can also be read as is. this wasn’t my first plan for the 3rd part and i had actually written a lot when i realized that i don’t want it to be the 3rd part lol. so i rewritten this today and here it is! hope you guys like it!

◄ previous |

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Time has always been the limit for humans. We were born and raised, thrown into the world and built our lives only for everything you’ve worked hard for to be left behind once death came right by your door. And for sorcerers like you, death has always been just a step behind, ready to take you once it was your time. But in your case, you miraculously lived long enough to know you would die with no regrets.

Feeling the hand clung onto yours, your eyes woke from its slumber. Your eyes were met with the bright sunshine that illuminated the whole room, the white of the ceiling shining brighter than ever. Your head turned to your side to see Choso sitting asleep by your bed, his hand on top of yours while the other held your family scrapbook. The page was open, showing a picture of your family at its early stages. It was you and Choso both holding onto your newborn with your friends by your sides. You remembered it was your first born’s first birthday and you smiled at the vivid memory that crossed your mind.

You thought back to that day when everyone was present, celebrating and just pure happiness. You remembered Megumi tackling Yuuji when he was about to feed your baby he didn’t know your daughter could not eat. You remembered Panda with your baby lying on its stomach and Inumaki shoving toys to your daughter to amuse it. You remember Gojo arriving late with a bag full of sweets to which Choso took eagerly. You remembered Nobara continuously flaunting her outfit. You remembered Maki and Nanami just being there. And you remembered looking at everyone, just taking in that moment and storing it inside your treasured memories. You remembered the atmosphere, the calm and the chaos in the house. The hot rays of the sun shielded by the window pane. You remembered that moment and longed to return to that day.

Blinking, you were snapped back to reality. You took note that the atmosphere was the same as that day. You smiled, eyes tired even though you only just woke up. You glanced at Choso’s hands that clung onto yours, it was tight but he held you as if you were fragile glass. You knew he’s worried and so you moved your hand and intertwined it with his. Choso stirred awake, licking his dried lips as he leaned up from his position “Hey” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He looked tired, the look in his eyes told you they’ve lived for so long. They’ve seen so much yet his face was still the same. His body looked the same, everything looked the same. His youthful face hid the hundreds of years he’s lived.

He smiled- oh his smile. His smile is something you never got over. When you first knew Choso, you would have never guessed that he could be so expressive. With his indifferent mien, even at the start of your relationship, you would always be so surprised to see another expression on his face. You loved it especially when he has this confused, wondering face. You always found it so cute. You found everything he does cute. It scared you just how much you’re in love him. But you could never imagine nor wish for a better life because the life you have with Choso by your side is a life you would never bargain anything for. You are content and you are in love. You didn’t even realize it but Choso became your life. The little world and family you’ve built with him, it’s yours and his. No life was better than this.

“Morning” Choso scooted his seat closer to your bed, he had his elbows on the soft mattress, taking your hand to his lips. “It’s afternoon, silly” You weakly told him, softly chuckling. You felt him smile in your hands and you gazed at him adoringly “I see you’ve been looking at the scrapbook again”

“Yeah” Choso pulled away from your hands and flipped the scrapbook to the next page “I guess I fell asleep while doing so” He mused. He stopped and you looked at the page to see a picture of you and him decades ago. It was a selfie when you two eloped that one fateful night. The two of you never planned for a wedding nor did you think you would ever get married. It was never a thought in your mind but during that night, Choso looked so beautiful. Even with his mouthful of tacos you grabbed on the way to Panda’s birthday, something about the night with the streetlights and the swarm of people highlighted Choso in your eyes. And at the bus stop, just as you were about to get on it, you pulled Choso into a halt and waited until the crowd got on the bus before you spoke “Will you marry me?”

You both skipped on Panda’s birthday and got married. It was a decisive decision but no doubt the best you’ve ever made. A year later after that, your daughter was born and you swore, Choso had never glowed brighter. Your heart felt soft whenever you see your daughter and husband bonding. And the sight of your daughter cuddled up against Choso made you feel so thankful that these beautiful people are part of your life. Because of them, life was so much brighter.

You and Choso bore four more children after that. To say that life is noisy is an understandment but the noise made you happy anyway (albeit stressed). You stopped at baby number 5, with your eldest being 15 at the time. As expected, your daughter became a sorcerer, proving to be much stronger than either of you with a cursed technique she invented on her own. Your second didn’t follow onto the jujutsu society and made a life of his own outside the dangers of your reality. Your third inherited Choso’s blood manipulation and was almost bought by the Kamo clan but of course, you and Choso shielded your child away from the mess that is clan families. Your fourth also became a jujutsu sorcerer and your youngest inherited your cursed technique. All in all, your children now had lives of their own with all of them being fully fledged adults.

With a sigh, you yawned, reaching out for the scrapbook and putting it on your lap. You flipped to the next page and a grin etched on your face. You giggled, motioning to Choso the scrapbook. It was you and Choso all those years ago before you were married. It was that day out when Choso kissed you on the ferris wheel. It was when you two were sitting on the sea wall when he secretly snapped a picture of you looking the other way. A glint flashed through Choso’s eyes, his lips mirroring your grin. Choso traced the design by the photo, it was a bunch of lollipop wrappers you two had been eating when you were designing this specific page. He remembered you chastising him for almost emptying the packet of lollipops. Chuckling, he turned to look at you to see you looking at him so lovingly “I love you” you told him and Choso felt his chest tighten. It was a wonder how you still had so much effect on him when you had literally spend your lifetime together “And I love you”

Choso examined the wrinkles in your eyes when you smiled. Your once smooth skin was now wrinkled out of old age. Your once vibrant hair is now a dull white. Both your eyes now have a cataract that clouded your sight. And your lips remain chapped no matter how many times you apply a lip balm. But even with all these things you’ve obtained as you aged, you still looked so darn beautiful. It was no secret that his never changing youth made you insecure. You wished he could age up with you but realized that was selfish and so you brushed off these thoughts. What you didn’t know is that Choso also wished the same. He wished he could grow old with you and get wrinkly together.

It was cruel how he couldn’t age with you. If you thought about it, he’s actually more than a century older than you yet here you are, minutes away from letting go. Choso clutched your hands, his eyes shaking as you breathed frailly. He breathed out your name, tears brimming in his eyes. He let out a whimper when you called his name, hiding in the cold of your hands “Choso” You repeated, feeling a pang on your chest. You leaned forward to embrace him, trapping him in your arms resulting in Choso to lean on your shoulder, letting out a quiet cry.

You cooed, kissing his temple before hiding your face in his hair, his locks drying the tears that fell on your cheeks. “Don’t go” He cried, his voice muffled “Not you too” His voice cracked causing your arms to tighten around him “Choso, Choso” With that, Choso looked you in the eyes.

“Please never be alone-” You paused, composing yourself. Choso held your cheeks as you continued “-find someone-” “I could never love someone else other than you” Choso said committedly. You gave him a look before you continued “-please, please don’t blame yourself” You held his cheeks, giving him a soft smile as you plead “And please don’t be sad”

You broke, Choso catching your tears with his mouth. Planting kisses on your face, Choso savored you in. The both of you could feel it. It was the worst feeling ever. But thinking back to your life, it was never short of happiness. Choso was the pill that gave you the energy to live your fullest. He was the reason you found a purpose in life and became a mother of five. He was the reason you ever felt true happiness. And thinking back to all those memories, you can confidently say that you left this world with no regrets.

 ๋࣭     ࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪ ٬     ุ๋ ⸱ ๋࣭     ࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪  ๋࣭

A snowflake fell on Choso’s nose causing it to twitch at the contact. It was cold and Choso stood in the midst of the crowd, unmoving as stone. He sighed, a cloud forming in front of his mouth. Yuuji had called him to meet him in the plaza in front of the huge clock that stood tall in the middle of the park. Choso scanned his surroundings and took note of the large crowd that flocked together at night. It was the night before Christmas eve and Choso was alone. His children all had their own families to tend to. The original plan was to celebrate at his home but plans tend to change and Choso ended up alone. If not for Yuuji, he would probably be asleep by now.

“Choso!” Hearing someone call out his name, Choso turned to see his brother and his friend, Megumi, heading his way. Yuuji’s pink hair is now white, his smile now has wrinkles on them. It was the same with Megumi and Choso remembered he couldn’t age. It made him sigh, wanting nothing but age together with the people he cares about. It bothered him so much, especially with his eldest child looking much older than him. It was unfair, Choso wailed to the gods.

Choso let them pull him wherever, going along with the flow. But even with the boisterous laughs of his brother and the chatter that filled his ears, he felt alone. He was surrounded by people yet he felt so cold. Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Choso going along wherever his companions went.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Yuuji. He was worried about his brother which is why he called him in the first place. His legs hurt from old age but if it means his brother would feel better, he would go out in the cold to walk with him. Megumi already went home and Yuuji is walking Choso home. He noted the faraway look Choso held. Yuuji felt sad at the sight. He remembered how Choso shined when you were still alive. But the Choso walking beside him now was nothing but the shell left of his body. His eyes held no soul, that is until Choso’s eyes landed on the ferris wheel.

It was the same ferris wheel as back then. Like before, it flickered in different lights, switching its color as it rotated. Choso held a cry, feeling a lump in his throat. You. Oh, you. He is so in love with you still. He saw that yellow pod, though unsure if it was the one, his heart ached at the memory of you. His heart always aches every second of the day. You, he thought of you. He felt the linger of your touch on his skin, your breath as you laughed against him. He felt your kisses and the love you felt for him. The clutch of your fingers as you held onto him. He felt you.

He breathed in the cold air, taking his eyes off the ferris wheel into the night sky. The jet black sky was painted with the white of the snowflakes that fell. One dropped on his cheek and rolled down the same time a tear fell down from his hollow eyes. A breath left his throat, a smoke coming out of his mouth. He will find you, he is determined to find you. No matter how long it takes. No matter what millennia he meets you again. He will be there and you would be in his arms again. He will tell you the stories he’s lived and live another lifetime with you. No matter how many lifetimes, what matters is he’s with you.

Another set of tears run down his cheeks. He misses you but he will live on. He will live on.

He will live on.

tag list: @lawlesshedgehog

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#choso #choso+x+reader #choso imagine #choso headcanons #choso x reader #choso x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk manga spoilers #jjk #jjkdaily

[cuntess-carmilla]

On disability and gender

I'm writing this from my perspective as a dyadic TME non-binary lesbian (also mixed but very pale and non-Black, as well as relatively thin). I will group myself with women but like, I'm also not really a woman it's complicated lol. I say this because I can't have first-hand comprehension of all the possible dynamics between gender and disability, and other physically disabled people are very much encouraged to add their own thoughts and perspectives to this post.

I don't feel equipped to speak on how being disabled and intersex impacts gendered experiences because I have too much left to learn, so I'm sorry that I'm not going to go into it. It's not because I don't recognize that struggle, it's because I just don't have the range, so please, if you're an intersex and physically disabled person and you want to expand on this, don't be afraid to do so.

Able-bodieds can reblog but don't speak out of turn.

------------------------------------------------

For a long time I've been trying to articulate my thoughts and pain on how physical disability impacts our gendered experiences and I think I'm finally starting to get to it.

When you're physically disabled you're immediately stripped of a (willing) gender identity as well as desexualized.

Gender is embodied and performed. You can embody it "incorrectly" and perform it "poorly". Everything regarding the embodiment of physically disabled people is seen as incorrect, and the literal meaning of "disabled" is that we can't perform the same way that able-bodied people can, or at least we can't without severely impacting our wellness.

Disabled men are emasculated. Constructs of ideal manhood are in big part built on things such as physical prowess, never expressing vulnerability, being self-sufficient outside of anything domestic, and conquering women sexually and romantically.

Disabled men are seen as weak, they are seen as pathetic for having visible vulnerabilities or (if their disability isn't immediately visible) for exposing their vulnerabilities instead of "sucking it up". By needing aid, accessibility and carers that do more than what a wife would traditionally do for any man, the sense of self-sufficiency men are supposed to perform is unavailable to disabled men. All disabled people are desexualized and seen as repulsive once our sexualities are acknowledged, and even disabled dyadic cishet men can't escape this. Able-bodied women see them as unfit for any sort of serious romantic or sexual partnership. Not to mention too the traditional role of men as providers and how difficult it is for any disabled person to acquire wealth at all, let alone enough to support more than ourselves alone. The rates of poverty for physically disabled people are fucking astronomical, so most disabled men can't even use that to their advantage in romance and sex to make up for all the other ways in which they're at a disadvantage compared to able-bodied men.

Disabled women fail at embodying and performing every single aspect of traditional womanhood too, but in particular; domestic labor, sexual labor, and beauty standards.

All labor is difficult if not downright impossible when you're disabled. Disabled women who need carers as adults are seen as complete failures because, even as children, but especially as adults, we're the ones who're supposed to be the carers of others, not the other way around. People love to pretend that women are coddled more than men, but nothing breaks that illusion more than being a disabled woman. A woman's needs are supposed to be invisible and self-fulfilled, or else we're whiny spoiled bitches, and guess what that means for disabled women. When we can't perform this pristine role we're immediately marked as failures, we're undesirable and nothing but a parasitic drag in the lives of abled people.

Yes, not all disabled women are straight, plenty of us are bi or lesbians, many are also aro/ace, but the point is that the patriarchy doesn't really give a shit what a woman's sexuality is, because no woman is seen as having sexual agency, so even if we're not straight we're expected to exist to satisfy men sexually. I cannot describe how difficult it is to be sexual, even when you're not ace, if you're physically disabled. Speaking from my own experience, trying to maintain a sex life as someone who experiences chronic fatigue and chronic pain is one of the most frustrating and demoralizing aspects of my disability. I want sex, I want to want sex, to be able to fuck my fiancé, but most of the time I simply can't gather the energy to even feel horny. I feel like such a failure of a lover because of it. Even though my fiancé is patient and understanding with me!

Can you imagine what it is like for disabled women who aren't as "lucky" as me, to have a partner who understands that we simply can't do it all the time even if we do want to? I don't want to go into too much detail about this because it's very painful and triggering to many, but I think you can imagine what happens to a lot of disabled women (and disabled people in general) when we're not satisfying a partner sexually and they get too frustrated by it. Being as vulnerable as we are, nobody cares much what happens to us. More so since, again, physically disabled people are seen as sexually repulsive, so if anyone wants sex with us we're supposed to be "thankful" for it, no matter the circumstances.

As for beauty standards, any woman who doesn't fit traditional beauty standards will know just how badly men treat you when they don't find you physically appealing, and well... Let's just say that a cane or a wheelchair aren't seen by society as particularly attractive, no matter how much the woman using them fits traditional beauty standards otherwise. Then there's female amputees, women with deformities, etc. In my case, I'm a literal mutant. If I don't disguise my tells with corsetry, long sleeves, and so, so much more, my body looks "off", I have been told repeatedly that my body looks "off" my whole life, and I'm one of the least visibly disabled ones! Even regarding body hair it's fucking hell. My collagen is so elastic that when new hair grows it stays ingrown unless I manually break my skin with a needle or a pumice stone (no, gentler ways of exfoliation don't work), but shaving isn't ideal either because my skin is, due to my altered collagen too, literally transparent and you can see the roots of my dark hairs under it even if I shave down to accidentally harming my skin with the blade.

Performing femininity at all is just... It's fucking hell. If it's exhausting for able-bodied women, can you imagine what it is like for us? I can barely manage to shower, by the time I'm done with my hair, makeup and outfit, every bit of my very limited energy is depleted and then I still have the rest of the day to go through. And I LIKE being feminine. I like wearing makeup and wearing the outfits I wear and yet I still dread it when I know I'll have to do more than stay in my pajamas at home.

Also, the perceived fragility of disabled women isn't the type of fragility that is seen as desirable in women. It's not delicacy. Wheelchairs, canes and other mobility aids aren't seen as "delicate" or "demure". Neither is kinesio tape, or compression stockings, or any other sort of medical equipment which, on top of it all, tend to not be very "aesthetic". Our fragility isn't the romanticized type, it's the "wow, you're an useless burden who can't serve me the way I expect you to" type.

When it comes to "binary" disabled trans people (for a lack of a better term) the degendering is even more intense than it already is for their cis counterparts (all that I described above applies to them too). There's a dichotomy of the even heavier denial of their actual genders as men and women due to the combination of their transness and disabilities, contrasting with how even if they were to conform to their assigned genders at birth they'd still be seen as failures at it due to everything I've already stated. There's also the sentiment that their identifying outside of their assigned gender at birth is a sort of consolation prize, something they're going for only because they were failing at being proper cis men and cis women, and thus their actual genders are even more invalidated and effectively pathologized in the most medical sense of the word, which is already a problem for all trans people, but for physically disabled trans people this intensifies the problem even more.

When it comes to non-binary disabled people things get so fucking confusing and infuriating. If binary disabled people get denied their manhood and womanhood, best believe that multigender disabled people (bigender, genderfluid, etc) are denied all aspects of their genders even harder. Not even completely agender disabled people are safe from being seen as failures of their gender identities by people who would perfectly respect the identity of an agender but able-bodied person. The fact that the default gendered status of all disabled people is forcefully degendered makes it so agender disabled people aren't seen as having any agency or self-determination in their (lack of or neutral) gender identity, it's seen as a passive inevitability from their embodiment, so it doesn't really "count", while simultaneously being subjected to the general transphobic bullshit any other agender person would be subjected to.

All of these things already affect white, thin and dyadic physically disabled people. When you add race (especially Blackness and/or being dark skinned), fatness and being intersex into the mix, the ways in which we're degendered and misgendered are off the fucking rails.

We can't fucking win.

#disability

[eldritch-elrics]

more svsss notes! from “shen qingqiu’s short but aggravating time in jail” to “shen qingqiu Fucking Dies” :]

...this got long. oops

so the book does this a lot but i’m always a huge fan of when a character (in this case little palace mistress) spouts off a cliche and sqq internally goes “oh my god here we go again. cringe.” it’s like... the reader gets to experience the drama of the cliche but also laugh at it

airplane has gay and homophobic vibes. or like...... araki jojo vibes. it’s so funny

the system keeps forcing sqq into plots that were originally meant for binghe’s harem members, which is of course hilarious (more so now that binghe’s not a teen anymore) - but i’m thinking about the fact that the system is literally powered by binghe. i wonder if binghe’s feelings are subconsciously influencing the system/the rest of the plot? like we know he has plot armor; does he also have enough influence to shift the story’s genre without knowing it? shit like this is why i love this novel. i’m really curious if it’ll be addressed

more of sqq being absolutely terrible at communication <3 please sir. say your FEELINGS. i’m sure you could figure out some way to explain without revealing that you know how the og plot goes...

another thing i find super interesting about sqq’s character is how sure he is that lbh’s gonna turn out how he did in og pidw. he’s just refusing to accept that lbh’s changed in any way, or that he cares about sqq at all anymore. there’s some line somewhere where sqq is like “oh no, being nice to him just made it worse... i’m stuck with him hating me even more now...” like NO. you’re just refusing to see all the signs of lbh’s hidden feelings. love unreliable narrators lmao

fate/destiny is such a big theme i keep noticing stuff about it

the system giving him a multiple choice answer to binghe’s “do you regret it” question, dating sim style, is of course hilarious, but it’s also a fascinating moment for a couple reasons. first, it shows how much of a crutch the system is for sqq - sqq’s leaning on it to fix his problems instead of actually putting in the work himself to get better at interpersonal communication. i hope that in a key moment later he’ll choose to defy the system. i think that would be a nice pivot point for three themes: first, accepting that sometimes he needs to fix problems on his own, without any omniscient outside guidance, second, accepting that not everything is written in stone (either by airplane or by the system), and third, recognizing that binghe and the rest are “real people” (ymmv on whether or not you think they are, but i think this is where i think sqq’s arc is headed) rather than video game objects to be manipulated.

i think that some shifts in his attitude do start to happen in chap 43 though when he sacrifices himself

back to slightly less analytical observations! sqq getting his clothes torn up. oh my god. and lbh’s REACTION...

dying at shang qinghua’s “coded” letter and the fact that its content basically amounts to “i fucked up, please escape from jail asap thanks bro”

gongyi xiao my BELOVED that prison break was pretty great. also i am so fucking sad about him. binghe WHY

so lbh wasn’t actually a disciple of meng mo? huh...

seems like the words of sqq’s vengeful ex weren’t completely true. i very much doubt the trial’s gonna happen now but i bet this will come up later

seriously losing it at sqq’s tavern disguise? smeared his face with dirt and drew on whiskers?? CATBOY SHEN QINGQIU???

love this development ning yingying’s gotten. the disciples’ relationships with their shizun in general are so cute omg

liu qingge keeps saving sqq from situations and it’s very fun. bros :)

also how lqg was like SO down to fight binghe at the end of that chapter?? king shit

binghe held out his hand to sqq when they were on the roof..... what was he planning to do.........

oh my god that whole confrontation. what is it with mxtx and Climatic Fights On Roofs

here is where the fate theme gets REALLY clear. sqq uses “we can’t avoid fate” as an excuse/coverup but lbh is like “no. was it fate that made you do all those horrible things to me?? i’ve decided that fate doesn’t actually exist. fuck the world i do what i want!”

which like. YEAH. protag energy. the rules of the world don’t apply to lbh so much do they???

im so excited for these themes to be explored more

also like. hell yeah. binghe finally sharing his emotions at a super climactic moment

and then sqq SACRIFICES HIMSELF...

god damn.

it’s a bit out of nowhere but also like. i kinda love it? because sqq knows he can’t talk his way out of this. he can’t say “hey it wasn’t me who abused you/made the choice to push you off the cliff.” so he goes and does the most drastic action he can think of. and it WORKS

now initially i was a lil mad about lbh changing his mind so quickly but i actually think it fits for 2 reasons. first, he’s a webnovel character. they do that. second, his mind has just been cleared of xin mo’s influence, which had been plaguing him during his most angry/violent moments, so with all that anger suddenly gone it makes sense for his feelings to shift. and deep down, he really does care about sqq!

sqq fuckin DEAD and finally binghe is sharing his feelings,,

i do think that lbh should be allowed to feel mad about what og!sqq did to him in the past though? like. it was wrong, and though sqq may feel like he’s made up for it, i do think he owes lbh a proper apology and (if possible) an explanation. there’s much more work (and communication) to be done between them but i’m glad they’re finally getting somewhere...

but of course i don’t think they’re gonna be seeing each other again anytime soon :]

#svsss #svsss spoilers #my post #analysis #oh god this is so fucking long. sorry #after i finish the novel i might come back to some of this analysis and clean it up and post it as its own thing #because i have a lot of thoughts #finn reads scum villain