#It's stupid to cry over fictional characters i know but something about stories and becoming so well-immersed in them is beautiful

[zuzu-draws]

sending lots of hugs your way :''3

Thanks, i really needed those. The shock is starting to wear off and i'm getting more and more... emotional :"D How...do they expect us to enjoy this week's Gojo episode when Gege pulled this in the manga. I didn't like to admit it but i did have a soft spot for him, damnit.

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | seven

🐴Chapter summary: Your heart aches and you feel like you see Jimin everywhere you turn, it feels suffocating. When you suddenly get a call from your sister’s doctor saying that she never made it to her appointment, dread fills your bones. 🐴Chapter title: We Got it Wrong 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: car accident and bleeding from a head wound (I’m sorry 😢), OC is just very sad and angry, there’s a lot of angst and stupidity (thanks to the stupid misunderstanding last chapter), lol. It will get better! But not right now 🥲 And if you feel like you need a reminder where the story is heading, read this spoiler 🫶 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 9.5k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “We Got it Wrong” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: in true ‘McLeod’s Daughters’ style, we open up for all the angst in this chapter! It was tough to write, and it was hard not to cry at the end. It’s more on the sad side, but the sun will shine again— don’t you worry! ☀️

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

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“Tears for all the damage Tears for all the joy Out in the dark, alone and lost I’ll try not to destroy Any more of what we had Because we got it wrong” - ‘We Got it Wrong’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Despite the persistent yearning for Jimin that echoes in your heart and mind, the refuge you find in your work with the wild horses becomes a haven for forgetting. In their presence, you master the art of maintaining a clear mind and keeping your emotions in check.

Otherwise, the delicate dance of gaining their trust remains elusive, and your efforts to gentle them might as well be in vain.

But sometimes maintaining a clear mind becomes a challenge, especially when the echoes of Jimin’s laughter reverberate from his house.

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, catching Yoongi’s attention as he glances your way from his perch on the fence.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Yoongi advises, enveloping you in a comforting sideways hug to emphasize his point.

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out, eyes imploring with a softness, “Easy for you to say.”

You sigh once more, a heavy breath escaping, and a profound sense of deflation washes over you. Is this truly the path your life is destined to take?

“He’ll open up to you in due time,” he reassures, and you can’t help but erupt into a manic chuckle, a blend of frustration and disbelief escaping your lips.

“You can’t be serious. It’s been weeks, and he still hasn’t uttered a word to me. I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon,” you express with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

Yoongi relents to your sour mood, descending gracefully from the fence with a resigned sigh, his boots meeting the sand with a soft thud.

Putting your lunch away, you gracefully descend, ready to immerse yourself once more in the comforting distraction of work, hoping to reclaim a few precious hours without the weight of Jimin occupying your mind.

As you stroll alongside Yoongi, you make your way back to the stables, anticipation bubbling within you to witness the progress on the chestnut mare he’s been tirelessly dedicating nearly a month to.

The expansive stable beckons, its generous proportions dwarfing yours, illuminated by a pristine, white light that banishes the garish yellow hues of your own barn. The stalls, noticeably more capacious, could easily accommodate two fully grown horses, prompting an eye roll at the absurd fixation on size—typical men.

With a swift yet gentle command, Yoongi effortlessly guides the mare out of her stall, relying solely on his body language and the cadence of his voice, a testament to the unspoken connection he shares with the spirited creature. “Come.”

His ability to command the horse without the need for a halter or rope leaves you in awe, like witnessing a magician performing an extraordinary feat. As he imparts his tricks to you, you’ve ventured to try them yourself with Mikrokosmos, turning the experience into a magical and exhilarating connection between you and the spirited mare.

Yoongi guiding the brown mare alongside you, you exit the expansive stables and make your way back down to the pens, the rhythmic echo of hooves on the stable floor harmonizing with the subtle sounds of nature surrounding you.

Your gaze shifts to Yoongi, a spark of curiosity brightening your eyes, “Have you thought of a name for her yet?”

A soft chuckle escapes him as you approach the pen, his hand reaching for the gate, “Holly.”

With the gate ajar, Yoongi ushers Holly into the pen with a deliberate calmness. In the center, she stands like a picture of patience, anticipating his gentle approach.

“That’s a cute name,” you remark, a genuine smile playing on your lips as you savor the sweet sound of the horse’s name.

You gracefully ascend, perching on the fence as if it were your throne, offering an unrivaled view of Yoongi’s equine magic.

“What are you gonna do with Holly today?” You inquire with genuine interest, your eyes fixed on the unfolding scene before you. Yoongi approaches Holly with a gentle touch, his hands navigating the contours of the horse like an artist sculpting a masterpiece, eliciting a contented whinny that adds a musical note to the serene atmosphere.

“I’m going to ride her today,” he declares with unwavering assurance, the timbre of his voice resonating with a mix of competence and excitement. As he applies gentle pressure on Holly’s back, the horse remains still, her tail swaying lazily to ward off an annoying insect.

With a graceful ease, Yoongi begins to mount Holly, his movement akin to an acrobat suspended in mid-air, creating a whimsical and amusing spectacle. He’s not fully astride her yet, more like a playful dance over her back, a sight so unique that it tugs at the corners of your lips, tempting a restrained laugh. It’s a display of horsemanship that you’ve never encountered before, leaving you both entertained and captivated.

Holly maintains her poise as Yoongi gracefully hovers on her back, and then, in a seamless motion, he descends to the sandy ground, his landing executed with a finesse that mirrors the effortless connection he shares with the gentle mare.

He recreates the move, elevating himself further on Holly’s back, until he dangles with his head swaying on the opposite side. Your grin widens, and though you’re tempted to burst into laughter, you restrain yourself, not wanting to disturb Holly’s tranquil demeanor.

He glides down once more, approaches her head, and caresses her with a tender touch. The whole interaction exudes a gentle harmony. Returning to her side, he pulls himself up onto her back, effortlessly swinging his leg over her body, finally settling into a comfortable seat.

You’re tempted to applaud, but you resist, not wanting to startle the horse. Yet, your admiration is palpable. This marks Yoongi’s inaugural ride on Holly, a momentous achievement that leaves you thoroughly impressed!

Yoongi stretches over her withers and strokes her neck affectionately, whispering, “Good girl.”

With a subtle click of his tongue and a gentle nudge of his legs, he guides her into a slow walk around the pen, no saddle, bridle, or halter in sight. 

Color you thoroughly impressed.

You watch in silent awe as he maneuvers around the pen, his presence commanding such tranquility that you’re hesitant to disrupt the serene atmosphere by uttering even a breath.

In a breathtaking display, Holly transitions from a slow trot to a graceful canter, and Yoongi remains a steady figure atop her back. His legs maintain a gentle connection with her sides, while his hands rest calmly on her withers. A moment of pure trust unfolds as he releases his grip, extending his arms outward, allowing Holly to dance freely in circles within the pen.

Yoongi embodies the essence of liberation, and a yearning grows within you to share a similar bond of freedom with Mikrokosmos. His infectious smile meets your gaze as Holly releases a resounding snort, prompting a heartfelt chuckle to escape your lips.

Allowing Holly to race freely, Yoongi skillfully guides her by exerting a gentle pull on her withers, coaxing her spirited gallop into a graceful deceleration, transforming the wild rhythm into a serene and controlled stroll.

The distant rumble of an approaching car draws your attention away from the serene scene in the pen, and you reluctantly shift your gaze towards the source. To your dismay, Jimin’s girlfriend arrives, her car pulling up with an elegance that seems to mirror her captivating allure. Ugh. Why does she have to look that good? And why does she look so familiar?

You scrutinize the unfolding scene, watching with a mix of bitterness and resentment as she gracefully emerges from her car. Jimin, despite his limp, crosses the distance to warmly embrace her. The sight sends a surge of conflicting emotions through you – your heart tightens, your blood simmers, and your hands involuntarily clench, the tension palpable as your teeth grind together in silent frustration.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, an uncontrollable storm raging within. The intensity of your feelings is staggering – a deep-seated resentment towards Deiji, a lingering hatred for Jimin himself, yet paradoxically, a persistent love that refuses to fade. The turbulence within you paints an intricate mosaic of conflicting emotions, leaving you helplessly caught in the tumultuous crosscurrents of your heart.

As Jimin leans in to bestow a chaste kiss upon her cheek, bitterness seeps through your veins, staining your soul with an ominous shade of black. Above you, an unseen tempest brews, dark clouds of despair hanging heavily, casting a shadow over your heart.

Time, instead of healing, has only fueled the flames of pain, hurt, anger, and sadness within you. Over two weeks have passed since the last encounter with Jimin and his girlfriend, yet the agony persists, as raw and piercing as if it were yesterday. Rather than easing, the passage of time seems to stoke the embers, transforming your emotions into a relentless storm of fury and jealousy that intensifies with each passing day.

Suppressing the bitterness welling up within, you shift your focus back to Yoongi and Holly. Dwelling on Jimin, the man who once went out of his way for you, retrieving you from the city, proves too agonizing for your fragile heart. 

The nagging question persists: why won’t he engage in conversation, fight for you, like he did then?

“.... Mikrokosmos?” You snap back to the present, catching the tail end of Yoongi’s question. Offering him an apologetic look, you realize you’ve been lost in your own thoughts, missing every word he carefully uttered.

You pivot to fully engage with Yoongi, deliberately tuning out the sight of the content couple in the background. “I’m sorry, I got lost in my own world. What were you saying?” you inquire with a sheepish smile, noting that Yoongi has dismounted Holly and is now giving her affectionate pats.

Yoongi draws in a breath before repeating himself, his gaze fixed on you. “I asked if you want to work on Mikrokosmos?”

With a released breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you offer him a nod. Working on Mikrokosmos is exactly what you need. As you descend from the fence, Yoongi swings open the gate, leading Holly to a paddock where she joins the other horses, letting you both focus on the task at hand.

You stride purposefully into the stables, the familiar scent of hay and warm wood enveloping you as you approach Mikrokosmos, peacefully resting in her stall.

You swing open the stall door, the hinges creaking softly in the quiet stable. With a warm smile and a voice that echoes genuine affection, you greet Mikrokosmos, “Hi Kosmos.”

Mikrokosmos ambles over, her velvety nose brushing against your outstretched hand, and she playfully nibbles, almost giving it a gentle lick. Your laughter fills the air as you shift to pat her neck. Stepping back, she follows, and you guide her down to the pen. With a practiced motion, you swing the gate open, and as she steps inside, you secure it, sealing the quiet world between you and the rest of the bustling stable.

Perched atop the fence, Yoongi assumes his vantage point, keenly observing your every move with Mikrokosmos, a silent maestro overseeing a harmonious dance between human and horse.

You guide Mikrokosmos around the pen, allowing her to explore the boundaries with curious sniffs and gentle trots. Positioned in the center, your anticipation grows as you await the elusive connection, the ’join up’ that has eluded you thus far. A subtle worry creeps in, questioning if this profound bond will ever materialize between you and the majestic creature.

“Relax and let her come to you,” Yoongi advises from his perch on the fence, a keen awareness of the frustration simmering within you.

Another sigh escapes you, a gentle release that carries your thoughts through your body and spills out through your fingertips. Surrendering to the moment, you embrace the idea that sometimes losing control is the only way to regain it. With a deliberate clearing of your mind and a slow, calming breath, you reassure yourself that everything will indeed be fine.

You surrender to the quietude, closing your eyes as you inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. 

As you focus on Mikrokosmos with closed eyes, the subtle rustle of something against the fence flares your senses. Internally cursing Yoongi for disrupting your concentration, your heightened hearing captures the gradual crescendo of hoofbeats, a rhythmic melody slowing to a gentle cadence.

The hoofbeats draw nearer, and your heart matches their slow, rhythmic approach. A mysterious sensation caresses your back, creating an anticipation that hangs in the air like a delicate promise.

With a resounding whinny, Mikrokosmos echoes her presence against your back, a triumphant melody of connection. Pride surges through you like a victorious anthem. Overwhelmed with joy, you pivot slowly, locking eyes with your equine companion, and tenderly pat her forehead, sealing the bond that has blossomed between you.

As Mikrokosmos revels in her joined connection with you, a swell of pride, you become aware of Yoongi’s gratified grin. Yet, amidst the shared triumph, your eyes catch another figure— Deiji, leaning casually against the fence, her smile mirroring the prideful moment as an unexpected witness to your accomplishment.

“That was amazing!” Her voice practically squeaks with amazement, prompting an eye roll from you.

She glances between you and Yoongi, her voice carrying a sweet and eager tone as she proposes, “I was wondering if I could assist you with the horses?” Despite her happy demeanor, you can’t quite shake off the underlying discomfort you feel in her presence.

You don’t want her help. Refusing her offer with a swift and almost brusque retort, “No.” The refusal spills from your lips with an unintended edge, its abruptness catching even Yoongi off guard. He arches an eyebrow at your firm response, a smirk playing on his lips as he finds amusement in your conviction.

Undeterred by your rejection, Jimin’s girlfriend gracefully accepts your refusal, her smile unwavering. “Okay. Please let me know if I can help you somehow,” she offers, her kindness contrasting with the tension lingering in the air.

With a hint of sarcasm, you snide at her, the forced smile on your face barely concealing the complex emotions within. You nod in acknowledgement, and as she releases her grip on the fence, she retreats gracefully towards the house, leaving you with a bittersweet taste in the air.

You stand firm in your independence, a resolute desire echoing in your mind — you don’t want assistance, especially not from her.

Yoongi gracefully descends from the fence, his presence blending seamlessly with the rhythmic strokes of your hand against Mikrokosmos, creating a moment where time seems to pause, encapsulating the essence of your shared connection with the wild horses.

“Did you really have to be so rude to her?” Yoongi chuckles beside you, his laughter a dissonant melody to the tension in the air, and you can’t help but mutter a few choice words under your breath, realizing the complexity of your emotions.

You pivot towards him, a tempest of frustration swirling in your gaze. “She is the enemy!”

His laughter persists, revealing the expanse of his gums. You exhale sharply. “I can’t have her clouding my thoughts while I’m trying to find solace in my work.”

He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Nah, I get it. You’re just yearning for that Park dick to fill you up,” he teases, winking playfully.

Your face heats up, a crimson blush spreading across your cheeks, and you shoot Yoongi an indignant glare. In a hushed tone, laced with irritation, you hiss, “Yoongi!” — wary not to disturb Mikrokosmos with your sudden outburst.

“Are we going on another epic grocery haul?” you tease with a laugh, watching Ara expertly navigate the car towards town. The anticipation builds as you approach, eager to snatch up all the essentials Jessi has meticulously scribbled down on her ever-growing list.

The town unfolds on the horizon, and a surge of excitement bubbles within you. It’s peculiar how a routine grocery trip can evoke such giddiness. Perhaps it’s the prospect of escaping the looming presence of Jimin and Deiji that adds an unexpected thrill to the mundane task.

So far, you’ve become a master of avoiding the couple. If Jimin harbors no desire for conversation, you find yourself questioning the necessity of extending the courtesy to him or his girlfriend.

Admittedly, you’re toeing the line of childish behavior, but damn it, it’s hard to resist. The complexity of your feelings for Jimin unfolds like a tangled web. While you harbor genuine affection, it feels like your chance slipped away, and he’s unwilling to grant you the opportunity to clarify or even listen. You grasp the sting of being picked last, yet you can’t help but wonder – did you fail to convey your feelings clearly enough for Jimin to comprehend?

Damn it, you wish Yoongi never kissed you. Then this wouldn’t be happening. 

In a moment of exasperation, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. Despite the internal mandate to banish thoughts of Jimin from your mind, his presence permeates your thoughts once more, defying your attempts at self-control.

Ara skillfully guides the car into a coveted parking spot near the grocery store carts, strategically positioning you for an efficient grocery haul. The convenience of proximity promises a seamless transfer of bags from store to car, sparing you unnecessary hassle in loading up your supplies.

“I’ll go grab a cart,” you declare, pushing the car door handle. Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin follow suit, emerging from the vehicle with shared anticipation for the shopping expedition.

As your fingers inch toward the cart handle, your attention is abruptly drawn to a familiar figure across the street.

Park Jimin.

Jimin and Deiji share a moment across the street, his whispered words causing her to blush and giggle. Even though their conversation is out of earshot, the infectious sound of her laughter echoes in your mind. With a scuff, you finally grasp the handlebar of the cart, but your attention remains fixed on Jimin.

He seems happy, a devilish smile gracing his lips, and you yearn for that happiness to be aimed in your direction. His fingers play through Deiji’s hair in a seductive dance, and the sight of her biting her bottom lip, restraining a moan you presume, ignites a surge of anger within you. Red dots line your vision as Jimin’s hand trails down to the small of her back, and all you can see is an intense shade of red.

“What’s the holdup?” Soo-ah quips from behind, but met with your silence, she traces the direction of your gaze instead.

“Oh no, sweetheart…” she murmurs, her voice tinged with sadness, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. A stifled sniff escapes you, tears threatening at the edge of your waterline. 

No, crying is the last thing you want to do now. Hold it in.

Your gaze remains fixated on Jimin’s intimate gestures with Deiji, and a suffocating sensation grips your chest. It’s as if the air has grown thin, and a nauseating wave washes over you, threatening to spill an unsettling mix of emotions.

The other girls gather around you, creating a supportive barrier on either side, momentarily diverting your attention from the magnetic presence of Jimin. Their friendship acts as a shield against the emotional turmoil, offering a brief respite from the intense gravitational pull of Jimin’s figure.

“I just don’t understand,” you mumble, your gaze fixated on the ground, a wave of queasiness washing over you. As you lift your eyes, they inadvertently meet Jimin’s across the road in the parking lot. The irresistible brown orbs lock onto yours, causing your breath to hitch, and your body freezes. His expression is a tumultuous mix of anger and spite, a hurtful glare that pierces through you. A small voice in your mind begins to wonder if this spiteful display is born out of pettiness, and the question lingers – would he truly be so petty?

Your heart clenches, and your hands tighten their grip on the cart’s handlebar. Will this overwhelming ache ever dissipate, or are you destined to carry this horrible feeling forever?

Soo-ah and the rest of the girls guide you away from the cart station, gently urging you into the store. Everything inside becomes a blurry haze. A strange ringing noise echoes in your ears, its origin unclear. Your heart aches with an intensity you’ve never felt, and you start to question if you’re beginning to get sick.

“Can you manage the rest? I’m not feeling well…” Your voice carries a low, deflated tone, and the sensation of your vision spinning intensifies, leaving you dizzy. The unfamiliar feeling bewilders you. The girls nod, concern evident in their eyes, yet they allow you to leave their company.

You navigate your way out of the grocery store at a deliberate pace, locate the car, unlock it, swing the door open, and plop down in the seat. Leaving the door ajar, you take in the fresh air, hoping it might provide some relief.

Exhaling deeply, you sense your heartbeat gradually slowing down, but a nagging question lingers in your mind. Is illness creeping in, or is it the persistent ache in your chest that intensifies every time Jimin comes into view? The unexplained heaviness remains, leaving you searching for answers amid the uneasy beats of your heart.

As the girls return with a brimming cart full of groceries, you muster a wry smile. Once the car is loaded, they encircle you, offering tender hugs that carry warmth and reassurance, their silent promise echoing that, despite the current storm, everything will eventually find its way to calm waters.

You secure the seat belt, and Ha-rin takes the wheel, steering you homeward. Your head finds a resting place against the window, and you gaze out with a distant stare. The scenery, painted in hues of green, blue, and gentle yellows, unfolds like a soothing watercolor, gradually lulling your weary mind into a momentary state of tranquility.

Against the cool window, you surrender to the embrace of sleep, only to find yourself entangled in dreams where deep brown eyes pierce through you with a spiteful glare, carrying the weight of disappointment. Haunted by strands of blonde hair, your heart clenches, and amidst the fragments of slumber, you grapple with the question of how things went so awry between you and Jimin.

Every time you’re working with the wild horses, the world fades away. Jimin’s laughter, and the image of his overly joyful girlfriend, lose their vividness in the company of these majestic creatures. You don’t understand how a person can be so happy, it’s like a mystery you can’t unravel. Maybe it’s because your own mood mirrors the darkness of obsidian, overshadowing any hint of joy.

Perched atop the fence, your gaze follows Yoongi’s skilled hands at work on Holly. Today’s session involves a saddle on her back and a bridle, and you can’t help but marvel at the seamless harmony between them. Holly responds with grace, a testament to Yoongi’s expertise. In this transformative process, she inches closer to the coveted status of a fully trained stock horse, a journey Yoongi confidently assures you she’s on the brink of completing.

Your eyes trace Yoongi’s every move as he guides Holly in a mesmerizing gallop around the pen. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of calm, an unspoken understanding between rider and horse. Holly’s spirit, once untamed, now dances gracefully under Yoongi’s expert guidance, creating a scene that is both captivating and harmonious.

Yoongi’s question slices through your contemplation, catching you off guard like a sudden gust of wind. “Do you want to go for a ride?” His words, a tempting invitation, hang in the air, coaxing you to escape the confines of your thoughts and embrace the freedom that awaits on horseback.

Your eyes widen as his proposition sinks in, but you respond with a subtle nod, your silent agreement carrying the weight of anticipation.

As Holly gradually slows to a trot and then eases into a lazy walk, Yoongi reveals, “This is the final test for Holly.”

With a thoughtful expression, Yoongi shares his plan to test Holly’s adaptability in the wild. Intrigued, he proposes, “Why not venture out and seek the herd of wild horses again?” 

It might just be the escape you need from this ranch and its owner, who continues to stir uncomfortable feelings within your now delicate heart.

Jumping off the fence with a renewed sense of purpose, you stride towards the gate. As Yoongi gracefully maneuvers Holly out of the pen, you secure the gate behind you. Your journey continues with determined steps, leading you to where Marshmallow patiently awaits, reins neatly fastened to the fence.

You gently release the reins, your fingers caressing Marshmallow’s neck, eliciting a contented whinny. Placing your foot in the stirrup, you effortlessly swing your leg over his sturdy white frame. The moment you settle into the saddle, a profound sense of belonging washes over you, soothing your restless soul. The inexplicable bond between you and horses never fails to astound you, creating a sanctuary of comfort with every ride.

With a tender smile, your heart lightens, and you delicately urge Marshmallow into a trot by applying subtle pressure with your legs. As you follow Yoongi, the rhythmic beat of hooves creates a symphony that resonates with the newfound tranquility within you.

Embarking on a journey over the rolling hills, the grass beneath remains an enchanting green, bathed in the warmth of lingering summer. A gradual canter carries you through the landscape, your thoughts dissipating, leaving space for the soothing breeze to play with your hair, accompanied by the rhythmic pulse of hooves that mirrors the cadence of your own heart.

Lost in the passage of time, the duration of your ride eludes you, the profound silence between you and Yoongi accentuating the harmony of nature. The mountains, standing proud and towering in the distant horizon, seem to extend warm embraces, enveloping you in a sense of belonging to this picturesque landscape.

As you traverse the landscape, the familiarity of the woods, the serene lake where laughter once echoed with Jessi, and the expansive paddocks that seem to stretch endlessly into the horizon become a poignant backdrop to the rhythm of your horse’s hooves.

The wind tousles your hair, and there’s a fleeting sense that, perhaps, everything is gradually finding its way to being alright.

Lost in the vast expanse, you ride on, the anticipation building within you, wondering if today will be another day the wild horses grace you with their presence. The landscape sprawls before you, an unfamiliar tapestry of nature’s secrets waiting to be unveiled.

As you speak, a soft melancholy smile graces your lips, “I don’t think we’ll see them today, Yoongi.” Despite the disappointment, you hold onto the hope that eluded you, a silent acknowledgment that not everything unfolds as desired—recent events serving as a poignant reminder of life’s unpredictable nature.

“I don’t even know where we are,” you sigh, bringing the horses to a gentle trot. Your gaze sweeps across the expansive landscape, a moment of shared uncertainty between you and Yoongi. 

“I know where we are, don’t worry,” Yoongi assures you, confidence lacing his voice as you both come to a full stop before a vast and lush forest. 

You release the reins, allowing Marshmallow to lower his head and graze on the lush grass, while Holly follows suit. Holly’s remarkable behavior on this ride surprises you; her wild and untamed nature seamlessly hidden beneath a calm exterior. If it weren’t for her untamed origins, she could easily pass as a seasoned stock horse, blending effortlessly into the peaceful scenery.

While allowing Marshmallow and Holly to graze peacefully, their heads suddenly snap up, ears perked forward in unison, attuned to a sound that hasn’t yet reached your own ears. Then, like a wave crashing over you, the familiar rhythm of hooves pounding against the earth becomes clear – a wild and untamed symphony echoing through the air.

As the herd of wild horses materializes in the distance, a charismatic dark brown stallion commands the front, orchestrating the untamed ballet of freedom. They present a majestic spectacle, embodying the essence of the wild – eyes reflecting untold stories, a blend of soulful wisdom and mischievous spirit. With a profound exhale, you find yourself immersed in a deep appreciation for these creatures and the untamed nature that surrounds you.

Holly stands poised, her gaze locked onto the passing herd, perhaps recognizing the familiar faces of her once-wild family. Despite the untamed energy coursing through the herd, she remains steadfast, mirroring your own stance, both of you immersed in silent observation.

The sight of the wild horses in full gallop is nothing short of breathtaking, and as they surge across the landscape, a surge of emotion tightens your heart in your chest, leaving you captivated by the untamed beauty unfolding before your eyes.

In a hushed and reverent tone, you marvel, “They are so beautiful,” your words barely more than a breath, yet carrying the weight of admiration. A subtle nod from Yoongi acknowledges the shared appreciation of the magnificent spectacle before you.

As your heart swells with longing, a sense of crushing desire envelops you, wishing for the freedom these majestic horses possess—to express your truth and embrace the things you yearn for in life. The ache intensifies, a silent plea echoing in the vast expanse of the open landscape.

Your hands clutch the reins, and a damp sensation draws your attention. Glancing down, you discover small droplets of water clinging to your skin. A subtle sniffle escapes you, and it dawns on you—tears cascade down your cheeks, marking your hands with the tangible evidence of your silent emotional storm.

A constriction tightens your chest, and you draw in a deep breath, hoping to ease the pressure, only to release it in a slow exhale. The rhythm of your breath echoes the emotional turbulence within.

Yoongi’s gaze gently turns in your direction, his expression a silent symphony of understanding. No words escape his lips, yet the warmth of a caring smile lingers, offering a comforting embrace in the quietude between you.

You lift a trembling hand to your face, attempting to quell the rebellious tears that seem to have a life of their own. Your breath quickens, a desperate effort to steady your heart and rein in the tumultuous tide of emotions.

With a tear-streaked face, you turn to Yoongi, your eyes carrying the weight of a profound sadness. “Have you ever loved someone so much, it feels like you’re suffocating?”

Your heart carries the weight of your confession, a mix of both burden and liberation. The unspoken truth finally escapes your lips, echoing in the quiet spaces of your soul. Your feelings for Jimin, profound and unyielding, create a storm within, rendering you incapable of coherent thought, drowning in irrationality and a bitter sea of jealousy.

“Yeah,” he utters with a weighted exhale, the weight of that single syllable hangs thick in the air, a tangible presence in the shared space between you. Compassion wells up within you, not just for him, but for your own tender heart. Silent tears continue their descent, accompanied by a subdued sniffle that punctuates the shared vulnerability in the moment.

“I’m so sorry.”

Grumbling under your breath, you meticulously tend to the veggie garden, methodically extracting weeds and inspecting the plants for any sign of ripe fruit. Kneeling on a plush mat to provide respite for your beleaguered knees, your hands adorned with protective gloves, ensuring that both your hands and fingers remain shielded as you immerse yourself in the nurturing care of the flourishing garden.

Amidst the monotony of this laborious task, you find yourself immersed in the meticulous chore of weeding, the unfortunate bearer of the short straw today. Rows of carrots and potatoes bear witness to your diligent efforts as you navigate through the verdant expanse, determined to extract every intrusive weed that dares encroach upon the fertile soil.

Lost in contemplation, the rhythmic cadence of footsteps stealthily closes in on you, their approach unheard in the sanctuary of your introspective musings.

“Hi, I’m going into town,” your sister’s sudden announcement startles you from your gardening reverie. As you look up, her intent gaze meets yours, a tapestry of confusion woven into your expression.

“Why are you heading into town? Weren’t you supposed to tackle the tax today?” you inquire, your hands continuing their task of pulling stubborn weeds from the soil.

“I have that doctor’s appointment, remember?” Her raised eyebrow prompts a silent scold for forgetting such an important detail.

Panic flickers in your eyes as you abruptly halt your weeding, staring at your sister with genuine concern. “When did you mention the doctor’s appointment? Is everything okay?” Worry lines crease your forehead, a mix of surprise and anxiety clouding your expression.

With a light chuckle, she tries to alleviate your concerns, “Just a routine checkup, no big deal!” Her laughter carries a reassuring tone, and as she waves, the softness in her expression mirrors the warmth that envelops you.

You return her smile, your gaze lingering as she strolls away toward the yard, where the cars patiently wait.

“See you later,” she calls with a wave. From your perch in the veggie garden, you observe her unlocking the car, slipping into the driver’s seat of the pickup truck. The tail lights illuminate briefly, transitioning to brake lights before shifting to the soft glow of white. Jessi maneuvers in reverse, the wheels crunching on the dirt road as she disappears toward town.

As you return to the arduous task of pulling weeds, you find yourself grappling with the relentless tendrils of frustration, a silent curse escaping your lips like a rebellious whisper. Resigned to the fate of having drawn the shortest straw, you navigate through the sea of stubborn greenery, each tug of resistance echoing the monotony of your predicament.

Beneath the blazing midday sun, gratitude washes over you for the protective refuge of your hat, casting a welcomed shadow upon both your face and neck. Yet, despite this shield, beads of perspiration dance down your forehead, a testament to the unexpected physical rigor of the task at hand. The sheer demand of the job dawns upon you, surpassing your initial expectations. 

Anticipating the aftermath, you realize the likelihood of waking up tomorrow with sore arms, an inevitability intensified if you neglect the crucial post-labor ritual of stretching your fatigued muscles.

Emerging victorious from your laborious undertaking, you navigate your way into the kitchen, a sanctuary promising respite in the form of an icy glass of water. As the fridge door swings open, a cascade of cool air envelops your sweat-drenched face, offering a fleeting reprieve before you reluctantly seize the chilled jug. Your quest for relief continues as you reach for an overhead cabinet, extracting a glass that promises salvation. The sensation of the glass against your palms is a prelude to the ecstasy that follows as you pour the water, savoring its frosty embrace. With each indulgent gulp, the frigid liquid becomes a balm, soothing the searing heat that has claimed your body in this relentless weather.

Savoring the rejuvenating coolness, you lean leisurely against the countertop, the glass of water a welcome oasis in your hands. Just as the refreshing liquid begins to work its magic, Soo-ah strides into the kitchen, her expression twisted into a weird frown.

Your discerning gaze sweeps over Soo-ah’s form, a subtle intuition whispering that something is amiss, yet the unspoken question lingers on your lips. Before you can voice your inquiry, she breaks the pregnant silence, her words hanging in the air like a cryptic prelude. “Have you seen Jessi?”

A subtle tremor courses through your being as you dismissively shake your head, “She’s in town for a doctor’s appointment.” 

A shadow of concern paints Soo-ah’s features as she deftly retrieves her phone from the depths of her pocket, her eyes flicking to the screen with a mixture of urgency and unease. “How long has she been gone?”

A ripple of disquiet snakes its way through you, fueled by Soo-ah’s restive demeanor. Methodically, you rewind the clock in your mind, tallying the hours since Jessi’s presence graced your sight. “About five hours,” you declare, the admission carrying a weight that coils into an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Weariness etches itself deeper into Soo-ah’s countenance, her features now a canvas painted with both fatigue and concern. Your heartbeat quickens, a subtle but undeniable jolt, as the realization takes hold—this is not merely a cause for concern, but an ominous sign that tightens its grip around your heart, intensifying the ominous gravity of the moment.

A sudden, piercing ring shatters the stillness, and your gaze instinctively darts towards the source—a resonating chime from the landline. The air tightens around you, your heartbeat accelerating into a rapid cadence, each breath shallow and tense. A palpable wave of dread courses down your spine, a cold shiver that heralds an impending revelation. Locking eyes with Soo-ah, both of you stand frozen, caught in the ominous limbo between the echoing ring and the unknown that awaits on the other end of the line.

You should pick it up dammit! A stern scolding echoing in your mind, compelling your body into animated motion that seems detached from your own will. With a sense of urgency, you traverse the space to the countertop, your hand stretching out towards the ringing phone. As your fingertips make contact with the cream-colored plastic, a surge of anxiety courses through them, a prelude to the unknown that awaits on the other end. The plastic yields beneath the pressure of your grip, and in the hushed anticipation, you lift the receiver, your voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of tension. 

“Hello, Bora Ranch. How can I help you?”

The voice on the other end of the line weaves a narrative that acts like a chilling undertow, dragging your heart into an abyss of despair. Your hand involuntarily tightens around the phone, a desperate grip as if it were your sole connection to a vanishing lifeline.

The voice on the other end, that of the doctor’s receptionist, cuts through the air, delivering news that lands with a disconcerting weight. 

“We’re calling to let you know that Jessi missed her appointment today, and we wanted to know if she wants to reschedule another one?” 

You then realize that weird feeling you’ve been having— this isn’t good.

A furrow etches itself onto your brow, the cord winding around your other hand as if trying to anchor you in a moment slipping out of your control. “She hasn’t come home yet. Can I get back to you?” 

The words hang in the air, delivered with a voice that quivers with a blend of unease and uncertainty, as you begin to grasp what this means.

The receptionist’s agreement is a somber symphony in your ears before bidding goodbye. With a heart weighed down by the gravity of the call, you delicately place the receiver back in its cradle. As your eyes shift back to Soo-ah, her visage mirrors your own unsettled state, her features etched with a shared tension, a palpable reflection of the worry that swirls between you like an unspoken storm.

A thick silence hangs in the air, pregnant with unspoken fears. 

Soo-ah, unable to bear the weight any longer, shatters the tension like fragile glass. “Well, what is it?” Her words cut through the quiet, a desperate plea for answers.

You’re afraid.

Dread coils around your words, a vice grip on your throat as you grapple with the weight of unspoken fears. The hesitation lingers, but the urgency pushes you to break the silence. “Jessi never made it to her appointment…” 

You observe the subtle transformation in Soo-ah’s face, a haunting dance between anguish and concern. 

“Well, where is she then?” Soo-ah demands, her voice betraying an unsteady cadence that mirrors the delicate balance of the unspoken question hanging in the air, as if the answer hinges on your words. Your gaze reflects uncertainty, exhaling a breath heavy with the weight of the unknown.

“I think something bad has happened to her,” your voice wavers, the admission reluctant and laden with a vulnerability that you wish could be erased. The words, heavy with an unwelcome truth, carry the weight of a foreboding certainty that reverberates deep within your bones—an ominous resonance that refuses to be silenced.

Soo-ah, with her once sun-kissed complexion drains of its warmth, now veering into an eerie, almost gray pallor. A whisper of worry taints her words as she utters, “We should call Jungkook.” 

With a solemn nod, you reach for your phone, fingers betraying a subtle tremor as you punch in Jungkook’s number. As you raise the phone to your ear, the weight of the impending conversation echoes in the hollow space between each ring.

Holding your breath, time stretches into an agonizing eternity as you strain to listen to each ring, each heartbeat resonating in the charged stillness. The suspense tightens like a coil around your chest until, finally, a tremulous exhale escapes as Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence.

“This is Kook.”

An instant paralysis grips your vocal cords, a sudden constriction that renders your throat a silent battleground, incapable of surrendering even a solitary word. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook’s inquiry pierces the heavy silence, his voice carrying a note of concern that seems to reverberate through the unspoken void on the other end of the line.

A glacial stillness descends upon you, an icy grip that renders you immobile. 

Words, elusive and stubborn, refuse to surface. Soo-ah’s worried gaze lingers on you, but in a decisive sweep, she snatches the phone from your ear, her move cutting through the stasis like a sudden gust of wind disrupting a frozen landscape. 

“Hi, it’s Soo-ah. We need your help,” her voice, a steady prelude to the storm brewing beneath the surface, carries the weight of urgency as she unfolds the crucial details. “Jessi left for a doctor’s appointment, but she never made it, and it’s been five hours now. We’re afraid something has happened… Will you help us search for her?”

The murmur of Jungkook’s response on the other end remains elusive to your ears, but Soo-ah, in a breathy exhale that holds a universe of gratitude, utters a heartfelt, “Thank you.” She returns your lifeline– the phone, with a subtle yet meaningful gesture, restoring it to your hands as if passing the torch for the impending journey into the unknown. 

“He’ll be here in 10 minutes to pick you up,” she discloses, the gravity of her concern etching deeper creases onto her forehead. 

“What are you gonna do then?” The words burst from you, riding the crest of a wave formed by a potent mix of frustration and worry, their resonance echoing in the room. 

“I’m going to stay here… In case she comes home,” she reveals, her commitment to a vigil laden with unspoken hope. But then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “or if the hospital calls.” 

The weight of her last admission sends a sinking feeling through your chest, an acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Understanding settles in, and you offer a solemn nod, bracing yourself for Jungkook’s imminent arrival as the silent countdown to unravel the mystery begins.

Before the sleek silhouette of his black pickup truck materializes, the air is sliced by the cacophony of tires screeching—a desperate symphony of grip and resistance against the unforgiving dirt, an audible testament to the urgency that propels Jungkook towards the yard.

You dash outside, the urgent thud of your footsteps aligning with the accelerating heartbeat of the moment. Jungkook hurtles down the driveway, a kinetic force in his speeding vehicle that screeches to a dramatic halt before you. The window rolls down, revealing a face etched with determination, and he hollers, “Get in.” 

Obediently following his command, you seize the door handle, leaping into the truck with a hurried intensity. The door barely has time to shut before Jungkook slams his foot on the accelerator, leaving a swirling cloud of sand in the wake of the roaring vehicle. 

Worry etches deep lines into his face, transforming his normally composed features into a tapestry of concern. His lips press into a stern line, and his eyes, laser-sharp, pierce through the windshield, scanning the road ahead. The white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel betrays a tension that courses through him, turning his knuckles into pale anchors of anxiety. 

“What the hell happened?” The words slice through the air, dripping with a demanding tone that carries an undertone of a hiss, a viper’s sharpness in each syllable. 

Turning toward him, you admit with a meekness that hangs in the air, “I don’t know.” Your voice, a delicate whisper, contrasts with the clenching of your hands over your pants, while your bottom lip falls victim to the anxious bite of nerves. Fuck.

The weight of hope and fear interlaces in your thoughts—desperately wishing Jessi is safe, yet haunted by the gnawing question of why, if she is, hasn’t she reached out? 

Jungkook maneuvers the vehicle like a man possessed, hurtling down the lone road that unravels into town with a velocity that borders on recklessness. This is Jessi’s path, the very route she would undoubtedly have traversed. 

Your heart orchestrates a frenzied symphony of worry and fear, its rapid tempo matching the breakneck speed at which Jungkook propels the truck forward. 

The uneven terrain jolts beneath the truck’s tires, a relentless assault on the vehicle as it hurtles down these rugged, neglected roads. The coarse reality of the battered path becomes starkly apparent with every bone-rattling bump, each pothole a testament to the less-than-ideal conditions. 

“Slow down unless you want us to crash!” You warn him in a stern voice as desperation fuels your words and you clutch the handle at the top of the truck, your knuckles turning white as you seek stability amid the turbulent velocity. 

He merely huffs, an audible dismissal that betrays the resilience of his determination. It’s evident that your words struggle to penetrate the thick armor of his focus. However, your own concerns take precedence, and the prospect of a car accident looms like an ominous specter in the midst of your search for Jessi. 

“Fucking slow down or let me drive!” The urgency in your yell slices through the truck, a desperate ultimatum that demands immediate action. A tangible flinch from Jungkook, beside you, signals the impact of your words. With a reluctant release, he eases his right foot off the gas pedal, and the once-roaring speed of the vehicle unravels into a gradual deceleration. 

“Thank you,” you declare with a furious edge, your gratitude tinged with the lingering urgency of the search.

Jungkook skillfully guides the turn with a precise speed, threading the needle between velocity and caution. As the vehicle emerges from the curve, the truth unravels before your eyes. 

A sight that sends your heart plummeting, and an unspoken pact of dread settles between you and Jungkook, a bone-chilling silence that engulfs the interior of the truck. 

There it is, the all-too-familiar white pickup truck, an unexpected apparition right before you, nestled on the side of the road. It’s not parked; it’s crumbled against a tree. 

Jungkook wrenches his truck to a sudden halt, the engine silenced with a precision that echoes the urgency of the moment. In a flash, he bolts out of the car, a whirlwind of determination propelling him towards the scene. You trail closely in his wake, the echoes of your pounding heart reverberating alongside a disorienting ringing in your ears.

You sprint towards the crumpled wreckage, the front of the car wedged against the unforgiving tree. Panic fuels your frantic search for your sister amidst the twisted metal. Jungkook beats you to the driver’s side, and in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse, you tiptoe over his shoulders. 

The chilling reality reveals itself—blood stains the window, and Jessi’s head, eyes closed, rests against it in an unsettling image. 

Fuck.

“Jessi!” The desperate cry erupts from deep within you, a primal howl behind Jungkook, and you resort to clawing at his back in a futile attempt to let you pass. However, he remains an immovable barrier, unyielding in his protective stance. 

His hand extends, a forceful gesture that wards you off, and his demanding tone slices through the charged air, declaring, “No, let me.”

You cease your futile attempt to scratch through the barrier of Jungkook’s back, relinquishing control to his judgment. Your gaze fixates on the unfolding scene as he seizes the door handle, pounding on the window while the fervent echo of your sister’s name reverberates through the stagnant air. 

A leaden weight settles upon your heart, dragging it down to depths unknown, and you slump to the unforgiving ground beside the truck. The haunting question hangs in the air, an unspoken fear clawing at your consciousness—could she be dead?

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, a poignant manifestation of your helplessness, as you watch the scene unfold. The overwhelming sense of uselessness engulfs you like a suffocating shroud because Jungkook, with his determined insistence, bars you from contributing to the unfolding crisis. 

Jungkook channels every ounce of his strength into wrenching the door handle, a Herculean effort that, to your dismay, yields no success. Undeterred, he pivots, striding purposefully around the car to attack the problem from the passenger’s side. The moment of truth arrives as the door finally acquiesces to his relentless determination, swinging open with a sudden release of pent-up tension. Jungkook, caught off guard by the door’s sudden compliance, is propelled backward, almost airborne, a visceral testament to the raw force he exerted in the pursuit of accessing the vehicle’s interior.

With a determined crawl into the cabin, Jungkook bridges the agonizing gap between hope and despair, finally reaching your sister. The urgency in his voice echoes through the air as he commands, “Call an ambulance!”

You rise from the unforgiving ground, a determined surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With swift precision, you extract your phone, fingers dancing with urgency as you dial those three critical numbers. 

“Is she alive?” The question hangs in the air, a fragile whisper that dares not disturb the gravity of the moment. Holding your breath, you await his answer, the air thick with the weight of an impending revelation that could reshape the contours of your reality. 

“She’s breathing,” Jungkook exhales, his voice carrying the weight of relief, a momentary respite from the tension. You approach the driver’s window, eyes fixed on your sister’s form. The sight of her chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm becomes a visual anchor, a palpable reassurance that she clings to life. 

Well, that’s good.

Cradling the phone to your ear, you navigate the urgent conversation, orchestrating a plea for the ambulance to converge on your dire location. The proximity of the ranch intensifies the raw reality—you aren’t that far away. A sinking feeling grips your heart as you grasp the cruel expanse of time she’s endured out here, alone and injured. 

Jungkook delicately prods Jessi’s arm, a gesture pregnant with hope, yet the anticipated response remains elusive—a disheartening void that echoes the uncertainty of the situation. 

“I know it looks bad, but we shouldn’t move her. It’s best to wait for the paramedics,” Jungkook utters reluctantly from the passenger’s seat.

You acknowledge the truth in his words, but your gaze lingers on Jessi, a silent witness to the vivid evidence of her injuries—blood seeping from her head. The unsettling unknown looms large, a haunting question mark etched across your thoughts—what other wounds might she be concealing beneath the shadows of her stillness? 

The wait for the ambulance unfolds like a nightmarish blur until the air is pierced by the sound of a low voice. Both you and Jungkook pivot, your gazes converging on your sister, a crescendo of fear and anticipation reaching its zenith. 

Jessi stirs, her murmurs threading through the air, but the coherence of her words eludes understanding. As her eyes tentatively flutter open, a feeble attempt to articulate follows, yet the utterances emerge as a nonsensical cascade, the syllables twisted into a form of gibberish. 

“It’s okay. You’ve been in a car accident, and the ambulance is on its way,” Jungkook reassures, his words a tender balm delivered with a gentle caress on your sister’s cheek. Tears shimmer in his eyes, a raw display of his emotional turmoil, as his calloused fingers delicately trace the curve of her cheekbone.

Her head pivots towards you, eyes finally unveiling an unspoken distance, their luster dimmed. A pang reverberates through your chest as you meet her gaze—her eyes, once vibrant, now bear the weight of an unspoken ordeal. The visceral urge to pull her from the confinements of the wreck claws at your heart. Oh, why can’t you just extract her from this damn car, ensuring her safety and whisking away the haunting uncertainty that clings to the moment? 

“It’s going to be okay,” Jungkook utters, his voice quivering with a blend of reassurance and uncertainty that reverberates through the air. His attempt at strength is palpable, yet the vulnerability seeps through the cracks as tears cascade down his face.

Yet amidst the chaos, a fervent hope takes root within you, a beacon amid the storm of uncertainty. A silent plea echoes in the depths of your being, transcending mere optimism, as you yearn—truly, desperately, for everything to unfold in a way that defies the ominous shadows cast by the present.

The wail of the ambulance siren pierces the air, heralding the arrival of salvation, and it swiftly aligns next to Jungkook’s car. A flurry of activity ensues as paramedics spill out, each armed with purposeful bags. Amidst the orchestrated urgency, some of them extract a stretcher from the belly of the ambulance.

Jungkook emerges from the car, gracefully ceding the realm to the paramedics, and approaches your side. His arm envelops your trembling frame, a silent reassurance amidst the tumult. No words pass between you as the paramedics meticulously cut the seatbelt, delicately affix a collar around Jessi’s neck, their movements choreographed in a synchronized ballet of urgency. 

Within the orchestrated chaos, a paramedic deploys a machine, its mechanical whir echoing through the night, to pry open the driver’s door. Simultaneously, another paramedic stands sentinel, ensuring Jessi remains securely in place, a guardian against the imminent void that will unfold once the door is relinquished.

The scene is gruesomely vivid, and an involuntary welling of tears clouds your vision as the brutal reality sets in. Leaning into Jungkook’s unwavering presence, you find solace in the haven of his steady frame, though your sniffling breaths betray the emotional maelstrom within. As your tears mingle with his on the fabric of your shirt, a silent communion of shared vulnerability takes root.

With meticulous care, the paramedics lift Jessi from the driver’s side, each movement deliberate and measured as they lay her down on the stretcher. The air hangs heavy with collective breath, your own held in a suspended moment of agonizing anticipation. The constriction in your chest intensifies, a sensation of breathlessness seizing you. Seeking an anchor in the chaos, you find Jungkook’s hand, fingers interlocking in a tight, desperate grip—a physical manifestation of the silent plea echoing within as you navigate the precipice of uncertainty.

“We’ll transport her to the hospital in town. You can follow us if you want,” one of the paramedics offers, their words a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. Gratitude courses through you, and you manage a nod of appreciation, though the knot in your throat constricts your ability to voice your thanks. 

Your gaze lingers on the departing ambulance, the doors sealing your sister’s fate within its sterile embrace. A quiet sniffle punctuates the lingering echoes of the departure. When you turn to Jungkook, his face bears the marks of tear-streaked sorrow, a testament to the profound love he harbors for your sister. The depth of his emotions mirrors the tumult within you, both bound by an unspoken yearning for everything to be right—for the fractures to heal and the shadows to dissipate in the face of an uncertain journey that now stretches before you.

The ambulance departs, leaving a gritty trail of dirt in its wake, a visual metaphor for the unsettling uncertainty now etched into your reality. Your gaze lingers on the vacated space it once occupied, a void that echoes the fear reverberating within. The future looms before you, an ominous terrain shrouded in ambiguity, and you grapple with the unrelenting questions that cast shadows on the path ahead.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

I promised, promised myself that I wouldn’t read the Roman König x Fee fic until it was completed because I knew i would get absolutely drawn in, wrapped up in your exquisite prose, then get addicted and suffer from withdrawals. Unneeded to say I broke said promise and welp here I am 🤡

Thing that surprised me was how quickly he endeared himself to me? A cock swinging village massacring brute that I was FULLY prepared to hate had me sighing by then end of chapter 3 with the “you care about my head?” ✋😩 YES I worry for your stupid head you adorable monster.

It’s uncanny how similarly Fee and I felt as the plot progressed. I know this is a self insert and though I made an OC for fee, you were able to capture the feeling of hate to curiousity to distrust to budding emotions on the readers side so beautifully and in only three chapters?? What sorcery is this?? I could go on and on about how I’m just… in awe of your writing skills.

It’s the small things too. The effort he went through to understand Fee, learning her language like he desperately wants to be a part of her. It’s just his delight in the simple things like having a woman and buying her pretty things. I AM GOING TO GNAW OFF MY ARM THIS IS SO GOOD!! I don’t know if you’ve watched HBOs Rome, but they remind me of Pullo and Eirene so much! Like you can’t tell me König doesn’t fit that goofy brawdy soldier who’s only hobbies are drinking and fucking and fighting to a T!

Then it got me thinking…. If König is Pullo then Simon is Vorenus. He has that straight laced, no bs aura about him. Now I’m imagining them both in this universe and please excuse me while I melt in a puddle 🫠

This is perhaps the best piece of fiction I’ve read in a while. I can’t wait for part 4, I have no doubt it will be wonderful as usual. Please accept my maladaptive daydream interpretation of Fee (first she was supposed to be a wood nymph, then the earth goddess then a fairy queen?? I’m not sure anymore. There was so much great imagery couldn’t settle on one. Your honor, we lost the plot.)

Oh my goodness OH MY GOODNESS ❤️❤️❤️

You shower me with praise and I’m over here like aaahh... for me? 🥺❤️

And yes I’ve watched Rome like four times at least! Every time I watch it just gets better, the producers and crew really outdid themselves with all the details in that series. I consider it one of the best TV shows ever made and excuse me but you opened a Pandora’s box here, I'm just so pleased you brought this up...

It took so much time for Pullo to grow on me, I was so frustrated with his character but when he killed Eirene’s man because he was so in love with her and was just like: “Oh there's something in the way of our love? Oh well. *there*, solved.” Gosh I was IN LOVE. I’m sorry, I’m a horrible person, but I fell in love with Pullo right that second. And yeah König is kinda like Pullo in that sense! Eirene wails at the corpse of her ex-lover and Pullo is just like “Um, yeah nasty business but… why are you crying? Oh, oh yeah, oops. But hey, we could be together? Oh, you don’t want me? Damn. How come?” I wanted to shake and kiss him for being so dumb and adorable.

And Ghost is Vorenus YES, you get it 100 %! And the tragic love story of Vorenus & Niobe, oh god, took me about a month to get over it. And Vorenus being under the protection of Mars first and then literally becoming Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld… The mythology nerd in me is swooning over here. The only thing about Vorenus that's slightly König coded to me was when Pullo had to explain to him what a clitoris is, and Vorenus is like “How do you know this about my wife?!?!” and almost kills him :D That’s so so Roman!König.

But AHHH let me squeal about your maladaptive daydream adaption next: she’s the most gorgeous Fee ever, so lovely and feminine and yet, strong and possessing that earthly power in her. I love the color of her dress too!! There’s a lot of earth & water elements linked to Fee so that color (green to turquoise?) is the most perfect combination of earth and sea, while König is more like fire & air, coming from the mountains and slow to anger but when the fire rises, no one is safe...

This was so lovely, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story 🩷💋

[ouatsnark]

saw two more stupid sq fics that need to be debunked one with emma crying over regina at the coronation and they both make hope "theirs" because hook was more in love with the idea of a baby than the real thing (like he isn't over the moon to be a father and loves hope with all his heart) and one where emma was thinking of regina when hook proposed the first time but she practically asked him to propose to her when she found the ring, the delusion is insane

Ok so I am gonna combine these asks and make a new tag for “What the hell kinda fic did that Regina Apologist just write” cause geez people! I’m gonna preface this again by saying I know the purpose of fan fiction is to explore different scenarios… but it sounds like the majority of Regina centric fics have everyone so out of character! Like what is the point? Go write your own story with your own characters at this point. Anyway. Let’s dive in.

It’s NOT Hope Swan-Mills, people, her name is Hope Swan-Jones!

I love how they are so comfortable with taking a child away from their biological father but the moment you say “Regina isn’t fit to be called Henry’s mother because she illegally adopted and abused him” they flip out on you like you’ve physically harmed them by being “anti-adoption”. So it’s perfectly acceptable when they’re anti-birth parent (they even go as far to disparage Emma’s relationship with Henry) but don’t you dare point out how bad of a mother Regina was!

Ok sorry, that was a tangent. Back to the point: Hook being in love with the idea of having a child but not the real thing is 100% fanon and not supported by canon at all and seems like a really stupid reach to me. But as always they have to make Hook into the abuser when in show canon Regina was the abusive one. You can go back to Hook’s time with Bae and see that he always wanted to be a father. This becomes even more apparent with how he was so involved in Henry’s life. And no, that wasn’t just to get to Emma. He genuinely cared for Henry. And Henry cared for him.

The CaptainSwan proposal fic

That must have been a total rewrite because as you point out it’s Emma that pretty much proposes to Killian! And if it wasn’t a total rewrite then that is one pretty big delusion because it doesn’t make logical sense. If Emma didn’t want Killian to propose then wouldn’t she have hidden the ring instead? Why would she run down the stairs all happy and present it to him and tell him she’d say “yes?” Was she having a hallucination that it was Regina? Like come on people.

How do you all read this garbage and still think you’re reading about characters in OUAT?

Fanon fanfic Hook running out and abusing pregnant Emma and Henry

Right because the man who risked his life over and over for Emma and for Henry is going to suddenly run out on them? There is absolutely no chance that Hook abandons his children like his father abandoned him and the proof is in what I mentioned above. And yes, I count Henry as his because he was a father figure to Henry and his step-father. Killian stopped running the moment he believed he could be a part of something again. He is not going to turn his back on that now. He found purpose and meaning with Emma and Henry. Why on earth would he give that up to be alone and miserable again? Also Killian Jones fought multiple times to get to Emma. And now he’s gonna walk away? Yeah. No. That makes no sense.

And as for the abuse… there is absolutely 0 canon evidence of Killian Jones abusing Emma. So unless he’s cursed again to be someone he’s not, that is completely and absolutely out of character.

But you know who would abuse Emma and Henry as she has a history of doing so even after her redemption? Regina Mills. You know who else would run off on Emma because he has a history of doing so? Neal Cassidy.

Fanon fanfic Emma a cheater?

Ok this I laughed at. I can’t see Emma as a cheater. She didn’t even want to play dirty to win the spot as the sheriff in season 1. That’s just not who Emma is. It is who Regina is though. She has no issues taking what she wants no matter who it hurts.

[roosterbox]

Fic Rec Friday 3/1/2024

Title: not everything becomes bullshit (not with you)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, theyre a mess, Miscommunication, ya know the bullshit thing?, yeah - Freeform, that, thats the trauma, along with his damn parents, Healing, Cuddling

Summary: bullshit: n - stupid or untrue talk or writing; nonsense.

The thing with Nancy comes up with Eddie during an argument and Steve cannot seem to handle it.

———

For this, the last fic rec Friday (of this particular batch anyway), let’s take it back to the start. Back to the beginning of my newest obsession. So here you go - the first Steddie fic I ever bookmarked.

I went into this with next to no knowledge of the context surrounding it. I didn’t know about the whole bullshit thing, didn’t know shit about Family Video, or Vecna, or anything. Heck, I didn’t even know what their voices sounds like (almost still don’t in Eddie’s case - I’ll get to S4 eventually!). But the emotions, man. The emotions just drew me in. The dynamics. Even from this story, going in like 90% blind, I got the sense that I would latch on to Steve Harrington like a dog with a favored toy, and would never let go. Ever. Welp, here I am over a year later, still not letting go of my babygirl.

This fic easily established for me one of my favorite Steddie dynamics. That being emotional wreck!Steve and comforting!Eddie. Everything I’ve seen canonically makes Eddie seem like a great source of comfort. He looks like he’d give great hugs, you know? And Steve just deserves to be able to let himself go, emotionally speaking. That boy has been through A Lot in three or so years - either let him get therapy, or let him cry. Maybe both.

There aren’t very many other characters in this, other than Robin of course. Which is kind of as it should be. And that’s another aspect that I had no context for (still don’t, technically; S3 will continue! Soon!) - her platonic with a capital P relationship with Steve. There’s only a few crumbs of it here, but they are delicious. Also, yet another Steddie fic trope I love pops up here: Robin being extremely protective of Steve when she thinks that Eddie might have wronged him. It’s subtler here than I’ve seen in other stories, but that girl would go feral on a motherfucker for Steve’s sake. I adore that about her.

And let’s not forget that this fic features something else that I adore but rarely see in angsty fics - COMMUNICATION. A huge part of adding drama to relationships in fiction (in RL too let’s be real) is a distinct lack of communication. People keep secrets or dance around what they mean, when just SAYING SOMETHING straight up would solve so many fucking problems, lol. And while this may start out with typical miscommunication shenanigans, the shift when they realize that, no, we need to actually talk about this, is just too good. There’s even a line in the narration that says “communication is key and all that jazz, right?” YES, BOYS. YES. Talk to each other.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the COMFORT in this emotional hurt/comfort story, is out of this world. I can deal with my Stevie baby being put through an emotional wringer as long as someone, preferably Eddie or Robin, is there to comfort him in the end. To remind him that, yes, he is loved beyond measure, and that he deserves said love. How lucky for me (and him) that this fic has comfort in it from both of them?

Just a beautiful, simple little h/c gem of a fic. Steve needs a hug, and he gets several of them. Perfect.

———

Next Week: Nothing! Zip! Nada! Null! This is, officially, the last of these fic recs I’m doing.

FOR NOW

Thanks so much for reading this, and for reading the fic if you do!

[la-pheacienne]

I'm still wondering what kind of brain jump Sara Hess had from going to writing Alicent as a spiteful bitch that forces Rhaenyra to talk the Keep with her new born to... Become full crying Ninicent that doesn't wanna hurt Rhaenyra, but at the same time she 'defies' her father (except she doesn't because she is still doing exactly what he wants), she has power to command over who her daughter marries but then she doesn't know about the coup to install her son in the throne... What was going on in that woman's head? Did she write the episodes in the wrong order? Did she regret writing Alicent as a bitch in the first place? Do these people even do first drafts of these scripts or they are just so arrogant that they never check their own co consistency? I remember once watching an interview with Steven Moffat about a Doctor Who episode saying he actually regretted the episode was like that but that he couldn't get to the deadline to check on the script more and had to sadly give the actors his rough draft and hope for the best (the episode wasn't even bad but there was awkward dialogue and it showed). There was humility there, I don't see that in the HOTD writers, especially not in Hess and Condal.

Sorry, but as a writer, their lack of consistence drives me insane. Especially when they expect us to love Alicent and get mad when we don't. 😂

@ladyalianora I honestly cannot explain what happened in her head. It's truly inexplicable. My guess is that they tried to create a "complex" character but they have no idea what a complex character actually is, and especially in the context of a "medieval European history based fictional drama" (Idk how else to call it). They don't know anything about the historical context that inspires this kind of stories, they don't know anything about actual female rulers and historical events that inspired the author of the source material and even better, they don't know anything about the source material itself. Maybe they read the book like once, but in a very casual manner, without investing, without understanding. They didn't adapt the source material, they were inspired by the source material to do their own, completely different and shitty story.

Another guess is that they wanted to differentiate themselves so hard from Game of Thrones, in all the wrong ways, of course. Something that didn't really exist in Game of Thrones is this kind of alliance/deep bond between two women that is destroyed by men. So they wanted to do that. The problem is, this thing didn't exist in Game of Thrones for the simple reason that GRRM didn't write it, and he didn't write it because it's crap. The alternatives are so much better. And what's sad is that it could be kind of interesting, if they wrote it as a backstory/villain origin story. It would actually be cool. Actually, what's pathetic about this whole thing is this : this whole friendship/love between Alicent and Rhaenyra has narrative weight ONLY if it's terminally crushed and burned by Alicent's betrayal. Like, Alicent's betrayal (real betrayal that Alicent truly chose and is accountable for) would literally give actual depth in this friendship/love plot they went for. If there is no betrayal, if there is no definite and clear catalyst, what is the POINT of this stupid friendship? What is the point of this friendship in the narrative? It's useless.

They added this stupid friendship/romantic bond to show what? What is the tragedy in this? They were friends and remain friends but everyone else is fucking up this friendship and look how sad it is because they are friends and nobody can break this friendship except that it's broken except that it isn't? Lol? This is literally not how stories work?

And all the inconsistencies this creates Jesus Christ. If Alicent is truly afraid that Rhaenyra will put her children to the sword then she SHOULDN'T give A FUCK about her life. That's like, basic common logic? We're talking about her own fucking children here? If Alicent was afraid of Rhaenyra and isn't to blame then why didn't she betroth her daughter to Jace which would LITERALLY secure her and her whole family? Oh because Jace is plain featured and a bastard. So, it's not that she's afraid, it's that she's a self serving treasonous conservative bitch. A self serving treasonous conservative bitch that has to give sexual favours to her servants so that they can obey her? Doesn't compute. NOTHING computes. So she's neither treasonous nor innocent. What the fuck is she?

But in order to understand all of this one needs to respect the source material written by a person who is FAR more competent than them, who has dedicated decades of his life reading history and studying real rulers and creating his world. If one doesn't give a fuck about the source material it's ok, one needs to be an extremely competent writer with deep knowledge of the rules of narrative and tragedy. Are these people qualified? How? Where? In Orange is the new Black ? Please.

[softsailor]

vent regression thoughts;

(also a vent about my regression)

I've been having quite a difficult time regressing lately. (and by lately i mean the last year or so)

and it's been hard. like, really hard?

and it's been so long since i had an actual caregiver. like, at least two years, probably a little bit more.

and it hadn't bothered me for a while, i just figured i was sort of "growing out of" regressing.

i thought of becoming just a caregiver so many times, but had been so nervous about trying to be there for someone again. because every time it's ended with a broken heart, always mine. and if it's happened 5 or 6 times before, surely it'll happen again? right?

im not sure. i can only hope not, i guess.

i guess im scared that I'll just do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing. or whatever i did wrong the previous 5 times. I've never found out or been told what it is.

i love caregiving. it makes me so happy to take care of a little one, and knowing that they trust me enough to watch them. i love feeling useful and wanted.

i don't have anything else to say about caregiving, it's truly such a lovely thing.

just, so much has happened? and sometimes i want to be so so small, and just forget about everything for a while. but i either can't at all, or just vent regress and get even more upset. so i had decided to just, not be small for a while.

of course, there's sometimes i can't help it, and it's just involuntary, but even then i try to keep to myself and just be alone.

but-i don't want to be alone. i want someone to comfort me, so i don't always have to do it myself..

originally, just writing about caregiving and regressing was enough, but over time it's sort of-made me sad? which i feel so stupid about, because I'm the one that writes it all out! so why would I be sad about it? the whole point is to make people happy with my writing! I'm just writing these fictional characters being happy and loving each other, and it's making me feel like I'm missing out.

I'm not trying to make it sound like i hate writing. i love writing! i love the stories i write! i love them all so much, and even base most of the caregiving off of myself and what I'd do and say.

i just wish some of the things i write, wouldn't just be fiction.

like-id love to be comforted after crying my eyes out, or comforted after my plans for the day are ruined! most of myself is projected onto the same character, my small side and caregiver side.

of course, i keep things as happy and cuddly as i can in my stories. even if I'm more than aware that regression isn't always happy and fun. i do it because I'm nervous that I'll make it too depressing otherwise.

it's just been so long since I've regressed and enjoyed it-that I'm starting to feel like it's just going to be like this from now on. maybe i deserve it?

maybe if i just repress the urge to regress it'll eventually go away?

it's worked before.

I'd just rather not regress at all, if i can't do it without becoming all teary and emotional every time.

missing a mama that i haven't had in two years. waiting for her to come back, which she never does. telling her that I'll be better this time.

missing all the sweet names i used to be called. prince, puppy, sweetheart, baby, little one-and the baby talk!

I've tried to distract myself when vent regressing, watching something, listening to music, playing a game. but it's just not the same as having someone else to talk to.

but I'm so nervous to try and get a caregiver. it's so hard to try and reach out, and become comfortable with someone enough to regress. and being nervous the whole first couple times you do, not even regressing fully because you're scared you'll be too needy.

it just seems impossible to regress sometimes. and even more impossible to regress happily. i don't understand what i'm doing wrong.

[epickiya722]

"STALKER?? I'M CONFUSED??"

I just remembered how some people (they know who they are) like to call Izuku "stalker", specifically Katsuki's "stalker" when... he's totally not.

Observant, yes.

But stalker?

This kid doesn't even follow people to their houses, steal clothes or make phone calls so he can just breathe on the other end and hang up.

At best, he was around Katsuki as little kids because THEY DID LIVE IN THE SAME AREA, HELLO. But as they got older? It is clearly shown he was a loner. He was outcasted. By coincidence, he was in the same area when the Sludge Villain attacked Katsuki.

Hell, even once they get to Yuuei, we see Izuku making his own friends and shows no sign of being jealous of Katsuki having relationships with Kirishima or the other kids. He even acknowledges it. Even with Kaminari, he doesn't tell him not to call Katsuki "Kacchan", which Kaminari doesn't even do often.

In class, he doesn't even seem to care that he's sitting behind Bakugou. He's just there! You know how in those films where the girl is conveniently seated behind her crush and she swoons? Yeah, I haven't seen Izuku do that. He just pays attention to whatever teacher is teaching the lesson and even when class is out of session, he's joining in other conversations or thinking about his training.

And it's not like Katsuki is the only one Midoriya takes notes on. Notably, his kicks are Iida-inspired and later he even takes a page out of Asui's book. Also, hello, he is also an All Might fan and his (punching) moves are literally the same moves as All Might's, just with a twist.

At best, Midoriya is just curious and takes in information like it's cake. He asks questions, he pays attention. The content of why he does it isn't ill-intent. He's a student and learning as a student does. Be it math or heroics.

But "stalker"?

Oh no. I don't know about ya'll, but it wasn't Midoriya listening in on other people's conversations. I'm just saying.

Really I just think it's anti - BkDks and anti - Midoriya’s (can't believe they even exist) throwing in something to make their own faves and ships look better.

Which you don't have to?

When and why in the fuck did shipping become competition?

That's not even fun.

If anything, it just damages the value of the characters (be it a character you like or hate) and story because people just can't handle that there is a ship others like other than their own. Oh, how awful!

Seriously though, Izuku doesn't have to be your favorite character nor do you have to practically care for him, but calling him "stalker" is so far-fetched to me. Just my opinion. He ain't an obstacle to your ship, chill. It's not some competition or whatever, relax.

It's fiction.

Also, I remember seeing how someone saying that BkDks are trying to force Izuku and Katsuki to be friends or more or something along those lines. I don't really remember and don't care to. Just...

When the hell was this and what side of the fandom were you on?

Last time I checked, shippers don't have no power over what THE CREATOR, KOHEI HORIKOSHI, does with his damn story. And if you're seeing toxic BkDk shippers, every ship has those toxic shippers, then get the fuck away from them! Because trust me, there are some shippers that may ship BkDk but they probably like other ships, too, or just wanna talk about a funny meme they found, or even gush about their favorite fight scene. All without the need to talk about BkDk.

Example, I do like KiriBaku, but I have moots that don't. I don't mind it because I can still talk to them about the latest episode or a headcanon I have. At the end of the day, I don't lose sleep and I'm not crying because "Wah, my moots don't like my ship". They don't like KrBk, so what? There's more to BNHA than some damn ships.

Overall, I just don't see the need to mischaracterize characters and twist the story because of ships. It's just stupid to me. 🤷🏿‍♀️

[annetteblog]

I spent January 1 watching YoI and it’s the best way to start a new year, I guess

So, yes, after all these years I finally watched Yuri on Ice. The biggest thanks to all people, who recommended me to do it, because it was amazing :) 

Now, beware of my incoherent rambling about the characters, the plot, figure skating, Victuri (Victuuri?), LGBTQ+ representation, and Russia, just because I need this 🙃

First of all, I had never thought that one day I would end up having a crush on a Russian man, but here I am, having crush on a Russian 2D man. Victor Nikiforov, how dare you steal my heart like this! He’s some kind of a damn Russian Apollo... So I perfectly understand Yuri’s gay panic in the first couple of episodes 🤣 dude, I feel you.....

What I specifically liked about the characters, it’s their growth. They were not frozen, but gradually developed to become more mature towards the end. Victor becoming less selfish, more compassionate and empathic; Yuri becoming mentally stronger and more confident. And Yurio... he’s such a lovely pirozhochek!!! :D Really, this “I-am-strong-and-independent-grown-up” kid with his love to pirozhki is just 🥰 But yes, he also mentally grew.

For me as a Russian, it was a pleasure to see normal Russian characters in a foreign show. They were talented and nice, wow, that really happened!!! Honestly, I’m so sick of this “bad-drinking-vodka-prison-tatoos-nucklear-weapon-terrible-accent” narrative (I watched Tenet the other day, and I was literally sitting like this 😐 the entire film; they forgot to add a bear for the full picture). And normal Cyrillic! Not perfect or 100% correct, but at least it was readable and understandable, not just a classic American movie with a Russian text, which looks like this - зжэщгардгрвъ шщыралойцы фвзпролдрппппп (yes, I just hit my keyboard). The same applies to the athletes from other countries. Kazakhstan!! Otabek!!!! 

I also needed to pause one of the episodes just to scream at this

Aeroflot (rus - Аэрофлот) is a Russian airline. And yeah, it sucks 😄

But seriously, you can clearly see that they did their research, cared for details and payed attention to things, and I, as a foreign viewer, really appreciated this. I really hope, that one beautiful day shows’ producers start to make characters from different cultures, who are just... you know... ordinary normal people? and not just a bunch of stereotypes?? or necessarily devilish evil just because they are from another country??? 

And now, the ship! 

I’m not really familiar with a lot of anime, and definitely not familiar with genres like yaoi, although I’ve heard about its stereotypes and certain common patterns. Here, however, it was a pleasure to see a same-sex relationship, which was not just a cool fetish for some young straight girls (nothing against young straight girls), but like... an actual relationship? Plus the creators successfully embedded it into the main plot, without shifting the central focus of the show and abandoning the actual sport competitions. 

I really enjoyed the delicate approach to the relationship’s development. Considering the characters’ own path of progress, the relationship they formed were equal and mature. Also their care and clear tenderness towards each other were speaking louder than words.

Sidenote. I had never realized how much I needed a Russian non-straight character in my life until, well, yesterday. Thankfully, I had the Internet since I was around 11, so I spent my teenage years watching a lot of American/ West-European tv-series. LGBTQ+ representation was not something out of the ordinary, it was not a taboo; and it mattered to me, a young girl, who tried to figure out what the F was going on with my own self. But I had never seen a Russian LGBTQ+ fictional character on the screen. Ever. Honestly, I had never payed attention to this fact. Normally I don’t really care about a person’s nationality, so I couldn’t even think that having some queer character, who is Russian, would be somehow important to me. As it turned out yesterday, it was actually important. And, I guess, one of the deeply personal reasons why I liked YoI, was the fact of seeing someone from my own country and my own culture, who was non-straight and being just fine and perfect the way he was. Even though I’m not a struggling young girl anymore. 

Okay, back to the tale, before I become a teary mess again. 

Their relationship was heartwarming to watch. Although there were clearly some sexual undertones, it didn’t end up being just some sexy gay boys. It was definitely about the growth of love, firstly fragile but becoming stronger and more affectionate with time. Their bond became psychologically equal; and they do complement each other, being codependent in the best sense. And it was beautiful. 

However, from what I quickly gathered while reading a few comments, some people still claimed that there was not enough clarity in terms of their relationship?? I have to disagree with this completely. Excuse me, but you don’t exchange matching golden rings in a church with your friend to wear it on your ring finger. You definitely don’t passionately kiss it seconds before an important performance. And you don’t cry your eyes out if your friend suggests you to end your partnership. If you do, I have some news for you, dear 🤡

I honestly can’t figure out what kind of a bigger clarity some people want. If the same plot was shown between a man and a woman, you would get the message from the episode 1. Or at least from that episode, where they were naked making out i mean...... practicing some moves?? wtf it was, honestly, I was too busy laughing 😆 However, seriously, what do you need? Is this really necessary to show an R-rated sex scene for some people just to get it? Lame. 

Sure, YoI was not perfect. Some bits with figure skating were off, and there was some obvious magic going on in terms of homophobia, more specifically - its absence. I mean, I’m not an expert in LGBTQ+ rights in Japan (although I know it’s not  that great), but if a Russian figure skater came out or just had some kind of (publicly known) unidentified close relationship with a same-sex partner, their successful career would be over. And not just Russian, I guess, any figure skater would face similar problems. It’s a very conservative sport. 

But, actually, I was grateful that they showed it the way they did. Fairytale-ish. A show doesn’t have to be realistic to be great. It’s enough if it warms our hearts and gives hope to the brighter future. The real world may be cruel and unjust, but we all need kind and reassuring stories to keep us going. And such story about caring relationship and love is the great example of this. 

Lovely, funny, refreshing, and heartwarming. 

Or, just quoting Victor

vkusno!!! (c) 

😄

I will definitely rewatch it at some points in my life.

and now excuse me, I need to fall into the rabbit hole of fanfiction, haha stupid me

P.S. 

This moment was 

hot

[sweeethinny]

Happy Birthday, Harry Potter!

following the tradition I started almost a year ago (it will be a year on Ginny's birthday), here it is, a fanfic to celebrate this date!

Harry Potter is probably the fictional character I'm most attached to.

Flynn for Fleamont, Albus still with the same name (I think Albus is a beautiful name, let's forget the meaning and there's no Severus), Ruby for Rubeus <3

--------

‘‘Smile at the photo!’’

‘’I thought we were going to sing now.’’

"We will, but first, just smile... Yes, get closer... Perfect."

‘'We can start?'’

"Dad, you're getting old."

"I know, I realized that when you told me the same thing last night."

"Don't talk to your dad like that, Al, old people don't like to be reminded that they're old." Ginny smiled, brown eyes flashing towards him. ‘‘Come on, everyone! Happy Birthday to you…’’

Everyone started to sing, the same disorganized mess as usual, with Sirius and Remus whistling, his dad taking a bunch of pictures that were probably going bad but that he was going to display in the frame anyway, and the kids - who weren't kids anymore - starting to argue about the first piece of cake.

Harry was happier than ever.

It had been a nice day, they had traveled to their country house so there would be no unpleasant interruptions from curious people like on his 35th birthday, and they would spend the weekend having fun, enjoying the family, fishing, telling stories and laughing. It was the best way to celebrate his 41st birthday, and Harry was feeling like the happiest man in the world.

When the song ended and everyone looked forward to him blowing out the candle, Harry thought of all the years that had passed, and how things had improved since then. He looked at the children in front of the table, eagerly waiting to eat as usual, then at Ginny who was smiling at some picture James had taken, and Lily who was watching him with a smile very similar to his own, but a little older and wiser.

There wasn't much to ask for; he had his family, his parents, and all the people he loved and thought important to have there. He had nothing more to ask for.

May everything continue to be fine. He thought, closing his eyes and blowing out the candles, hearing the screams and howls and barely managing not to laugh.

"Happy birthday Dad, I love you so much." Albus was the first to come, which Harry was glad because he wasn't at an age for many outpourings of love.

‘'I love you too, my boy, so much.'’

‘‘And I wanted to know-’’

“Albus, stop hogging Dad,” Flynn pushed his brother away, already nearly as tall as Harry, a sly smile on his face. The same smile that had gotten him into so many other problems that year. Harry hadn't forgotten that. "Happy birthday, my old man." He opened his arms, far more willing to show affection than his brothers. ‘’Forty-one, huh? Almost time for retirement.'’

“Yeah, I'm thinking about starting to worry about putting my room downstairs. My knee is not the same anymore.” Harry hugged him, laughing at the boy's courage.

'’I love you.'’

"Me too, boy."

"Get out," Ruby shoved them both, but Harry was willing to ignore that because his little girl was only thirteen, and he didn't want to fight anyone on his birthday. 'Happy Birthday, Dad. If you weren't my dad, I'd hit the imposter and go after you.”

"I'm glad about it, my love." Harry chuckled, hugging her and thinking his babies were growing up too fast for him to like it.

‘'Forty years… It seems like yesterday that I thought your grandfather was going to kill me because I got his daughter pregnant.'’ His dad smiled from ear to ear, looking happy that his moment had finally arrived in the hug line, his mother was to the side and Lily also laughed at the memory, nodding.

'’Dad was furious, we thought he was really going to kill James.’' She had tears in her eyes, and Harry felt like a child again, running to his parents in the morning of his birthday and trying to guess the presents, excited by the schedule of the day. "I know I always say that, but I'm so proud of the man you've become."

"And I always say it's thanks to both of you." Harry kissed her forehead and then James, who was already crying. He became a man who got emotional easily after all the stress of the war, and every birthday, New Year and Christmas, James would cry. But Harry understood, he also needed to choke back tears at various times when he realized how far he was going.

When you were 15 years old and had already faced so many things, you doubted that you would be alive until the next year, let alone 41 years old.

"We love you so much, but I hope this year the cake doesn't have peachy," James joked, just to ease the slightly morbid vibe that had befallen them.

"No, chocolate," Harry soothed, chuckling along with Lily as they saw James turn towards the table, seeming to catch the children's eagerness to eat. Harry noticed that Albus had been hanging around the cake since the time Ginny arrived from the shop with him.

‘'Thank God! Excuse me, let me cut a piece then… Come here kids!’’

"Shouldn't you be the one cutting the cake?" Lily caught his eye, and Harry shook his head.

"Let him spoil his grandchildren a little more," he shrugged. "They'll probably go to bed early after they get sugary in their bodies."

‘‘Yeah, probably… You always fell asleep right after eating too much cake. It was our secret weapon for when we needed a few minutes of peace.” They both laughed, Harry now understanding what they had been through, but he still doubted that as a child he had as much energy as his kids had.

It looked like the three had an infinite battery.

"I'm glad to be here." Lily hugged him again, and again, Harry understood what she meant.

His parents had seen a lot, and the question of whether they would be able to survive the War was something Harry knew had haunted them as much as it had haunted him.

‘'I say the same… I wouldn't be anything without you and Dad.'’ He whispered, just because saying it too loudly aroused a sadness in him that Harry didn't like to think about, as the fear that his parents would die during the War was something that lingered in his mind for too long to be pleasant. "And neither do the kids." They watched James hand each one a piece of cake, ranting about how it had been the first time he'd fished with his father. Flynn seemed to be the most interested, his brown eyes flashing towards his grandfather.

‘’Let the others hug the birthday boy, Lily! There are more people in line!’’ Sirius yelled after Hestia, who rolled her eyes and looked at Harry as if she said, ‘'Don't worry, take your time.'’

‘‘Don't be a jerk, Pads. Ginny, can you…?” James walked back to Harry, putting his arm around Harry's shoulders and smiling as Ginny pointed the camera, the three of them posing for the photo. Harry knew that by the end of the party there would probably be another hundred, but he didn't care, it was important to keep those memories. And Lily had bought a new album that was barely two pages full, so they clearly needed more.

"Come here dear…" Lily and James walked out of there, James proudly taking the camera and going to where Ginny had been before. "Kids go with your dad, that's it, everybody together." Harry smiled again, ignoring when Albus nudged Flynn and whispered that he was getting taller, or when Ruby cursed them for pulling her braids.

Today he wouldn't mind that, it was his forty-one birthday and it was a happy day.

"Happy birthday my love," Ginny whispered after James took the picture, kissing Harry's cheek. ‘'You may be getting old, I know, but I still feel the same way I did when I stuck my elbow in butter because of you.'’ Another flash came, now just the two of them there, and Harry kissed her, definitely knowing he was the happiest man in the world.

Erised's mirror would probably show something very similar to reality - perhaps Harry had a more muscular stomach and less gray hair.

'’Thank you for being with me. I love you, and I still feel like that stupid teenager who dreamed of you and needed a cold shower at seven in the morning to get to class.” They both laughed, and another flash came toward them. These photos would make great frames.

"That hasn't changed much, has it?" She raised her eyebrows mischievously.

'Not. It hasn't changed much.” He shrugged.

Harry sighed, watching as Ginny winked at him and let Sirius come over to hug him, still smiling mischievously in his direction. Yeah, his sixteen-year-old self would be very proud of how far he's come.

[aellynera]

Goddess (Orestes x Reader)

GODDESS

(Hi. I wrote an Orestes story - it started as a joke about the way Apocalypse says “my goddess”, and then I was like “oh man I want Orestes to call me his goddess” and then as usual, I don’t know how, but this happened. It’s rather different than most things I write, but I quite enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

Word Count: ~4400

Summary: Orestes is a constant in your life and has a particular way of constantly reminding you.

Warnings: Mentions of character death (briefly described but not graphically.) Implied female reader. Definite probable historical inaccuracies taken for poetic license and dramatic effect. ANGST (I made myself cry while I was writing this.) Christians doing morally void but historically accurate things. Fictional timelines.

When you are four years old, your parents leave everything they’ve built in Rome - their jobs in the palace, their lives in the city, your father’s position on the council -upon the orders of the Emperor and move to Alexandria. Your father’s new role is to assist in turning that city into a bastion of the Empire, to help strengthen the government and support the supremacy of Rome. Your mother is to be a gentle guide to the women, in hearth and home and higher society. And because you are theirs, you go with them.

They meet with the prefect upon your arrival and he welcomes your family. He is bright and cheerful, yet loud and pompous and booming, stern but wise, and while he is a kind man, his volume frightens you. You cower behind your mother’s skirts, steadfastly clinging to her and  refusing to join in any pleasantries.

Another woman suddenly appears, a small boy with curly hair and bright dark eyes holding her hand. The boy regards you curiously and asks why you won’t come out and say hello. His mother tells him you’re shy, while your mother encourages you to release your death grip on her gown. Finally, after much coaxing, you relent and she pushes you gently towards the little boy.

His mother says you should go play in the garden while the grown-ups talk, and he reaches a tiny hand out to you, wide-eyed and smiling. His name is Orestes, and he is six.

And when you take his hand with a shy little smile, his voice comes out as a whisper and tells you he thinks you’re a goddess, and he drags you towards the garden to show you the little blue flowers that dot the grass, and you believe him.

***

When you are eight years old, one day you finish your chores early and decide to spend your extra time in the yard, weaving some wildflowers together into a chain while the mid-afternoon sun warms your shoulders.

You are quite happy to be alone and not around the grown-ups for now; they’re so loud, sometimes too loud. You crave the quiet, seek it out often, and you bask in it.

Until a rush of dark curls and bright eyes tears past your house, into your yard, and grabs you by the hand, knocking your flower chain carelessly to the ground. He insists you come play with him on the hill nearby and with a squeal of indignation, you let yourself be dragged along behind him.

Your ire over the discarded flower chain is soon forgotten as your squeals become laughter as you roll and roll down the hill together, grass and dirt sticking to your robes and tufts sticking to his unruly curls. 

When you tell him he looks silly, he tells you he doesn’t, and you insist that he does and he protests that he doesn’t. And so it goes back and forth and back again, until you push him or he pushes you or someone pushes the other and you both go tumbling down that hill, end over head over feet, your descent only stopped by a patch of mud at the bottom.

He might be the son of the prefect, and he might be your best friend, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an enormous brat sometimes.

For a minute you’re both panting and red-faced and near tears, until he starts to giggle and you can’t help but join in, and only laugh harder at his outraged gasp when you hit him square in the chest with a chunk of mud.

And on the way back to your house, when you’re worrying your bottom lip thinking on how to explain to your mother why you’re covered in dead grass and damp bits of dirt, your robes most likely ruined, he tells you with the kind of confidence only possessed by a boy of ten years that everything will be fine, because you are a goddess and brave and strong, and you believe him.

***

When you are twelve years old, you hear of the school that Hypatia is running, because Orestes tells you about it when he starts going. You don’t like that he’s doing something without you. You don’t like being left behind and left out and you want to go to this school too. 

Your mother would easily say yes, but your father is reluctant, and it’s not that he thinks a woman shouldn’t learn philosophy and how to read and do arithmetic; it’s  more that enough other people in the city do think like this and he is convinced it will not be safe for you.

You care little for your safety. All you want, all you desire, is to be part of this group of scholars and to go to this school and learn. And what danger can possibly be there, when a woman is the one in charge?

So you beg and plead and bargain with your father, until a boy - now a young man - with curls like nighttime and eyes nearly as dark and twinkling with stars, steps in and says he’ll watch over you during your classes, and your father gives his permission. And so you start attending Hypatia’s school.

And when the older boys, boys who were nearly men and should know better, start to bully and deride you for desiring knowledge, when they taunt you and steal your scrolls and yank the ribbons from your hair, he steps in and tells them in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. Neither of your fathers, especially his, are particularly thrilled with the tussles he gets in on your behalf, or the black eye that one petulant snipe Cyrus gives him when he connects a punch when Orestes isn’t properly paying attention.

You frown at him as he sits in a chair next to the washbasin, a clean wet cloth clutched in your hand. He winces as you clean the blood from his cheek and gingerly probe the bruise swelling around his eye.

And when you softly ask why he’d do such a stupid thing, he tells you that even a goddess needs a hero to protect them sometimes, and even though you think him entirely ridiculous and heat comes unbidden to your cheeks, it makes you giddy to believe him.

***

When you are sixteen years old, you watch the boy with the wild ebony curls and liquid chocolate eyes fall in love with a girl. Only it isn’t a girl, it’s a woman, and you realize he’s been doing it for years.

Ever since your first day in the new city, he has always been by your side and you by his, an inseparable duo. You thought that would never change, but here you are, finding yourself forced to watch your best friend slowly but surely let his heart be ensnared by your very own teacher.

All he can talk about now, it seems, is Hypatia and her philosophies; Hypatia and her scrolls and the amazing things she is currently reading; Hypatia and her outlandish theories on the universe and the stars. Always Hypatia, all things Hypatia.

You never knew you could hate someone as amazing and wonderful as Hypatia.

It doesn’t seem to matter that his attentions are not equally returned, that she never fully indulges his lovesick whims and overreaching attempts to gain her attention. She continues to treat him as a student, and outside of class possibly even as a dear friend, and he continues to pine.

One afternoon you’re among the stacks of scrolls at the library, trying to find the parchment necessary to complete an assignment Hypatia has given you. You honestly would rather not find it and not even bother finishing your assigned work right now, and you must have some kind of look on your face because he takes the scroll you’re clutching from your hand and leads you to a mostly hidden nook in the room. And he stops talking about Hypatia for a moment to ask you what is wrong.

You want to tell him you miss him, that you want him back, that he’s making a mistake, but you can’t, you don’t. It takes a bit more coaxing, but you finally tell him you’re lonely and you wish there was someone you could find, someone you had to love as much as he had his person, he smiles and tells you that one day you will, because you’re a goddess and the right person will be pulled to the love and light you always emit. You smile back weakly and blink and look away and you want nothing more than to believe him.

***

When you are twenty years old, the library at Alexandria is destroyed.

It happens on a sunny afternoon not unlike so many others that have passed before, when suddenly the doors are broken down and the Christians rush in and the chaos ensues.

You’re sitting at a table with a quill in your hand, carefully writing your thoughts on a piece of parchment, when you hear the shouting in the entryway. And before you know what’s going on, shelves are being knocked over, papers tossed into the air like so much confetti, scrolls being thrown left and right. The air is beginning to smell acrid; you can see a few people setting small fires in some of the stacks.

The windows above you shatter as others throw rocks and even a chair, and you look around wildly for a way out. You don’t know which way is the right way to go, or even if there is a right way to go.

Everything is madness.

A pair of arms suddenly shoot out and grab you around the waist and your scream pierces the air like the horn on the top of the lighthouse trying to guide a ship to shore. Instead you realize you’re trying to drive this ship to its ruin, to free yourself from its depths with wildly swinging elbows and kicks, until you hear a familiar voice shouting your name over the ruckus.

You take in your assailant, all frantic curls and impossibly wide, dark eyes, and collapse into him in relief. Orestes tells you that you need to go, you need to get out, and to find both your fathers in the nearby council chambers and they’ll know where to go, where it’s safe. You ask him to come with you, but he shakes his head.

He tells you he needs to help save as many of the books and scrolls as he can, and you tell him to give you all you can carry and when you run, you’ll take them with you. So he loads your arms full to bursting, and when a rock flies by inches from your face and you drop the items at the top of the pile, he ignores that and pushes you roughly in the direction of the side exit. He says you must leave now, and he’ll be behind you before you know it.

He presses his lips to your temple ever so briefly, spares you a pained smile, and says you’re a goddess for the small bit of assistance you are giving.

As you run for safety, or what might be further peril, you spare a glance over your shoulder and see him helping Hypatia grab as much of the library’s contents as they can, and you don’t have another second to spare on deciding whether or not to believe him.

***

When you are twenty four, it’s your wedding day and everyone tells you this will be the most joyous day of your life so far. Your mother helps you dress in the softest, most expensively beautiful gown you’ve ever owned, and one of your sisters weaves a crown of laurels for your hair. Another sister makes a chain of wildflowers to wind around your wrist. You have never felt as beautiful as you do on this day.

Your father comes to the door of the chamber where your preparations are taking place, to let you know that the guests have all arrived and the groom is nearly ready, and it is almost time. He gives you a kiss on both cheeks, a gesture not common from him, and tells you he will be waiting out by the garden gate when you are ready. Your mother and sisters each kiss your cheek and leave as well, giving you a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts and emotionally prepare for the ceremony.

The door opens again a few minutes later and you turn to face the person behind it, Your eyes go wide, confused, as you take in the man before you. His dark curls are smoothed back and elegantly styled, his robes are regal and dashing, and his eyes are bright and nervous.

You tell him he shouldn’t be here.

He tells you that he knows, but he can’t help it, he has to see you. That he has been thinking of you all morning, wondering how beautiful you look, how happy you must be, and he just had to see you before you walk down the aisle to take your vows.

You bite your lip and tell him, again, that he shouldn’t be here and you can’t stop your voice from shaking. You turn your head away and look anywhere but at him.

And he repeats that he knows this, and he knows it’s wrong, it goes against all protocols, but he can’t help himself, can’t stop thinking that this is the last time he’s going to see you, see your smile and maybe hear your laugh, might be the last time your eyes can gaze upon each other and the last time he can hold you in his arms as his best friend.

You can’t think of a single thing to say to him, and even if you could, you’re certain your body will not cooperate.

Because he is not the one you are marrying. No, this marriage was arranged by your father and the Emperor, and there is the overwhelming chance that you must go back to Rome, and if you and your new husband leave Alexandria it is not likely you will ever return.

This might be the last time he can tell you that you shine with a light brighter than all the heavens, that you are beautiful and he hopes you will be happy, and you truly are a goddess among mortals.

And so Orestes does. He kisses you softly on your forehead, staying there a bit longer than propriety suggests, and quietly slips from the room. And you can’t see for the tears swimming in your eyes, and you want with all your heart to believe him, but you can’t help but find his words hollow and realize this will be far from the greatest day of your life.

***

When you are barely turned twenty-five, there is a knock on your door in the middle of the night. Perhaps knock is not the correct word, it’s more of an insistent pounding, and you swear under your breath at what could possibly be so important to rouse you out of bed at this unacceptable hour.

You pull a robe over your nightdress and open the door, and all the air leaves your lungs.

Four centurions are standing on your stoop, with a man who looks vaguely familiar; is he a general, maybe, or a captain? You can���t remember where you’ve seen him before, but it doesn’t matter, when he greets you solemnly and begins to speak, and tells you that your husband will not be returning from the front.

You did not return to Rome, as had originally been decreed. You stayed in Alexandria after your marriage because skirmishes had broken out along a few of the empire’s borders, and your new husband was called to action to fight for his ruler and the kingdom. Deep down, you could not have been more glad of it, for though you were born there, Rome had not been your home for over twenty years, and starting a new life there with a new husband would not have made it any more so. 

Your knees give out from under you and you consider for a moment that you should be crying, but you aren’t really sad and it strikes you as odd, but you can’t force the tears to come. You love your husband, in a way, but you’re not sad that he won’t be coming home. You’re relieved, and the instant that thought hits you and sends a jolt through your body, you start to laugh. The general, or captain, or whoever he is and his guards look at each other, then at you, and back to each other in utter confusion as you continue to giggle.

It all happens in mere seconds, and you’re sinking to the stone floor beneath, and a very familiar voice, one you have not heard since the day you were wed, tells the guards to stand aside and strong arms catch you before you can tumble completely.

His hair is wild and curly like he was just pulled out of bed himself, and his dark eyes shine with worry and compassion, and he asks you if you’re alright, and this is what finally breaks you from your laughter and brings wetness to your eyes.

Orestes holds you as you cry into his chest and you don’t see the pointed look he gives to the captain and the guards, nor do you see them pull back enough to close the door and wait outside.

You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor in the front hall, or how you’ve possibly gotten his robes that soggy, but eventually you calm and the thoughts roll through your brain again. You are crying because someone has died, you realize this is true even if you’re not so very sad it was your husband. You’re crying because it was your husband and now there will be the mourning period you must dutifully attend as a grieving widow. And now that you’re a widow, eventually you will be expected to take another husband, if one even dares to want you.

And you’re crying because the one reason you were glad to stay in this forsaken city - in the Alexandria which had become your home - the one reason you hoped every day to lay eyes on again and every night resigned that you never would, was suddenly here, his arms wrapped around you and his voice whispering words of comfort into your hair.

You’re not sure when he picks you up and carries you back to your bed, carefully laying you on your pillows and pulling the sheet up to cover your shoulders. You’re not sure how long he stays, holding your hand and brushing stray tendrils of hair from your face. And you’re not sure how long you drift in and out, emotional exhaustion finally catching up and pulling you into nothingness, but before you fade out completely, you feel his thumb gently brush the remaining tears from your cheek, and feel the soft press of his lips on your forehead as he calls you a goddess and tells you to rest.

And as you finally give yourself to the twilight, you aren’t sure if you imagined it, but you choose to believe him, and you cling to it.

***

You’re not sure when it happens, to be honest. Time starts to blend together after that, you just know that you’re older and that it happens, and it isn’t right and it isn’t moral and it isn’t fair. Not to anyone involved, not to the city, not at all.

Hypatia has died, been murdered in the temple at the hands of those who profess themselves to be righteous saviors, brutally stoned and ripped apart as she stood there, proud and defiant to the end. How anyone could do such a thing to another human, especially one such as her, is beyond your comprehension.

It only gets worse when they burn her corpse on a pyre in effigy in the middle of the agora.

Word comes to you of the horrible events, and your first instinct is to find him, the way he found you, came to you when word of your husband’s death made its way back to the city. You set down the parchment you’re scribbling on the desk in your room and grab a dark cloak, partly to conceal yourself and party to ward off the slight chill from the wind.

You make your way to the prefect’s palace but you’re turned away at the gate by pair of surly-looking guards, and giving your name, and then your father’s name, and then the fact that your father reports directly to Rome makes no difference to them. They have  been told to let no one in, and let no one out.

No one except the person you’re looking for, apparently, because somewhere in the aftermath you discover that Orestes is nowhere to be found.

No one knows where he’s gone, and no one knows when he left, just that it was sometime between Hypatia being murdered and the fake funeral pyre. He had words with Cyril, someone told you, and then after that, no one knows.

And the Christians take over the city, much like the library so many years ago, and more people are burned at the stake, more people are murdered, more progress is halted, all in the name of what is right and what is true.

They will kill you, too, if they find you, or find out you’re looking for Orestes. It’s been years since you’ve really been in his presence in anything but the smallest of ways, especially in public, but you know there are still enough people who know how close you were. And if they know you used to be close, you know they won’t hesitate to come after you the same way they came for the philosopher. 

So you make inquiries as discreetly as possible, ask the gossips that litter the merchants’ stalls in the most innocent way possible, like you’re just a curious citizen asking what’s happened to the rule of order in the city. You even ask your father, once, but he doesn’t reply and his stony gaze makes you certain to never ask again.

And you bury yourself in scrolls and reading, in star charts and theories; in anything, really, that will take your mind off everything that is happening and your lost prefect. Your lost friend, your best friend.

The man you truly love, even if it’s taken you years of self-doubt and missed chances to fully realize and admit it, and now, perhaps do something about it.

One day as you’re sitting at your desk, quill in hand and head in the clouds, you think of something. Something that may be nothing, but it comes to you in a flash and you have an idea of where to go, where to find him, somewhere that few others might know.

You carefully pack a bag with some clothes and supplies, and a crudely drawn map that you sketch from memory and hope you’ve gotten right. It’s been so long since you were there but you’re fairly sure you remember the way. You know that Orestes would remember.

A long day’s journey and a fitful night’s sleep take you into the next day, and the afternoon turns into dusk when the hillside comes into view. It is not the same hill you tumbled down more than once when the two of you got into a scrum, but it’s the one that you would go when you could both sneak away and no one would notice for a few days, and you’d stare at clouds by day and the stars by night.

There is an outcropping set back from the hill, in the base of the mountains nearby, that a person wouldn’t see if they didn’t know where to look. You’d found it one day during a particularly vicious thunderstorm and taken refuge in the cave there, and you’d both commented on how someone had clearly found it once before you, for it was somewhat set up as a living space, with some mats and blankets and  a few rations left on makeshift shelves. Anytime you were on these excursions and it would rain, or you simply wanted to be out of the sun, that was where you would go.

And you hope against hope that this is where your answer lies.

You crest the hill and make your way to the foot of the mountain and you can’t help but smile, just a little, thinking this is where he would have gone, should have gone, as his name means of the mountains. In his abandonment, his escape from the city, could he have taken it literally? You’ve known him so long and it feels like the kind of thing Orestes would do.

The hovel comes into view, and you drop your pack, because he does too. Tending to a fire at the mouth of the cave, his back turned slightly to you, his curls a glorious disaster, and he’s grown a beard since last you’d seen him. It’s a look you’ve not seen on him before, but you quite like it, although you consider for just a moment you’d like any look on him at this moment, because he is real and he is standing right in front of you.

The sound of the pack hitting the ground makes him turn, and his dark eyes shine in the firelight, and he looks at you for long moments but doesn’t say anything. Orestes just stares at you, disbelieving, like you might be some kind of mirage or a trick of the light or even some kind of wicked spirit sent to torment him, and so he just stares.

Until you breathe his name.

He blinks once, and his face is suddenly full of hope and relief, all the tension and disbelief of the previous moments falling away, and your heart soars to the heavens and thumps ever so boldly in your chest, and your smile threatens to crack your lips, and the tears fall freely as words finally leave his mouth.

“My goddess.”

~end~

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[dangerousstrawberryshark]

I Can Do Anything I Want

Requested from no one.

Tom Holland x Male Reader

(Tom be looking sexy)

Warning: Violence, kidnapping, psychotic Tom, mention of nudity, all character are above the age of 18

Background: March 21st, 2030, 7:00 PM, you were getting ready to bunker down with your mom and dad. You hoped that nothing would happen tonight but someone decided to come in and give you a visit.

Tom is 20 and you are 18

M/n: Male name.

L/n: Last name.

F/n: Friend's name

Word count: 2900

I hope you enjoy it!! Sorry if it is bad! And there are probably many mistakes and grammar errors. 

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DISCLAIMER: I MEAN NO OFFENSE, DISRESPECT, OR HARM TO ANY OF THESE CELEBRITIES! THIS IS JUST FICTION.

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MINORS DNI. FEMALE READERS… I’LL ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

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You were sitting on the couch with your mom sitting on the left side, and your father on your right side. You were waiting for the announcement to come on. ‘It's almost 7:00 PM…” you thought to yourself. The holiday you hated the most was about to begin.

Just then the emergency broadcast came on with that ear-shattering sound. And the screen on the TV turns blue with the symbol of the NFFA in the background.

“This is not a test.”

“This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government.”

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 AM when the Purge concludes.”

“Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.”

"May God be with you all.”

Then the air horn sirens blared meaning the Purge officially began. Your family has already set up defenses. You, of course, never participate. Your family put out blue flowers to show that they don’t want to participate but they support the purge.

You know your parents, they didn’t support this “holiday” at all. Come on now, 12 hours without any laws. Your parents spoke out against it.

Some (well most) Americans find the Purge to be successful. Unemployment rates plummeted down to 1 percent, crime rates decreased, and the economy was revived.

If you are wondering how this came into reality, it all started back in 2014.

(little history of how the Purge became a tradition in American society.)

In 2014, the United States was facing economic collapse, rising social unrest, and multiple wars. The economic collapse was worse than the Mortgage Crisis of 2008. Neighborhoods across the country were destroyed by an opioid epidemic.

Then a party was founded as a substitute for the Republicans and Democrats, they called themselves the New Founding Fathers of America or NFFA.

In 2016, the first experimental Purge took place and it proved to be successful. Then in 2017, the second experimental Purge began this time it was Nationwide.

Not long after that, the 28th amendment to the US constitution was ratified meaning that Purging is now an American right.

The Purge starts on March 21st at 7:00 PM and it ends at sunrise, March 22nd, 7:00 AM. all crime is legal for 12 hours, no killing high government officials, and don’t use explosives or bioweapons. Those who don’t follow the rules will be hanged.

This resulted in crime and unemployment rates dropping down 1 percent, government spending down 37 percent, and the GDP soared to 37.21 trillion dollars.

Still, many people disagreed with this because it was believed that the Purge was used as means of population control, and to decrease the poor population but they couldn’t do anything about it.

(little history lesson over. I just wanna include that part for those who have never seen the purge.)

We got off the couch and went to go do our own things. “Sweetie do wanna eat dinner?” my mom said, I smiled. “Yes please.” she smiled at me and went to go cook dinner. You went upstairs to chill in your room. Your window was boarded up but you could easily remove it when things go down.

————————————————————————————

Time skip (8:00 PM)

————————————————————————————

It's been one hour since commencement. You were up in your room just watching YouTube videos. Your mother was downstairs cooking Lasagna (or whatever your favorite dish is) your father was downstairs watching the news.

The news would keep up with things happening tonight. Were watching a live stream showing what was happening on the outside. Building on fire, people killing each other, and parties. All of this was caught on drones.

You would hear the occasional screams and gunfire in the area but you and your family were secure.

Then you heard banging on the front door. The door and windows were boarded up with wood planks. ‘Who is that?’ you thought, you were worried it was one of your bullies who decided tonight was the night they get to get rid of you.

You went downstairs to see your parents. They had fear in their eyes, then the door busted one. Three men wearing tuxedos with masks on walked in. then they pulled out their guns, that’s when you dashed and went up into your room.

Your parents tried to run but they were quickly gunned down. You could hear gunshots go off and their screams filled the house.

You locked your bedroom door and ran to the window to remove the wood plank blocking it. You could hear the footsteps coming up the stairs. One of them called out to you, “M/n⁓ where are you⁓? Come out from hiding… are you in your room?”

You recognized that deep British accent, it was Tom! Tom Holland from your class! ‘What did I do to him? I never did anything wrong to him!’ but that didn’t stop you from removing the plank. You jumped out the window and ran for it.

Tom busted through your door to see that you have escaped. He gritted his teeth and went downstairs to see his twin brothers sitting down on the couch with their masks off.

“So he got away?” the older twin said. “Yeah, he did. We’ll find him though. He isn’t stupid enough to go downtown. He’ll probably head to his friend's house.” Tom said a little anger that his precious lover had gone away.

“We already took care of his friends. But we couldn’t get to one of them.” The younger twin said, Tom nodded and went out to go find you.

(Btw Tom's parents live in the UK and they don’t know what he is doing. Tom’s brothers are just helping him catch you)

————————————————————————————

Time skip (9:00 PM)

————————————————————————————

You were running to your friend's house hoping they would help you. You had to be careful while running through the streets, there were purgers everywhere. The city of Los Angeles was crawling with them, especially in the downtown area.

Thankfully you took your phone with you to see what time it was. ‘9:00 PM.’ you turned off your but you made sure it was on silent mode so it wouldn't bring attention to you.

You had a little encounter with Purgers but they were quickly gunned down by a machine gun attached to the back of a car. You saw vehicles on fire, dead bodies, and an old lady just watching a body burn.

‘This is all crazy!’ you thought as you ran faster just to get off the streets but what you didn’t was that someone was following you.

After running for 30 minutes you finally arrived at one of your friend’s houses. You didn’t realize that their barricades were broken until you twisted the knob on the door.

You walked in to see the whole place trashed. You walked through the rooms to see F/N parents dead, lying on the floor. Their eyes were open, you see nothing in them. “Please don’t be dead…” you said putting your hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry out loud.

You slowly walked up the stairs and approached F/N’s room. There you saw it, F/N lying on the floor dead as well. You burst out crying but that ended when you heard a car pull up.

“Find him!” you knew who that was immediate. You couldn’t run anywhere because they were downstairs, and the window had steel as a barricade. So, you hid in F/n’s closet.

You knew they had a pile of clothing in the corner, so you buried yourself in their clothes. You heard their footsteps walking up the stairs, and them breaking down the door. Then you heard them in the room.

You could see a figure walking through a small hole in the clothing pile. You covered your mouth so you wouldn’t breathe too hard. “CLEAR!” the figure yelled and went back downstairs. You heard their conversation from downstairs because of how the walls were thin.

“I thought he would be here!” Tom yelled, and out of anger shots one of his own men. The twins and the other weren’t fazed by this. They knew Tom had a few screws loose.

Then you heard them leave but you didn’t believe they actually left so you decided to stay where you were for the 2 to 3 hours.

————————————————————————————

Time skip (3:00 AM)

————————————————————————————

While waiting you accidentally fell asleep (why? because of plot purposes and I'm the author)and you realized that it was 3:00 AM, 4 hours till the Purge ends. You thought you could stay here but then you smelt something burning.

You got out of the pile to see the room was on fire. ‘What?! How?’ you quickly got and ran before the roof caved in on you. The backdoor was barricaded but due to the fire, it melted the steel allowing you to escape. (is that possible?)

You were on the run again but before you left, you noticed a group of people watching the house burn. ‘Are those my teachers?’ The group was your teachers from different classes. You knew they didn’t like F/N at all.

‘What has this country become?’ if this keeps happening, if more innocent people keep dying, then the nation will become the “Nation of Murders.” you decided to ignore them and run.

But one of them saw you, “M/n? Is that you?” one of them yelled. You froze, ‘how did they--?’ you turned around to see them walking towards you. “Hey don't worry we ain’t kill you. You are our favorite student!”

You looked at them shocked. “Why are you out here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your parents?” you looked down and began to cry. They noticed and said they didn’t need to know.

“Do you wanna come with us? There’s a neighborhood block party.” you nodded and decided to go with them. ‘So I guess they kill the kids they hate.’ they then took you to one of the nearby parties.

But one of Tom’s men noticed and decided to alert the big boss.

(just to be clear, in the Purge series there isn’t a legal purge. Meaning that you can kill someone who is 18 or younger. Now that’s fucked up.)

You and the teachers arrived at the block party. You see everyone partying, some had creepy masks, and others were naked grinding against each other. You lost your teachers in the crowd so you decided to just hideout.

————————————————————————————

Time skip (6:00 AM, one hour till the Purge ends.)

————————————————————————————

(if you are wondering why Tom didn’t show up early, it's because he was busy doing something else….. Or maybe its because I was too lazy to put anything during that time skip)

You checked your phone and noticed it was 6:00 AM. ‘One more hour!’ you smiled as the night was finally coming to an end. The sun was rising in the distance but people were still partying. ‘I survived the night.’

You even began to party yourself in celebration of surviving. You had a couple of drinks but not enough to be completely drunk. You danced with some people. Overall you were having a good time

But that happiness was short-lived when the gunfire began to go off. People were screaming and tripping over each other as they tried to run away. You already knew who it was. Tom fucking Holland and his group arrived

He noticed you in the crowd and smirked as he can finally have you before the Purge ended. You ran away from the crowd to one of those large garbage containers. You hid behind them hoping Tom won’t find you.

You could still hear the screams of people and more gunfire further down the street. You creeped out from your hiding place and walked back to the street.

You were horrified by what you were seeing. Dead bodies everywhere, your teacher’s dead bodies, and some people you were dancing with. All dead.

Then you heard footsteps behind you, you turned around to see Tom there smiling sadistically at you. You admit he was kind of hot but that doesn’t matter right now. “Why are you doing this? I never did anything to you! And did you find me?! ”

(6:55 AM)

“Why’m I doing this? Well, it's because of M/n…… I love you M/n! You never did anything wrong. And how did I find you? Well, remember there's an app where you can track down certain people’s phones? Well, that’s how I found you, that and one of my men told me.” Tom sounded proud of what he just said.

(6:57 AM)

“I thought I could use this Purge night as a way to finally have you to myself! I hope you share the same feeling like me.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Tom…. look, you’re a cute guy, hell I would probably have dated if you just came up to me like a normal person would. But no, you went ahead and killed everyone. You killed my family and friends, and you think I share the same feeling like you! No!” you yelled the tension was thick and Tom was angry.

(6:59 AM)

“I loved you! And they were getting in the way!--” Tom took a pause, “If I can’t have then no one will!” Tom charged at you with his knife. ‘What happened to his gun?’

But you quickly snapped out when he charged at you. You dodged his attack but he stabbed you in the arm. He was about to finish when…

(7:00 AM)

*INSERT SIREN NOISE*

The siren went off meaning the Purge had come to an end. Tom was still going to attack but was stopped when a voice came on, “Stop what you are doing! I repeat stop what you are doing! The Purge has concluded. If anyone does a crime, you will face the consequences.”

Tom stopped what he was doing and looked at you, “Next Purge, I’m going to get you.” Tom then got into his car and drove off.

You felt like you were going to faint from blood loss but then someone drove up to you. “Hey, okay?! Oh my God, we need to get you to the hospital!” they picked you up and carried you into the backseat, and drove you to the nearest hospital.

The radio was on and began to report on tonight’s events. “Just after 7:00 AM, March 22nd Pacific Standard, the Annual Purge was concluded. Reports are coming from all over the nation that this was the most participated Purge yet….

364 days until the next Purge...

THE GOOD ENDING

Bad Ending.

Time skip (6:00 AM, one hour till the Purge ends.)

You checked your phone and noticed it was 6:00 AM. ‘One more hour!’ you smiled as the night was finally coming to an end. The sun was rising in the distance but people were still partying. ‘I survived the night.’

You even began to party yourself in celebration of surviving. Yo had a couple of drinks but not enough to be completely drunk. You danced with some people. Overall you were having a good time

But that happiness was short-lived when the gunfire began to go off. People were screaming and tripping over each other as they tried to run away. You already knew who it was. Tom fucking Holland and his group arrived

He noticed you in the crowd and smirked as he can finally have you before the Purge ended. You ran away from the crowd to one of those large garbage containers. You hid behind them hoping Tom won’t find you.

You could still hear the screams of people and more gunfire further down the street. You creeped out from your hiding place and walked back to the street.

You were horrified by what you were seeing. Dead bodies everywhere, your teacher’s dead bodies, and some people you were dancing with. All dead.

Just then you felt something being injected into your neck. You passed out but before you completely passed out, you got a glimpse of who it was…. It was Tom.

“You're finally mine M/n. I’ll keep you forever…. No one will take us apart….”

PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE

[babymetaldoll]

Character development (Matthew Gray Gubler / Reader)

Not my gif

A/N: I don't know if any of you haven't seen or doesn't know what happens with Spencer in Season 8, but anyway: HUGE SPOILERS ALERT OF SEASON 8 of CRIMINAL MINDS.

Requested: Yes. "Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Matthew/reader one where the reader is watching criminal minds, and Maeve just died, and the reader is sad and finds out Matthew suggested that Maeve's character got killed off, and Matthew makes it up to her."

Summary: Gubler reaches home and finds a very depressed girlfriend waiting for him to talk about the bad things that had just happened to Spencer in that week's episode of Criminal Minds.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Well, spoilers of season 8 of CM, I think a curse or two, and that's it.

Wordcount: 1,6 K

Masterlist

.

The whole house was in silence when Matthew walked in. That was weird. Since he and his girlfriend (Y/N) moved in together, he was greeted with laughter, music, hugs, and kisses every time he got home.

But not that day. Silence and darkness in the whole house were all that welcomed Matthew.

- "Bunny?"- he asked, frowning confused- "Are you home?"

But nothing. Only silence.

Matthew walked around the house. It was so quiet it was creepy.

- "(Y/N)?"

- "In here"- her voice was small, and it took Matthew a minute to find her, curled up on a couch. The tv screen was the only light in the whole room.

- "Hey, Bunny"- Gubler sat next to her and kissed her lips sweetly- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah,"- she whispered and cut him the worst smile ever- "Did you have fun with your friends today?"

- "Yeah, we had dinner, watched a movie. It was fun. What did you do?"- Gubler knew there was something wrong with his girlfriend, and he wasn't going to let it pass.

- "Nothing. I just watched tv."

- "And did something happen today at work?"- but (Y/N) shook her head- "Then why are you so sad? Your eyes are puffy, Bunny. What is it?"

- "It's honestly nothing. I just..."- (Y/N) turned off the tv and sighed- "I watched today's episode of Criminal Minds."

- "Oh..."- Matthew thought about it for a second until it finally hit him.

That week's episode was "Zugzwang," and he knew it would be a rough one for everybody. It had actually been hard to film. Reid's girlfriend would die right in front of him, and Matthew knew (Y/N) wasn't going to take that episode very well. Ok, no one would, but she really wanted Spencer to have a girlfriend, finally.

- "Oh... so, what did you think?"- (Y/N) looked at him and almost rolled her eyes.

- "Look at me, I've been crying for an hour,"- Gubler chuckled and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, cuddling her.

- "Come on, Bunny. It's just a tv show."

- "I know, but can you explain why Maeve had to die? why can't Spencie be happy?"

- "Why do you call him Spencie?"- Gubler frowned and looked at her confused, but she dismissed his question and pouted instead.

- "Honey, why did they decide to kill Maeve? Why didn't you argue against that stupid decision? Reid needs a girlfriend."

Matthew opened his mouth and was about to answer when he thought that might not be a real good idea. You see, it had been Matthew who suggested Maeve had to die in the most tragic way possible to make the storyline work.

At the time, it made sense for Gubler, but now, watching how his girlfriend had cried watching the episode, he wondered if they had maybe done it a little too sad.

- "Bunny, it's just a tv show. You know that right?"- he whispered and kissed her hands. (Y/N) nodded in silence and just stared at the empty space for a moment.

She knew it was just a tv show, and she understood it was stupid to be so profoundly affected by it. Still, at the same time, it was impossible not to feel moved by it, especially after watching Matthew impersonating Spencer crying with such sadness. It broke her soul. Literally, she felt something inside of her shattering as she watched him on the screen, sobbing. That was when she started crying along with Spencer.

- "I know it's silly but, though I know it's a tv show, and I know none of that is real, it still kind of hurt"- (Y/N) tried to explain- "Imagine any of that happened to us..."

- "Bunny, that won't happen to us. No one is going to kidnap us or hurt us, ok?"- Matthew smiled and kissed her hands one more time. (Y/N) nodded and sighed.

- "I'm sorry, I know it's silly being this upset over something that ain't even real."

- "No, Bunny. I think it's cute"- Matthew was sincere, but (Y/N) felt pretty silly. She had spent the last hour and a half of her life crying over the death of a fictional character.

- "Just let's make sure I get over this impasse before I visit you on the set, 'cos I don't think I will be able to be cool around the writers of the show after this episode."

- "About that,"- Matthew bit his lips and decided to face the truth once for all- "Maeve's death might have been..."- but (Y/N)'s wide-opened eyes didn't let him finish talking. He just stared at her and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear carefully.

- "Might have been what?"

- "My... idea."- Gubler murmured and looked at her, trying to read her reaction.

- "I'm sorry, what?!"- (Y/N) didn't move. She just stayed still, staring at Gubler, trying to understand what he had just said.

- "Ok, so don't get mad at me, but I only agreed to get on board on Spencer having a girlfriend if she died the most tragic way possible."

There was a deep and long silence between them after Gubler said those words. It was like (Y/N) couldn't believe what she had just heard, and Matthew tried to smile in a useless effort to ease the mood.

- "Why did you do that?"- (Y/N) finally whispered and tried to understand what her boyfriend was talking about.

- "Well, it was for character development. Reid's story is overall tragic, and his relationship with his girlfriend wasn't what we could call normal, right?"

(Y/N) stared at him, speechless. Reid was a fictional character portrayed by her boyfriend, but somehow he had become a beloved imaginary being they actually talked about.

- "What did Reid ever do to you? Why did he deserve this?"- (Y/N)'s voice was a whisper, and Gubler just stared at her. He wanted to kiss her cheeks and tickle her, to make her smile, 'cos he thought it was adorable how she reacted to the episode.

- "It just makes sense for the story"- Matthew leaned in and gave her a peck on the tip of the nose- "I'm sorry you got so sad. Was it my incredible acting that made it all so believable?"- he joked and kissed her cheek several times.

- "You looked miserable, Gub"- she whispered, still upset- "You were so convincing I cried along with you at the end."

- "I'm glad"- he stopped kissing her and looked t her, narrowing his eyes- "Not glad that you cried, I'm just glad you were convinced... I think"

- "It was a good episode, Gubler."

(Y/N) sighed and looked at him, still pouting. Matthew kissed her slowly, rubbing his lips against her and moving his tongue carefully, tasting her. He felt how her body relaxed at his touch and held her closer to him. When the kiss was over, and she had sighed, resting her forehead against his, Matthew whispered.

- "It's only a good episode for me if you like it, Bunny."

- "Yeah, well, I have the feeling you are gonna have to make it up to me for making me cry"- the way (Y/N) spoke made her sound like a spoiled kid, which she actually was around Gubler. He would always coddle her in every way possible.

- "Make it up to you how, Bunny?"- Matthew murmured in a lower voice, still holding her so close in his arms, she was now sitting on his lap.

- "I don't know... you can do stuff."

- "Stuff?"- Gubler repeated and kissed her again- "Stuff like what? I need more info"- (Y/N) giggled and hid her face on the crook of Matthew's neck, inhaling deeply.

- "I haven't had dinner yet."

- "What does my Bunny want to eat?"- Gubler replied in a second, running his hand up and down her back- "Pizza? Chinese? Thai? you love Thai food."

- "Gubler. I wanna eat Gubler,"- she whispered, biting his shoulder playfully, making him laugh.

- "You can't eat Gubler!"

- "Why not?! He's delicious!"- (Y/N) kissed Matthew's neck and licked it until a soft groan left his lips.

- "Don't start things you won't finish, Bunny"- she heard him saying, as his lips crushed against hers with lust.

Sometimes Matthew could manage to step from sweet, cute boyfriend to hungry, dominant animal in a second. (Y/N) never told him, but it was one of the many things she loved about him.

Matthew's hand roamed from her back to underneath her shirt in a second, unclasping her bra in a blink. (Y/N) could feel how he was getting hard underneath her legs and the urge in his lips. And it was just what she wanted.

- "Maybe you are right"- she whispered and ended their kiss- "Pizza would be better."

- "Really?"- Matthew looked at her with widened eyes, and (Y/N) couldn't help but giggle- "Why are you teasing me like this?"

- "It just makes sense for the story. It's for character development"- she answered, mocking his earlier answer about Criminal Minds. Gubler groaned, letting her go, just to look at her pleased smile.

- "You are really gonna make me pay for what happened to Maeve and Spencer, aren't you?"- and (Y/N) just nodded- "If it makes you feel better, I really felt miserable the day we shoot that scene."

- "I'm sure you did. And I felt miserable watching you being miserable."

- "It's the circle of life, Bunny"- Matthew leaned in and kissed her- "We should do something to feel better now."

Gubler winked at (Y/N), and she giggled. His hands reached for her hips and moved underneath her shirt again, playing with her skin.

- "You may be right about that, but dinner first."

- "Are you gonna eat Gubler?"- he asked her, biting his lips, looking incredibly hot.

- "Pizza for dinner"- she teased and kissed him for a second- "Gubler for dessert."

****

Taglist: 

@all-tings-diego​

[cheerstofandomfamily]

Well it's officially been 15 hours since I began realizing that my hopes were about to be crushed, and my fears would become reality.

I stepped away from Supernatural earlier in season 15 because I knew the only ending to this show would be death for at least one brother. I knew that for my mental health I needed a break, or to step away entirely, from Tumblr and from the show. It was consuming me, and I was letting it.

I didn't think Destiel would ever happen. I had made my peace with that, and I left the show during a time where not a lot of drama was happening. It worked, and I was able to continue loving Destiel through fan fiction, and occasional moments that I would later on see on Tumblr.

Then 15x18 happened. And the whole world exploded in rainbows and black goo. And I said to myself, "Well if they're going to let THIS happen, then it might soften the blow of seeing one of my boys die a perma death."

It did not.

Supernatural, I cried myself to sleep last night. And I'm crying again writing this post, because you took my hope, gave me a HEARTBREAKING death scene, and then NOTHING to tape my heart back up again.

To Jared & Jensen - you performed the most emotional scene I have seen in an incredibly long time. And I applaud you for it. I'm mad at how it went down, but I give you credit for making me feel feelings.

To Misha - you deserved better than to be an extra they had to cut due to covid. I'm devastated for you.

To the Supernatural fandom - I don't know what I'll do without you guys now. I truly cannot grasp the reality that I'll never be able to analyze another gif set, or image of Dean's bedroom, or wonder if Sammy is going to get hit in the head again. I'll never see green and blue the same. I'll never be able to listen to Carry On My Wayward Son the same, if at all. I'll never hear the words "you changed me" again without wanting to punch something.

To the friends, and mutuals I was interacting with and had to step away from - I'm truly sorry that we have been so misled by the story. I've enjoyed the last two weeks immensely, and can't put into words how much I will miss this. (Alphabetically tagging a few specifics that have been either on my mind or in my notifications recently, but there are SO many of you that I will miss dearly.) @amyoatmeal @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @emblue-sparks @legendary-destiel @madimoo31 @mmangoss @mrsaquaman187 @savannadarkbaby @savemecastiel @shippsblog @spn-bitchh @spnjohnlocked @verobatto-angelxhunter @weird-dorky-little-d

Each and every one of you has made this experience so meaningful. You asked what about all this was real? What the point was? We are.

To the writers - I have no words. I know you did what you thought would be a great ending, and maybe I'll look back in another 15 years and be at peace with it.. there were some good moments, but for me I will always remember what was missing.

I understand now. You were the Empty and WE were Castiel. The moment we let ourselves be happy, you came for us. The moment we FORGOT and let the sun shine on our faces, you brought us to nothing. And then left us to burn with our regrets.

I suppose I should thank you for letting me see Sam shirtless one last time, but then you destroyed that with a stupid wig too. I should thank you for the fact that Cas was in heaven and was able to fix it with Jack, and spend eternity as TFW after all, but we didn't even get more than an eyebrow raise and half a smile. You couldn't have used his voice in this episode instead of 15x19? Now I'm mad about Lucifer again. I will never be over the fact that you thought we'd want to see him again, instead of literally any other character.

I'm ENRAGED. That you took my Sammy, and all his character growth, and leadership development, and said "the only peace for him is if everyone he loves is taken from him and is left with only one path in life, and that's the apple pie life where he can grow old and have a kid" WHAT.

I might add more later, I don't know. Right now I am sick with grief over this finale. I know I can't look at it objectively, I know a lot of people out there did enjoy it. I am not one of those people. And I knew better.

[writingonesdreams]

Hello, hello, and happy STS to you Dreams. I hope you're having a lovely one.

So, I was curious, as I chronically am, about something. I'd love to hear about how you've seen your writing evolve. Like, what's your writing journey been like?

I know what I've seen from this side while we've been mutuals, but I'd like to hear what you've noticed about your writing and how it's changed. How has it evolved, have the kinds of stories you like to write changed, what has become your greatest strengths and do you know where you started developing them, how has your writing process changed, and where do you see it going from here?

Hi Ren, that's a very thought provoking question set, thanks for asking^^. This turned into a rumble.

How has my writing evolved? Hmm. I think that for a long time I didn't see the difference between storytelling and writing. I was always making stories and seeing movies in my head. It's part of who I am. I was the daydream child, and as a teen I used to say I'm only 40% living in reality.

So as long as I felt inspired and confident, I just wrote ahead little short stories as a kid and then longer stories for my mom. My first longer work was a Twilight fanfiction when I was 14 XD pretty much a sequel about Jacob and Renesmee. Then I started a new fanfic mixing with mermaids and new characters that got a bit too complicated for me. Then I changed schools and stopped writing for some time until I got back to it at 18.

Part of the process and the stops may have been my mom's work as an editor and the point that she reacted more to the mistakes than to the story I was trying to tell. This was very disheartening to the young me, even if she was right about the mistakes I made and edited those stories before I posted them. Few years later she told me how hard it was and that was disheartening further. XD

That must have been the point I stopped writing for a time, cause I respected my mom to the heavens and my writing skills weren't on the level she would have liked - and even more was the content. I mention it from time to time that my family is strictly anti-fantasy 😂 magic and fantasy books are a certified waste of time and energy, can't be sold, can't be understood, why are you wasting time with that...I kept hearing that from my mom and my grandpa, two writers and editors of the family who could have understood my calling. (Should I mention how I got stuck on painting when I was 8 after my dad told me it looked like a 4 years old scribbled it - completely killed off my painting dream XD).

That must have been the point I started running to English. I read in English so I could escape the judgement and control of my parents, so I could read my books in peace and they wouldn't be able to comment, cause they wouldn't understand. I got into tv shows and anime that taught me English in my teens, and that built the ground to ne writing in English as an 18 years old. A way to escape my pro editing mom XD and to distance myself from their distaste. Maybe fantasy is part of it too, cause my realistic fiction was unrealistic and "why aren't you writing about your own experiences"? Cause I wanted to escape those, duh (it was during the time I went to Austrian school and learned German and that was a very difficult taxing ride, cause for two years I didn't understand anything and I def didn't want to be writing about that).

I have a very ambitious, perfectionist and driven family. You don't complain, you excell and if you cry, the usual kind of comfort consists of "that's a stupid thing to cry over".

So def 18 as my homecoming to writing and start of English. I discovered tumblr and writeblr at the time, read a lot of fanfics, fell for fandoms. I started making my own stories, but I got too fascinated with the outlining stage and looking back it took a few years to realize I was collecting book outlines and not book drafts and that I wrote precious little scenes and some spinoff short stories.

The kind of stories I liked to write depend entirely on what books I was reading and what fanfics opened up my horizons. It's ironic that I liked fantasy for the freedom and possibility to make stuff up instead of researching and experiencing it (which I couldn't do cause I was too young to understand life and other blablabla), but I need to see the format or an example first before I can start doing it myself. But that's also my writing strenght - I can copy styles and scenes by reading them. So Twilight, Eragon, Vampire Academy, Harry Potter, Naruto, Star Wars, Fairy Tale and Supernatural fanfiction, The Originals, Red Winter, Transformation and Tuyo were all difining story milestones for the stories I wanted to write.

My focus shifted from heavy focus on fantasy and romance to a harder to define literary fantasy and platonic friendships. With my studies the cultural aspect and political opinions and ideological messages came as well as a way to cope and express what doesn't sit well with me. But all in all most of my stories are asking questions, characters combing flaws and various honest pieces and throwing them out there to see if it resonates.

Maybe my discovery of slice of life is so contradictory and slow for me, cause slice of life realistic fiction was always the kind my mother admired the most. On one hand I always wanted to appeal to her with that and on the other wanted to protest it and go the other direction, just to find my own niche and writing identity. But hating it to spite her might have hindered me too XD (combined with the plot focused writing advice culture of America) made me force myself to plot and focus on the external conflict that was very very uninteresting and frustrating for me and stifled me. It's funny how differnt the writing cultures and traditions over the world are, cause central europe and czechoslovak writing tradition and advice is entirely different. Their stories and advice focus on relationships and slice of life, don't think conflict or character change arc is at all needed.

Going forward I def want to focus on character driven slice of life stories. I just had a pro editor betaread the current draft of Tears of Iron and she said the fantasy world very much just props up the characters and that the story works, just not in a traditional USA publishers way (want to self-publish it anyway). But I'll keep with magical realism and literary fantasy for now, to keep the reality distance; though I'm afraid dragons and fantastical worlds make wrong promises to readers, since those won't be the focus of my stories. Or I'll add them more in later drafts, who knows.🤣

Thanks for the questions, Ren!

[m-y-fandoms]

1 Thing I Love & 1 Thing I Hate About EVERY Danganronpa Character Part 1

Part 2

SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE MAIN GAMES

I’d love to hear our opinions as well in the comments or my inbox or DM’s! If you try this trend with DR characters, tag me!

Sayaka Maizono

♡ Her passion for her career and friends.

✘ The way she tries to screw over Makoto when the game had just begun. Like wait and see what happens before screwing over such a great guy? Leon didn’t deserve it either.

Leon Kuwata

♡ His voice actor (English), and how real and human his execution was in that we all would be so scared and irrational. It was just so iconic and sad as it’s our first introduction to the death in this series and we all think: “shit, this is real... they are really killing these kids.” I didn’t think it would be that brutal, just seeing his body limp at the end with the haunting music.

✘ His design is disgusting. I hate how he looks.

Chihiro Fujisaki

♡ So innocent, so kind, so intelligent

✘ Shouldn’t have been killed for such a stupid reason, also they did Mondo dirty with that motive for killing as well. Just a mess. As for the actual character, Chihiro cries right off the bat when you do your introductions and that was kind of annoying to me personally.

Mondo Oowada

♡ He has a lot of respect, understanding and emotions for someone I thought would be a hard-ass douche biker.

✘ The worst motive to kill ever in a game where you know you’re getting executed if you’re found out. Like you’d be extra careful and that’s his reason to kill? Lazy writing.

Celestia Ludenberg

♡ Bad bitch energy and her goth lolita design.

✘ Manipulation and double murder. Bad bitch energy only goes so far. Confidence is different then selfishness. Also, of all the chapter 3 triple murders... the worst motive to kill.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

♡ Emotions: secure in his masculinity, able to cry, show emotions, and apologize when he’s wrong. He’s funny and likable.

✘ The Ishimondo white hair thing was stupid. Taka was fine on his own.

Hifumi Yamada

♡ Writing takes talent, fan fiction as much as any other style or genre. Also the talent of his voice actor (who also voices Kiibo/K1-B0).

✘ Literally everything else about him.

Sakura Oogami

♡ I love everything about her. I love her wisdom, loyalty, design, voice etc. Just step on me, mother.

✘ Why the hell would she ever agree to be a spy even if it meant the end of her dojo? I just don’t think she would do that rationally because she isn’t selfish. The others would suffer for her spying. She remedies this with redemption in her letter in chapter 4 but still she should’ve said no off the bat. Everyone had something to lose. The dojo wasn’t worth spying for monokuma. Also I just don’t think she would commit suicide. She can’t help the remaining students survive and redeem herself truly if she’s dead.

Kyoko Kirigiri

♡ Bad bitch energy, calm and collected when I could never be.

✘ Especially in future arc of the anime, damn can you show some emotion please? Through your words and expressions not just your actions. Sure she was willing to “die” for Makoto but like I just want more emotion from her sometimes, even in THH.

Makoto Naegi

♡ So pure. I Love Bryce Papenbrook. Makoto reminds me of Sora and I love his design.

✘ In THH I didn’t mind his innocence but in the Danganronpa 3 future arc anime, when people started straight up abusing him and accusing him, he needed to grow a little backbone.

Byakuya Togami

♡ Love my dad, king shit, also love how over the progression of the games and animes he becomes a little more kind to his friends.

✘ Why the fuck did he mess with Chihiro’s body? Just so cruel and disrespectful.

Yasuhiro Hagakure

♡ Funny magic man. Sexy voice.

✘ Please. Please Hiro use your brain just once. Why do we have to prove Kyoko isn’t a ghost?!

Toko Fukawa

♡ Character development in UDG and I love Genocider.

✘ Putting down herself and others constantly gets old in THH.

Aoi Asahina

♡ Love her voice actress and her personality

✘ We really just gonna get everyone killed in chapter 4 huh? Surely you know they don’t all deserve that.

Junko Enoshima

♡ A very memorable villain with great hair and design.

✘ I just can’t stand her. I hate her so much.

Mukuro Ikusaba

♡ Her mercenary background is super cool as a concept.

✘ Too bad it wasn’t explored nearly enough.

Hajime Hinata

♡ Seeing the protagonist be a little less naive, innocent and positive than Makoto was a refreshing change, although I loved Makoto. I liked Hajime’s cynicism and expressions that sometimes just screamed “this shit again, huh?”

✘ I enjoy the way Izuru looks but I hate him as a character. He is sexy to look at but Hajime is just a better character overall

Teruteru Hanamura

♡ His love for his family and mother especially is so cute and heart breaking if you know the full story.

✘ He needs to know when to dial it back and quit with the perversions. And no it’s not just how he looks, Miu needs to chill at times, too.

Twogami

♡ I feel like he genuinely cares about his friends, just hides it well

✘ His death felt like a cop out and poorly written. It just didn’t sit right with me. Also his design is disgusting to me, his outfit and such.

Mahiru Koizumi

♡ Loyal to her close friends.

✘ I just have no interest in her as a character and I find her boring.

Peko Pekoyama

♡ Loyalty. Loyalty is something I value very highly in every form of relationship. Peko is also very hot.

✘ Come on girl... I know how you were raised but you should’ve known Fuyuhiko didn’t think of you as just a tool and you two should’ve expressed your true feelings long ago. Like even in secret. How do you live like this? Also I feel like killing Mahiru could’ve been avoided with a calm talk.

Ibuki Mioda

♡ Cute design, positive vibes.

✘ Cringe sometimes in the way she talks.

Hiyoko Saionji

♡ Beautiful character design and some very good insults and snarky remarks at times.

✘ Just irredeemably mean and annoying. Even when you do her free time events she is just so annoying.

Mikan Tsumiki

♡ I like her design as well as her hair, expressions, sprites and clothing.

✘ I hate her. I just hate her whether she’s in her true psycho form or timid stuttering form. She’s just annoying in my opinion.

Nekomaru Nidai

♡ So supportive, can hold my drink at a party. Respects everyone and wants the best for them.

✘ Bro Mechamaru was a stupid plot point. I just couldn’t stand looking at him and couldn’t take it seriously. Still sad when he died though.

Chiaki Nanami

♡ From chapter 5 of sdr2 on she is impossible not to love if you didn’t already. Just the selflessness, the sadness of the reveal and execution, how she returns to help Hajime at the end???? I love her. I love her hair design, color palette, her personality, everything.

✘ I’m bitter and miserable about her being the only class member to actually die (the despair arc anime) also her falling asleep at random times is kind of odd and she doesn’t seem to be like that later on in the game??? Like it seemed like a cheap joke but not actually who she is? Hard for me to explain.

Gundham Tanaka

♡ King shit, couldn’t praise him enough. He’s sexy, loves animals, and is funny as hell sometimes. His voice actor is a saint and a cool dude and I named my guinea pigs after the Dark Devas (yes I know they are hamsters in the games.)

✘ Come on dude. I get that being from Hell and magic and having evil powers is your shtick, but we all know that you and Nekomaru sacrificed yourselves so the others wouldn’t starve. We know you care about your classmates. There comes a time when it’s time to let personas and facades fade and be true to your heart. I just feel like him denying he cared at the end hurt. We all know he cared. I didn’t like how he was haughty until the end. He deserved better. I love him.

Nagito Komaeda

♡ I love him so much. So cunning and intelligent, always a step ahead. And he’s big sexy.

✘ Him killing himself in chapter 5 hurt me so bad I was like in denial for days. Also hate how Bryce Papenbrook gives him a raspy stoner psycho voice in the game then a light airy higher-pitched voice in the despair arc anime. It just bothers me. I love his voice still but the inconsistency just hurts my OCD

Sonia Nevermind

♡ I love that she’s so interested in her passions and love her feelings for Gundham

✘ Her outfit and bow are atrocious. Also why didn’t she start liking and talking to Gundham sooner on? Their romance bloomed late and it would’ve made for a better chapter 4 ending if they were a bit closer.

Kazuichi Souda

♡ Cool design and outfit, love his voice (also voices Kaito in V3) and his backstory is relatable at times. He’s also very human in that he’s scared a lot of the time or insecure or blames others in panicked situations. It’s not always a good thing but it’s human and realistic.

✘ Gosh he can be so annoying. Sometimes flirting or whining too much is well... too much.

Akane Owari

♡ Strong-willed and definitely someone I would be friends with

✘ What the hell is her outfit? Gymnasts and athletes don’t wear that shit. Stop objectifying her when it doesn’t even make the product or plot better. Like there’s absolutely no point to making her dress that way. I was a gymnast for 15 years. Even those who do parkour (which Akane seems to do more often than actual gymnastics in the anime and game) don’t wear what she wears. Also she’s underrated.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

♡ I love him. He’s the DR character I’m most like out of all the games and anime. Tenko is a close second. I think he’s adorable, love his character arc, development, redemption, and love his voice.

✘ In the anime/despair arc, Fuyuhiko is not done justice. He doesn’t get enough lines, has a different voice actor, just doesn’t give off the same vibes.

Izuru Kamakura

♡ Sexy man long hair good.

✘ Boring character. I wish he were just Hajime.

Kaede Akamatsu

♡ Loyalty and leadership are such attractive qualities in her. Also she faced her death with such class and dignity and I respect her because I could never.

✘ Some of the voice lines Erika does for her are just weird and cringe. Just random moans or grunts... I don’t know it’s like when Ann Takamaki from Persona 5 (also voiced by Erika) makes suggestive noises as well. Just grinds my gears. Also hate her outfit down to the hair pins.

Shuichi Saihara

♡ I love his nasally voice. I love his design and he’s so adorable. I love how emotional and compassionate he can be. He ties with Makoto for favorite protag of mine.

✘ That sprite where he sniffs his hand. And his ugly ass hat.

Rantarou Amami

♡ Sexy man, sexy voice, sexy piercings

✘ Ugly outfit, and wasted potential

Ryoma Hoshi

♡ I respect him and feel bad for his outlook on life and for how poorly he views himself. I love his little hat as well and he’s the first “different styled” character (Hifumi, Bandai, Teruteru) that I liked the design of.

✘ I hate when he says “got a long ways to go,” it’s overused and annoying, and wish he gave himself more credit. Also hate that when you first meet him he warns you that he’s killed people and is dangerous to be around. Come on buddy, you know you wouldn’t hurt your friends. Stop pushing them away.

Kirumi Tojo

♡ Competence, well rounded, skillful

✘ Boring as hell. I wouldn’t waste one free time event on her.

Angie Yonaga

♡ Dark skin, super cute, love her talent as an artist myself.

✘ Gives religious people a bad name and is super manipulative which I hate.

Tenko Chabashira

♡ I relate to her and feel bad when she’s misunderstood. She’s a good person deep down. Also love her sprites.

✘ There’s more cunning, funny and clever ways to write her digs at men.

Korekiyo Shunguuji

♡ I’m in love with this man. Long hair, voice, mystery, mask, intelligence, passion, talent.

✘ He definitely was a victim of abuse and a lot of people refuse to see that and just hate him. Team Danganronpa should’ve given him a redemption arc where he realized his sister abused him and changed.

Gonta Gokuhara

♡ I love his design except for his suit. Also he’s so cute and naive. I cried for his trail.

✘ No need talk like caveman. Better way to do this.

Kokichi Ouma

♡ Like Nagito, I value his intelligence and crazy cunning.

✘ Shouldn't have died. Also shouldn’t have manipulated Gonta. That was just cruel.

Miu Iruma

♡ She has her hilarious moments and her death surprised me and was sad.

✘ Sometimes she lacks basic empathy, i.e. calling Tenko “Tencrotch” when she just fucking died.

Maki Harukawa

♡ Amazing character development. Didn’t see her surviving until the end at the start. Also her love and passion for Kaito.

✘ “Do you wanna die?” gets old.

Kaito Momota

♡ Just the overall best bro you could ever have.

✘ Has some toxic masculinity issues and anger issues.

K1-B0

♡ Pretty much everything about him. His design, his attitude and personality, especially how amazing and cool he is chapter 5 onward, his execution made me so sad. He’s so innocent and funny without trying.

✘ When you do his free time events he’s very arrogant and just talks about himself a lot... it seems odd and not similar to the Kiibo we see throughout the game.

Himiko Yumeno

♡ Super cute design, love her voice and “Nyeh...” and her sprites. Her character development is great as well.

✘ Why did they take so long to make her important and likable?

Tsumugi Shirogane

♡ An excellent and well hidden reveal

✘ I hate her. So annoying, from the voice to the references and her personality.