#but what does he want? he wants the same thing she wants. love and companionship. (that he hasn't yet ruined. that he can't stop ruining.) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

irndad · 1 year

Text

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair.

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind.

But he wanted her.

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her.

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life.

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure.

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question.

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness.

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility.

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists.

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his.

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up.

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way.

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time.

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.”

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete.

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers?

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him.

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy.

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded.

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please.

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god.

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again.

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality.

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does.

Ben, is not in fact, going away.

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore.

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.

But her cup says Ben.

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have.

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes.

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison.

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is.

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.”

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition.

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess.

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile.

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp.

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.”

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his.

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company.

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it.

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem.

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben.

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face.

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights.

Ironic, really.

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself.

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering.

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known.

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for.

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this.

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold.

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to.

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from.

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass.

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time.

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation.

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot.

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together.

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting.

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance?

Wasn’t it romance, though?

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror.

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks.

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry.

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment.

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire.

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her.

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion.

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him.

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness. “There was never anyone else to pick.”

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

3K notes · View notes

sindar-princeling · 2 years

Text

between the newsletter’s entry where we learn the ponies are okay, me picking apart rings of power and analysing why it doesn’t fully feel like tolkien, and this one gifset of frodo and sam i reblogged, i felt like i finally have to gather my thoughts regarding what makes tolkien tolkien

and while there are many things that do, i’d argue that the most special one is its earnestness.

characters in LOTR care unabashedly, with all their hearts, and love so easily, whether it’s platonic, familial or romantic.

the hobbits feel like the most obvious example - merry, pippin and sam follow frodo for as long as they’re able; their loyalty goes deep to their bones, and their relationships are so full of trust, joy, devotion, fondness.

but all of LOTR is just more examples of the same thing. after the war legolas spends the rest of his life in middle-earth with gimli - they travel together for over a hundred years - and then he decides he won’t just say goodbye when gimli dies! and he does something that hasn’t been done before and just takes gimli to valinor, but not before aragorn dies. because they both loved him, too. faramir asks “do you not love me, eowyn?“ and she realises she does, and he says he’ll marry her and they’ll grow a garden and heal, and he kisses her even though everyone can see them. sam loves frodo, and he loves rosie, and he spends his life with her, then joins frodo in the undying lands after she dies.

and it shines through in the movies, too! it’s thanks to both the direction and the acting skills of the cast, of course, that so, so often all emotions are on full display - whenever sam and frodo interact, when aragorn kisses boromir’s forehead, when the hobbits say goodbye at the grey havens, when pippin finds merry at the battlefield, the way gandalf reacts when frodo says he’ll go to mordor, the way theoden breaks down at his son’s grave, the way he cares about eowyn like she’s his own child, the way eomer reacts when he finds eowyn and thinks she’s dead. those are just examples off the top of my head.

it’s also very special to me because in many fictional works (not only in fantasy) people just aren’t allowed to be that open - mostly men, but not exclusively - meanwhile this earnestness is something i always look for in fiction.

it stands out especially if you consider some fantasy creators (not naming any names but you know who i mean ajsjdjfjf) saying they “just want to reflect the misogyny of the period” (which is just bullshit and also demeaning to people of all genders in so many ways), because while LOTR is heavily male-dominated, tolkien managed to do something very, very interesting and important there.

he says, “war is the province of men”, but it doesn’t mean you’re supposed to want to be there. you’re not supposed to want to go to battle, suffer and/or die. eomer wants eowyn to stay home because he loves her, and couldn’t stand to see her die in a cruel, gruesome way (and when he thinks she’s dead, it’s the most devastating display of grief in the whole movie trilogy).

the heroes go to war because there are things that need defending, and dying for a noble cause is honorable, but again - it’s about defending, not about fighting. the clearest villains of LOTR are people who want the war to happen. many of the heroes, most of whom are men, just want peace for their people, want companionship (one of the first things aragorn says to the hobbits is that he’d be happy to have more friends, because being a ranger means he’s lonely), or want a good meal and a good drink like the hobbits. they want comfort and warmth. they want to finish a book like bilbo. they want to live in a garden among all things that live and grow like faramir. they want to marry and have a home and kids like sam.

and the things is, it’s not always that common in fiction, but it’s absolutely common, you know. IN REAL LIFE? BECAUSE MEN ARE PEOPLE? so it’s just really good to have tolkien absolutely divorce masculinity in his works from how his characters show emotions, or how much comfort they crave. and that is a realistic approach i’m interested in.

3K notes · View notes

justpoliteconversations · 2 months

Text

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 3)

The house does not make a home, but a home can make a man.

The trash pile has grown again. It's spilling out of the bin.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

The house is bigger than you remember it being from the game. For one, there's a sectioned off washroom hidden partially under the loft stairs and a full kitchen area in the left rear of the house. The ceiling is also ridiculously high for a one story (technically two) house, but you let that detail slide. It's to your- Link's, benefit, after all.

Another thing, upgrades are not offered automatically here. Though that should've been obvious in hindsight and you're a bit embarrassed to admit it'd slipped your mind. Most people would decorate and furnish their own homes with either their old furniture or newly bought.

That's what the many, many shops the game never had reason to show were for, after all.

Therein led to your current dilemma.

Practicality or comfort? The large thin rug with dark patterns, or a smaller plush one with elegant designs embroidered at the edges? Red covers? Blue, white, gray? All of them perhaps? Maybe just three?

Does Link prefer cast iron or the wok? Steel forks or maybe chop sticks? A full set of pots and pans, or just two or three good ones for repeated use? Which set of knives? The specialty set or a general use one?

Should the loft have a rug too? Should you get both? Should you get three? What about the washroom?

Towels? A vase...

Dumb idea. No vases.

Should there be two beds? When Link frees Zelda from the castle, surely the poor woman won't be made to live there in that festering monster's nest of a ruin. And having been trapped there for a century as the world outside moved forward (after having been royalty nonetheless), would she even know how to live on her own?

Would it be presumptuous of you to already set up for her arrival before Link even properly remembered who she was? You didn't want to make Link feel obligated to fufill your assumptions like that. He already had so much on his shoulders. He didn't need you to add more.

So, only one bed. Sheets?

"Jus' get them all, ya cluckin' mother cucco." Adino snapped waspishly, thin brows pulled down into a severe looking glare. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall closest to the 'Odds and Ends' shop's door, pointedly.

You barely spared him a glance, used to his attitude after having known him for nearly three years. And honestly, it was all for show anyway. Adino loved shopping with you, but the spiteful little shit would never admit it. Even under pain of death.

'Jus' making sure the walkin' rupee bag doesn't fall dead to an ill fated breeze.' He'd snark if ever questioned why he was following you around on his days off.

Lies, of course. The truth is he's lonely. So very lonely and too hurt yet to reach out to anyone else for companionship.

The man he'd called father for 14 years of his short life suddenly throws him out of the only home he'd known with barely the clothes on his back. All after finding out his recently departed wife had been having affairs. And the kicker, the bastard claims he supposedly doesn't even know if Adino's his or not (despite them having the exact same eyes and brows).

It'd been convenient though, you'd give him that. Just washed his hands of the situation entirely. Started fresh with a new wife and got rid of the unnaturally (Adino had parroted coldly, like a curse and a confession breathed in the same breath) effeminate son that may or may not be his.

No stings attached. Just living comfortably on his late wife's family property and shacking up with her younger sister.

And that abandoned son running, running, running across Hyrule. Until he dropped right outside of Hateno, quiet and hurting and nearly driven mad with hateful, writhing loathing.

You pull yourself from those thoughts. It's not your business. Adino may have shared that information with you during his mandatory background check, but that doesn't mean it's any of your business.

Even if the boy is living with you, and has been for the last three years.

(Even if you already ruined that man's fletching business. Even if you never told Adino why that man'd taken a very long walk off a very tall cliff.

Even if Adino knew and left flowers on your desk every year on that day ever since.)

"I'll take them all. As well as the rugs, towels and curtains, please. Oh. And that tapestry. Yes. The one with the apples."

Adino snorted, rolling his eyes, and you smiled. A merchant's got to advertise wherever possible, after all.

The older, greying woman behind the counter nodded, glancing over to two younger women (her granddaughters, twins and five years orphaned. turned 17 last Fall) waiting unobtrusively near the back of the shop. They didn't need any more instruction than that, swiftly gathering your choices and folding them into neatly wrapped bundles.

You swear this family had to have some sheikah blood in them somewhere. Even if they had pitch black hair and the darkest grey eyes you've ever seen. They were just too quiet and efficient to be normal Hyrulians. (And were little known for their discretion above all else.)

You tipped the women for thier help. They thanked you with a quiet tilt of their perfectly kept heads, before returning to their preferred corner in the far back.

You didn't bother to barter with this woman. You paid full price for everything, and then tipped her too.

Four gold rupees. And a note, which she took with a nod and a knowing glint in her eyes.

(Because they were known for their discretion, and you appreciated that more than anything.

You knew she understood the flowers you left on her desk every year on the same day.

And you knew she'd understand this too.)

You left, but not before catching one of the twins (the one with the blue head cloth and lip rouge) staring longingly after Adino's back as he marched from the store in a dramatic huff. Her sister hiding a probable grin behind her red painted hand.

'Interesting. But not my problem.'

---

Link looked up the curved path to Hateno's guarded gate as he sheathed his guardian sword, the black mist of two hopelessly mangled bodies blowing away in the strong mountainside winds. Further back still was the semi-conscious groan of a young woman surrounded by fallen mushrooms.

Link ignored her slowly rising form, having checked her vitals earlier before being ambushed by a pair of bokoblins. He knew she'd be fine, and honestly, if she was sneaking around monster infested forests for mushrooms (Link could still hear the snorting of the beasts further past the treeline) then she must be able to take a hit or two and come out okay.

She must have had the same thoughts because she merely dusted herself off, picked up her fallen produce and made for the trees once more. Barely sparing Link a backwards wave before disappearing into the thick underbrush.

Link blinked after her. And sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

So. That happened.

Link let it roll off his back easily enough. He had more important issues to deal with. Such as was it appropriate for him to just show up at your (and now his) doorstep fresh from the road and smelling every bit of it.

He discreetly sniffed under his arm and grimaced.

Surely you'd understand. You and him were connected after all, and you knew his name and knew he'd be coming to Hateno. A little roadside reek shouldn't be a big surprise.

Yet. He couldn't shake the self-consciousness. The irrational fear that you'd look at him and expect more than what you got.

Like that old man who was actually a dead person. Like that Impa woman, and everyone in that little village she lived in.

For how quickly he'd steamrolled through the untamed wilds of Hyrule just to meet you, he was oddly reluctant to continue now that he was at your metaphoric (and soon literal) doorstep.

He glanced down at himself, taking himself in with a critical eye.

The Sheikah armor he wore (it had been under 10,000 rupees, he checked) was covered in dust, grim and the unflattering stains of sweat, dried bloody drool (from that unfortunate incident with the bokoblin horse), grass and meat grease. His hair was so filthy it was nearly brown despite that equally unfortunate incident with the octorok having put him in the water several times (strong inconsistent winds make aiming bows hard, he'd discovered).

Hopefully you wouldn't be disgusted. He hoped you understood that he wasn't- well-

He wasn't who he used to be. Apparently.

"Link." A flat voice called out, and Link nearly jumped to attention at the unexpected interruption. He nearly reached for his sword too, before he stopped himself.

When Link looked up and met dark gray eyes, his heart started to tightened.

'Is that you, AM?' His eyes asked earnestly, wide and round with quiet searching. For recognition. For understanding. For anything at all.

Instead he got a slow, dispassionate blink and confusion as the woman spoke into the silence between them. "AM instructed me to lead you home, Master Link."

Link pointed to himself. "Master?" He rasped out quietly, voice rough and unpleasant even to his own ears. Nothing to say for the pain it caused at the base of his throat.

Without missing a beat the young woman nodded once, the blue bandana holding her dark hair back catching slightly in the wind. Blue painted lips barely moving as she said. "Yes. I will explain more once we arrive at your home."

Link nodded, still uncertain but trusting enough of this strange woman who knew the name (Alis? Nickname? Title, perhaps?) of his sheikah slate partner.

Tomorrow, he would be given a small journal detailing many of the dangers and wonders of this beautiful, wild world he now lived in. And he wouldn't be so trusting anymore.

And he'd have bananas, apparently. So many bananas.

But that's for tomorrow. Today?

Today was the first time he walked across the old, but sturdy footbridge. The first time he glanced over at the shrine glowing faintly to his left, peeking from behind a small cluster of buildings.

It was the first day he stood on the threshold of his (and your) new home. The first time since awakening he felt the beginning of heartbreak as he realized you were not there to greet him. That you would not be living with him. Ever.

('For now,' He thought in quiet defiance.)

And the first time since he opened his eyes in that dark, eerily glowing shrine he felt loved. When his eyes adjusted to the darker light of the house and found a home waiting for him.

Not just an empty building with four walls and a bed, but a rug with pretty dark patterns under a heavy wooden table. A bowl of apples at its center, with thick candles at either side. An intricately sewn tablecloth just slightly hanging over the sides in delicate little weaves.

He felt loved when he walked around the front room, boot-heavy steps thumping softly on polished hardwood floors, slowly taking in the space (the blue woman waiting patiently at the door). The small wooden sculptures upon carefully arranged tables, cute and quirky banners and tapestries brightening up the dimly lit room (one was slightly lower than the rest, another was slightly off-center, and Link felt warm at the imperfections). Sunflowers, a bird, a rock formation, an apple tree, a cat with a bell.

A sword and shield rack. Two armor stands. A few weapon's plaque hanging above them.

The food in the kitchen pantry. Completely unnecessary, but for the way it made Link feel. The way it made his throat tighten and itch. The thought that this was put here because it was meant to be his home.

And so much more. So many things he couldn't even remember the uses for. So many bits and pieces that slot together into the jumbled mess that is a home. It was more than he had the heart to acknowledge without weeping.

Noticing his brewing turmoil, the blue woman spoke. "Perhaps a bath and bed before we speak of business. AM said you may be tired when you arrived."

Link nodded, unwilling to speak and risk his voice breaking entirely. Instead he allowed himself to be led to the washroom, holding back tears when he found bottles of sweet smelling soaps and hair cleansers on a small table beside a stool above a drain. A tub beside it all, shaped like a bowl but with a drain at the bottom and a water spout at the rim.

He looked to the blue woman, overwhelmed and dazed by the strength of his emotions.

Something in her softened at his lost expression. "Let me bath you, Master Link." She said, keeping her voice even, though her dark eyes were gentle. "Just until you learn how to do it yourself."

Link nodded. Quiet and trusting in his vulnerability.

She helped him undress. She made him sit on the stool as she gathered what she needed.

Her hands were so, so gentle as they brought a warm, wet towel over his dirtied, battered skin.

He nearly fell into a doze twice as she washed his hair three times until the suds came off white. He was only minimally aware of the strong (deceptively strong) hands that helped him into the tub. He nearly slumped into the side of the bowl, body completely lax within the warm, welcoming water.

He opened his eyes from one blink to the next and blankets (thick and soft, smelling of fresh soaps and linen) were being drawn over his shoulders. The pillow beneath him gave under the weight of his head, as did the mattress he laid upon.

Every part of him felt warm and soft and safe. He smelt like flowers and sweet nuts, his skin felt clean and supple under the tender caress of his nightclothes. The further dimming lights eased him further down into slumber.

"Rest well, Master Link. I will guard you as you sleep."

Link couldn't even bring himself to respond, lost as he was to the call to nothingness.

He was lost not long after.

"One day." The blue woman said softly, sitting beside the unconscious man with an amused smile. "I will teach you to identify sleeping oils before they reach you. But not tonight. For tonight you sleep. Tomorrow, you will learn to be wary."

She wiped her delicate finger tips across his relaxed forehead, a slight sheen left in their wake.

"Sweet dreams, Courageous One."

---

Link,

I apologize that I could not be there to greet you properly. However, after careful consideration I decided it would be safest for our paths to remain separate at this time.

Herein this text, you will find all relevant information I've amassed over the years regarding our world and the dangers within it. Including, but not limited to, the continued threat of the Yiga clan.

May you never have to make use of the less savory of this knowledge.

Yours truly,

---

To the shadows I return.

#botw link #isekai reader #link x reader #link x you #botw x reader

227 notes · View notes

ya9amicide · 1 year

Text

Redamancy [BTS]

chapter two

♡ info ♡ k-pop masterlist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Hybrids were accepted in society to a certain degree. To some, they are for entertainment. Used as sex and money tools. To lock up and abuse whenever and however they please. Something to have control over. To others, they are companions. Just like regular animals are used for therapy or simply companionship, hybrids are too.

To the rest, they are just like everyone else. Someone with their own life who deserves the same freedoms as your everyday John or Jane Doe. Wren is one of these people. She hates the idea of owning a hybrid. She has nothing against those who own them for medical or companionship reasons. Just the rest.

But, when a ragtag pack of seven mismatched hybrids somehow ends up in the woods behind her home, she takes them in and does the one thing she never thought she would do. Own them. But, she also does something she didn't even think was possible. She fell in love with each and every one of them.

pairing(s): ot7 x ot7, ot7 x oc

warnings: none

taglist: @frieschan || @writingwithmai || @osakis-gf || @hiefisch

Although I knew there were seven of them, it was no less shocking or intimidating now that they were standing in front of me. It was clear that they were all a different species which is shocking as most of the time, packs with both predator and prey hybrids don’t mesh well.

Some were hiding behind others. The ones in front did not look happy with the situation…understandably.

“Hello,” I say, observing how some of their ears twitched at the sound of my voice. “I was going to feed…I’m sorry I never got your name.” I turn my attention to the German Shepherd I welcomed in earlier.

“Hoseok,” he says.

I smile and he shifts on his feet. “I was going to feed Hoseok and offer a place to sleep while the storm is raging outside. He told me there were more of you so I thought I’d offer the same to you as well.”

One of the hybrids in the front watches me. He has shaggy gray ears and a tail to match. “Why?” He asks, tone flat and voice low.

“Do I…need a reason?” I ask and he narrows his eyes and I sigh. “Because you shouldn’t have to sleep outside in a storm like this. You shouldn't have to sleep outside at all to begin with.” They still just stand there. “I’m going to get some more towels so you can dry off. If you’re here when I get back, I’ll assume you accept my offer, and if not…” I take my leave then.

When I get back, I make a move closer to them with a stack of towels, and they shuffle backwards, some letting out low growls. I freeze, body tensing. Without taking my eyes off of them, I slowly place the towels on a side table by the couch. “Feel free to sit in the living room or the kitchen. Once we get some food in you I can show you to the showers and the bedrooms. You can take some of my brother’s clothes in the meantime.”

Moving into the kitchen to make more food, I don’t hear anything from the other room for a few minutes. Then there’s shuffling and I know they’re drying off. From what I can tell, they are all staying in there.

However, when I turn around to start bringing food to the kitchen table, I see the tall hybrid with the shaggy gray fur and I jump. “Motherfu–,” I slam my hand over my mouth before I finish the word. I’m sure he can hear the erratic beating of my heart.

His mouth twitches slightly. “Sorry.”

I wave him off after my heart calms down a little. “You’re fine. I just didn’t hear you coming in so I wasn’t expecting to see someone when I turned around. Would you mind bringing everyone to the table, please?” He nods and walks off.

I set all of the food out and notice that they are all standing off to the side, watching me. “...You can sit down.”

“Anywhere?” The small cat hybrid in the back says, moving to stand behind the others when my gaze turns to him.

I tilt my head slightly in confusion. “Of course, anywhere! I don’t have a preference so pick whichever spot you want.”

The predator hybrids seem to surround the prey around the table. The only spot left is by the shaggy gray one from before. It seems they want to protect the others from me should I try something.

They all wait for me to start filling my plate before they do the same. “So, I know Hoseok’s name. Can I know the rest? Also, I’m not really the best at identifying hybrids so if you’re comfortable I’d like to know what kind of hybrid you are.”

Hoseok is the first to speak up, still nervous, but clearly more comfortable with me than the rest because of our previous interaction. “German Shepherd,” he says, which makes sense as soon as he says it. His ears and tail are full of deep brown fur, both a bit wild from the conditions outside.

“Yoongi,” another one of them says, his tone and stare both cold, “Russian Blue cat.” It’s short and dirty, but it’s clear to see that his fur is a silvery gray color.

The small cat from before sits next to him, gripping his sleeve tightly. “Jimin…I’m a Calico.” His voice is timid and he avoids looking at me. His fur is a beautiful patchwork of black, orange and white.

One of the tallest ones speaks next, his tiny white ears barely visible through his hair. “I’m Seokjin,” his voice is quiet and kind. “I’m a ferret.”

“I’m Jungkook! I’m a rabbit,” one of the younger boys says. It’s then that I can hear the sound of thumping on the ground. His foot is tapping in excitement and he gives me a bright, but still nervous smile. I smile kindly at him and his eyes twinkle.

The big hybrid from before leans back in his seat next to me. “I’m a wolf,” he says and then pauses, as if waiting to see if I would run away in fear at this. I simply raise a questioning eyebrow in response and he smirks again. “My name is Namjoon.”

I finally turn my attention to the last hybrid and almost jolt when his striking feline eyes meet mine. They’re half lidded and observant. “Hello,” his voice is deep and echoes throughout the room. “My name is Taehyung, I’m a tiger.” He grins wickedly.

“I thought packs with predator and prey hybrids don’t usually work?” I ask.

“Most of us have been together since we were young,” Namjoon says. “Under the right circumstances bonds like ours can work.” His tone is suggestive when he talks about how they came together. It’s dark and angry. Clearly, the circumstances weren’t good ones.

The bunny is still bouncing his foot in anticipation under the table. “What’s your name?” He asks.

“I’m Wren,” I say, taking another bite of food.

“What do you do, Wren?” Yoongi asks in a purr. He leans forward, tone sly.

My gaze turns fond. “I’m a writer when I want to be but a professor everyday in between.” I love what I do. Most days I get to teach people about Greek mythology, something I’ve held a big interest in since I was little. And in between all of that, I get to write books about things from the deep recesses of my mind that others get to eventually enjoy.

“How did you guys end up out in the storm?” I ask. They all shift uncomfortably, those who were previously comfortable now retreated back into themselves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Namjoon waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. It’s a reasonable question. We’ve been out on the streets for a while now. All of us have rotated to and from different owners and shelters since we were young. That’s how we met each other. We all eventually ended up on the streets and just stuck together after that.”

It was safe to say that after that, the lighthearted mood was gone.

When everyone finished eating, I guided them upstairs to the different bedrooms and bathrooms. “Here are some clothes. They should fit relatively well,” I hand them each a pile of clothes to choose from. “They’re my brothers. He used to live with me but when he moved out he left some stuff behind. There are towels and toiletries in the cabinets. You all can choose between any of the bedrooms except mine of course. So, any room besides the last one on the right is free reign. If you get hungry feel free to raid the kitchen, I just ask that you clean up any messes you make.”

I watch them all shuffle where they stand. I blow out a breath of air and awkwardly rock on my heels. “Well, if you need anything don’t be afraid to come ask. I have nothing going on tomorrow so don’t be afraid to wake me. All I ask is that you knock before you come into my room.” Knowing they won’t give me any further answers, I walk down the hall to my room. Giving them one last look over my shoulder, I quietly close the door behind me.

#𐙚 sfw !#bts #poly bts x reader #hybrid bts #poly bts #bts x oc #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #min yoongi #park jimim #jeon jungkook

466 notes · View notes

prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 8 months

Text

UGH SO MUCH GOING ON HERE!!!!

the fact that mina knows his notebook might have a clue to what the fuck went down, because she knows jonathan and is familiar with his journaling habits (not everyone carries notebooks for the same reason)

the way he has such an intense response to the idea of mina reading it that he asks for a moment to think it over, and the fact that she gives it to him even though she’s been dying to talk to him for months - it puts me in mind of that rilke quote about lovers being the guardians of each other’s solitude, and brings home even more the horror of his time in the castle - mina offers him both companionship and privacy, while in the castle he was hideously alone and yet without even the solace of privacy (except in his modernly-shorthanded notebook, making its existential weight even more fraught)

he hasn’t called her by her full name since they got engaged ;-;

they’ve already talked about what the relationship should be between a husband and a wife and i actually love that jonathan phrases his belief in the all-important nature of marital trust as a matter of general principle rather than as an outgrowth of his specific feelings about mina, because it (miraculously) both speaks highly to his character (his thoughtful nature, his moral seriousness) and makes him feel like such a lil lawyer - and it also does demonstrate the strength of their relationship because you can see that the notebook makes him deeply uncomfortable even in mina’s presence (as is extremely understandable given what it contains and what happened to him), but he’s willing to wrestle with that discomfort and the discomfort of knowing she might read it because he’s promised to be her husband and he’s going to do it fucking right

the decision to expedite the wedding date to Right The Fuck Now… hot. mina saw her bf lying in bed barely restored to sanity a shadow of her former self and was like I Need To Do Him Immediately I Cannot Wait Even One More Day. (also the romance of they don’t even know if jonathan can go back to lawyering anytime soon etc etc yes yes but shh let me be horny 🤫)

it’s not that jonathan thinks he went crazy, it’s that he doesn’t KNOW if he went crazy or not, and he doesn’t want to know because both options are so devastating and horrifying, but not knowing is also horrifying in its own way (which is all so rich and i will almost definitely return to) - but what he knows is that he loves mina and mina is here and that’s enough for him to build the rest of his life on

the incredible show of complete and total trust when he gives her the notebook - not just that she trusts her with the most vulnerable thing he possibly could (an annotated guide to his trauma basically), but that he trusts her judgment (her wisdom, her ethics, her intelligence) to decide what might need to be done in the future - he tells her what he wants and gives her the book and now that she has all the facts at her disposal he accepts any choice she might make

ok and then the sealed-up notebook as wedding present… a beautiful show of trust and devotion in turn from mina that is ALSO a true hall of fame execution of dramatic irony by stoker, filling the reader with both and dismay because nooooo don’t seal up the vampire notes you’re gonna need those soon! (idk how it is in the original but the chronological format zooming straight from the wedding day to showing us dracula has found lucy again and things are getting worse… brutal!)

#dracula daily

238 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

V seems to be a.. fan of cats.. and you’ve mentioned how he would react to a clingy reader; but how would he react to a bubbly dog hybrid one?

(feel free to ignore! c: love your works!)

To say Vince wasn't a dog person would be an understatement to how deep his dislike ran. For his eight birthday, his nanny loaded him and his sister into the family car to pick up a present for the girl after she had a fit while he was unwrapping his gifts. Yet another day ruined by her need to be the center of attention. Vince knew there was no hope in regaining what little joy he had as soon as they left the arcade, but nothing could prepare him for the decade long torment awaiting him at the paws of what his sister chose as her prize.

Shadow. The beast was a rottweiler a head taller than him standing up. V had always been a late bloomer, so it was easy for the dog to pin him whenever it decided he was in need of its affection which was more frequent than he would have liked. It seemed to like him more than its owner if not taking pleasure in his screams. A drooling, lumbering pile of fur he had no escape from exceplockedck in his room like most of his troubles. Living with Shadow until his parents finally let him move out thoroughly tarnished his outlook on dogs no matter the breed. He swore to himself that in a place of his own not one dog would ever make it past the front door.

"V, welcome back!"

But he was well known for changing his mind at the drop of a dime.

V drops his things and braces himself against the doorframe as you leap from the couch and into his arms, squeezing the air from his chest as you pounce putting all your weight behind it. He helps your legs around his waist and waddles over to the couch where he collapses on the cushions still cradling you to his chest. He kisses the ear posed in range near his lips and lifts you briefly to free your wagging tail from being pin down to his leg. He snuggles into your fur, inhaling your calming scent.

"Missed you..."

The tag attached your collar rattles with the bark of your laughter. "That's usually my line! You were only gone about ten minutes though.."

V's desire for a roommate were far from innocent or a need for cash. The various odd jobs he did online, and the money his parents poured into their adult children left him well off, but he needed something that money couldn't buy - in a realistic sense. With previous quests for companionship falling short the next best option to him was finding a roommate who'd he could get to fall for him one way or another. In his mind, romance was a guarantee being in such close proximity to another person. The perfect crime..til it you showed up.

Seeing a hybrid of the same animal he'd grown to hate wasn't how he planned for his weekend to go. You appeared with no warning and nothing in hand but first month's rent, a backpack, and a print out of his ad. Just like with Shadow and his food your sob story and puppy eyes made it hard for him to turn you away. He let you sleep on the couch with the notion that you would be out by morning. It took that exact amount of time for him to never want you to leave his side.

"Does that mean you didn't miss me too?"

The gasp that tears through you catches him off guard. You're offended he even asked something like that. "Of course I did! I just didn't want to tell you this time since you came back so soon.."

It takes all of V not to kiss you. That overbearing need for attention and affection transfered quite well into a hybrid of your class. V despised physical contact depending on the day, but he couldn't resist taking you in his arms whenever you came to him. The shedding was tolerable too since it meant you found comfort in his bed and your scent would be left behind when it was time for him to wind down.

"But what if I like you missing me? What if that's the only thing that wakes me up every morning and coming home whenever I have toleave?"

"That's a good question... Guess I'll just have to prove how much I miss you go." Your claws in his jacket, you unleash all your pent up energy in the wet kisses you leave along his neck, face and jaw. V humbly accepts your display sneaking some of his own. He was still on how he felt about others, but when it came to you he was proud to say he was a dog person.

#V my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #hybrid reader

454 notes · View notes

unbeifonged · 26 days

Text

as much as i’d love to believe that all of tenzin’s need to rebuild the air nation is self inflicted, i don’t see a universe where aang wouldn’t have, possibly subconsciously, created or fed into that need.

rebuilding the air nation was the most important thing to aang, that was clear to everyone who knew him, especially his son, the only person who could actually help aang realise that dream. while it might never have been said explicitly, tenzin knew from a young age the only way he could have anyone like him other than his father in this world was to have children.

i do not think, in any way, aang (or katara) would have ever told tenzin he had to have children. but, i do think it was in some ways expected from him since he was young.

after tenzin and lin had been together for a while, assuming lin’s aversion to motherhood was known already, i do think aang would have changed his expectations and come to peace with tenzin being potentially the last ever airbender, but that process would have come with a lot of grief. tenzin would have already been two decades deep in the loneliness of being an airbender, and aware his father won’t live forever, and so would likely have always wanted children of his own throughout his relationship with lin.

on a related note, demonising pema for her relationship with tenzin is completely and utterly ridiculous. tenzin was probably telling the truth when he said he and lin’s relationship was spiralling downhill. of course he would find companionship and friendship with an acolyte engrossed in his culture (that he is now the last member of), and find himself drifting from someone he cares deeply for but is not after the same things in life as him. when pema talks to korra about her relationship with tenzin starting, of course she’s not going to bring up lin’s obsession with career, or aangs passing and the grief associated, or tenzin’s unending loneliness in the world, just that she saw tenzin’s relationship was going to end horribly no matter what and she cared about him. (EVERYONE WHO SPENT ANY TIME AROUND LIN AND TENZIN PROBABLY KNEW THEIR TIME WAS UP. THEY ARE BOTH EMOTIONAL PEOPLE. A STRAGGLING RELATIONSHIP AND MUTUAL UNHAPPINESS IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE TO SPOT).

anyways. it does not make aang a bad parent for hoping tenzin will bring more airbenders into the world. it does not make pema a homewrecker for dating a man after a messy (& very public) breakup.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

ps. read inheriting the wind by acommondator on ao3 it is beautiful!!!!

#is this comprehensable?? idk #pema defender for life #lin defender for life #tenzin defender for life #i love tjem all!!!!!#tenzin #tenzin tlok #lin beifong #aang #avatar aang #katara #the legend of korra #tlok #avatar the last airbender #tlok meta #atla meta

39 notes · View notes

homuraakemis · 3 months

Text

I have a lot of feelings about Jonas and Alt-Martha. There's always a certain angst between them, considering that she is not "his Martha". Eva herself tells Jonas that it took her a long time to accept that Jonas would always choose his Martha over her. However, I think neither of them realizes just how much both versions of Jonas did love Alt-Martha.

When Jonas enters Eva's world and talks to Eva or Stranger!Martha, he clearly says he wants to go to his world and try to save his Martha. But when he is with younger Alt-Martha, you can see it in his eyes how he can't stop himself from also having feelings for her. He is clearly shaken, he can't tear his eyes away from her in school, he goes to her rehearsal and you can see he is visibly upset about seeing her with Kilian, you can see the way he looks at her when they are under the bridge, the way he is concerned about her when she storms off into the desert, and you can see the love in his eyes in the scene where they finally kiss and have sex.

Then, he has the nightmare about his Martha. I think this nightmare both shows his grief about recently having lost her, but also his guilt about the fact that he is clearly growing to have feelings for this other Martha, as if he feels like he is betraying his Martha. After this nightmare, you can see he tries to distance himself from Alt-Martha, he tries to be all business about having to go to the power plant, he tells her that he is wrong here, and all that (but he still can't help but reciprocate when she kisses him).

But then when they're back at Eva's headquarters and he is shot, I think you can see how much he regretted having pulled away from her. With his last strength, he tries to caress her face and gives her his super significant Saint Christopher medallion, something he wouldn't just give to anyone, something that symbolized the same love he had for his Martha. I think at this moment, he is probably thinking that he regrets making her feel like he didn't love her enough or making her think that their night together didn't mean anything to him. With his last strength, as he is dying, he tries to tell her that yes, he did love her and she does mean something to him.

And then you have Stranger!Jonas and Adam. Stranger!Jonas clearly distrusts her, he doesn't want to let himself feel anything for her. But when she tells him about how she can't hope but believe she can change things and grabs his arms, you can see how he is both cynical and sympathetic, because she reminds him of his younger self. Then she gives him the substance and you can see the hope return to his eyes a little, all because of her, that maybe he can have the companionship of this new Martha, only to be crushed when she abandons him. But then, years later, as Adam, he realizes that she never truly betrayed him. That she was there on his own orders, that she left him that day because she loved him and wanted to save him and believed that this is what she had to do. And when he's about to kill her to "destroy the origin", you see his hesitation and the tears in his eyes, because even though she is not his Martha, Adam can't help but love her as well.

Then, in the reality where Claudia interferes, what is the last thing Adam does? He goes to Eva, who is a version of Alt-Martha he hasn't even met (because he only met the one he killed), and tries to comfort her, caresses her face, and he is the one who reaches for her hand as they disappear.

Finally, we have the third version of Jonas that goes to the origin world. He also seems to quickly develop feelings for her, seems to be a little jealous of this other Jonas that she loved, and doesn't hesitate to tell her that they are perfect for each other.

I just love that no matter what world, no matter what version of Martha, Jonas can't help but love her. (This isn't meant to disregard Jonas' feelings for original Martha, by the way. I just wanted to point out how Jonas also loves Alt-Martha, even if it's never going to be the same as his love for his Martha).

#dark netflix #jonas kahnwald #martha nielsen #jonas x martha #my meta #my post.#i'm so obsessed with them right now #it's been a while since i had a new ship to obsess over. it feels good

35 notes · View notes

batrachised · 8 months

Text

inspired by the rubio quote on emily - I understand believing the LMM heroines leaving their ambitions behind is somewhat necessitated by the historical context, and I sympathize with those who would have preferred a different ending for Anne or Emily...but also (esp w Anne), I find it the line of thinking frustrating because (1) it's a false dichotomy that's (2) belied by the text imo and (3) somewhat dismissive of marriage as less than. Anne keeps writing after her marriage. She reads her poems aloud to her family and (iirc) inspires her children to do the same. Just because Emily is marrying Teddy doesn't mean she'll stop writing. The text gives us literally no reason to think that, and in fact explicitly states the opposite when Emily says that she has to write. No matter what, she has to write. If Anne, who doesn't demonstrate Emily's level of ambition, keeps writing, it's nearly laughable to think that Emily wouldn't.

What's especially frustrating is that repeatedly, LM Montgomery's stories focus on the importance of community and family in shaping, sourcing, and strengthening creativity. In Emily, it's explicitly stated that she couldn't have written her breakthrough novel if she had moved to New York and followed her ambitions as such. That's doesn't necessarily translate to romantic support, but romantic support is one form of that! Certainly, these heroines all have domestic endings; it's almost as if LM Montgomery's defining characteristic is finding beauty and power in domesticity, all while acknowledging domesticity doesn't exclude talent and ambition. Her thesis is that women can, and do, contain both. Anne can dream of handsome princes one day and publication the next because you know what--quite a lot of girls do! Emily can fiercely chase publication and long for companionship because you know what - that's the most human thing imaginable!

Acting as if marriage is an imprisonment or hindrance of some sort while LM Montgomery's heroes are marked by being supportive of their wives' talents and ambition (Gilbert is unthreatened by Anne's intelligence; Teddy understands Emily's ambition) ignores the major themes of the novels. It also fails to grapple with the historical barriers faced in a substantive or satisfying manner; it simply poo-poos the semi-requirement of marriage as the happy ending all while ignoring how radical the statements that first, women have ambitions and, second, their ideal partner would support those ambitions, were for the time.

The position also assumes that publication is the only legitimate form of success for writers, and similarly, "real" success requires recognition. It ignores the inherent value of creativity, inserts its own standards for success, all while ignoring what the heroines themselves state they want. Anne wanted marriage and babies; Emily is deeply lonely at the end of Emily's Quest and desires a companion who understands her. LM Montgomery actually directly addresses the idea that Gilbert stole Anne from her ambitions in TBAQ, and Anne laughs at the idea. For Emily, it's more understandable because she does value publication and is very ambitious, but that's where point number one comes in. Would the critics of her (admittedly rushed and slapdash) ending prefer that she stay alone surrounded by people who don't fully understand her? If anything, it's implied that Teddy will enhance Emily's creativity by providing the support she needs, and has in the past when he literally gives her the idea for her first novel, A Seller of Dreams.

I understand the cut and paste ending of "love husband marriage babies" can get to be tiring, especially when presented as the "right" path for women. I admit that the historical context - and pressure - here is impossible to ignore. After all, the examples I gave above are only legitimate to the extent LM Montgomery legitimized them; there could have easily have been a version of the story where Emily only succeeded because she moved to New York. Even LM Montgomery, as mentioned above, writes Gilbert explicitly saying that he regrets that he stole Anne's talent from the world. Sexism is definitely present in these novels. Still, the condescending tone when talking about these ending irks me. In the end, I guess I find the sainting of ambition as ridiculous as I find the sainting of marriage and babies as paths for women. One's as gross a simplification as the other.

At the end of the day as well, LM Montgomery writes slice of life novels based on the charm of rural PEI and local community. She focuses on the everyday purposefully. Complaining that she doesn't have heroines who move beyond domesticity (although really, she does with Sara Stanley) is like going to a pizza parlor and complaining when you get served pizza. Again, this only works to the extent that you agree with LM Montgomery's presentation - but there's something silly in complaining that her slice of life semi-romance novels from the late 1800s-early 1900s all end in marriage for the heroine.

#like sure some women love to stay single and chase their dreams and you know what that's awesome #i am literally one of them #not these women #there ya go #this has been my pounded out rant post i made on too little sleep so forgive any ridiculous logical holes #also women *can* have both #tho that of course opens a deeper can of worms about failure of support networks and unfair societal expectations #there's a whole watsonian and doylist discussion to be had here i know #as in on the watsonian level it's fine on the doylist you can question it more #but the implication is that a woman's character arc ending in marriage is inherently sexist with which i do not agree #emily of new moon #aogg #lm montgomery

70 notes · View notes

mulderscully · 1 year

Text

the way people talk about ten and martha's relationship is so narrow minded that it's starting to drive me insane. according to the fandom, either martha is the worst ever or the doctor is the worst ever when neither of those things are true. they're both good people who care about each other but aren't compatible for various reasons.

in season three the doctor is mourning rose. whether you like it or not he was in love with her. and in a sense, to him in that time, she JUST essentially died. i feel like people don't take into consideration how genuinely messed up he was at this time. in the runaway bride he almost killed himself, as we see in turn left: if donna hadn't stopped him he would have drowned. he was not in a good mental place.

martha meets the doctor and quickly develops a crush on him, which is understandable, and him "kissing" her doesn't help. but he is VERY clear with her that the kiss meant nothing, that it was a genetic transfer to protect her and that he was NOT interested in her - or in anyone. he knew he should not be traveling with anyone else at that point, but at the same time he needs companionship to stay sane.

i love martha, i genuinely think she is one of the best companions there is, but she is not very compassionate about the fact that the doctor has lost someone that he clearly loved very much. and ideally he should have been clearer about who rose was to him, but i feel like it's clear that it's obvious.

a lot of people give the doctor shit for "rose would know" comment and i do feel that comment was a hurtful thing to say, but he wasn't being intentionally malicious to martha here. he was just thinking about how rose would know what to say to comfort him because he was in love with her. not because martha isn't smart or capable or anything of that sort. does that make his comment okay? no! but intent matters.

he brings martha to new earth because he's missing rose and he wants to feel close to her in whatever way he can, and there is nothing inherently wrong with that since he had NO romantic intentions or feelings for martha. he made that exceedingly clear- she calls herself a rebound, but that doesn't make her one either.

did martha deserve better? of course. martha is put into many unfair situations, and there are a lot of things i think should have been done differently but the show never denies that the doctor was a dick to her. the show never denies that he hurt her by being too focused on his own grief and generally uncaring.

what makes martha's arc impactful is that it is realistic. i have been martha. a lot of us have! you love someone who doesn't love you the same way so you get hurt along the way. you convince yourself they COULD see you that way if x,y,z but they never do. at which point you have to realize you have to put yourself first and remove yourself from the situation. and that's important, that's powerful, that's part of the human experience.

martha grew as a character, she saved the world, she took her power back and became her best self because and despite what she went through in s3. by acting like she's just a helpless victim you do her character a great disservice by ignoring the person that she became.

and in turn the doctor grew and learned from that experience as well!

the doctor is allowed to be wrong, the companion is allowed to be wrong. sometimes at the same time. what a concept.

#dw

239 notes · View notes

stylesispunk · 9 months

Text

The great war | Part III |

"You drew up some good faith treaties I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone, you said I have to trust more freely but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire"

Part 1 , Part 2, part 4,part 5 | masterlist

(gif credits to its owner)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 2,8k>

series summary: After things fell apart it seemed that Joel and you were falling into pieces.

series warning: angst, established relationship (complicated though) hints to cheating, age gap (Reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), mentions of stillborn baby, please don't read if you feel it triggers.

A/n: I remind you that English is not my first language so please forgive any mistake. No proofreaded, sorry

During the following days, Joel made a great effort on giving Rhia the space she needed. He respected her wishes and retrained from reaching out constantly. It was incredibly difficult for him to keep doing it. They were under the same roof but not talking at all. What’s more, Ellie was the bridge of communication between them both and she was checking on both daily.

One night, Ellie found Joel sitting alone on the porch, staring at the moon. She approached him and sat beside him, offering companionship. “What’s on your mind, old man?” She asked.

“I miss her,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of pain. “I never told her this but I dreamt about her and the baby since the moment I knew she was pregnant” he took a deep breath “I told her I didn’t want to be a father and I took her with me during months in the danger, all that meanwhile she was carrying a baby” Joel looked at Ellie “You look after her better than me”

Ellie looked at him with a mix of sympathy.

“And when we finally arrived here, I thought a family could be possible, but you know what happened” his gaze still fixed on the moon.

“You know what Joel?” She said “I believe in love, even in this shitty world and you and Rhia were kind of disgusting” She smiled warmly at the memories she had of them.

Joel’s eyes flickered. There was hope in his heart.

In the middle of the night, Joel couldn’t sleep, so he went to the living room to distract himself with something else to do. Suddenly, Rhia entered to the room, her eyes widen at the sight of Joel there. She walked past him without a word, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Joel was unable to contain the tension, and followed her into the kitchen

“How are you?” He asked

Rhia tensed at the closeness of Joel; her hands trembled as she placed the glass of water on the counter “I’m fine” she replied, her voice steady “Just couldn’t sleep”

Joel nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pointing at her stomach.

Rhia instinctively, placed her hand over the scar, a mixture of emotions crossing her mind, the knife, the wound, her daughter who used to be there.

“It’s healing” she replied, shortly

“I’m sorry” Joel whispered, guilt gnawing at him

“For what? Leaving me alone, saying those hurtful things or for your friend” she said asked, voice lace with sarcasm.

Joel took a deep breath “Everything”

Rhia looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and disappointment. “You should have told me” She whispered “Shit I know I was-am sad, and I will be for a long time, but you avoiding me…I know I did push you away too, but you should have talked to me, not her”

“I can’t change what I did” he said, his voice breaking “But we can work on us together?”

Rhia’s heart softened as she looked into Joel’s eyes, seeing the pain he also carried.

Rhia reached out to touch his hand but before she could even do it, she stepped back and crossed her arms trying to steady herself “I know” Rhia took a deep breath “I want to believe you. I do believe you, but words are not enough”

Joel nodded at her.

“You know? I think it would be better for me if stay in another place...-

“No, Rhia…Ellie would kill me” he interrupted.

“Joel…I think is weird for us to be living in the same house when we’re not together” she said

“I’ll move out. I could stay at Tommy’s…Please just stay here, at least for Ellie” he pleaded. “You should go back to sleep”

Rhia nodded, offering him a small smile “I’ll try”

Rhia turned to leave the kitchen, and as she reached the doorway, she turned back to look back at Joel. She decided not to say anything and made her way back to her room instead, her mind filled with thoughts.

During the next days, Rhia spent time helping in the community and going back to her old activities, one of them being at the bar. She found herself lost in thought, processing her feelings, the pain he carried, and Joel. He had left the house three days ago; it was the first time they were apart since the day they met and it felt strange.

Lucy had been watching her from the distance, feeling the anger of only looking at her. She made the choice of approach to her, frustration and anger evident in her eyes. She finally made up her mind and walked up to Rhia.

As Lucy, approached Rhia, her footsteps were hesitant but determined. Rhia didn’t notice Lucy’s closeness until she was standing in front of her. Startled, Rhia looked up at Lucy.

“Lucy?” Rhia said surprised. “Do you need something?

Lucy took a deep breath, trying to control her own feelings

“We need to talk” she said, voice laced with hatred.

Rhia looked up, taken aback at Lucy’s tone.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“What’s wrong?! Rhia, you re infuriating! “Lucy exclaimed

Rhia’s eyes widened in surprised at her tone

Lucy took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions, but her anger was stronger.

“You know the only reason Joel and I are not together is because of you?” She lied. She still wanted her chance with Joel.

Rhia’s eyes narrowed at Lucy’s words, feeling a surge of anger and hurt. That was a lie, wasn’t it?

“That’s not true, Lucy,” she said, her voice completely steady

“Oh, but it is” she continued lying, “He told me. He actually felt pity for you and for what happened to you, baby”

Rhia’s heart pounded in her chest, torn between disbelief and anger. She wasn’t believing that words.

“You’re sick in the head” Rhia said, trying to steady her voice

Lucy smirked “You two are not even living together anymore! You’re stealing my chance with him! You left him and now he doesn’t want to be around me because of you” her face contorted with anger.

Rhia’s emotions were a mix all over the place, she was tired of this bullshit.

“You’re delusional” Rhia shot back; voice laced with frustration

Lucy took a step closer “You think you’re perfect, don’t you? But I could give him the family you never will”

Rhia’s heart sank at Lucy’s words. Her anger was replaced by deep shame and sadness.

“He didn’t even want that baby of yours, did he?”

Rhia’s eyes blazed with indignation. Lucy’s cruel words were taking the best of her. Tears welled up in Rhia’s eyes at the mention of her tiny baby, but she refused to cry in front of her.

“You know, Rhia? In a world like this, you need to be strong and you are not in a good place” Lucy said, voice laced with venom “You don’t deserve Joel”

Those words cut deep; Rhia’s felt her heart break a little more.

“And you’re the one saying this?” She took a step closer, Rhia had enough of Lucy “You, the one who has always been inside these walls?” her voice defensive “You have never seen the things I’ve seen, you’ve never done the things I had to do, so don’t come here to tell me I’m weak”

Lucy seemed taken aback by Rhia’s words, but she regained her composure.

“You’re trying to convince yourself you are better- “

“I had enough,” Rhia said, voice raising “The world is over and you are here trying to have a man who doesn’t want to be with you, so if you excuse me. I’ll keep doing what I was doing before you came here” Rhia turned on her heels to go.

“At least I wouldn’t get my baby killed” Lucy called out; she knew her words were cruel but she wanted to hurt the woman.

Rhia froze in her tracks, her heart pounding in her chest. Lucy’s words cut like a knife.

Turning back to face Lucy, Rhia’s eyes were filled with fury “You have no right- “

Before she could continue, she noticed Lucy’s eyes widened. When Rhia turned back, she saw Joel standing behind her, anger in his eyes.

Joel stepped forward; his jaw clenched tightly. His eyes bore into Lucy with disappointment “Enough” he said, firmly “I won’t stay here watching you say all this bullshit to Rhia”

Lucy’s bravery weakened in Joel’s presence, but she still tried to defend herself “I didn’t lie”

Joel shook his head “Using her” he chocked “Our pain to hurt her is cruel”

Rhia couldn’t hold back her frustration any longer and turned to leave, her emotions were overwhelming.

“Rhia, wait” Joel called after her, reaching out to grab her hand gently. How good it felt to touch her again.

Rhia stopped, her heart beating heart. Being this close to Joel after all these days felt overwhelming. Rhia felt a mix of relief and anger “Why would she do that”?

“She acted out of desperation and jealousy” he explained trying to keep Rhia calm

Rhia took a deep breath, trying to process his words

Rhia’s emotions were in turmoil.

“Why would she be so jealous and desperate?” Rhia asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

Joel’s heart felt heavy.

Rhia looked into Joel’s eyes; her own eyes filled with frustration.

“Because you made her believe she was important to you”

“You’re right,” he said, his voice gentle but filled with regret.

Rhia hugged herself tightly, feeling a surge of protectiveness over their lost child and their relationship

“I don’t even care about her, I-what hurts the most is how you acted after Daisy”

Joel’s eyes widened with surprise. He hadn’t expected her to name their baby.

“I didn’t know you named her” Joel said softly “I wish you had told me”

Rhia looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry” she whispered. “She deserved a name”

Joel reached out to wipe away Rhia’s tears, he didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness anymore.

“I needed you” Rhia said, her voice finally breaking “I cried myself to sleep alone and you were there with—”

Joel pulled Rhia close, embracing her tightly

“Get off of me, Joel”

His heart sank at Rhia’s reaction.

“You made a mess of me” her face filled with a mix of emotions.

“I was wrong, and I can’t change what I did but I want to make it right” Joel admitted

Rhia let out a deep and frustrated sigh “It’s not that simple and I don’t know if I can forgive you right now.

Joel reached out and took her hand gently “I will be here from now on”

Rhia didn’t respond, but this time she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned on Joel

He smiled against her head “I’ll do whatever it takes to have our family back”

Rhia didn’t say anything. They stood there in silence for a moment, their feeling hanging heavy in the air.

“I-I have to go” she said, pulling away

Joel nodded “Okay”

Rhia took a deep breath trying to steady her emotions.

As she turned to leave, Joel softly grabbed her wrist pulling her into a hug, again. Rhia, surprised by this action, hugged him back. She only wanted her old time with Joel for a few seconds. He kissed her forehead gently, cherishing the closeness they had at that moment.

When they parted ways, Rhia gave him a small nod.

“Take care, Joel”

On the following day, the sun rose over the small town, casting a warm touch lingering on the skin, even in the coldness of the day, Joel found himself marching towards Tommy’s in the kitchen.

Stepping inside, Joel was greeted by Tommy, who appeared calm despite Joel’s dementor. It was evident he was angry at him.

“What the hell did you have in mind, Tommy?!” Joel’s voice carried anger

“Good morning, Joel” Tommy reply, simply.

“Sending Rhia alone on a mission for supplies?” He asked dumfounded “Do I have to remind you last time she almost died?

Tommy sighed; he understood his brother concerns “Before you hit me or something, it was her who offered”

Joel, taken aback asked “She...offered? “

Tommy nodded “Yes, it’s only a search for resources” he explained, hoping this could help Joel to understand.

“That doesn’t mean you should have agreed to it! I won’t let her and she is out of her mind if she thinks I’m letting her go”

Tommy nodded, acknowledging Joel’s protectiveness over Rhia

“Then go with her” he said

“Of course, I will” Joel said resolutely, determined.

Tommy nodded, smiling at his older brother's stubbornness.

“God. She is gonna punch me in the face” Tommy said

“She’ll understand” Joel admitted.

“No, she’ll get mad, at you the most” Tommy said.

As the pair made their way to the stables, Joel’s heart raced.

“You know what? Tommy stopped. “You should take this chance to fix thins with Rhia?”

Joel nodded, remaining silent.

As they stepped inside, Rhia turned toward them. Her eyes rolled when she saw Joel; she knew what he was doing.

“What he doing here?” She asked, directly at Tommy.

Tommy exchanged a look with Joel before addressing the elephant in the room.

“He is going with you” he said

Rhia’s expression softened slightly, but a frustration still lingering in her features.

“I can take care of myself” She replied, voice irritated.

“I know, but you both are a team” he said looking at them.

“I think Joel doesn’t know that” she said, sarcastically.

“Oh my god Rhia! Of course, I know” he retorted, frustration in his voice.

Rhia rolled her eyes “Really? Last time I checked, you were a team with other people” Her voice, lingering with jealousy

His jaw clenched, Joel took a deep breath “Look, if you don’t want me to go, you can go right now, but I’m still following you”

Rhia crossed her arms, her expression softening “Okay”

“You know how I feel about your safety” Joel added

Rhia’s gaze locked with his “Thank you, but I can take care of myself too”

“I know” He replied “But after last time…I won’t risk losing you again”

Rhia smile, timidly

As they shared an intimate moment, Tommy interrupted, calling them over.

“Can you kiss already and go?” He spoke

Joel and Rhia blushed at Tommy’s interruption.

“Be safe out there” Tommy added.

“Hey, Tommy” Rhia called “While we were out there, take care of Ellie” she said.

Tommy nodded “Of course, I will keep her safe” he smiled “Now, go and take care. Ellie and I will be here waiting for you”

With a final nod, Joel and Rhia mounted their horses and set off to their mission and ventured out of the safety of Jackson.

Joel and Rhia rode side by side, their horses’ hooves echoing through the eerily silence of the desolate world, the tension between them both still filling the air. The world around them seemed to hold the same rust of silence growing between them.

Joel stole a glance at Rhia, she was deep in thought.

“Rhia?” Joel spoke breaking the silence.

Rhia looked at him expectantly. Joel reached out gently touching her arm.

“Thank you for allowing me to come here” he said

“You’re my partner” she said “Even when we are not together anymore”

Joel’s heart sunk at those last words and remained silent.

Principio del formulario

As they explored the reminiscing of the place looking for resources, night enveloped them. They found shelter in an old rusting house. Joel set up a small bonfire, providing them with warmth and light.

“It’s hard to believe this was once a home” she said softly, interrupting the silence.

Joel reminded silence, his eyes locked on Rhia’s face, glistening in the firelight. He was lost on her. His heart swelled with love for the woman in front of him. After all that happened, he had forgotten how lucky he was to have her in this world.

“Rhia” Joel began “You’re my rock, you know that?” Joel said softly.

Rhia looked at him, her eyes shimmering in the light. She smiled softly, but didn’t reply. Instead, she settled down beside Joel, shoulder touching. Them both staring into the flames of the campfire.

“I mean it” He spoke

Joel turned his head to look at her, their eyes meeting in a moment of unspoken words and deep connection.

Joel gently reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Rhia’s face as they locked their eyes “I love you” he whispered.

Rhia’s heart skipped a beat, and a soft smile appeared on her face. They leaned closer, their foreheads touching.

They leaned in, almost kissing. Joel could almost feel her lips on his

“Do you really think a kiss will solve all this?” She said barely touching his lips, voice laced with teasing.

Rhia’s smile grew, and she pulled back.

Joel let out a disappointed sigh.

It seemed like things weren’t going to be that easy for him.

A/N: I don't know what I wrote, but I hope you liked it a little bit. Thank you so much for reading and please, comment, reblog or ask me anything,

All the best.

taglist:

@joeldjarin

138 notes · View notes

ya9amicide · 29 days

Text

Redamancy [BTS]

chapter three

♡ info ♡ k-pop masterlist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ♡

a/n: OMFG I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! Life has been like one raging tornado and has not slowed down in forever. My Wattpad was also deleted so I lost writing motivation for a long time too...But, I'm going to attempt to update this story more since I was so excited for it and I know you are too! Thank you to everyone who has left comments, I read them all and I really appreciate it! <3

pairing(s): ot7 x ot7, ot7 x oc

warnings: none

taglist (crossed out = couldn't be tagged): @oopscoop || @writingwithmai || @osakis-gf || @hiefisch || @effielumiere || @singukieee || @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh || @littlrmills14-blog || @welcometomyworld13 || @chaimin || @demarie04 || @manic-atthe-disco || @blancflms || @ingyusart || @realrintaro || @braveangel777 || @ldysmfrst || @kpopmultistantrashsstuff || @vaishavi4w || @foreverddaeng

I decided to wake up early the next morning so that I could make breakfast for everyone. When I got downstairs, I noticed that it was still raining outside. Although it wasn’t as bad as last night, it still wasn’t anything that someone should be outside in.

Making breakfast was a challenge. This is the most food I’ve ever had to make at once. Not to mention that I have to make it as quiet as possible so as not to wake the hybrids with sensitive hearing.

About halfway through making breakfast, I heard light footsteps coming down the hall from the stairs. Turning towards the doorway of the kitchen, I see Seokjin peeking in. “Good morning,” I say and smile at him.

“Good morning,” his voice is still soft and quiet like it was last night. He fidgets in the doorway, watching as I move around the kitchen.

“Do you want to help?” I ask him.

He looks up at me, startled. “...Can I?”

“Of course. Do you know how to make pancakes?” He nods his head yes. “Great, then you can help me decide what kind to make. You know everyone’s preference better than I do so you’ll be a big help in making sure everyone eats happily.”

By the time the food was ready, we had made a wide variety of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and had several bowls of mixed fruits as well. Being hybrids, especially those like the wolf and tiger, they will have big appetites. In general, they all will as grown men so I don’t have any doubt that all of the food will be eaten in no time.

“Seokjin?” I ask and he looks up at me with a hum from where he was helping set the table. “I can finish this if you want to go get everyone up please?” He nods and scampers to get the rest of his pack.

A few minutes later, loud shuffling is heard as all seven of them make their way toward me in the dining room. “Good morni–oof!” In the middle of greeting them, I was interrupted by a bundle of hyper, furry, warmth in the form of Jungkook. He rushed to me as soon as he saw me and wrapped me in his arms in a tight hug.

The others look at him in panic. “Jungkook!” Several of them shouted in worry.

I just laugh, gently patting him on the back, causing him to practically melt in my arms. “Well, good morning to you too, bunny. Did you sleep well?”

He pulls away from me and nods erratically. “Uh-huh! The bed was so warm and cozy. I haven’t slept this well in forever. I almost didn’t want to get up when Jin came to wake us up.” He smiles brightly showing me his adorable bunny teeth and I can hear his foot thumping happily against the floor again.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” I think I’m starting to understand the fond looks I’ve caught the others throwing at Jungkook when they think he isn’t looking. “You could have stayed in bed a bit longer if you wanted. Although, I’m not sure breakfast would taste as good warmed up in the microwave as opposed to fresh off the stove.”

His bunny ears perk up on top of his head at the mention of food and he quickly shuffles to the table. Everyone watches him go in silence before we all follow him, moods lifted due to his enthusiasm.

I turn to the others who still seem to be waiting for me to make the first move, despite Jungkook’s gung-ho attitude. “Well go ahead,” I tell them, gesturing to the table. “You don’t have to wait for me, help yourselves.”

Like the previous night, they all shuffled around the table, clumsily finding their seats. They kept the same configuration as before; the predators surrounding the prey and effectively cutting me off. I don’t mind though if that’s what it takes to keep them comfortable here.

With the risk of irritating them, I spoke up. “So I figured we should set some ground rules, you know, besides the few from last night.” They all shuffled nervously, slowing their eating. Namjoon and Yoongi particularly seemed bothered by this sentence as their eyes narrowed slightly at me in response.

Sensing their worry I work quickly to console them. “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” I wave my hands frantically.

Jimin peers at me curiously through his bangs. “What are the rules?” His voice was timid but it didn’t shake as he used it.

“Well, you guys are welcome to stay as long as you need to,” I say, smoothing the napkin down in my lap. “You can pretty much do whatever you’d like. The estate is big so there’s a lot to explore. I just ask that you be careful. This was my family’s home so lots of stuff in here has sentimental meaning.”

“I also ask that you maybe help around the house every so often…” I trail off as they all turn nervous and upset. “I’m not asking you to pick up a bunch of chores or anything like that! Maybe just help me keep tidy by cleaning up any messes you make. And Seokjin, I could tell you liked helping me with breakfast this morning.” The ferret hybrid turns slightly rosy with the attention now on him. “I would love your help every so often,” I say softly, chuckling under my breath. “Lord knows I’m not the best cook.”

They start to relax slightly but some tension remains, keeping the muscles in their bodies taught and hair on end.

They finished the rest of their breakfast in a slightly uncomfortable silence, the only sound heard was gentle chewing and the gentle scrape of forks against plates.

When morning pleasantries were done, they all stayed in their awkward huddle like the night before, waiting for me to give them instructions or dismiss them.

Jungkook shuffled in place and I could tell he wanted to say something. “What is it, Jungkook?” I asked, urging him to say what was on his mind.

“Umm…do you have any video games?” He asks shyly, bunny ears twitching nervously atop his head. The others look between the two of us timidly, as if waiting for me to snap at him for asking the question.

I chuckle softly, eyes lighting up. I’ve been waiting for someone who was enough of a challenge when it comes to gaming. “Of course I do!” I exclaim, ushering him to the spacious living room where my console sits.

I’m learning very quickly that Jungkook is very animated in the way that his body seems to speak for him most of the time. His nose twitches in excitement as he bounds towards the large sofa, picking up a controller.

Jin slowly makes his way to the couch, taking up the space next to Jungkook. The other hybrids exchange a glance, trying to decide which predator will stay with their more docile counterparts. Taehyung squeezes his way between the two on the couch, making it clear to me that they are under his watch at the moment.

Not saying anything, I plop down in the recliner a few feet away and turn my attention to the remaining hybrids. “You’re more than welcome to stay and play with us. If not, there’s plenty else to do. There’s a small library, a home theater, an art studio, and of course your bedrooms and any other rooms you can find something to do as well.” As I list off things they can do, I notice some of their eyes light up about certain rooms.

Namjoon’s face seemed to brighten when I mentioned the library and Taehyung’s ears twitched slightly at the mention of the art room. Something to keep in mind later when he’s done staking claim over his pack mates.

With no further instructions needed, the rest of the hybrids dispersed, venturing to various places across the house while I settled in to play video games with the few that remained.

#𐙚 sfw !#bts #poly bts x reader #hybrid bts #poly bts #bts x oc #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #park jimim #jung hoseok #min yoongi

106 notes · View notes

rjalker · 1 month

Note

wait what problems? abt the good place I mean

(from this post https://www.tumblr.com/rjalker/745151382384951296)

Eleanor Shellstrop was sentenced to hell for aplatonic crimes (a version without eye contact)

[ID: A picture of Eleanor Shellstrop from the show The Good Place. Eleanor is a white woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, wearing a blue plaid shirt and smirking at the camera. A black line has been drawn across her face, hiding her eyes. The aplatonic flag is behind her, with four horizontal stripes of dark purple, blue, green, and cream. End ID.]

(feel free to use for icons/whatever, no credit needed)

I reblogged it from myself and tagged it

I wish more people would talk about the problems in The Good Place. I love this show. But zyg. The Problems™

___

Just off the top of my head:

Obviously, the original post: Eleanor is not only condemned for being an asshole to people, but for also just not wanting to have or seek out friendships.

When she's a kid and gets to her new school and announces she doesn't want anyone to try to befriend her, no matter what, because she's not looking to make friends, this is treated as her being a horrible person, simply because she...is setting clear boundaries and isn't looking for companionship.

Later at her job, her employer pressures her into joining the company parties and making friends, and fires her because she doesn't want to spend her time off with her coworkers. This is treated as her being an asshole, instead of just being a perfectly reasonable boundary for someone to have.

There's a difference between genuinely being an asshole, which Eleanor did a lot, and just setting boundaries. Not wanting to have friends does not make you an asshole. Setting boundaries between your work life and your personal life does not make you an asshole. Making it clear that you don't want people trying to hang out with you does not make you an asshole.

But The Good Place portrays Eleanor not seeking out friendships as the exact same level of horrible as all of her genuinely horrible behavior.

In a similar boat we have Chidi, who is undisputably disabled by what is a very clear anxiety disorder that controls his entire life and causes him so much stress, and even when he's not hurting people with his behavior, the fact alone that he has anxiety is portrayed as a reason he's a bad person who "deserves" to go to The Bad Place.

And yes, there is a twist that reveals that Literally Everyone for the past several hundred years has been sent to The Bad Place because of capitalism and blah blah blah, meaning that even genuinely good people who aren't assholes have also been sent there, but this doesn't change the fact that Eleanor and Chidi have been getting demonized by the show for things that aren't actually bad.

And I'm sure there's more examples and other kinds of bigotry but it's been a while since I watched the later seasons so I can't remember off the top of my head.

Please feel free to add on if you have more examples!

#The Good Place #TGP #Ableism #Amisia #aplatonimisia #is that a word? well that's the word now!!!!!!!!!!!!!#The Good Place ableism #The Good Place aplatonimisia #The Good Place critical #idk if anyone uses that tag maybe more people talk about the problems #described images

24 notes · View notes

kayawolfhorse · 3 months

Text

Blood in the Cut | Read on Ao3

— ☾ —

The nightmares are back.

Soft laughter, growing louder as Pearl’s grip on wakefulness slips further, fills her ears all the same as it does her mind with dread. Her body grows heavy, her brain fills with fog. Desperately, she thrashes about, opening her mouth to scream herself awake.

Her limbs refuse to answer her demands, and her voice remains unyieldingly silent. The syrupy lull of sleep has Pearl trapped, and she is defenseless as it pulls her under.

— ☾ —

The little green cottage has snow on it today, frost creeping over every azalea leaf and tuft of moss that makes up the roof, collecting on the spruce beams of the walls. The sky above Pearl is obscured by thick, grey clouds, and her breath comes out in little puffs of steam. She hates to be back here again.

It doesn’t take long for Pearl’s gaze to land on Scott, busy putting the finishing touches on the cobblestone accents that line the roof. The muscles of her jaw twitch, as if she’s about to speak, and Pearl fights against the action. Don’t talk to him, he left you! He doesn’t deserve your companionship, least of all your pleasantries. All that comes out is a friendly greeting.

Scott responds by waving in kind, placing the last few blocks and sliding off the roof, landing in the snowbank piled below. Pearl flinches inwardly, prepared for the bite of cold. She hopes it hurts.

Scott gives his deep blue coat a firm shake to dislodge the settled snow and walks forward all the same.

Don’t come over here, don’t come over here. Scott stops in front of Pearl, sharing the grin Pearl can’t wipe free of her own face. “So, what do you think?”

Pearl wants to say how much she hates it, how much she hates how pretty it is. She hates that Scott has built them such a lovely house and calls Pearl an ally when he wants nothing more than to get rid of her entirely. How this version of herself gets all the love withheld from her.

Pearl hates how much she still yearns for such kindness.

She says none of that. Instead, through that same damn smile, Pearl exclaims, “It’s absolutely beautiful! I’m glad you were able to finish up before the storm hits.”

Scott shrugs, glancing up at the sky. “It wouldn’t matter too much. It’s just a prop, but it looks rather nice, doesn’t it?”

“I meant for your own sake, not the empty house’s!” Pearl shoves lightly at his shoulder, and it’s a terrible, terrible thing how Scott laughs and jostles Pearl back as if they were friends sharing a joke and the mountain of hurt between them didn’t exist.

Pearl’s learned by now that this Scott, and the version of Pearl that goes with him, is very different from what she’s used to.

They decide to head inside before what something Scott calls “the boogeyman” is chosen. Pearl had heard of it, in the previous dreams, but it had never been defined.

“We’ve got to continue the tradition!” Scott says over his shoulder as they descend down into their underground base. Pearl hopes whatever “tradition” he speaks of isn’t bad. Actually, maybe she does. Scott would deserve it.

As they reach the base of the stairs, Pearl lists everything she’s learned about this world so far.

It’s another death game, like Double Life, and Pearl and Scott are allies. Lives are not the same fixed things they are usually; here, they can be traded between players. In the last dream, Scott was yellow, and Pearl gave him a life. That bit was particularly hard to watch.

Pearl isn’t sure who all is in this game, but based on who she saw running around last time, she figures it’s the same group as Double Life. Though, at one point she could’ve sworn she heard Lizzie’s exclamation of surprise. Maybe they’d added new players to spice things up.

Swathes of red pulse around the edges of Pearl’s vision just as they reach the skeleton spawner, and Scott says, “almost time!” Dread coils at Pearl’s core. If she had any control over her body, her palms would be sweating. Is this the boogeyman thing…?

Not long after, the red flashes once more, and Scott pauses in his smelting to turn and stare at Pearl. Pearl’s disconcerted, unsure of what to do, but her head swivels to meet Scott’s eyes as the red pulses again.

They both make nervous oooh’s as the third bit of red comes and fades, and then…

Pearl is met with darkness. Her limbs are leaden, but the space around her is weightless, as if she were floating in the void. Pinwheeling her arms, Pearl tries to find hold on something, anything, but it’s no use. Pearl’s body is still stubbornly asleep, and her mind is thrown into another dream.

— ☾ —

Pearl’s inside the cottage this time, a sword in her hands and an explosion of items scattered at her feet. Joel, inexplicably sporting a long beard and dressed in green robes, thrusts his sword at Pearl, parrying her attacks from where she has him cornered, shouting, “I’m cured! I’m not the boogeyman anymore!”

Clearly, whatever being the boogeyman means doesn’t matter to the Pearl of this game, and it only takes a couple more swings until Joel’s dead, his inventory bursting from where he was standing moments ago. Pearl crouches down to sort through the mess, tossing away junk and gathering Joel’s gear in a neat pile, when Scott breaks through the blocked up door, saying, “Thank you, Pearl!”

“He’s on red now!” Pearl laughs in disbelief, still clutching her sword. The adrenaline buzzes in her ears, and her breaths come fast. This, at least, is familiar. Worry and triumph tug at Pearl’s gut. “Scott?”

“He is, but he also killed me!” Scott tugs on his armor. “I was getting worried, he was being weird.”

“Yeah, he got very forceful,” Pearl agrees. So this is what the boogeyman is, then. A player is chosen after the countdown, then they must kill? It’s an odd mechanic, but if Grian is behind this game as he is Double Life, Pearl wouldn’t put it past him. “And he had the audacity to blame Mumbo!”

“Yeah, Mumbo’s kill had to have been self defense, then.” Scott nods, looking toward the window.

“Oh, for sure.” Glancing back down, Pearl catches a glimpse of something red and black amongst the mess of items. With a gasp, she grabs it and holds it up to Scott. “Look what we have here!”

Scott’s eyes widen. “He was seriously carrying around the enchanter on him?”

“Guess so!” Pearl says, tucking it under her arm. To be honest, she’s not sure what’s so important about the table, but who is she to argue against perfectly good leverage? “There’s no way we’re giving this back.”

“Of course not.”

Soon enough, Joel returns for his stuff, a dangerous red gleam in his eyes. After he’s equipped his armor and tucked his sword into his belt, Joel stops in the doorway. “All I’m gonna say is, make sure you two stick together like glue, because if you’re ever alone with that thing, I’m coming back with my axe.”

“We won’t be keeping it on us, don’t worry. We’re not idiots,” Scott rebuts with a scoff. Joel smirks in return and gives the enchantment table in Pearl’s arms one last pointed stare before whirling on his heel and stalking off. Pearl and Scott both shout their goodbyes and, after waiting until Joel’s out of earshot, turn to each other.

“That was certainly something!” Pearl remarks, and Scott gives an incredulous chuckle in return.

“Yeah. Now the only thing I’m worried about is, obviously Joel was after you, but I died–” Scott starts.

“So now you’re yellow,” Pearl supplies, briefly meeting his eyes.

“That’s my worry.” Scott nods. “How many lives do you have? Because you had six.”

“I have five,” Pearl confirms. The amount isn’t news to her, having learnt it in a previous dream, but it still boggles her mind. It feels wrong to have more than three lives.

“Would you be willing to give me another? Put me to three and you on four?” Scott asks, to Pearl’s dismay. “We’ve got such a monopoly as a duo, if one of us goes out we lose it all.”

Pearl tries to stop the “you’re right, you’re right,” that leaves her mouth. It’s not enough for Scott to ruin Pearl’s life in one game, he wants to take it in another?

“I wouldn’t want people knowing I’m down a life, though,” Pearl points out. “Don’t want to make me a target.”

Scott nods. “I’m thinking if you give it now, before everyone sees me running around as yellow, we can just say that we scammed it out of somebody, and you can tell everyone you’re still on five.”

“Oh, that’s a good plan.” No! Pearl prepares the command, fingers dancing across her communicator. Try as she might, Pearl can’t even tremble her own hand. “Okay, for the alliance, I’m gonna do it.”

“For the alliance!” Scott cheers.

Command finished, Pearl asks, “You ready?”

As if Pearl herself is the life ripped from her body, she is yanked from the dream and plunged into darkness again.

— ☾ —

The void Pearl floats in is stagnant no longer, crackling with white veins of energy that remind her of shooting stars. The trails avoid Pearl, swerving around her form, but when Pearl holds her arm out and brushes her fingers against one, she flinches at the sound of her voice echoing around her, saying, “I have picked the most amazing partner in this season of Last Life, I’m telling you.” She knows who she’s saying it to. Pearl snatches her hand back.

Suddenly desperate for something solid, an escape, Pearl closes a fist around the next bit of light she can reach, and the image of Scott, standing in the underground base, handing Pearl a bucket of a brown axolotl with a goofy smile on his face, burns against the back of Pearl’s eyelids. All Pearl can see is his cruel, taunting smirk as he and Cleo rejected her.

“Why are you showing me this?” Pearl cries out, to no one that can hear her.

The moments turn frantic as Pearl’s despair grows and she reaches out again and again, fingers aching for a hold. Scott and Pearl, curing a zombie villager. Racing through a dark forest, hand in hand, after raiding the red lives’ secret base. Pearl, Scott, and Cleo, in a tower with a moss roof, looking down over the server as Scott says, “don’t worry ladies, I won’t betray you.”

Scott saying goodbye as his yellow eyes turn red, and he leaves Pearl standing atop a cobblestone wall, watching him go.

— ☾ —

At first, Pearl doesn’t register that she's been pulled into another dream. The endless void around her gives way to a midnight sky, the veins of light replaced with twinkling stars. Her vision spins as the Pearl of this game turns wildly about, and with a jolt Pearl realizes she’s flying, coasting just above the treeline below her. Had Pearl somehow managed to get wings? She catches a glimpse of her arm, a familiar red cloak turned transparent.

So that’s that, then. Pearl has died, and is now spectating whatever’s left of the game. It’s been a while since she’s died in a hardcore world, and the floaty feeling is hard to get used to. She doesn’t have time to adjust before her ghostly body moves against her will, eyes fixed on a tiny figure below.

Scott. Scott, with his cyan hair and crown of crystals is covered in blood that matches the red of his eyes. Following the line of his drawn bow, Pearl watches as Ren comes up over the crest of the hill and Scott lets the first arrow fly, sinking into Ren’s shoulder.

“Leave me alone! Go kill Martyn! Why are you coming for me?” Ren shouts as he fights off Scott’s blows, tripping over a dip in the terrain.

“I have to! You killed Pearl!”

Pearl, in both of her forms, freezes in shock. She’d never expect Scott to be fighting for her, least of all crying her name in a final battle. Her heart clenches in the tower of her ribcage. She begs herself to wake up. Her body refuses to move.

The final battle is brutal. Scott lands the final blow on Martyn before turning back to Ren, knocking him back with another arrow. With a sharp cry, Ren stumbles back, and a zombie emerges from the trees to finish him off. One last boom sounds, and Scott is alone in a silent world, surrounded by ghosts.

“Well, I guess there’s only one more thing I have to do,” he says slowly, after a moment of shock.

Whatever Scott has to do, he doesn’t get to, cut off by a searing bolt of lightning that kills him in a flash.

The game is over, and Scott has won.

— ☾ —

Pearl gasps awake to the crack of thunder. Heart pounding, she jolts upright, struggling to keep her ragged breathing in check.

Tower. Pearl is in her tower. A cool summer breeze wafts through the windows, gently rustling the vines that grow off the red ceiling above her, and moonlight casts a silver grow upon the spruce floorboards. At her owner’s distress, Tilly, curled up at the foot of the white duvet, picks her head up to look inquisitively at Pearl, yellow collar jingling with the movement.

“Oh, Tilly.” Pearl leans forward and gathers her beloved wolf in her arms, burying her face in Tilly’s side. Her hands shake where they clutch at Tilly’s fur.

Tilly, for her part, simply curls around Pearl and presses her nose against Pearl’s side. Pearl whimpers and hugs Tilly tighter.

They stay like that until Pearl’s breath steadies, and after one final sigh, Pearl pulls back enough to look out the window. The server below is quiet and still, and the horizon promises a sunrise to come.

Sliding off of her bed, Pearl directs Tilly to sit by the wheat farm, and pulls the blankets from the mattress. She arranges them in a heap on the floor and sits down with her knees pulled up to her chest, patting the space next to her when she’s satisfied with the nest. Tilly trots over and circles the spot, plonking down with a content sigh after a couple spins. Pearl pulls a blanket over her shoulders and casts it over them both, leaning back against the bed frame and watching out the window to her side.

She and Tilly remain sat side by side as the birds start their morning song and the sun creeps into view. Pearl knows Scott’s awake when she takes a slight tick of damage, tingling at her elbow. She smirks as she imagines him accidentally hitting his own against something stupid.

Pearl’s not ready to face him, or anyone, for that matter. Scratching Tilly between the ears, she closes her eyes, savoring the few moments of peace that’ll inevitably be disturbed soon enough.

Fighting for Pearl like she’s something valued, like she’s someone Scott calls a friend. What a dream.

(Reblogs do more than likes!)

#a while ago i had the idea that last life is dl!pearl’s nightmares #so i decided to expand on that and now we’ve got this where she’s remembering it through dreams #one could say. she was only ever meant to watch #my writing #kaya posts #last life smp #double life smp #pearlescentmoon #smajor

29 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 3 months

Text

Love in the Big City Part 1: On Friendship

Let me start right out of the gate by addressing one of @bengiyo’s discussion questions: “What are your thoughts on the first major relationship breakup the narrator experiences being with his best female friend?” I have many thoughts about this, and it’s one of my favorite things about this novel. It means a lot to me that this story that takes us through the important relationships and great loves of our narrator (we’ll call him Young) begins not with a romance, but with a friendship. As someone who is long-term single and has been living on my own in a large city since my early 20s, I relate so much to the way Young clung to Jaehee, his hurt when their relationship began to change, and his resigned acceptance after her marriage that it will never be the same. Most of us who have lived through enough seasons of life have experienced this kind of shift in a friendship and know how destabilizing it can be, especially to those of us who do not rely on romantic partners as a primary source of emotional and practical support.

It’s crucial when considering this relationship to be rooted in Young’s perspective as a gay man in a structurally and culturally homophobic society. As far as he is concerned, there is no possibility that he will fall in love, get married, have biological children, and fulfill the platonic ideal of a successful life that he has been taught to believe in. Young sets himself apart from those expectations and defiantly rebels against them, and he sees in Jaehee a kindred spirit. Both approach life with a kind of wry detachment and sarcastic wit, both are promiscuous and carefree about their sex lives, both care little for the people they date, and both rely primarily on each other for companionship. In their post on Part 1 @doyou000me posited that Jaehee and Young have a queer platonic relationship in which they serve as each other’s primary partners for everything but sex, and I completely agree. The two of them are functionally domestic partners, and for Young, whose sexuality precludes him from ever striving for marriage, this is an ideal set up and one he never wants to change. Though he never explicitly thought about it at his young age, I think he subconsciously hoped that he could live with Jaehee just like this for the rest of his life, seeking out men for sex and romance and otherwise coming home to her.

The problem, of course, is that while Jaehee enjoys living this way with Young for a time, she was ultimately still raised under the same societal expectations Young is bucking, and her identity lends itself to her eventual capitulation and conformity in a way Young’s does not. So inevitably, she starts dating someone seriously, and everything changes. And here I want to get into one of @bengiyo’s other discussion questions: “The greatest distance between Jaehee and the narrator begins with her outing him to the future husband. For all of the narrator's prior concerns about being outed, why do you think he was so hurt?”

For me, the answer to this is clear: Young was hurt by this because it was a clear signal that Jaehee’s loyalty had shifted from him to her boyfriend. Young is not exactly closeted—we learn much more about this in Part 2, but even in Part 1 he is clearly living pretty openly as a gay man—but he and Jaehee had a longstanding agreement to lie to the people they date about each other’s genders and the exact nature of their friendship, and she broke this agreement for the sake of a boyfriend, which made it clear exactly how serious she was about this guy. Because as we see, the boyfriend finding out about Young is the beginning of the end for the way they’ve been living, as he expresses the expected discomfort with his girlfriend living with a man and begins his campaign to get her to marry him and live with him instead. Jaehee’s decision to break their promise was the first step to her choosing a more traditional lifestyle over their style of companionship—choosing her boyfriend over Young—and Young could feel that shift instinctually. In the moment he found out Jaehee outed him, Young knew that life with her as he knew it was over. He felt abandoned and that is why he was so hurt.

One of the things I love about the nature of this fracture in their relationship is it’s not some big dramatic explosion. Young doesn’t throw a fit and move out and Jaehee doesn’t dump him or really ever stop being his friend. They simply start drifting apart in the natural way that happens when your priorities change. The closeness they once had slowly fades away until they’re more like acquaintances, albeit acquaintances who hold an honored place in each other’s lives. Young and Jaehee continue living together for months after she gets engaged. Young helps her plan the wedding and is given an honored role at the event, explicitly acknowledged as someone important to her. She still invites him to her parties and includes him in her life. But it’s not the same, and Young doesn’t feel comfortable around the (het, conformist) people who now make up her social circle. Young doesn’t want to be the queer curiosity in Jaehee’s straight edge friend group; he wants to be her person, and he isn’t anymore, and that hurts.

#litbc book club #love in the big city #korean bl #shan shouts into the void

28 notes · View notes