#I'm not posting this on the wrong account

[blatantprinterpropaganda]

i'm losing my mind over the sheer number of layers of corniness and clever writing that keep interweaving as this show heads deeper and deeper into its actual idol romance plot, inevitably hitting levels of meta that will require a topic-relevant college degree to fully untangle

[jscrawls]

♡Widows Holiday♡

Not part of the main series, just wanted to spread a little love (⁠✿⁠ ⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠)

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, inappropriate speech, poor writing, possible ooc,

Holiday special: Valentine's Day

❤️💜❤️

It's Valentine's Day in Gotham and you're disgusted.

It's not that you're a hater or anti love or anything. you are It's just annoying how much expectation has been heaped on you.

The Wayne's social media manager wants photos for the public accounts, demands of photographer quality photos of gifts on perfectly made beds, heart shaped bouquets in every background, photos of you making cookies with the kids. Enough is enough.

Somehow a holiday about eating overpriced chocolate and banging has turned you into a prop for netizen points.

“Can you at least try not to scowl this time?” You roll your eyes when you hear Tim's sarcastic little jab as he adjusts the camera, he got roped into this just like you did, but he's not the one having to pose.

“I'll consider it when I'm not wearing an itchy apron, who wears one to frost cookies anyway. The messy part is done.” Damian quickly nods beside you, the kid taking your word as permission to shuck his apron off and start freehanding his cookie decorating.

“Yeah well it's the only part of you that looks cutesy, looks of murderous contempt don't exactly scream ‘I'm happy for the holidays’ you know.” Duke snorts on the other side of you and tries to pull his piping bag out of Damian's reach, the kids clearly got a vision in mind since he looks about ready to climb Duke for the blue frosting.

“…he's not wrong.” Tim mutters under his breath, leaning over the counter to snatch up a finished cookie off your tray before you can smack him, you hit hard after all.

“Does this have to be a whole thing on every holiday? This is pretentious and kinda dumb. Just make a happy holidays tweet and post a picture of a heart and be done with it.”

“I agree with our parent, this behavior is more acceptable during Hanukkah and Halloween, not for this silly made holiday that has no tradition to it.” Damian is quick to agree while glaring at Duke and starting to mix his own blue frosting, clearly getting pissed off when Tim grabs at his half finished cookie.

“hey! I'm not done with that and it's not for you Drake.”

“I thought this was silly?” Tim smirks as he dodges around the counter, Duke snickering beside you as he starts eating a spoonful of frosting. It's no wonder Bruce is getting grays.

You shuck your apron off and sit down on a stool so you don't fly off the handle, teenagers you swear… “okay let's all take a break before Alfred poisons our food.”

You grab the back of Damian’s shirt just as he goes over the counter, boyish complaints quickly starting up around you as Damian reluctantly let's you pull him back down. He makes sure to keep his threats up as Tim starts loudly eating the cookie and exaggeratedly moaning over it, you wonder if you ever pissed Natalia off like this.

“…. Having fun?” a deep voice calls out from the kitchen doorway, Bruce leans against the frame with arms crossed over his chest on a perfectly casual pose as if he's not watching you lose your shit. You almost wanna throw something at that stupid smirk on his face.

You deadpan at him while holding onto Damian's shirt like a leash, Tim knocks the camera stand over and Duke is now just eating the plain cookies and the frosting separately like some kind of maniac.

“I think it's very fun.�� Cass says beside you.

“WHAT THE FU-” multiple people flinch when they realize the young woman's there.

“okay well how about a steal you for a few minutes yeah?” Bruce gestures at you while trying not to laugh at your sour expression, he's not sure he wants to step any further into the kitchen lest he become one with the mob.

“Where are you going?” Damian glances between the two of you, he finally stops squirming in your hold and just crosses his arms over his chest.

Duke leans over and puts a hand up to his mouth like he only wants Damian to hear him. “They're probably gonna go bang, they'll be back in like two minutes.” he loudly ‘whispers’ in Damian's ear while Tim pauses what he's doing and stares, he loudly gags and puts the remainder of his cookie down. cass just starts piling cookies on a plate while everyone reacts.

“That's disgusting.” Damian shoves dukes face away as he grimaces, lip curling as he turns to look at you. “Can you please make them stop this foolishness?”

“Dude ew, get help you sicko!” Tim gags again while putting his hand over his mouth, you tense when you see the wicked smirk behind his hand, the smartass is about to do something worse isn't he- “you overestimate the senior citizens anyways, you think those bags of bones got two minutes in em-?”

Bruce just sighs loudly while you stand up from your stool, why couldn't all teenagers act more like Parker?

“Okay funny guys, clear out before I show you something hilarious.”

Walking over and slapping Bruce's ass seems to do the trick, Damian stomps out of the kitchen while loudly complaining about him immature everyone is while Tim and Duke make their escape with a few cookies in hand, cass just waves over her shoulder as she disappears around the corner. the camera lays forgotten on the cold floor while everyone abandons the kitchen.

“…. Was that necessary?” Bruce glances at you with pinched brows, you don't miss the reddened ears as he pointedly looks down at your hand, which just so happens to still be on his ass.

“I'm a master of my craft Brucie, I know just how to psychologically damage anyone.”

“I'll take your word for it…. Now do you wanna see what i got you or are you trying to make a different kind of mess in here-” he laughs as you roll your eyes and strut away from him.

“this is still Alfred's kitchen you know. Now what angle are you playing at this time? I'm not posing with any more little presents for the camera.”

he trails after you with a smug look on his face again as you escape the kitchen, steps quick as he catches up to you and grabs your elbow to steer your movements.

“i mean, i wouldn’t mind a little posing….”

you can only roll your eyes harder at his little joke, everyone’s a damn comedian today. “shut it, where are you dragging me?”

he nudges the library doors open with his foot as he glances at you. “to the museum obviously. come on it’s just down in the cave.” you catch jason snickering at you from behind his book as he glances over the back of the couch at you two, he quickly looks away when he spots you scowling at him.

“i don’t want it unless it’s a gun or something with similar projectile speed.” the old grandfather clock creaks as it swings open to reveal the steep and narrow staircase, you both have to duck your heads down to enter.

he clicks his tongue as he gives you a stern look over his shoulder, leading you down the single file stairs into the dank cave. “can you just look at it first before you start making demands?”

the glow of the batcomputer illuminates the cave in a bluish glow as you both step onto the main platform, your shoes clanking rather loudly as he leads you towards the training area, you give him a suspicious look when he gestures at a medium sized box on the edge of one of the training mats. he drops down on the mat and gives the box a pointed look. “open it, i promise it isn’t gonna bite you.”

you just scoff amusedly as you drag the box over and shake it, doesn’t sound alive. bruce chuckles at your antics and reaches up to try to pry it out of your grasp.

“can you do this normally? first you checked if the pancakes were poisoned and now this?”

“you gave me blackened little hockey pucks smothered in whipped cream, for all i knew you were hiding something else besides just being a terrible cook….” your voice trails off as you pull the top of the box off and see the spider staring up at you, it’s not an exact replica by any means, yet you can’t bring yourself to critique it as you lift the dark suit up out of the box. the red widow emblem sits on the back just between the shoulder blades, there’s padding in appropriate areas and the rest is quite breathable and stretchy. but the real kicker was the chestplate with the dark bat emblem that just barely stands out from the rest of the suit.

“….. You're such a sap, you know me so well.” You smile to yourself as you hold it up in the light and admire the craftsmanship, you glance back down in the box and see a utility belt with a matching pair of boots and gloves, it's so much more personal to you than any weapon would've been.

he leans against the wall with crossed arms as he studies you, a small grin in his face as he watches your reactions closely. “I'll take that as a positive response, glad you like your real present.”

“yeah i like it, just hope it fits.” He snorts at your sassy response as he straightens up and steps closer to paw through the box. “It'll fit.”

“that's a suspicious response, if if doesn't fit my Valentine's is completely ruined.” he clearly doesn't buy it based on the wide smirk firmly planted on his face.

“sure, sure. Now about that two minutes…”

You throw a glove at him while he laughs and turns away.

❤💜❤

| M.list |

A/n: sorry it's late! Been busy for a few days and I'm trying to catch up where I can, I hope y'all had a happy Valentine's Day if you celebrate and if not I hope it was just a stress free day 🙏😘💗😍

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444

[frangipani-wanderlust]

So, this actually isn't true. I'm sorry to "well, ackshually" you. But I'm gonna do it anyway, because I'm a dork.

3000 is, believe it or not, a little bit too large of a sample size. For a sample size across a population as large as the United States, a sample size of about 1500 to 2000 is your goal to approximate the population at large. Other than testing the entire population of the whole country, which is neither normal to want nor possible to achieve. So, you get a representative sample. And in order to make sure that your sample is representative you very carefully weight who you include in your sample so that you can mirror demographic groups, political ideologies, religious groups, etc., etc., etc.

Too much over 2000 research subjects and the number starts to get bigger than researchers can realistically handle, which leads to your samples developing minorities the researchers did not account for and therefore skews the testing results.

Secondly, your results should be consistent to replications of your study, because even with a properly weighted sample population, every discipline is gonna have That One Oddball Study that just gets an unexpected result. And unless you do repeated runs of the study, it could be yours and you'd never know it.

All of the above flies out the window with an internet survey, though. There's absolutely no sample selection, it's just whoever happens to click the buttons. We have absolutely no way to know whether these Tumblr polls have any validity or not because this is a totally uncontrolled sample population. There is a non-zero chance that maybe we'll get the representative samplings via what is essentially random chance, but...it's not very likely.

I haven't read the Post Millennial article so I have will venture no opinions on their methodology beyond saying 3000 might actually be too big of a sample size.

SOURCE: I majored in Psychology, they made us take a class on study design and representative sampling was a big ol' sticky point, along with sampling bias and error, which is when that goes wrong.

So partisan shit is not the real issue here. Looks like American women are miserable, that’s the real issue.

[yoongsriverandme]

𓈒 ꪆৎ prom song (gone wrong)

❝ At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine"… ❞

⤑ pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader

⤑ genre: fluff, mutual pining, idiots-to-lovers, strangers(?)-to friends-to lovers, "unrequited" love, secret admirer!au, college!au.

⤑ wc: 3.8k

⤑ summary: with valentine's day right around the corner, you somehow have to muster up the courage to confess to taehyung - but oh yeah, two things: 1. he doesn't know you exist, and 2. you're his secret admirer.

⤑ rating: g/teen & up audiences

⤑ warnings: none besides a literal sprinkle of light light angst, and a little cursing! everyone gets a cameo

⤑ date posted: feburary 14, 2025

⤑ authors note: AHHH HI!!! i'm so excited to be here! this is my first ever post on this account, and i'm so happy it's on valentine's day! i cooked up this sickeningly fluffy fic for my four followers, so enjoy!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

Valentine’s day.

A time where couples all over the world celebrate their love with treats, and dates, and cute little notes riddled with the cheesiest, loveliest words.

What a fucking chore.

Your school was cascaded with an ocean of pink and red, the halls drowned in hearts and sweet aspirations to encourage the young lovers that housed their classrooms, and the yearners that were thinking maybe, just maybe, today might be the day.

You smack a low hanging decoration out of your way as you walk, the small scowl that was forming on your face deeping because of the irritating spangle.

You didn’t hate love. That’s just stupid.

Normally the amorous energy didn’t get on your nerves. 

How could they? With all of your friends gushing about the holiday, it’d be fruitless to be miffed over something as trivial as that, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want your friends to be happy.

You just had a bad morning.

‘Bad morning’ means seeing the guy you’re… mildly interested in, talking to another girl.

Feelings of jealousy felt like such a frivolous matter, because what’s the point in being mad at something or someone that wasn’t yours in the first place?

You hate the way your brain has labeled Kim Taehyung as yours in the first place. 

He was well known around school, a fine arts major with a minor in photography, and quite popular on the internet. 

He had a big Instagram account where he’d post personal pictures of things that were monotonous to any other person: a half empty cup of coffee, a sleeping cat on the street, a wildflower that seemed to have held some sort of beauty to the eye of its beholder.

Not that you were stalking him of course, it was just an admirable feat.

It was clear he was going to go far after graduation, and that in of itself was the most attractive part about him; not to mention his unwavering kindness or his off-kilter smile that appeared more like a box than anything.

Taehyung was also unshakably loyal. You’ve seen his anger directed at those who’d hurt his loved ones before, and it was terrifying.

So, it wasn’t strange that he’d be talking to someone that he knows. That’s just the way that life works. People talk to other people, plain and simple.

Just not you, it seems.

It’s not like you run in the same social circle, and you’ve never really made yourself available to him. It was your own fault.

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, you were just… shy.

He’s the embodiment of sun, joy wrapped up into a small gift of a human being; and while yes, he does pick up where you lack, it seems to be too big of a gap to bridge. So, you’ll stick to admiring him for now.

“There’s another one, hyung!” Taehyung calls out in happiness as you round the corner to the hallway that houses the lockers.

Oh, and that too.

The love letters.

It was a lapse of judgement in your opinion. 

You were vulnerable, and one of your closest friends had managed to weasel their way into your brain and placed false hope that sharing your writing would somehow win him over.

It seems to be half true, for what it’s worth.

You were prepared for the sheer amount of warmth to spread through your chest after watching Taehyung react to your love letters the first time.

It was very simple: “your art is beautiful.”

You had haphazardly shoved it through the slits in the metal locker before hauling ass to your next class. The only reason why you were able to see his reaction is because yours was only four lockers down.

It was hard to act inconspicuous when your hands were damp with sweat, every negative thought flowing through your mind at the same time:

‘He thinks it’s stupid’

‘He’ll throw it away’

‘“Your art is beautiful”? Yeah, not like he’s never heard that one before’

But the funny part about life is that sometimes, it goes the way you want it to.

“Wah! Taehyungie, is that a love note?” His close friend Hoseok, had sounded from behind him.

It had only taken Taehyung a handful of seconds to open his locker, watch the note flutter out, bend over, pick it up, and read it.

Your body went rigid, and the grating silence that fell the nearly empty hallway was deafening.

Then, “I don’t know.”

Hoseok looked over his shoulder, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s not very long.” He speaks unsurely. 

“I know,” Taehyung’s words were then followed by a wide smile. “It’s perfect.”

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. 

He had called the notes perfect.

From then on, you hadn’t really written a lot, because there was so much that you had to say that you couldn’t really say anything at all.

You wanted to write more, you wanted to give him more. There were so many times that you would go to write him a note with more than a sentence or two, but you’d end up sitting there and just staring at the slip of paper.

Your compliments never seemed to bother him, because every time you’d seen him go to grab his books, he’d give a quick, ecstatic glance over its internal contents, searching for your note.

It was flattering.

So, you kept writing, and he kept reading.

But now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel like you should have been doing more.

More of what? More words? Gifts? Actions? Confessions?

It leaves you in a conundrum, because while yes, you did want to confess to him, you had no fucking idea how, and secondly, to address the elephant in the room, he had no fucking idea who you were.

Okay, yeah, your lockers are only a foot or two apart, and yes, you do share a class with him, but you’ve never talked to him before. You’re lucky he would even remember your name because of attendance purposes.

You're snapped back into reality by a force slamming into you from behind, sending you stumbling forward and out from behind the corner you had been standing behind.

You let out an unattractive yelp, and your headphones had been ripped out of your ears and tumbled to the floor along with your phone.

You don’t even have time to blink before one Jeon Jungkook is in your field of vision, apologizing profusely and stumbling over himself to pick your things up.

“Oh, God – I’m so sorry! I – I didn’t see you, and I just wanted to –”

You swallowed harshly, keeping your eyes downcasted as embarrassment seeped into every crevice of your body.

So much for good introductions.

You know he was looking at you, and you knew that the ‘hyung’ he had been talking to was dance major Park Jimin.

Kill me. Kill  me. Kill me – 

“It’s fine.” You spoke blankly, almost as if you were bored. Almost as if you weren’t about to spontaneously combust where you stood.

You pushed out a hand, gesturing to him to place your lost objects in them; and he did, albeit hesitantly.

“Again, I’m –”

“Sorry. Yeah, I heard you the first time, and I said it’s fine.”

You finally look up, and you try to not cringe at the overwhelming amount of worry that’s etched into Taehyung’s face. 

Worry for who? You didn’t know, but you can’t help but risk a glance his way and his large brown eyes pour into your soul.

Dangerous.

This is exactly why you weren’t going to say anything.

“I’ve got to go to class. Just be careful next time.”

You rip your eyes away and turn around, abandoning your textbook and journal in exchange for safety. 

Safe from what?

The hardest part about sharing a class with Kim Taehyung was actually having to see him.

What makes it even harder is that he has been non-stop looking at you the entire period, and you can’t help but be a little self-conscious.

You shift in your seat, straightening your shirt, and nonchalantly wiping around your mouth just in case you might have saved anything from breakfast on your face.

It was like heaven had opened up when the bell rang, and you were the first one to shoot up, shoving your backup materials into your bag. You could’ve gone faster.

Just when you thought you were free, two sneaker covered feet encroached your vision.

“Hey.”

The deep timber of his voice shook you to your very core, and you paused briefly, glancing up at him even though it felt like cinder blocks were tied to the back of your eyes.

“Hi.” You breathed.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook.”

“I already said it was fine.” You sighed, putting away the last of your things and hauling the strap of your tote bag over your shoulder.

“It’s not, though. He shouldn’t have been running in a busy hallway like that. He could’ve gotten him or someone else hurt.”

Your nerves practically hummed at his fussing, but you forced it down.

“I appreciate your concern, and I don’t blame him for running into me. A lot of my friends are like him too. Excitable, quick to injure. Like a puppy.”

At your dry-witted joke, Taehyung cracked a grin. “(y/n), right?”

Even though he was clearly in front of you, hearing him say your name nearly startled you half to death. It sounded good coming out of his mouth. Too good.

“Yeah, and I know you’re Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry we’ve never talked to each other before, I’ve just been busy with, you know…”

“Your art and stuff, yeah. I know.” He seems caught off guard by the show of information, and you think that now would be an excellent time to chuck yourself out the nearest window.

“You know about my art?”

“And your photography.”

Wow, very inconspicuous.

“Oh?”

“I… think your work is excellent. You find beauty in the small things. It’s admirable.”

For a moment he just stares at you, and you stare back. For the first time since coming in contact with him today, you didn’t have the overwhelming feeling to run.

Maybe you can give him a bit more.

“What are you doing today?” Your breath catches in your throat at his question; had it been this easy all along? “Why?” 

For the first time today, you make him work for an answer from you, and you can see his grin melt into a small smirk. A sign that he appreciates the challenge.

“I was going to invite you to go out to lunch with me and my friends as an apology. Jungkook still feels terrible for almost tackling you.”

You wave off his statement. “As much as I’d love to, I’ve got a few things I’ve got to do today, but let Jungkook know that I’ll be around soon enough, so he can give me reparations then.”

Taehyung lets out a booming laugh.

“Alright, I’ll let him know.”

When you go back to your dorm that night, your hands practically shake with the adrenaline that your interactions with him gave you today.

You fumble to get out a pen, and instead of going for the half sheets of paper you had meticulously cut in half, you opt for a full piece.

You write what you’ve been feeling for these last few months; weeks upon weeks of yearning spill through your fingertips as you express your love for his laugh, how deeply enchanting his eyes are, how inspirational he is.

You write and write and write until your fingers cramp and you near the lower half of the page.

This. This was what you have been meaning to give him all this time.

This was the part of yourself that you were so desperate to show him. What you wanted him to acknowledge about himself.

In a corny show of vulnerability, you steal a heart sticker from your roommate and slip the letter – an actual letter! – into an envelope, sealing it shut with the glittering craft.

There’s rustling coming from outside, which means said roommate is home, and you quickly shove it into a random drawer in your desk for another day.

For the day.

You don’t expect Taehyung to talk to you the next day, or for the day after that.

He waves at you in the hallway when he sees you, comes to talk to you after class is over, and even gestures you over to sit next to him when he sees you sitting at lunch by yourself.

Normally you would take lunch as the time to catch up on a few things, the music blaring through your ears drowning out the restlessness of the campus goers around you.

You all but waddle over there, plopping down next to him a respectable distance away and fiddling with your jacket sleeve when your presence draws the attention of two of your seniors.

You bow at the waist in greeting of Yoongi and Namjoon, and they bow back, but you’re hit lightly with the back of Taehyung’s hand to your arm.

“Don’t bow to them, they don’t deserve it.”

Instantly, Yoongi’s sleepy demeanour slips and he hisses, swatting over at his dongsaeng half-heartedly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Respect your elders.”

You grin a bit, raising a brow Tae’s way as he cackles and leans back to avoid being hit.

“I didn’t know my friend was so disrespectful.” You find it in yourself to tease. It’s like a flip is switched in Taehyung, and he shoots you the most breath stealing pout you’ve only ever seen him give to the men in front of you.

Your grin slips and your eyes fall to his lips, watching them closely as he speaks. “Don’t be so mean to me, (y/n).” 

Your mouth flounders like an idiot, your gaze zeroing in on the beauty marks and imperfections that riddle his face. God, he was so beautiful.

Someone clears their throat, and he pulls away from you, and you spin to face forward.

You catch Namjoon’s knowing look and act like you didn’t see it.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just butt-hurt that his secret admirer hasn’t left anything in his locker for the past few days.” Yoongi mumbles.

You force yourself not to cringe, but you can’t help but ask, “What secret admirer?”

“Someone’s been leaving Tae little compliments in his locker. It’s one of the things he’s been looking forward to, but the person hasn’t been by in a while.” Namjoon finishes for him.

“Hyung.” Taehyung whines, but it’s clear he’s been affected by the absence of your notes.

You had been so worried about the big bang that was ‘the letter’ – as your best friend had coined it – that you had forgotten about the compliments you were supposed to be writing to him.

But why would you write him compliments when you had the real deal right in front of you?

It didn’t seem to matter, though, because you can see the sad pull of his smile, how it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

You can’t take it.

“What if the person was planning something for valentine’s day?”

Three pairs of eyes land on you – suspicion, hope, and intrigue.

“Really?” Taehyung asks, but before he can answer, Yoongi goes, “How do you know?”

You flounder once again.

“I… I’m just making a logical guess.”

“Wah! So smart, (y/n).” The box-smiled man says in wonderment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve been too in your head about some compliments. Idiot.” The last word is followed by a snapped flick to Tae’s forehead from Yoongi. 

“Ow, hyung!”

You know Namjoon is staring at you. No – not staring at you – analyzing you.

You know the older man had always been too smart for his own good, so you’re not surprised that he might’ve caught on this quickly.

You refuse to look at him, because as they say, “eyes are the window to the soul,” And you aren’t interested in letting the dragon-eyed man in front of you into it any time soon.

“Well good thing tomorrow is valentine’s day, right?” You don’t realize Taehyung’s talking to you until he nudges you with his shoulder.

“(y/n)?”

“Huh?” You ask intelligently, lifting your gaze from a spot on your table to look at him. “Right… right.” You agree with a nervous smile.

If Taehyung notices your anxiety, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re all the more grateful for it, though it feels like you're not alone with your thoughts.

That night, you prop the letter up on a stack of books and just stare at it.

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms and staring it down as though it had personally offended you.

You can do this. It was easy.

Right?

You’re sick the entire morning, stomach swimming with something nasty as you tuck the offending piece of paper into your bag.

You’re just going to slip it into his locker, the same as you have every other time. The only difference is that your name is on it, and it’s up to him on whether or not he’ll decide to ever speak to you again.

It’s not the most foolproof plan you’ve ever had, but hey, a plan is a plan.

You tremble the whole walk to school, and it isn’t until you’re face-to-face with said locker that you finally feel bile start to burn at the back of your throat.

Oh God, were you really about to do this?

You force yourself to just bite the bullet and shove it in, but you’re stopped midway by a voice from behind you.

“(y/n)?” 

Your arms that were raised to push the paper through the slots freeze midair, the only thing piercing the silence is the sound of the hefty envelope sliding in and landing somewhere inside the metal container.

Taehyung is behind you.

Taehyung is behind you and he just watched you stand here and slip a note into his locker confessing your love to him.

Yeah, this plan was sure as shit not fucking foolproof.

“It was you?”

There’s something in his voice you can’t detect, and it’s taking you everything in your power to not haul ass.

“I…” You don’t know what to say as you turn around and are confronted by a slack jawed, wide eyed Taehyung.

You swallow the sand that’s in your mouth. Tears burn at the back of your eyelids at the thought of his rejection. Your heart already aches.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry… for leaving all those notes in your locker and for getting your hopes up… I –”

“Stop.”

“What?” Air rushes out of your lungs like someone sat on your chest.

“Don’t say sorry for doing something that made me happy.”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

When he looks up at you, you can finally see the red hue that paints his caramel cheeks; he shares a nervous smile with you as he steps forward carefully, as though he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“I have a few secrets of my own that I think I should share with you.”

He reaches forward and encompasses your hand in his, and they are as big and warm as you had imagined they would be. They’re a bit calloused, but you figure that comes from holding a paintbrush for hours at a time.

“I… I’m really happy that it’s you.” He swallows and chuckles wetly. “I like you, (y/n). If you haven’t noticed.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t think you’ve been the only one watching someone around here.” He’s smiling brightly and his teeth are so white they nearly blind you. 

“I confess that, I’ve known you for longer than when we first met.”

“What?” You ask again, but now you’re smiling just a bit. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he speaks. They’re fluttering so fast you feel nauseous.

“I’ve liked you since the beginning of the year.” He’s staring at you dead on. “I… I remember seeing you and thinking you were so cool.” Taehyung laughs at himself. “And not just cool, but I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I would look for you in the hallways, I’d watch you sitting alone at lunch, and I’d watch you watch your friends. I thought it was always a bit strange how you never wanted to talk, because I know you have so many brilliant thoughts in your head.”

Your cheeks flush with an unbearable heat, and you express your shyness by squeezing his hand, and he gives you an answering squeeze back.

“I remember when you presented your project and being so enamoured the entire time. I couldn’t help but think about what else you had in that brain of yours. And then I remember thinking after that, that I would read or listen to whatever you came up with.”

“Then the notes started.”

Your breath catches.

“Then I got confused. Because here this person is, telling me how beautiful they think my work is, when I already have the most beautiful thing right in front of me.”

Beautiful. You.

“Hoseok-hyung grilled me so hard after the first time you had ever given me a note.” He chuckles once more. “He had asked me, ‘what are you going to do?’ and I remember saying, ‘I don’t know.’”

He licks his dry lips. “But I knew that I hoped it was you. That you were the one that came up with those sweet words.”

“I was content with watching you, and the flattery of the notes. But then Jungkook ran into you, and I knew my time of spectating was over, because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to ruin any potential chance I may have had because my best friend was a bit of an idiot.”

You laugh at his words, and you hadn’t noticed you were crying until his free hand had come up and swiped at a stray tear rolling down your hot cheek.

“You were a bit scary to approach I admit, because if you had treated me the way you did Kook, I think I might have cried.” You cackle a bit. 

“But you didn’t and then now here we are, on valentine’s day –”

“Confessing to each other in the hallway.” Your own words made yourself cringe, but you can’t stop the cheek splitting smile that forces its way onto your face.

“Is that what we're doing?” He asks cheekily. “Is that what you want to do?” You bite back playfully.

“It depends on what that note says.”

Oh no.

“Ugh,” You groan, and allow your head to fall forward and land on a surprisingly lean shoulder. “Don’t read it around me please.”

“So that means it’s good.”

“Taehyung!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A hand comes up to rub at your back comfortingly.

“But not really.”

You take the skin on his side and twist.

“Ow, ow!”

© yoongsriverandme 2025-26

[fearcutsdeeper]

Hi, I’ve really been enjoying your Temeraire posting! I saw in the tags of one of your posts recently (I think the one about the Laurence+Rankin friendship era in book one) that you read Laurence as autistic and the idea really tickled my brain! I’m a new fan of the series and I haven’t thought of him that way before, but now that you pointed it out it makes so much sense. I was wondering if you’d be willing to elaborate a bit on that reading of his character? It’s a super interesting idea and I’d love to hear more of your thoughts if you feel like sharing!

Absolutely!!! The first time I read the books I was really flying through them and too caught up in the character arc I could feel taking shape before my eyes to really dwell on the character as he is, if that makes sense. I'm reading more slowly this time and really considering his thoughts and actions in context, and they feel... like, very relatable to me in a specific way.

(Disclaimer: this is a personal reading, not trying to claim this is an objective truth about the character or anything, etc)

One thing about the way a lot of people discuss autistic or perceived-as-autistic characters is that they'll recognize them as autistic based on straightforward expression of symptoms/traits that you might read off a list. This isn't doing it wrong or anything, and the characters in question can easily be read as autistic! But those aren't usually the characters I see myself in.

I'll pretty often start seeing a character as autistic not because they're outwardly showing symptoms, but because their behavior strikes me as learned compensation for symptoms. Data from Star Trek is very frequently seen as autistic coded not just because of his frequently expressed lack of understanding for social conventions but also because he then explicitly writes himself new subroutines to account for what he learns. A lot of autistic people (including myself) go through their lives kind of accumulating "scripts" – like, oh, I seem to have missed that X was a signal, but the person's reaction tells me that the appropriate response would have been Y. Next time I encounter X, I will do Y.

Now, Will Laurence builds his ENTIRE LIFE around the elaborate rules of British propriety and honor and duty. He tells us that he enjoys Society – "conversation, dancing, and friendly whist were his favorite pursuits". All three things listed are, in Georgian wealthy society, things with a strict and learnable structure and rules – he likes when what he's supposed to do is clearly laid out for him! He's in I think his late thirties when the series starts. I'm basically reading him as an autistic man who realized that people didn't make sense to him the way they did to other children and then spent his entire life Learning The Rules so no one would notice.

Every time he's engaging with propriety and Proper Behavior, he's thinking very consciously about it. And when someone else violates his understanding of the rules, he's internally scrambling for the proper response, because his script has been disrupted. (My personal favorite it when he'll go "the only satisfactory response would be a challenge to duel but I'm not allowed anymore")

So, he's been doing this all his life, he's learned all the rules for the life track he's put himself on (which is a highly structured one!), and then, boom, the plot hits.

The Rules of aviator society are totally different. Laurence is affronted and scrambling. I find it notable that Berkley basically plows right through Laurence's attempts at propriety and immediately starts talking to him like he would any other aviator, and it WORKS. Laurence is kind of taken aback, because his rules would interpret the way he's being spoken to as an insult, but Berkley certainly isn't acting like he means to give insult, so Laurence doesn't respond like he's received one. There's also the bit where he notes that the woman serving him has violated protocol by greeting him instead of being silent – but he returns the greeting and isn't offended.

He's mirroring like hell! (This is a common autistic trait.) He's working out what the expected behavior is and returning it as much as he can manage. And when he's with Rankin, he reverts to his society scripts, with so much relief that he ignores some warning signs.

And this makes his whole arc of disillusionment with the British Government SO interesting, because Laurence, I think anyone would agree, takes the honor that the government pays lip service to dramatically more seriously than most members of the government and Admiralty. And, until he gets the truth shoved in his face, he has enormous trouble conceiving of that. It really reads as autistic to me – like, what do you MEAN the elaborate system of morals you told me to structure my personality around is only window dressing to you? It's sure as hell not window dressing to me!

In this reading, in addition to all the other incredible things that his story is about, it's also about an autistic guy becoming increasingly uncomfortably aware that the systems of rules and parameters which he painstakingly learned and have successfully guided him through most of his life are fundamentally in conflict with each other, and eventually being forced at gunpoint to decide which of those rules really truly matter, throw out the rest, and rebuild from scratch.

Which is to say: my man is in hell. At least he has a dragon?

[impalasandzombies]

Hi. So this is my first post. To everyone in the SPN (mainly) fandom. YOU ARE PLATFORMING A KNOWN ABUSER.

COLLINSVSP AND ACKLESEDITZ is an ABUSER.

They faked their death, faked being abused and kidnapped multiple times, and faked being MULTIPLE DIFFERENT PEOPLE ON MULTIPLE ALT ACCOUNTS! Including their MOTHER. They isolated me from my friends and family and almost made me kill myself.

I recently reached out to them, saying that I forgave them for everything. I thought we ended on good terms. NOPE! Turns out I've been being fucking stalked this WHOLE time.

I admit I did a few things wrong during and after our relationship, but nothing that warrants ABUSE. Yes, maybe I was a little petty about unblocking them. But in the end, I deleted everything, and there is nothing wrong with exposing abuse. I was stupid and foolish to think we could resolve this issue between us, even after I told him I forgave him.

I have a WHOLE Google document about this. My name has been censored in all of it, but I am NOT hiding anymore.

My name is CastielCan'tSleep, and I WILL speak up about this, no matter how much he tries to change the narrative.

I'm working on making a Google document of my own experiments

[alex-is-the-king-11111]

"At least were going to die together" hhmmm

[heartmaddie]

MICHAEL KAISER doesn’t remember the first time he told you that he loved you as clearly as he should. The night was uncharacteristically tepid, heat sweltering through thin, linen sheets which danced gracefully through the light breeze of a summer night. Azure eyes exhausted, but not even the heaviest of eyelids could have forced them to close, his gaze was preoccupied devouring you.

The phosphorescence of the moon adorned your skin as breath escaped lungs, your sonnet, dedicated to him. Gentle eyes explored your body, sweat dripping from clean skin onto cotton. If he were an artist, you, in late hours of his sleepless nights, would be his only muse. 

Somnolent fingers traced the ripples which ran through his porcelain fingers, you pulled him impossibly close as calefaction consumed him. It was uncomfortably hot but, he couldn’t fathom letting you go. Maybe it was because, only in your arms, he understood what it meant to be loved.

Michael was anything but religious. Although, that could be argued through how his thumbs ran through your eyelashes so reverently, or how you were his tangible evidence of a gift from God. Everything was seemingly more vivid within your realms, a sound in the near distance, a call from spring. 

Roseate lips pressed against your soft nape, his head aching from the vertigo of overwhelming devotion. He was almost choked from the immensity of his affection, wholeheartedly only for you. It was why he couldn’t help but bury himself under the ease of your chest, his exhalation fluttering against the hairs of your neck as his eyes shut. 

“I love you.” Tender, but awkward were the words uttered from his lips, cerulean clenching shut in only the most vulnerable. Heart poured from his chest and pooled between your fingers, where he was safe. An organ so full, it could barely be called his. He whispered it once again as exhaustion carried him.

He only hoped that you could hear him, through your dreams.

©heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

bllk taglist ; @solvisun , @manjirosanoswifey , @chlosology , @levihanmyotp

@x-vivi-v , @t3chn0chan , @lizbix , @yur1ash , @itoshisaesss

@elfiaa , @jals-stuff , @marcia-11111 , @reocidal , @goobiescooby

@rink1sser , @definitelynotanalien , @sirhamburrger , @vertejay ,

@x3nafix , @haitanibros0007 , @vayahatesu , @sahrii

form to be added to taglists

[myoonins]

full moon again, crazy how time flies

[posi-pan]

a day late, but i’m here now so let’s spread some love and support for pan folks!! i hope pansexual, panromantic, panalterous, pansensual, panplatonic, panaesthetic, and pangender (and any other pan related labels i might’ve missed) people have a lovely week. i love y’all so much.

pan week is december 6-12 💗💛💙

[sergle]

I'm thinking abt that pretty fall leaves embroidery pattern post and about how like... it is categorically a repost, it's a reupload. right? a thing that is generally disliked. but because it's credited, it's genuinely boosting the artist in question. and it could ALWAYS be like this. reposting content could ALWAYS be a symbiotic relationship, but because sourcing back to the original creator of something is so uncommon, it's just easier to ask people not to repost it at all. and people still don't understand the difference. or they'll go to the effort of cropping out usernames/signatures to repost something, which is More Effort than literally crediting the creator of something you liked enough to want to repost. Like. I literally don't actually care if my own shit gets reposted, you have to understand. I just don't want it STOLEN. But "do not repost" is easier to write on my art than "you can repost this, but don't alter the image/remove my signature, don't you dare write 'credit goes to the artist' because that is not credit, please link back to my original post or someplace that you can actually find me. please use an actual link/url instead of writing a non-clickable link of my username, because making it text instead of a clickable link cuts the number of people who will go to the effort of visiting my own page in Half." All those aggregate themed accounts, those fuckin annoying as hell instagrams and facebook groups that are like "body positive art we love wamen 💕 hashtag feminism" and then MASS-STEAL plus sized art created by women, if pages like these that always go and steal my older self-portraits and other works... If they just put a link to my prints of those pieces in the text of those posts, or, fuck, my commission info page? I would literally be living on the moon right now. I would have a house on the moon

[roxanneslosteyes]

The Tuplar crew when they saw the sun for the first time:

[wetcatspellcaster]

...Cazador's mansion be upon ye!

[dreildream]

"Awesome, super cool, and like, totally awesome. Like really awesome."

[skeletonbread]

Ismark is really going through it...

[waxrabbits]

don't repost! . please ask before using as a pfp!