#do I really want to subject myself to this?

[sapphiconoclast]

1a) kinda wish I lived in your skin, where you just know what you want to eat at all times. do you know how many times a day I open my fridge and just stare instead of feeding myself?

1b) please help me understand your definition of "labor" because I'm struggling to concoct one that includes "figuring out how I want to play this game that I am playing for fun" and coming up short

2) "food that's bad" is subjective. I have in fact played with players who find encumbrance and the XGE "eight months to craft a piece of plate armor" crafting rules fun. I feel that with a game as wide as DnD, knowing which rules will tickle your specific fancy off-rip and which ones won't is a really nifty pipe dream and nothing more. do you really walk into restaurants, eat something, and upon disliking it say "this food is bad and the fact that I didn't know to avoid it makes the whole restaurant a wash"?

im confused about the dnd 5e hatred. yall arent just ignoring rules that are dumb? ur dm actually follows every single thing in the book for real?

if you have to ignore some of the rules for the game to be good then the game is not good

[ktownshizzle]

Friends & Fools | One-Shot

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: You and Yoongi have always been just friends—inseparable since childhood, roommates in the city, partners in navigating life’s chaos. At your high school reunion, the questions start: Are you two finally together? Uh, no. But as the night goes on, and Yoongi looks at you like that, hmm—has everyone else seen something you’ve been too scared to admit?

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, non-idol!au, reunion!au, best friends & roommates to lovers, grumpy x grumpy, when reader is more yoongi than yoongi himself

Warnings: cursing, smoking cigarettes, kissing, allusion to sex

Word count: 2.8k

Posting date: November 26, 2024

Notes: This is a one-shot to celebrate my 500 followers milestone for the blog! Just a cute little something as a thank you making this writer happy. The story was inspired by two asks: 1) lovely anon who wanted to talk about Yoongi at Jimmy Fallon; 2) kookiewithluv who sent me the softest, smiliest, fluffiest d-day Yoongi photos that I just couldn’t help myself.

Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Masterlist

MIN YOONGI 101 is a course you could’ve taught in school. It’s a subject matter you’ve mastered somewhere between the sandbox (when he was the kid hoarding plastic shovels in the playground) and the shoebox (the over-priced apartment that you both decided to rent together after uni).

It’s ‘cause you’ve always been good at watching him. You’ve picked up all his visual cues, his weird quirks, his tells.

Tonight is no different. From across the room, in the too-bright glare of your high school gym’s rented stage lights, you catch the tell-tale pinch of his brow, the mindless nodding that means he’s enduring yet another overly enthusiastic former classmate. Someone’s laughing too loud in his face, and he responds the same way he always does—with a small, polite smile and a glance at his drink like it’s his lifeline.

You’d know that look anywhere.

Yoongi catches your eye then, like he can feel your energy slicing through the crowd, and his lips twitch. The faintest ghost of a smirk, the kind he reserves just for you. He raises his glass, and you do the same from across the room. A silent message of we're too fucking sober to be in this joint.  He holds your gaze and you watch as he inadvertently inserts the straw up one nostril, giggling because that wouldn’t be the first time. He shakes his head and puts it back in his mouth for a sip.

It’s comforting, really. That tether between you and Yoongi.

Even if the two of you are apparently the only ones here who don’t see what everyone else does.

You are standing by the endlessly classy boxed wine on the buffet table, watching your old classmates get progressively tipsier under dim lighting. Yoongi stands next to you, unabashedly drinking whiskey straight from his flask. He looks real sharp in a tailored blazer, with a casual t-shirt underneath, mumbling earlier that day how he cannot be arsed to fiddle with a necktie, even though it’s always you who has been fixing it for job interviews, funerals, formal occasions etc. for him for the past years. Secretly you think he knew that wearing that t-shirt actually just made him look effortlessly cool.

Someone from across the room waves, and you recognize it to be Hyorin, your former lab partner who was also a cheerleader or something, making her way toward you. “Oh my God, you two!” she exclaims, beaming. “You finally got together, huh?”

Yoongi chokes on his drink, and you nearly drop your solo.

“Nooo,” Yoongi drawls, dragging the word out with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Hyorin frowns, tilting her head. “Wait. You’re not a couple?”

You both shake your heads so emphatically it looked rehearsed. 

“Nope,” you say, popping the P.

“Not even fucking?”

The audacity of this chick, though?

“Not even close,” Yoongi answers, but his voice sounded oddly tight. 

Hyorin gives you both a skeptical once-over before laughing. “Okay, sure. Whatever you guys say.” She leaves, shaking her head like you’ve just told her the earth is flat, didn’t you know that?

They’re really starting to piss you off, ngl.

“Okay, but seriously,” Jihyo, who was in the band with you and one of the few people you’ve kept some form of contact with (hence can tolerate), hisses. “You’re really still not together?”

It was your turn to choke on your drink. “Hajimaaa! Why does everyone keep asking me that? Y’all wanna shoot your shot with Yoongi, go! I don’t give a fuck.”

Jihyo gives you a look like you’re the most oblivious person on earth. “This is exactly why I think you’re into him. Not everyone wants to date him, girl. We’re just curious about you two.”

“I—fuck you, actually. Give me one good reason why you think we’re a… thing.”

“Because you and Yoongi have been attached at the hip since we were all kids? Because you practically morphed into the same person? Because he’s literally looked at you the same way since he had that awful mushroom cut in fourth grade?”

“It wasn’t a mushroom cut. It was…” You cringe. “Yeah, it was a mushroom cut.”

You both giggle, then she asks, swirling the remains of her wine. “But seriously. Everyone thought you finally figured it out. You two moved in together a couple of months ago, no?”

“Yeah, because rent’s insane, I hate people, and he hates people, so we’re perfect roommates.”

Jihyo raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Mmhmm. Roommates. Sure.”

You roll your eyes, but the words stick with you as the night drags on, looping in your head as more classmates approach with the same comments. It’s exhausting. You’re about to grab your coat and drag Yoongi out of here when you feel a familiar figure at your side.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks, voice low, his shoulder brushing yours. 

“I’m fine,” you sigh. “Just… everyone keeps asking why we’re not dating.”

Yoongi scoffs, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “What’d you tell ‘em?”

“The truth.”

He smirks again, but it’s sharper this time, laced with something you can’t quite name. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re a chronically unavailable workaholic and are too emotionally constipated to be anyone’s boyfriend.”

He huffs a laugh, shoulders bobbing. “Ouch,” he says, but his eyes are soft, the way they get when he looks at you sometimes, warm and wistful.

You look away first, clearing your throat, suddenly remembering what Jihyo said about how he looks at you. “Well, you’re not exactly ideal boyfriend material.”

Yoongi shrugs, mouth forming a straight line. “Fair.”

Anyway, you know you’re no dream girl, either. He is just way too soft for you to say it to your face.

Between the two of you, your combined dating history looks like a collection of UN flags, except they’re all red. 

Him with his too-whiny, needy bitches, who have far too high expectations of him and he is just not the guy to validate their feelings 24 fucking 7. He has things to do (produce) and places to be (his studio).

And you, with your love bombers and commitment-phobes that have got you questioning if there’s something wrong with you because they always lose interest down the line. (Yoongi says they're all assholes btw, and you are inclined to believe him, despite lingering self-doubt.)

You always joked that no one else understood either of you the way you understood each other.

But aren’t jokes half-meant?

By the time the reunion starts winding down, you’re tipsy enough that the edges of the night feel soft and fuzzy. You’re outside, leaning against the brick wall of the building with Yoongi, his jacket draped over your shoulders because he’s simply gentlemanly like that. Raised well by his eomma who you equally adore.

“You didn’t have to stay this long,” he says, lighting a cigarette.

You watch the glow of it as he inhales, the faint tremble of his fingers in the cold. “Neither did you.”

He shrugs, exhaling a thin ribbon of smoke. “I wasn’t gonna let you suffer alone.”

Something warm pools in your chest. “Thanks. And, same.”

The quiet stretches between you, the kind of comfortable silence only Yoongi can manage. It’s strange how natural it feels, just existing with him like this. Like it’s enough.

You gesture to the stick, then he slowly brings it to your lips.

You exhale the smoke as you tilt your head back to look at the stars—or what few stars there are on this cloudy night—and ask the question that’s been sitting heavy on your tongue all night.

“Why do you think everyone assumes we’re together?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away, but you can feel the heaviness of his gaze on you like it’s settling on your shoulders.

“I dunno,” he says eventually, voice quiet. “Maybe because we act like we are.”

Hol’ up. “What do you mean?”

He takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slow. “I mean… we know each other better than anyone else. We live together. Spend all our time together. Maybe they think it just makes sense.”

Your heart stutters. “Does it?”

Yoongi stills, blinks like he’s trying to suss out where you’re going with this. “What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice teeny-tiny. “Just… do you ever think maybe we’ve been—”

“Idiots?” he cuts in, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, but it’s shaky. “Yeah. That.”

Yoongi looks at you then, really looks at you, and you feel like the ground might give out beneath you. There’s something in his expression, something raw and vulnerable and scared. Like he’s standing on the edge of something, just waiting for you to push him over.

“Sometimes,” he says finally, his voice rough.

It’s not an admission, not exactly, but it’s enough to make your pulse race.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

He snuffs the cigarette against the wall and tosses it towards the can. Then, he steps closer, close enough that you can see the faint moles on his face, the curve of his lashes as he blinks down at you.

“You wanna go home?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You know what he’s really asking.

You say yes.

The walk to the subway station is quiet. Tense.

The back of his hand brushes yours as you walk along the sidewalk, and neither of you moves away.

The subway ride back to your apartment is also quiet. Tense.

Yoongi doesn’t say much, but his knee brushes yours every time the train sways, and neither of you moves away. 

By the time you’re back in your apartment, your brain is mushy and your head feels like it’s about to explode as you keep rewinding and replaying the events of the night, every classmate that alluded to your relationship, his lingering glance, sharing the cigarette, every half-formed word between you... Fuck.

Yoongi kicks off his shoes by the door, pushing it under the rack. You stand there awkwardly, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.

“Tea?” he asks, already moving toward the kitchen.

“No.” Your voice comes out too abrupt, too sharp, and he freezes.

He turns slowly, eyes searching yours. “You ok?”

“No.” You take a deep breath, your heart pounding. “I think we’ve been avoiding this for a long time.”

Yoongi blinks, but you know he is just pretending not to understand what you meant. “Avoiding what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “Us.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then— “Mm.”

Mm. That’s all he says, like you haven’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of your tiny living room.

“Yoongi,” you say, stepping closer. “Do you—”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, nodding as he bites down on his lower lip. “I do.”

The air shifts between you, and suddenly you’re not sure who moves first, but then his warm hands are on your face and your fingers are tangled in his shirt and his mouth is on yours, and—

Oh.

Damn.

His lips are softer than you imagined—not that you spent countless late nights pining, but if you had, this would surpass every hypothetical. He kisses like he does everything else: deliberate, unhurried, sure. His hands slide down from your face to rest on your waist.

The sigh that slips from your lips is involuntary, but it’s enough for him to push further. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, coaxing you open, and when he deepens the kiss, tasting you, it uncoils the knot that’s been tight in your belly all night. Yoongi tastes faintly like whiskey, like cigarettes, and something else so distinctly him and you’re endlessly intoxicated.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails grazing the nape of his neck, and the low, guttural noise he makes in response sends a shockwave through you. Heat settles in your core, spreading with an intensity that takes you by surprise. Because omg–this is not some hot stranger you met at a bar. This is your goddamn best friend, whose hand is now dangerously encroaching on the swell of your ass.

You hadn’t expected this—not the kiss, not the pleasure, not the way he makes you feel like you’re in some version of paradise.

You’re melting with every curl of his tongue, every shift in the way his lips move against yours. It’s the kind of intimacy that makes the rest of the world fall away, until the only thing you’re aware of is the feel of him—his warmth, his certainty, the way he kisses like he already knows this is how it should’ve been in the first place–a sureness you hadn’t expected. 

It’s not just passion—it’s belonging, the sense that every piece of you slots perfectly into place with him. Like the years of laughter, arguments, and everything in between have all been leading here. His hands now circling your waist feel steady, like they’ve always known where to hold you even though this is the very first time. 

And in that moment, kissing Yoongi feels like coming home—warm, certain, complete. A place you hadn’t known you were searching for, because you’ve always been with him, and now you can’t imagine ever leaving.

When you finally pull away, his lips are swollen, and his eyes are a bit moist, blinking blankly like he can’t fathom what just happened. His arms loosen their hold on you, just a bit, and suddenly, you can see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

And for a second, your stomach churns, worried that the wheels in his head are turning and it’s telling him that this was not it.

Finally he speaks. “Was that weird?” 

You huff out a breath, a cross between a chuckle and a sigh of relief, because God. Yoongi could be pressed against you, breathless and flushed, and he’d still overthink. You really belong together.

“Not weird,” you say softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Weirdly perfect, maybe.”

He exhales sharply, relief flooding his features. “Fuck, okay. Good. Because if it sucked for you, I’d have to move out. And in this economy???”

You swat his chest, laughing again, but then his arms tighten around you again, holding you close, and the teasing fades into something softer. It’s not lost on you that this is the longest you’ve ever touched each other. Two socially awkward fools who are secretly touch-starved now finally getting what they’ve been craving for but have been too shy to admit it.

“Seriously, though,” he says, a lopsided grin decorating his lips. “What happens next?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. You could still make tea if you want?”

He groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

"Or…" you say, sliding your hands across his chest, your fingers lingering just enough to feel his breath hitch beneath your touch. You push his blazer off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. "We could… you know."

Yoongi lifts his head, and the look in his eyes makes your heart trip over itself. There’s heat there, sure, but beneath it lies something deeper, something that feels vulnerable. "Are we really doing this?"

And you know what he means. Because again, you know Min Yoongi inside out. And he’s known you. But now you’re ready to bare everything that’s left to discover.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything," you say, your voice steady in a way that surprises even you.

His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his last bit of hesitation melting away as he nods.

You step back, your movements slow, deliberate. Turning away from him, you reach for the straps of your dress and slide them down your shoulders, feeling the fabric loosen as you take a few steps toward his room. You glance back over your shoulder, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Are you coming?"

He grins, gummy and warm, and it’s so achingly Yoongi that your chest tightens. "I would hope so…"

You roll your eyes stifling a laugh, because he’s stupid, because he’s him. And because you’ve never loved (wait... what?) anyone more in your entire life. "C’mere then," you tease, the words soft, daring, as your dress slips to the floor and pools around your ankles.

He breathes out, a sound that’s almost a laugh, almost disbelief. "Okay," he says, his voice low, quiet, like he’s agreeing to something more than just this moment.

And maybe he is. Maybe this is the easiest thing in the world, the most inevitable thing that’s ever happened to either of you.

And now, finally, you’re both ready to admit it.

:)

A/N: EEEEKKKK Please tell me what you thought about the story! I'd appreciate feedback if you loved it, hated it, and if it made you feel a certain way.

Thank you for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo 

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.& If you want to be tagged for all future stories, you can sign up for the permanent taglist.

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[thedensworld]

Gentle Daddy | C. Sc

Pairing: Scoups x reader

Genre: fluff, parent au

Summary: welcome aboard to the threenager stage of Seungcheol's son and how he parents him.

Seungcheol was seventeen when he met Chan, the youngest of their group. Was Chan a little brother? Yes. But at the start? Not quite. To Seungcheol, Chan was just another kid, someone he had to look after out of duty rather than choice.

As the oldest in their group, Seungcheol often became the subject of jokes about his strict ways. “Everyone, if you don’t wake up on three, I’ll give you 10 more laps of running,” Seungkwan teased, mimicking Seungcheol's commanding tone from their training days, complete with a mock-serious expression that drew laughter.

“Seungcheol hyung definitely needs someone gentle to balance that out,” Chan piped up with a cheeky grin. But before he could finish, Seungcheol raised an eyebrow and asked, “Balance what?”

Chan swallowed nervously, waving his hand dismissively as the others burst into laughter. “No, no, I was talking to myself,” he stammered.

But now, Seungcheol stood in a different scene, holding his three-year-old son, Wontae, on his arm during his birthday party. The house was filled with chatter and laughter, the kind only close friends could bring.

“Your interior is beautiful, Seungcheol. Come over and do mine next,” Jeonghan quipped, throwing a casual compliment with a hint of a request. Seungcheol rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“Appa did my room too!” Wontae beamed proudly at Jeonghan. Jeonghan’s features softened as he reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Your appa is very talented, isn’t he?”

Seungcheol discovered his passion for interior design when he was searching online for the perfect nursery layout for Wontae. But nothing he found could match the vision in his mind. After discussing it with you, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Trips to the hardware store turned into projects that filled his weekends: crafting custom cabinets, building desks, and designing coffee tables.

In preparation for the party, Seungcheol went all out—rearranging furniture, painting walls, and adding small decorative touches that showcased his new hobby.

“It’s almost as good as Mingyu’s house,” Jeonghan said with a mischievous smirk. Seungcheol chuckled, nodding in agreement. “I think taking care of others did that to me. Just like how Mingyu took care of everything for us back in the day.”

“I want to get down,” Wontae said, squirming in his father’s arms. Seungcheol gently set him down, watching with a smile as his son darted over to Wonwoo, who was showing him a video game on his phone.

“He’s going to be three, wow!” Jeonghan remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. “It feels like just yesterday when I first held him.”

“How is it like?” Jeonghan asked, a rare tone of seriousness in his voice.

Seungcheol sighed, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Go get married and have one yourself,” he said playfully.

“Jeonghan’s getting married?” Your voice chimed in as you returned from putting Wonna, your four-month-old daughter, to sleep. Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan turned toward you. Seungcheol’s eyes softened as he reached for your waist, pulling you gently into his side.

“Is she asleep?” he asked, concern blending with affection. You nodded, resting a hand on his chest.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jeonghan interjected, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“I feel really bad that you’re going through all of this right after giving birth, just for his birthday party,” Jeonghan joked, glancing around at the well-decorated room. The party was being held the day after Seungcheol’s birthday, even though Wontae’s actual birthday was next week.

“I told you, it’s for Wontae!” Seungcheol insisted, his tone defensive but playful.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Jeonghan, I gave birth four months ago. Besides, I’m grateful that Joshua and Mingyu helped with the food prep.” You nodded toward Joshua and Mingyu, who were now joined by Jihoon in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes and joking with each other.

Suddenly, a tiny voice interrupted the grown-up conversation. “Look what Uncle Hoshi got me! It’s a matching tiger onesie for me and Wonna!” Wontae announced proudly, holding up the tiny outfit with wide eyes full of excitement.

Seungcheol’s eyes flicked to Hoshi, who was now rolling on the floor, laughing at Wontae’s reaction. The older man couldn’t help but smirk, shaking his head.

You smiled and turned to Seungcheol. “I’ll go help him with his present,” you said, squeezing his arm before walking over to your son.

Jeonghan, still standing beside Seungcheol, gave him a knowing pat on the shoulder. “You know, it’s great you married Y/N. I never thought I’d see the day when the legendary Seungcheol, the training tyrant, would become the poster child for gentle parenting.”

Seungcheol scoffed, turning to Jeonghan with a mock glare. “A monster? Really? You’re one to talk,” he protested, crossing his arms but unable to suppress the grin threatening to break through.

Jeonghan just laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts. Besides, we all know you wouldn’t be half as patient if it weren’t for her.”

Seungcheol glanced across the room where you were now helping Wontae into the tiger onesie, a soft smile crossing his face. The room buzzed with laughter and warmth, the chaos of their little family perfectly imperfect.

*

Seungcheol woke up a bit late this morning, the warm glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. A soft smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of his family already gathered at the dining table for breakfast. The sound of Wontae’s cheerful voice filled the room when he spotted his dad entering.

“Appa!” Wontae called out with excitement, his tiny hands waving eagerly. Seungcheol walked over and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Wontae’s head before his eyes found Wonna, cradled in your arms, contentedly finishing her second bottle of the day.

“Wonna Wonna~ did you sleep well, my princess?” Seungcheol cooed, his heart melting at the sight of his daughter’s chubby cheeks. Wonna wriggled in your embrace, her eyes lighting up as she recognized her father’s voice.

“You had breakfast, love?” Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to you, his tone laced with concern. You shook your head with a soft smile. “I was waiting for you.”

He grinned, taking Wonna gently from your arms. “I’ll play with Wonna for a bit. Go have your breakfast.”

You nodded, appreciating his thoughtful gesture, and sat down to enjoy breakfast with Wontae. After some quality playtime with Wonna and tucking her back into her crib for a nap, Seungcheol returned to the dining room. By then, Wontae had retreated to his bedroom, engrossed in the toys his uncles had gifted him.

“Wontae loves Mingyu’s gift,” Seungcheol said with a chuckle, recalling how his son had immediately fallen in love with the plush corgi toy Mingyu had brought him. It was amusing how Wontae adored anything Mingyu gave, no matter what it was.

You laughed as you finished your meal. “Of course he does. He’s your son, after all. It makes sense he’d have a special bond with Mingyu.”

Seungcheol joined in your laughter, the sound warm and genuine. “Thanks, love,” he said when you placed a steaming bowl of rice and soup in front of him.

“Is your head still dizzy?” you asked, sitting beside him to keep him company while he ate.

He sighed, a touch of guilt crossing his features. “Not as much, but I really need to cut down on my drinking.” A rueful smile followed. “I still don’t get how you don’t drink at all—not even a beer.”

You smiled, amused by his amazement. “The last time I drank was before I got pregnant with Wontae,” you reminded him. Seungcheol’s eyes widened as the memory came rushing back—it had been at Joshua’s birthday party.

“Right!” he said, letting out a soft chuckle at the recollection.

Before he could say more, Wontae’s voice rang out, echoing through the hallway. “Eomma! Come here!” He came running into the dining room, eyes sparkling with excitement as he tugged at your hand, eager for you to join him in his room.

“How about we stay here and keep Appa company while he finishes eating?” you suggested gently, but Wontae shook his head, determination written all over his little face.

“No! I want to show you my drawing!” he insisted, practically bouncing on his feet. “Uncle Chan gave me crayons, and there are so many colors! Even five different blues!”

You exchanged a knowing look with Seungcheol, your heart swelling at Wontae’s joy. “Alright, let’s see your masterpiece,” you said, getting up and giving Seungcheol a reassuring smile before following your son.

Five minutes later, you returned to the dining room, barely suppressing your laughter. Seungcheol had just finished eating and looked up, curiosity piqued by your expression.

“You should see what he’s done in there,” you said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What did he do this time?”

“You need to see it for yourself,” you urged, playfully nudging him in the direction of Wontae’s room. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

With a grin, Seungcheol pushed back his chair, eager to see what kind of adventure awaited him in his son’s room.

Seungcheol opened Wontae's room and was greeted by the sight of his son enthusiastically coloring in his new book, using the crayons Chan had gifted him. The vibrant hues danced across the pages, a mix of scribbles and childlike shapes. Wontae’s eyes lit up when he noticed his father standing at the door. He bounded over, grabbing Seungcheol’s hand and pulling him toward his little art corner.

“Look, Appa! I drew a rock!” Wontae exclaimed, pride beaming from his small face.

Seungcheol’s eyes followed Wontae’s pointing finger until they landed on the wall. Oh my god. There, on the freshly painted surface, was a child’s drawing—a colorful depiction of what was presumably a rock, sketched in bold crayon strokes.

He froze, processing the situation. So this was why you had insisted he see it for himself. He could practically hear the smile in your voice when you said it.

“You drew on the wall?” he asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

Wontae nodded innocently. “But Eomma said it’s better to draw on the coloring book, so now I draw here. But sometimes it gets boring, Appa!”

Seungcheol felt a wave of relief wash over him. So you caught him and told him to stop. Thank god.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to quell the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Remember, Seungcheol, they don’t know better. They don’t understand how much work it is to paint a wall.

“Yes, your eomma is right. Drawing on your coloring book is best.” He sat down on the floor beside Wontae, the urge to scold replaced by the desire to guide. “Show me more of your drawings here.”

Wontae beamed at the invitation, plopping down next to his father and eagerly flipping through the pages of his coloring book. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile as he watched his son’s eyes sparkle with excitement, oblivious to any worry or consequence.

Every time Seungcheol’s eyes strayed to the drawing on the wall, a chuckle escaped his lips. It was ridiculous! He wanted to be mad, really mad, but he just couldn’t muster it. “You know you shouldn’t draw on the wall, right?” he asked his son, carefully suppressing the instinct to say, “I just painted that! Why did you draw on it?!” in a booming voice that would only frighten the boy. He took a deep breath, holding back the frustration that threatened to spill out.

Wontae looked up at his father’s face, his eyes wide with curiosity as he noticed something unusual. “Why is your face red, Appa?” he asked, putting down his crayon and reaching up with his tiny hands to cup Seungcheol’s flushed cheeks. Seungcheol let out another soft chuckle, his anger melting further.

“You know Appa loves this house, right?” Seungcheol said, his tone remaining gentle and warm.

Wontae nodded, his little head bobbing earnestly.

“No one in this house draws on the walls because Appa worked hard to keep them nice and clean,” Seungcheol explained, still smiling softly despite the chaos inside him.

Wontae bit his lip, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears. “Are you mad at me for drawing on the wall?” His voice trembled as he spoke, and Seungcheol’s heart lurched. Panic surged through him—he was the one who felt like crying, not his son!

“I didn’t say I’m mad at you,” Seungcheol said quickly.

“But your face says it…” Wontae mumbled, the quiver in his voice growing more pronounced.

Oh no. Shit.

“Eommaaaa!” Wontae suddenly burst out, tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran toward you. Seungcheol’s eyes darted to the doorway where you were standing, suppressing a smile as you scooped up your tearful son into your arms.

“Why? What happened?” you asked Wontae in a whisper, stroking his back to soothe him.

“Your father wasn’t mad at you, was he?” you asked softly, glancing over at Seungcheol with a knowing smile. “Did he shout at you?” Wontae shook his head, hiccupping as he clung to your shoulder.

“No,” Wontae admitted, his sobs quieting as you continued to comfort him.

“He was just talking to you,” you reassured him, casting Seungcheol a gentle, supportive look.

Seungcheol groaned internally, a mix of confusion and self-reproach. He thought he’d nailed it—the gentle parenting that you both had worked so hard to practice. Yet here was his son, still able to sense the tension in his expression, and hurt by it despite the lack of yelling or scolding.

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “We’re on this stage now,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “What stage?”

“The threenager stage,” Seungcheol said, his tone carrying both exasperation and amusement. “I read about it somewhere. It’s when kids start acting like teenagers—rebelling, pushing boundaries, testing their parents’ patience. Wontae’s only three, but he already knows how to push all my buttons.”

You laughed softly, shifting Wontae in your arms as his sniffles subsided. “It’s not rebellion, Seungcheol. It’s curiosity. He’s learning, exploring his emotions, and figuring out how far he can go.”

“Exploring his emotions by drawing on my freshly painted wall?” Seungcheol deadpanned, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He wasn’t truly upset anymore—not when Wontae was looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Exactly,” you teased, setting Wontae back down on the floor. “It’s frustrating, but it’s normal. And you handled it really well, by the way.”

Seungcheol tilted his head, raising a skeptical brow. “I did?”

“Yes,��� you said firmly, giving him an encouraging smile. “You didn’t yell or scare him. You explained things calmly. That’s the kind of parenting that sticks with them, Seungcheol. He’ll remember this.”

Seungcheol glanced at Wontae, who had returned to his coloring book but kept sneaking shy glances at his father. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him, mingled with pride and relief. I can do this, he thought. Even when it’s tough, I can do this.

“Okay, buddy,” Seungcheol said, crouching down to Wontae’s level. “Let’s make a deal. No more drawing on the walls, okay? If you want to draw something big, we’ll find some paper or maybe a special board just for you. How does that sound?”

Wontae’s face lit up at the idea. “A special board? Really?”

“Really,” Seungcheol promised, ruffling his son’s hair. “But only if you promise no more wall art.”

“I promise, Appa!” Wontae beamed, holding up his pinky. Seungcheol chuckled and locked his pinky with his son’s, sealing the deal.

You watched the exchange with a fond smile, stepping closer to place a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “See? You’re doing great.”

Seungcheol exhaled deeply, his smile widening. “Thanks, love. I guess I just need to remember to breathe. And to hide all the crayons.”

You both laughed softly, and for a moment, the chaos felt a little more manageable.

*

"One… Two… Three…" Seungcheol’s voice was steady as he counted while Chan, drenched in sweat, gritted his teeth to finish his push-up set. His arms trembled, and his face was etched with exhaustion, but he pushed through, determined to complete the punishment.

The door to the practice room swung open, and the rest of the group filed in, their faces a mix of confusion and amusement as they took in the scene. Seungcheol stood towering over Chan, arms crossed, while the youngest member struggled through the exercise. It was a far cry from what anyone had expected when they read Seungcheol's early-morning text asking Chan to come to the practice room an hour ahead of schedule.

"What’s going on here?" Joshua asked, barely hiding his amusement as he watched Chan squirm on the floor.

"Ten!" Seungcheol finished his count, clapping his hands in exaggerated applause. He smirked as Chan collapsed onto the floor, utterly spent. "That’s ten sets done—one hundred push-ups. Congratulations, Chan. That’s what you get for giving my son those crayons."

Chan’s pout was instant. "It’s not fair! It’s your son who drew on the wall. Why am I the one getting punished?" His voice was full of indignation, though it lacked the energy to be truly effective.

Mingyu burst into laughter, doubling over as realization dawned. "Wait, wait—Wontae drew all over the wall with the crayons Chan gave him? That’s hilarious!" He clutched his sides, nearly toppling over from laughing so hard.

Jeonghan, leaning casually against the doorframe, nodded in mock agreement. "Honestly, it makes sense. Seungcheol’s a gentle appa with Wontae—there’s no way he’d punish his precious son for something like this." He shot Chan a teasing grin. "But you? Yeah, I’d do the same if I were Seungcheol."

Chan groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "This is so unfair!" he whined, his voice muffled. "I’m the innocent one here! Gentle appa is a fraud—he’s evil!"

Seungcheol couldn’t hold back his chuckle as he crouched down to look at Chan. "Gentle appa does exist," he said with a smirk, "but only for Wontae. You and your crayons? You’re a different story."

"See?" Jeonghan said, straightening up. "I told you. Seungcheol’s priorities are clear."

Chan sat up, still sulking. "Unfair. So unfair." He shot a glance at the others, hoping for sympathy, but all he got were amused grins and stifled laughter.

"Hey," Joshua added, chuckling softly, "at least now you know not to mess with Wontae’s creative genius—or his dad’s freshly painted walls."

Mingyu clapped Chan on the back, nearly knocking him over again. "Think of it as a lesson in self-sacrifice. You helped foster Wontae’s artistic side. That’s a win, right?"

Chan groaned louder, flopping onto the floor in defeat, while Seungcheol leaned against the wall with a triumphant grin. "Alright, everyone. Lesson’s over. Let’s get to practice before he starts crying for real."

"So unfair!"

[stephiramona]

The tale of two cities according to Heiko and Stephi - Part 500

Unbelievable! This is the 500th part of our "Tales"! So Heiko and I thought that something special was needed.

But first of all, we want to thank you. You are fantastic, and without you and your comments, this wouldn't have been the same.

In the past years we have visited each other a few times, and this week we both wrote something about what we think the biggest differences of our hometowns are.

Let's start with Heiko's text and the photo (the first one) he took in Munich:

Today is our 500th Tale, which is pretty unbelievable. Yet, I admit that we are repeating ourselves a lot when it comes to the seasons (watch our for Christmas time) and we might even have repeated ourselves in some subjects. Still, we are doing the Tales for almost 10 years, a feat neither Stephi nor myself would have ever thought we would accomplish.

We also visited the other person’s city a couple of times and there are some differences about them. Picking out one, I would say that Munich is just bigger and you really need some time to explore the city. It just looked vaster to me. It seemed that you always need e tram or train to get to another spot. In Cologne, on one of Stephi’s trip, we went on foot and within a couple of hours I was able to show her the heart of the city with some of the most important places. I admit that if we took a tram, we would have been able to see other spots as well that are not in the center but more on the fringes, but you can spend a couple of days in Cologne by foot and see a lot of great and important places. I never had that feeling in Munich as the tourist attractions and other cool places were further apart.

Basically, you can spend a day in Cologne and see a lot of the city. I don’t think that would have been able in Munich. Yet, it’s well worth to spend more days in Cologne and go into some local pubs to get to know the people of the city and it’s flair. That will pass you by when you are only in the center that is usually crowded with tourists.

Another difference are the temperatures I experienced. Today it was cold and windy in Cologne. But I have never felt temperatures like on that trip in January 2017. That was cold and could have served as my own personal hell.

My picture from Munich is from that cold January trip and I am trying to show the vastness of the city.

Other things are petty similar though. I have seen some cool parks in Munich in which people hang out. The same is true for Cologne.

Since I spend most time with Stephi and Pete (and Fern on one trip), I didn’t get know other people from Munich. But according to Stephi, the people are pretty cool and open minded, other than the impression you get from Bavarian’s politicians and the way people vote. Cologne also praises itself for being open minded and I usually find that to be true.

I could probably go on for a while but I still want to thank you for sticking with us, reading our Tales and responding from time to time. I rarely respond but I really do appreciate your comments and feedback, read and enjoy it. Thank you all very much.

Now to my text and the photo I took in Cologne:

I think, Cologne and Munich are both great but very different cities. During my visits to Cologne, I was most impressed by the cathedral and the river Rhine. We inhabitants of Munich love our cathedral but - if I'm honest - the "Frauenkirche" isn't very impressive. At least not as impressive as the "Kölner Dom". Munich has a sweet little river, the Isar. It's nice for swimming and for spending some quality time. The river Rhine is way bigger and more impressive, but it's not a good idea to swim in it. I guess, you can't have everything. In my opinion, both rivers belong to the highlights of our respective hometowns, but in a different way.

Munich is close to the mountains and has beautiful surroundings. If you ever visit Munich you should take the time to visit the surroundings as well. Munich and Cologne look very different but the biggest differences for me are the people. When I was in Cologne, I found the citizens so nice, and refreshing, funny, and honest. During my first visit to Cologne, I took a taxi and the taxi driver wasn't only funny, he even wanted to share his breaktime snack with me and offered some radishes. I can't imagine something like that happening in Munich. Munich's citizens are more stiff and not as open as the ones of Cologne are.

Have you ever visited both cities? What do you think are the most differences of our hometowns?

[deepestdelulu]

Becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Honestly I´ve never been an A student, but I always try to do my best, and I´m very proud of myself, at least in this area of my life. So here I let you know my tips for studying, not getting bored (at all) and having great marks.

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :) And remember you can always go talk to them privately.

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done.

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. Make a playlist to study with, I have lots of them :)

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[eobe]

So, I noticed the Chaos Squad stole armor from Commander Fox and Commander Wolffe 😂✨🫶 (check out for context and gorgeous art!)

And because I have waaaaaay too much fun with them, I got inspired, couldn‘t resist and thought myself of which clones I would steal their armor 🤔

Hmmmm, my favorite colors are turquoise or teal and my favorite clone armor design is that from my dear Captain Keeli, but there‘s another beautiful teal colored armor on Ryloth… 🤷🏽‍♀️

My little stealth mission was only successful, because Lupe and Aev got busted! So I could run for my life and really got away with fat prey hehehe 😜

Sorry, Captains. Not sorry oops 😬

So who's the sneaky subject running away?

Still working on my OC, but here we are with first glimpse 🤩 Hope you like this little thief hehe 😜

I didn't abandon my ALT text mission, I'm just struggling how to combine things. Only few of my old artworks left and I'll do them, I'm a bit proud 🥹

Taglist, I don't know if you want to see OC art, too – tell me, if not, I won't be mad 🫶: @eclec-tech @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue

Chaos squad tag: @ghostymarni 🤪🫶

Howzer tag: @morerandombullshit ah, better late than never!

[itstheval]

Memory of Dreary Days / Siffrin Gets An Earring

A @livesworthlivingau Side Story

It was a lovely autumn day, and Siffrin was miserable.

This wasn't anything new, they'd come to realize. The events of Dormont had changed - and possibly Changed - them, but that was months ago, a little over a year now. No, this frustration was newer, possibly the last few months, but they'd managed to identify it over time.

They watched Mirabelle and Isabeau, in front of them, chatting about what Changes they might want to make in the future. Isabeau had a whole list of ideas, but Mirabelle was being more cautious, as usual. Odile was watching and writing, and Bonbon, they were sitting on Nille's shoulders as both of them added their two coins when they had an idea. Leaving you, Siffrin the Traveler, as an outsider. Again.

It wasn't their fault, you knew it. You were empty inside, and this entire adventure you were on was to fill you. That was something the doctor had mentioned, that you seemed to agree with…You didn't have a past, so they were making you one, because they wanted you to. So why were you being talked over, and around? Why were they treating you like a pet, not someone with their own ideas?

The only thing worse than knowing it was it being known, unfortunately. It seemed like they came to a pause in conversation, and Isabeau looked back as though remembering you existed after so long ignoring you.

"What about you, Sif? Got any ideas for big Changes?"

You could laugh. You could sob. You remembered being as large as the sky, and just as filled with stars. You pictured yourself, star-headed and lightless-skinned.

"I don't think so! That's a Vaugardian thing, isn't it?"

The words were more bitter than you imagined them to be, and the second they left your lips you knew that they were wrong. A second after, you told yourself otherwise. "Words can't be wrong", the doctor had said, "If you mean them. You're trying to express yourself, not win a game." Well, from the way everyone else's faces fell, that was good, because you'd have just lost hard.

"That doesn't mean you can't Change! There's Houses everywhere that will take you in and help you, too."

"Yes," Odile continued. "I've thought of using them myself, during my time here, but I never had time to stay in one place, what with…everything."

"Really, madame? You're so pretty! What would you even change?"

And the conversation was off again…Odile explaining her heritage yet again, too-thick hair and too-wide eyes for ka bue, too-thin eyes and too-thin hair for Vaugarde. You wondered, sometimes, if Ka Buans had thought she was as pretty as Vaugardians do. You wonder, in the moment, if they'd bother talking to you again.

They hadn't.

You'd caught Isabeau looking over at you, with something more thoughtful than pity, but you could see the pity in it. Whatever he had in his mind, it wasn't enough to make him ask about anywhere else, or change the subject. Quietly, you thought about how much nicer it would've been if you'd just gone for a comfortable lie instead.

▬▬▬

It was a rainy, autumnal day, and Siffrin was bored.

It wasn't anyone's fault, everyone knew that was just what happened in Autumn. You found somewhere to stay until the rains ended, or you trudged through the worst mud that you could imagine. Bored or miserable, and to the family the choice was obvious. Siffrin had been…letting themself think of them that way for a while, even without telling them. Their little secret. Maybe not their family, but they were the family, and nobody could blame him for that, right? Watching Mira read to Bonbon, watching Isa and Nille talking about, of all things, carpentry, and Madame writing in those inscrutable books of hers.

You hated it. You hated listening to it, you hated being part of it, and you hated being trapped in it. It was nothing like the loops, you knew, but it was almost worse in its way. Watching everyone else with a role, with something to do, and you off to the side like some pet. You'd already napped yourself dry, and nobody had begrudged you sleeping through breakfast, even if it meant you were likely to stay up well after the candles were out at night. But the rest of your day…

You sighed. Sitting there wasn't going to make you any happier, and you'd already looked at all of the books Mira had brought with her. You'd read through the horror stories until they started showing up in your dreams, when Mirabelle had banned you from reading any more of them because of how you'd been whimpering in your sleep. Isa had tried to defend your right to read, but the looks Odile had given him had made him blush in a peculiar way and stop trying, and that had been the end of it. The less said about the romances, the better. You understood that Vaugarde was an open place, but the things they dreamt up to keep two people from each other felt so cliched, so unreal, so impossible that you couldn't get into them.

So, you laid there, in a bed, in a wooden room, staring at the ceiling until the morning came.

How familiar.

That thought sent a shudder down your spine that you knew everyone noticed, but you got out of bed before any of them could comment on it. No, you were dealing with this. You weren't being dealt with, not this time. You hopped up, and walked over to Odile, who closed her book as you approached.

"What could you be writing down now?" you found it in you to ask. "Vaugardian rainy-day games? I thought you were a master at those." The joking tone managed to reach your voice, you thought, and you were glad for it.

"Oh, I wasn't writing at all. Believe it or not, I'm designing something."

"Designing?" The surprise in your voice was clear.

"Well yes. You have your woodcarving…Or had it, when we were near forested areas enough to find scrapwood. Mirabelle has her writing. I thought I should perhaps try my hands at something creative."

"Oh, can I see?" This was WAY more interesting than laying in bed!

"If you can guess what it is, then yes. It wasn't fair that I didn't get to see your face when my research was revealed, after all." Her smile was coy and knowing, but she did, ultimately, have a point.

"Oh, is it…" You looked around, trying to think of what could be in the room that she could draw inspiration from.

"Clothesmaking? Like Isa plans to?"

"Nice try, young one. But that's your one try for the day." Odile's eyes turned up as she thought about the idea. "Besides, do you think I'd compete with Isabeau? In something he's planned for that long?"

You had to concede the point.

▬▬▬

"Carpentry?"

"Can you imagine me swinging a hammer, Siffrin? I know my limits, and they stop well before there."

▬▬▬

"Bookbinding!" You thought for sure you had her on that one. Something to do with her precious books, and something she could study from Mira's colleciton and her own?

"Sadly, no. But, now that you mention it, maybe I should."

▬▬▬

So the days had passed, until things were clear again. The world was colder now, and you could feel it around your cloak, but everyone was well prepared for it. You'd all gotten your own instructions on what to purchase, and been sent off to pick up supplies, which had taken the whole day between bartering and transporting. Thakfully, without Mira there you managed to get a Savior of Vaugarde Discount, and used the extra coin to pick up a pain au chocolat. Some things, it seemed, were eternal, and this one you didn't mind.

So it was that you returned to the inn, one hand with a canvas bag full of smaller bags, spices and flour and other things for Bonbon, the other letting you munch away happily, but you found yourself pausing outside the door. Something was wrong, you could feel it. You finished your treat quickly, and opened the door with a hand on your dagger. A pre-feeling, something that you couldn't put words to, told you that there was something going on beyond the door

You were right.

But not how you thought.

Instead, the family had been standing around in a half-circle, seemingly waiting for you to get back! You barely had time to rescue the groceries as a Bonbon-shaped missile impacted your legs and held you, Mira following after on the other side and Nille even stepping in to ruffle your hair, as Odile looked on fondly, and Isa…Hid something.

As lovely as the feeling was, your suspicions were raised far too high.

You managed a laugh, and to pull yourself free of the hug after enough time that it had started to loosen, before staring down Isa. Watching his cheeks darken was almost worth he price of admission, even as the others spoke around you. Again.

"I told you he'd notice!"

"You hardly had a better idea, Mirabelle."

"Uh-uh! We shoulda done it at dinner! Make sure he's comf-ta-bul."

"Comfortable, Boniface."

"That's what I said!"

It all flowed around you, as you stepped closer to Isa, and sighed. "I know what bonding earrings are, Isa." You allowed, holding out a hand, making him stutter even worse - and sending a roil of laughter around the room from everyone else.

That wasn't it? Then what was he hiding?"

"You're half right, I'm afraid. This is actually something we'd all been thinking about for a while…The past week just proved how important it was. It's not bonding earrings, but…"

As Odile spoke, Isabeau brought a black jewelry box around, holding it out to you. His words were trembling and small, in the way he always seemed to do only for you. You wished he wouldn't…his big booming voice was always so nice.

"We noticed you don't have any earrings yourself, Sif! And…I mean, you're as Vaugardian as any of us, if you want to be. Not that you should feel like you have to give anything up for us! But! I thought this might…make it easier to remember?"

What…were they saying?

Isabeau opened the box, and instead of one of his black i-earrings like you'd expected, a pair of star-shaped earrings rested inside. They were a light shade, just dark enough to notice around your hair, and obviously handcrafted. The edges were imprecise, the designs weren't symmetrical, and you could feel the love in every angle.

You stared. You didn't know what else to do.

Isa was saying more things, and it sounded like other people were responding, but you lifted up a hand to the box. A shaking hand, you realized when it was halfway there. Trembling, uncertain, but you didn't dare stop now. Not when they'd put so much effort in.

"-know what I was working on, the past few days. It's something of a rush job and it shows, but it's even more Vaugardian to have it made by your family, isn't it?" Odile was speaking.

Made…by your family.

Made by them.

You cried. You wrapped your arms around the giant body of Isabeau and you cried and you sobbed and you bawled and for once in your life, you weren't ashamed of a single sound you made. There wasn't any room for it in your heart. Not with everything else you were feeling.

Everyone else was holding you in moments. You turned, as best you could in the group hug, to include all of them. You knew you were getting tears and snot all over them and you didn't care. They were there. They were your family. They…You were one of them.

In that moment, of all moments, you were loved.

[jellyskink]

Just another Manic Muesday (Sorry I couldn't think of a better title lol.)

"Alright Dr. Pines, I'm pleased to report that your lab results for your bloodwork have finally been logged and updated to our medical system since the last we saw each other."

"H-huh? Oh! I'm certainly glad to hear that Dr. Oleander! Forgive me, I'm afraid my mind was wandering just now."

Sunshine shown through the windows of the medical doctor's office, bathing parts of the room with it's comforting warm rays. Outside, leaves of different colors and types scattered in the breeze with an air of playfullness to them. It was truly a lovely autumn day.

At least... it was as lovely as it could get lately. When it wasn't the occasional inanimate object coming to life to either cause mischief, panic, harm, or all of the above, the slowly randomizing weather definitely made it trickier to enjoy nature. 

Quite literally the other day it was a record-breaking freezing winter, followed the day after by a sweltering summer so hot that not only could you fry an egg on the sidewalk, but you could fry the chicken that laid it as well if you wanted to.

"That's quite alright, I just wanted to let you know that we did find some rather... interesting results."

"What kind of results? A-anything my Muse should be concerned over? I must inform him if there's anything that would cause him to worry over me!"

"Er, it's nothing as dire as that I assure you. I moreso wanted to let you know that in comparison to your first blood test, there's improvement to your overall health! I'm really proud of you that you're making progress."

"O-oh um thanks I suppose? I don't believe it's because of my choices truthfully. If it wasn't for my Muse's instance and kindness about my health I don't believe I could've done it on my own!"

"Dr. Pines I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, only those who want help can accept it as they always say..."

"No, no! I'm serious! I'm truly thankful he's been stern that I see Stanley on a regular basis!

 I'm quite forgetful with taking care to see him regularly. Stanley's always worried about me, it pains me to see him filled with grief whenever I'm unable to talk to him for a bit due to my Muse and I's busy schedule.

Without him I'm sure my health and relationship with my Brother would be absolutely horrible!"

"..."

"Dr. Oleander? Is something the matter? You aren't speaking to me as much as you usually do."

"Forgive me Dr. Pines, I'm just a bit conflicted right now. I've just got a lot on my mind as well. On a similar subject, I do want to apologize for overstepping my boundaries with talking to you about your relationship with Mr.Cipher."

"..."

"I-it's fine. I know you didn't mean to be so crude on purpose. My Muse and I's relationship is often a subject to many due to it's complex and sublime love."

"Yes I believe you're right... Forgive me Doctor, I have a tendency to involve myself too much in my work."

"You d-don't need to apologize for that! It's a quality my Muse approves of you for! He wouldn't let just anyone treat any medical problems I have, the fact you have his trust is a sign you're great at what you do Doctor Oleander."

"... I appreciate your reassurance, though it still isn't very professional of me to be so casual with my speech with you about my troubles with my confidence as a medical practitioner."

"I don't mind! I swear!! I-I think you're a lot like the plant you share your surname with."

"I'm sorry?"

"Y-you know, Oleander? Also known as Rosebay? It's a perennial shrub and tree known and loved for it's vitality, resilience, and beauty. 

My Muse likes the fact every part of it is poisonous, it's definitely a kicker that's certain!

Personally I love the fact that certain species of caterpillars use the plant as both a food source and a way to defend themselves against predators! 

In particular, there's a species of moths known as the Oleander Hawk Moth, that does this! It's a very interesting and rare kind of Moth to see! I personally consider it to be one of my favorites!"

"Haha! Is that so? W-well thank you Doctor for that compliment and the accompanying fact."

"..."

"Ick are you two nerds just about done being boring together?"

"O-oh! Mr. Cipher! My apologies! We were just about done with Dr. Pine's appointment. It's my fault for taking longer than usual with his appointment..."

"You know Doco? Normally I'd be furious buuut this does mean Sixer finally has a buddy to talk about his more boring nerd things with! 

Congrats! You've redeemed yourself from me needing to find Sixer a new doctor!

This is definitely a blessing in disguise for me as you humans say! Now, be a doll and tell Sixer to hurry on home now? We've got places to be and mayhem to cause!"

"Of course Mr.Cipher. I'll be sure to do that right away."

"Oh and Doco before I forget, just know that I'll be keeping a closer eye on the time in the future. Fordsy's on a pretty tight schedule you know! I'd hate to have to CUT into both you and him over not keeping track of time. 

Although that would mean I'd have the chance to change things up when my pet needs a reminder that he needs to behave... And I would have the chance to really see how your meatsacks work without needing to worry about needing to harm a hair on Sixer's head... 

Whoops did I say that out loud? Haha! My bad! Anyways, pleasure talking with you Doco! Byee!!"

"Ugghh..."

"Dr.Pines! Er, I'm sorry to have to cut this conversation short, but Mr.Cipher has requested I let you know that you've been out for a while and must return back to him as quickly as you can."

*Gasp* "O-Oh no! Please forgive me my Muse! I didn't mean to forget to watch the time! I'll be home soon!! ThankyouforyourtimeDr.OleanderbutIsimplymustbegoing!!"

"Dr.Pines, I'll have your meds refilled and ready by hopefully the end of today!!"

*Sigh* "I really need to think about changing professions..."

(Just as soon as she says this, Mcgucket falls out of a tree very ungracefully, scampering after Ford. 

"???"

"What the-? Okayyy and now cowboy hillbillies are just falling out of trees now. Why am I surprised?? 

I'm going home early today, I deserve it. It's too early for this. I can't wait to just go back to bed and hug Calamari soon..."

(I hope you likes my attempt at some fanfiction! I wasn't sure if I should write it like a book or like a visual novel. The font stuff is probably really wonky because I typed this all around 1am and on my phone so my apologies for that lol.

I'm glad you liked my idea at trying to write some fanfiction about your au's Ford and Irene. Or would it be friendfiction in this case?? Anyways, I think I like the platonic route too. Maybe if Ford and Irene were to be a ship it'd be a friends to lovers thing or something? Idk. I was thinking about writing a more Irene and Calamari focused sequal to this, but I'm not sure if I should? Idk lmaoo.)

THIS ANON WROTE A REALLY CUTE FRIENDSHIPPING FIC OF FORD AND OLEANDER looklooklook it's so cuuuuuute 💕

[starlight-archer]

1k fic request for @megs-bee Catwin, cute autumn vibes!

Felt very wholesome about this one, I hope you like it! ✨

Edwin hadn't been back to the cannery in a few days and he was starting to get distracted by his want to return. He had mostly been occupied with case work, with Charles, Crystal and Niko, but in his downtime (far and few between as those moments were) his thoughts had, without fail, constantly drifted to Thomas.

Their relationship was still relatively new, and some things felt tentative. They hadn't kissed on the mouth yet; thus far, their kisses had been relegated to the cheek or the forehead. They had a lot left to learn about each other, but Edwin found himself looking forward to those things. The good and the bad. He was utterly captivated.

Thomas was complex and fascinating. He carried himself with such confidence and was so assured in who he was as an individual, and so open about his desires. But there were depths to him that Edwin was eager to explore. It was refreshing. It inspired Edwin to be a bit more comfortable in his own skin as well, and to allow another person to truly see him.

"Edwin... Edwin? Edwin!" Charles' voice cut through his thoughts. "You're daydreaming again, mate. Where did you go?" he had a knowing look on his face that Edwin did not particularly care for.

"I apologise for being distracted. What was it that you were saying?" Edwin asked, hoping to change the subject.

"You were daydreaming about the Cat King again~" Niko teased.

"I-" Edwin cut himself off with a sigh of resignation. "Yes. I haven't seen him in several days and I... miss him."

"You should go and visit him. I'm sure he misses you too!" Niko encouraged.

"Let's be real, he probably misses him every time he he has to blink." Crystal chimed.

The fact that the Cat King was enamoured with Edwin was hardly a secret. Crystal and Niko hadn't hesitated to tell Edwin all about their conversation with him before they went to confront Esther (they had not shied away from teasing about the Cat King's line of "I already hate myself enough for caring about that thin, stuffy little British tease.")

"There is no need for such dramatics... But I do believe that it would be beneficial to perhaps take some time to see him." as soon as the words were out, he knew exactly how all three of them were internally making fun of his phrasing.

Without further ado, he smoothed down his coat, tugged his gloves up and checked his hair one final time before hopping through the mirror to Port Townsend.

He had never really been one to preen or be overly conscious of his appearance, especially as a ghost with no reflection, but he found himself wanting to look nice for Thomas. It was odd. Maybe he should feel conflicted about it, but all he felt was giddy.

When he got through to the other side Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

"Thomas?" he called out, walking further into the cannery to peer around.

Suddenly, there was a thud and a clatter from somewhere deeper inside. "Edwin?" Thomas poked his head out from a doorway at the back of the warehouse. "Give me a minute, gorgeous!" he winked before disappearing back inside.

Edwin blushed and wondered closer, curiously. The clattering continued for a long moment and just before he was about to push the door open and peek inside, Thomas flung it open.

He was wearing a dark green knit jumper, amber jewellery that brought out his eyes, a long monochromatic tartan skirt and his usual boots. He looked incredibly cozy and unspeakably beautiful.

Edwin flushed again at being caught snooping, but he quickly recovered.

"What on earth was all that racket?" he asked.

"You're actually here at the perfect time! I just finished redecorating~" Thomas replied.

"Redecorating?" Edwin tried to peer around him, but Thomas simply stepped aside to let him into the room.

"I've been working on a little pocket dimension, so that it feels a bit more homey in here for when you visit. I usually keep the pocket closed, but it's nicer like this, don't you think?" Thomas was looking very please with himself (if not with a little tinge of nervousness), and for good reason.

Edwin looked around in awe at what Thomas had done.

On the other side of the door was a large living room, all greens and warm oranges, purples and gold. It had hardwood floors that creaked familiarly with each step, with luxurious Turkish carpets placed art fully on top. The walls were papered with a beautiful William Morris print.

There were two sofas that looked as though you could disappear into them, coloured a rich, dark green, and a matching arm chair, each decorated with plush cushions. There were several large, thick blanket throws hanging over the backs of the sofas as well, in varying colours.

In front was a roaring fireplace, where the mantle was decorated with little porcelain cat figurines. There were also a few standing lamps dotted around that looked like slightly fancier versions of the ones that were at the office in London.

At the far end was a wall to wall set of bookshelves. Each wooden panel and edge was delicately hand-craved with vines and lilies. It was a feast for the eyes.

The whole place was so beautifully reminiscent of the time when Edwin had been alive, and yet it felt brand new, mixed with Thomas' unique flare of individuality. It was a perfect blend of the both of them. Elegant, extravagant, timeless.

Edwin ran his fingertips over the book spines and over the ridges of the carvings,and it struck him with Fascination and bewliderment.

"How?" he asked, spinning around to look at Thomas.

"You can feel everything in this room. The same as if you were still alive." Thomas explained as he walked closer. "I made it with my own magic, so there's a little bit of me in everything." He took Edwin's hands in his and pulled his gloves off, tucking them into Edwin's coat pockets. "Enjoy it."

"I assure you, I fully intend to." Edwin smiled.

Rather than going back to the shelves or the books or the sofas, or the warmth of the fire, Edwin reached up and threaded his fingers into Thomas' hair, and pulled him close. Leaning down, Edwin kissed him softly and lovingly, the gesture eagerly returned.

[sweetpayaso]

🤡 PSA: PLEASE READ 🤡

Before I go do some cleaning, I wanted to get this off my chest. No, this isn’t another impulsive vent post, in fact, it will be my last post regarding last night’s events.

I have felt incredibly guilty ever since I vented about a particular ship. It was never my intent, as I’ve said before, to shut down others’ work simply because I don’t like it. Yes, I do not like Jack x Jeff, but I don’t hate or have anything against people who do, and I feel some may have taken my feelings on the subject a bit personal. People here are just trying to have fun, right?

My relationship with Laughing Jack, who yes, I am aware is a fictional character, is complicated. I don’t necessarily view myself as a casual Jack selfshipper, but the ones who are casual shippers are some of the coolest people I have ever met, and I have never once thought of my love for Jack as superior to theirs.

I responded by trauma dumping to a user I have never talked with before who questioned the state of my health when it came to Jack, which after a moot pointed out, realized that wasn’t the appropriate response to someone who might have just been showing genuine concern, even if it came off a bit rude initially. I don’t do well without tone indicators sometimes, so please forgive me. My hostility comes from a near decade of unhealthily bottling my mental health issues, because my mom never got me the care I needed, only threats to a psych ward.

I want to change; I realize my trauma dumping isn’t doing me or anyone else any favors, but when you have no money, no ability to drive, no other outlets, in a world that often shuns people like you, my options are very limited. I’ve had no luck finding a therapist for every issue I may have; this has been my coping mechanism since I was 15. I’m autistic, and still don’t feel like I ever aged mentally past 15 because of it. I was never given the tools I needed to be an adult, so I regress often. It’s the only thing I can think to do when shit goes south.

But enough with the pity story, I really just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Yeah, may not mean much, but, I really am sorry for everything, whether it’s being jealous over something I can’t control, or just being an awful friend.

I really am trying to get better, it’s just taking longer than I’ve planned for it to, because of things constantly getting pushed back.

[wewillbeseen-butnotbeheard]

okay. genuinely

i think there’s a subtle layer of insecurity over your entire community. it’s hard to describe but a lot of the “i hate my body” talk could be questioned. how many hate it because it’s just them? or how many don’t know how to articulate those feelings so they come to the conclusion that they’re somehow another creature entirely, instead. if it’s not all of you, it’s some of you. i don’t have to directly prove that (that in itself isn’t that important) as much as i can safely estimate

i do understand all of this though. over the last few months i’ve gained a genuine understanding of “nonhuman/alterhuman”s, etc. i don’t come from a natural stance of opposing the concept or anything. it’s actually hard to stand with my own thoughts on this, especially because i WOULD agree. why not? i don’t know. it doesn’t really matter

i don’t think i can go so far into this without contradicting myself. i feel as if my position on this subject is volatile so i apologise if i end up doing exactly that

i should again insist that your community is in fact comprised of humans, but the argument doesn’t hold up if i deny that it’s based on self-perception and you are arguably animals in some way. (arguably.) i do not know you better than you know yourself, yet outside perception is also something to consider

“why does it bother you so much that i am the way i am?” i would say that is slightly confusing and kind of vulnerable to explain. i think i have some idea but i’m not sure

i’m willing to deprecate myself in this, and “being in the wrong” doesn’t necessarily mean that i’m wrong myself, and it doesn’t mean that i’m doing to flip my beliefs

what i think i mean is that; it’s complicated. i’m not afraid to say that my own view is hard to hold up, but that’s only because i already have some understanding/experience in this sort of thing. i don’t want to do a 180 on myself(again) yet i’m not ignorant enough to NOT give the the time of day to self-reflection if it comes down to it. i hope that makes sense, sorry

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[dandelion-de-deus]

the real reason I don’t listen to a lot of classical music is because I’ll inevitably start listening to some Mendelssohn sextet and find myself getting really upset over the fact that I don’t live with more musicians

[xxplastic-cubexx]

good news I got that bullet out I can speak me truth

Charles wears a collar to let Erik choke him with it, maybe some binds BUT ALSO maybe some consensual mind control, happily making Erik tie him up in a sense then letting him get a full look like “well, wonder what you could do while I’m like this :)” who knows. anyways gonna get my bullet wound sewn up since Erik just yanked it out of me

good morning beautiful inbox of mine i see youre trying to kill me before 10AM

[fisheito]

hey. hey you. yeah, yoU!! the one who actually looks at clothing!!! i request help. i need images of wedding dresses that you think would fit the starter trio [yaku, ed, oli]. pls send images........ of any ideas you have🙏

[doctorweebmd]

also uh….real life update

my grant got funded