#funny thing is I kept double checking to make sure it was right

[tellyouily]

an indentation in the shape of you

dnf - tooth-rotting fluff - 1.5k words

post-birthday stream dnf cuddling in bed. that's it. that's the fic

• • •

Before he opened Twitter after ending the stream, George had thought he and Dream had done a good job at keeping their distance at Disney. He had made sure not to linger too long; to keep Sapnap between them whenever they walked; to not reach out and straighten Dream’s gold chain when it was askew, or reach out for his hand when he was itching to.

It had been hard – a bit like what he imagines resisting a magnetic pull must feel like, but he had done it. …Or, he thought he had. More specifically, he thought Dream had done the same.

As it turns out, however, the amount of times Dream looked at him from across the table at the sushi restaurant had been enough to warrant a compilation. Several of them.

It’s a little ridiculous.

Safe at home and ready for bed (in Dream’s bed), George scrolls through them all with a secret smugness. Because although he and Dream had agreed to be low-key on this stream (a concept that, to be fair, has become much more unfamiliar to them with all these months of not being on camera at all), George can’t pretend to be too upset by what he’s seeing on Twitter.

There is something overwhelmingly sweet about the gifs of Dream trying not to stare and failing so miserably.

Dream staring at George taking a sip of his drink, Dream staring at George eating wagyu steak, Dream laughing at everything George says…

George happily copies the links of his favorite tweets and photos and gifs and sends them to Dream for him to see when he gets out of the shower.

Oh, and the way their shoulders kept brushing. Again… and again. It has to have happened a ridiculous amount of times for someone to have made a ‘take a shot every time…’ tweet for it. George sends that one to Dream, too.

He pulls the soft duvet up over his shoulders, basking in the warmth of it along with this endless source of entertainment. Maybe he and Dream really have lost their understanding of personal space like they made it seem today. Maybe that’s what spending every waking moment together gets them. George thinks it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

The door to the ensuite opens with a creak.

“You’re an idiot,” is the first thing Dream says, his phone unlocked in his hand. His hair is fluffy from being freshly washed and dried, and he’s wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. George feels the proverbial magnetic pull get stronger.

He smiles and rolls over to lay flat on his back, letting his phone disappear between the folds of Dream’s silky cotton sheets. He makes a show of closing his eyes; he has situated himself on Dream’s side of the bed, hoping it will annoy him.

It only takes a moment for Dream to notice. He halts at the foot of the bed.

“George,” he says, in what might have been a disapproving tone had it not been for Dream’s inability to turn off his ‘George voice’ when talking to him.

“Mhm?”

There’s a scoff from his direction, but it’s the sweet and frustrated one that always gives George the urge to imitate it. He opens one eye and watches Dream walk around to the other side of the bed, already accepting defeat.

The mattress dips on his right as Dream gets under the covers.

“Ugh,” George gives into the urge to echo him. He rolls onto his side to face Dream, waiting for him to settle.

There is familiarity in practically everything that Dream does; from the way he puts his phone on d.n.d. and double checks that the ringer is off, to the sound of the sheets rustling as he gets comfortable.

George tucks a hand under his pillow. “Did you like what I sent you?”

Dream settles with a sigh and turns his head to the side, finally meeting his gaze. He smiles and says simply, “Yes.”

“Did you see the ‘take a shot every—”

“Yes,” Dream laughs. He lifts his head and pushes his pillow so it’s flush with George’s. “I saw them all. You’re very funny.”

George narrows his eyes. “Well, I didn’t see you hearting all of my messages. As you would’ve done if you had really liked them.”

There is a wall of bedsheets separating them, and for a second, George wishes he had tossed one of the duvets on the floor while Dream was in the shower so there would only be one. So they would have had to share. But he backtracks a second later—they've slept terribly in enough hotel rooms with only one duvet for him to never want that again.

Dream laughs, and there’s a lowness to his voice that gives his tiredness away.

“Alright, I’m hearting them to you now, then. In person,” he says.

And it would be so easy to make fun of him for being a simp right now, but George mercifully decides against it. It’s his birthday. And it’s been a great one, mostly thanks to Dream. So George can be nice tonight.

He’ll save the smart remarks for tomorrow.

“Thank you,” he says, really looking into Dream’s eyes. To show that he means it. “For today.”

Somehow, Dream’s expression gets even softer. He reaches out a hand, brushing the hair from George’s forehead. “Yeah? You had fun?”

George nods. Because he did. And he thinks he will need a few days to really let today sink in—both the birthday celebration here at home, and the overwhelming love and support from everyone who tuned into his long-awaited stream.

Right now, though, he’s happy to be back in this safe cocoon of Dream’s company. With no cameras on either of them.

Dream hums, “Me too. ‘s always fun with you.”

He twirls one of George’s curls around his finger and lets it go again, and it’s yet another familiar thing about him. The only sound in the room is the whoosh of the air-con. George realises that that, too, has started to sound like home.

He smiles to himself. “Is that Dream?” He imitates in a high pitched, but quiet, voice, referencing one of the (many) people who came over to them today.

It’s not so much that they make fun of their fans as laugh at them, fondly.

Dream rolls his eyes, but his smile betrays him. “Stupid.”

In what has become a practiced move, George scooches closer and slips under Dream’s blanket, leaving the other one to slowly fall off the bed. He could sigh at the feeling of Dream pulling him close, holding him. It’s the only birthday present wants for the rest of his life, if he’s honest.

Maybe one duvet can be enough for two, just for tonight. 

“Are you though?” George asks, continuing the bit. although he’s a little distracted by how their faces are close enough for them to share the same air. Dream smells like toothpaste and his vanilla shower gel, mixed with a hint of his cologne.

For his next birthday, George wants that smell bottled.

Dream shrugs, humoring him. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, his eyes are saying.

Under the blanket he puts a hand on George’s thigh, and had it been a year ago, George’s breath would have hitched in his throat at the touch. Had it been two years ago… he might have fainted. 

Like, actually.

But now; he melts, both used to—and so addicted to—the warmth that travels from the spot Dream touches out to every other part of him.

“It’s still your birthday,” Dream says, his voice hushed.

George hums.

“Anything else you wanna do?”

Quietly, George smiles to himself. He could sense where Dream’s thoughts are drifting from a mile away, with his eyes closed. “Like what?”

Dream shrugs like he has no idea what he’s hinting at. But hidden under the duvet, his hand is inching higher on George’s thigh, toying with the hem of his shorts.

“Like…” Dream trails off, his fingers trailing further.

George opens his eyes and looks at him. “...You impregnating me?”

Dream’s hand pauses, and then, when the comment finally registers, he starts to laugh. A surprised, tired, perfect sound right in George’s ear that goes straight to his heart.

“That’s so dumb,” Dream mumbles, his hand squeezing George’s thigh.

George gives a tiny pinch to his side in retaliation. “You’re the one who said it.”

In front of thousands of people, he almost adds, but swallows it down. He’d like Dream’s hand to go back to trailing upwards. That’s all he wants actually. One last birthday wish before it’s over.

Thankfully, Dream seems to have the same idea.

“Did I?” He asks, feigning innocence as he flips them over in one gentle swoop.

“Oh, you definitely did,” George says with a laugh.

And when Dream dips to his neck, and words lose all importance, George thinks maybe it isn’t so bad that they can’t help but be obvious in public.

Maybe, secretly, he has never really minded at all.

[ninjagirlstar5]

Dude did you know/read -2+2 before i started interacting with your posts here or did you heard of it from seing me ramble about it? Also PLEASE get your work done first! This chapter is enormous and i wouldn't want it to ruin someone's schedule.

Also I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, not necessarily just the trial it could be of the story in general, if you feel like rambling that is ^^'

Don't worry, I spent my entire morning finishing my textbook chapter and completing a video question that I could finish in like, five minutes tops. I even shut off Discord to focus. It took four hours of my day to complete cause that's college for ya, haha. :']

Yeah, I read -2+2 before we ever interacted on Tumblr! Ngl, I didn't realize the author was you until I scrolled through your Kizuna tag on your blog and went, "hey, wait a minute, I read this fic-!" As for my thoughts on it so far, I loooove it! I love how Kizuna is forced to face the consequences of her actions while Ayame is grappling with the fact that she was this close to choosing to kill someone to save another and that her motivations weren't as pure and good that everyone makes it out to be for saving Kizuna. I love seeing how different the group dynamics have become thanks to how everyone is split up: the majority of the students sticking together, Yuki being forced out of that group due to his secret note but ultimately forming a little trio with Akane and Ayame (and I think Kizuna and Kanata, too, but they're more focused on each other atm when it comes to her recovery), and the lone wolves of Rei, Tsurugi, and Kinji. It really shows how fractured the group has become and that everyone's opinions are pretty complex and different from each other's, even when they stick to one side. I have yet to read the trial as of writing this, but Kanata's death hurts to witness, especially with how...simple it was. I believe she didn't even struggle, she was just sleeping and now, she can never wake up because someone (Kinji) took advantage of that vulnerability and killed her. I'm thinking that Kakeru, at some point, seemed to have walked in and saw what happened, whether it's his attack on Kizuna or Kanata, and tried to attack Kinji or stop him or something but I'm not sure. But her death definitely hits harder due to how simple it is and we can focus on the tragedy that Kizuna will never be able to fulfill the promises she gave to Kanata, her first friend. And how her grief quickly transforms into anger...ooooough, that's so good and in character for her, especially with how hard she's trying to improve herself now. Also, can I just say, I love how socially smart Kizuna is with her words and how she was able to bypass the third motive just by being clever with how she says things. There are many different ways for being intelligence, so seeing that play out with a character that is trying to redeem themselves is great. Ayame is also just...doing her best while grappling with herself and the thought of almost actually murdering someone, but is trying to be supportive of the others. At least being able to confide in Akane allows her to keep going, and she gets to befriend Yuki! It's so sweet...until you remember the twists with these two, haha, gotta love that dramatic irony. Oh, if (or when) we actually get there, that angst is going to huuurt. </3

Anyways, I do love rambling. And I love this fic! (Totally off-topic, but I hope my boy Teruya is gonna be okay from the whole near death experience of guns and stuff. He's gonna be okay, right? Right? I hope he's okay. I don't want anything bad to happen to him even though I know that's gonna be impossible in a killing game genre although I know his survival is pretty much guaranteed since you mentioned that you don't plan to change the death order. Doesn't mean I don't worry for his mental health though.)

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[detailtilted]

Comic-Con 2008 - Enhanced Edition of Supernatural Panel

Direct link. Warning: Some of the special content I added has big spoilers for season 4 beyond the original videos.

This video features Jared, Jensen, Eric Kripke, Sera Gamble, and Ben Edlund. If you've already seen the original videos and you're wondering why you'd want to watch this, see the details about the enhancements below. For other enhanced videos, check my YouTube channel or my Tumblr index post.

Video Improvements - Upscaled, fixed bad aspect ratios, improved colors

I received a great deal of help from @sensitivehandsomeactionman on the color correcting. They gave me tips on how to achieve better colors and they even took a screen shot from my video and corrected the colors on it with their own software to provide me with an example of what was possible. Having that example to reference was invaluable for me, because I'm not good with colors.

Without that help, Jared and Jensen would have looked like they were in training to become the world's tallest Oompa Loompas. Any remaining color wonkiness (Wonka-iness?) is due to my own failure to apply what I was taught and my failure to see the colors properly. But look at that difference! I was pretty excited about this.

Combined Videos to Cover Entire Event

As with my other enhanced videos, I combined multiple videos to create as seamless a video of the event as possible, from beginning to end. For my earlier videos, that meant combining maybe 5 videos. For this one, I used a total of 19 videos from 3 different sources. A lot of those were used for the talking head bubbles, explained further below.

None of the videos are my own. My video description on YouTube has links to the original videos I used.

Good, Color-Coded Subtitles

As with my other enhanced videos, I attempted to provide accurate and as-complete-as-possible subtitles. They're color-coded to make it easier to tell who's speaking. This is especially helpful when people are speaking at the same time, or when the speaker is off camera.

Since there were so very many people talking in this video, I doubled up on a couple colors if I thought I could do so without it being too confusing. Here's the complete color key:

Red = Jared Blue = Jensen Brown = Eric Kripke Pink = Sera Gamble Purple = Ben Edlund Green = General audience Yellow = The person asking the questions. In the first half this is the moderator, Alynda Wheat. In the second half, this is the fan at the mic. White = Mostly the publicist (Holly Ollis), but a couple times it's used for people off camera who I believe were Comic-Con staff. Two shades of orange = surprise guests

Additional Clarifying Content

As with my other enhanced videos, I've added some images to help add clarity to the references used by the speakers. I added images of characters and scenes referenced from the show, images to explain various pop culture references, as well as some explanatory text to help add details or clarity when I thought it might be useful.

I mostly kept this extra content to the sides so that, if it doesn't interest you, you can hopefully ignore it and focus on the main part of the video. Unlike my previous videos, sometimes this is on the left side and sometimes it's on the right side. The margins shift depending on where the talking head bubbles are.

Talking Head Bubbles - Jared and Jensen front and center, but other speakers visible too

This "enhancement" isn't anywhere close to perfect, but it sure as heck isn't from a lack of effort. This represented at least half if not two-thirds of the time I spent working on this video.

I always find the Comic-Con videos frustrating to watch. When the camera moves to other people who are talking, I want to see Jared and Jensen instead. I like to see their reactions and sometimes they do funny things that get missed. But when the camera is steadfastly focused on Jared and Jensen, I also get frustrated because I can’t see the people who are talking. Nope, you can’t win with me! I want to see everything.

I attempted to mitigate this frustration by adding talking head bubbles. The main source videos I used were the ones with the most constant and stable focus on Jared and Jensen. However, if one of the other source videos had a decent focus on another guest, I inserted a small window into that other video as seen below. Eric shows up on the left, because that's where he was seated relative to Jared. Sera and Ben show up on the right, because they were on the other side of Jensen.

Like I said, it's not anywhere close to perfect. Trying to make the bubbles look stable was an enormous challenge for me. Behind the scenes the person in the bubble was bobbing and weaving all over the original video frame, so I had to constantly adjust the position of the secondary video to keep the subject centered in the bubble. They also aren't always bubbles. The people taking the videos often had the writers on the edge of the frame because they wanted to capture Jared or Jensen too, so the bubbles start to collapse when they get too close to the edge because there isn't enough video surrounding them to form a circle.

I haven't decided if the end result was worth how much effort I put into these darn "bubbles", so I'd welcome any feedback -- good or bad.

[revalition]

OCT 11 - AUTHORITY Intimidate the public. Assert yourself. authority!! my guy! I love *and* hate him very much! he's such a guy.

this is late because I spent too much time yesterday writing about him and not enough time drawing him. oops. that's also why it's so ugly but it's okay. someday I'll draw something good and you'll all be very impressed. we'll see if I can get EdC in today too or not!

and ty red for giving me your authority's wings haha, theyre soo cool. ough I love wings. if someone sent me an ask saying "draw [skill] with wings" I would be all over that so fasttt

anyway! lots of content under the cut as usual!

authority quotes!

anti sorry cop authority!! harry desperately needs someone to tell him to stop apologizing for existing... but in the second case, volition is right (as usual)

a wonderful classic here

gotta include these ofc

authority NO.

this line is just. how I image he is constantly. the millisecond your authority is questioned in the slightest he gets like this.

re. arresting klaasje

authority stopping you from being very embarrassing!

NO. no authority. there's SO many lines like this. sigh

authority seems to be a nearly perfect 50/50 split of good advice and bad advice. it's great. it's fascinating

authority and volition. authority and volitionnn. you are going to hear about the motor carriage story and there's no getting off.

rare sweet authority moment! (this heals morale too!)

realllly love this one too <3

authority, cmon man...

this guy. this guy... he's so... I don't know. he's sure something

authority CONFIRMED COMPROMISED. also authority being mean to soft little suggestion is always very funny to me

he is compromised though

hghhk this line from the authority fail. you get after failing *four* times. my first playthrough I had high authority - I had 6 PSY to start, and authority boosting clothes. and I just kept failing and failing. and every time I failed this check I had to dump another point into authority to try it again... so it was *really* high by the end! but I just kept failing it!! it was so painful... by the fourth fail you can finally beg kim to take over...

on the topic of awful authority fails! we need to acknowledge: - the authority check to get kim to dance - the authority check to save kim from getting shot - the authority check to make acele wear the hat

including it so we can enjoy authority making things worse and worse

alternatively, succeeding the check. eugh. (you dont have to kick the snow. but the fact that it's an option at all...)

I passed the check my first playthrough and failed it my second. there's really no good outcome to clicking it... except harry can get a good cry out of the fail, I guess

this seems like a good place to include the mandatory sad dream dialogue. that way we feel less bad for him since we got to just see him being stupid

now we know! tobacco wards off narco spirits, and alcohol discourages use of... narcohol. wonderful!

you know it's bad when it's too much even for authority haha

authority giving better advice than volition one time??? this is if you have cuno at the end, when you meet up with your posse. persisting with insisting on the phasmid isn't productive at all

live authority reaction to harry being told no to anything ever

low stakes authority fail haha

here's another one! not all authority fails are world-endingly bad

another one. sigh. authority. NO.

and there is soo much honour points dialogue I couldn't fit in here! the first time I got the honour cop thought bubble I was like, wow! I'm never listening to anything this skill says ever again!

the thought gives you -4 !!!! to drama! because lying is dishonourable. and then if you lie to kim about what you were doing he tells you it was an honourable lie. hypocrite. (and there is a dialogue where he says "Are you going to let him get away with being a hypocrite?" so that really makes auth a double hypocrite)

I love and hate authority in perfectly equal amounts. they don't cancel eachother out either, I just feel very strongly about him instead. I also feel very strongly about Volition, and their interactions are always fascinating. so I end up smushing them together, going fight! (and kiss!) and fight! like the extremely normal person I am. yep. you're welcome.

I could probably write half an essay my thoughts on their dynamic so I'm going to stop myself now before I have regrets :)

authority is in my favourite skills list for sure, but due to his serious personality issues I can't figure out where he places <3

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Free pass to write whatever you feel like writing? 👀

Bruce frowned at his phone and double-checked the time. He knew you were awake. You'd texted Dick back. Responding to a funny picture he sent you with a laugh-crying emoji. But you weren't answering his calls.

Or texts.

And he had a sinking feeling in his chest. Was it too much? Had he scared you off by asking you to come live with him? It wasn't a small thing. You had a job. You had a house- and your friends. In Gotham, you wouldn't really know anyone. Aside from him. There would be Alfred and Dick of course. And they adored you but- it wasn't going to be the same as having the little circle you were used to right there.

He wanted t call you again. Or text but- what if you needed the space? Was it just time to think? Could someone go check on you? Just- just to make sure. This kind of radio silence was uncomfortable. And the questions that kept bubbling up were distracting.

It didn't even feel better when his phone rang and it was you.

"Doctor," he said, clearing his throat, "Everything okay?"

"I-yeah. Sorry I-" You break off and take a deep breath and he can hear the rustle of fabric. Mentally trying to place what you're doing. Curling up?

"What's wrong sweetheart?" he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle. There was a tenor there he didn't like. You sound flat. And tired. "Still sore?"

"I'm okay I just- I'm sorry I was busy and- I got distracted and sorry. I - sorry." You stammer and stumble, "I should let you go I just saw you called and-"

Lying. You can't lie. Not well anyway. It makes you flustered.

"Sweetheart," he said gently, "what happened?"

"Nothing I just- I gotta go I love you."

"I love you too," he sighed. "Talk tomorrow?"

"Okay."

The line went dead and he cringed. You hadn't wanted to call then. Or maybe you wanted to and got nervous?

He had more questions than answers. And he wasn't sure he wanted more answers. Not if it meant you were pulling away.

[system-of-a-feather]

The parent that turned my did into pdid is showing signs of dementia & is in denial. She failed her memory test at the doctors & it’s only getting worse. Its funny, I spent a lot of my childhood being ridiculed by her for symptoms of my DID & now she will likely have some of my formative experiences in her last days: not knowing where she is, confusing reality, etc etc. This is the kind of woman to laugh at panic attacks. my siblings are making themselves scarce before it gets worse.

It feels like poetic justice, but I see a train wreck waiting to happen. She’s POA for my other older relatives. My question to you is if you’d try to help this person if you were in my shoes. Part of me wants to do a family intervention. Part of me wants to watch her to crash & burn.

The irony is that if she had shown me that grace & empathy as a child, this wouldn’t even be a problem. But she set up this toxic dynamic in the family and so she feels the need to double down & pretend it’s not happening. And now it’s gonna bite her in the ass.

Would you stage an intervention now to head this off with senior planning or let the chips fall where they may?

Honestly? I don't really have a "I would do this" sort of response to this. Even putting aside how I don't really have the full picture, context, history, etc to navigate the nuance of the situation, I honestly just don't think this is really something where there is a clear answer and it's really one of those things that you have to kind of just come to the conclusion on what will sit right with you. Whatever path and direction you go, I honestly wouldn't blame you or judge you in anyways tbh.

Personally though, I generally default to neutral or slightly positive non-engagement. If there is a situation I'm torn on, have mixed feelings over, or find myself largely emotionally charge (especially if its simultaneously in opposing directions), I tend to default to respectfully doing the minimum necessary to keep issues from arising due to the lack of action (or sudden decrease in action) and typically continue whatever baseline I have been doing.

That tends to allow me to postpone any significant decision long enough for me to 1) sort out how I feel a little more clearly 2) see how things progress with me doing little to nothing different than what I'm currently doing and to see if that works for me and 3) removes a sense of time pressure and a sense of responsibility over others that is either not possible or not necessarily sustainable for me to take on

I understand the irony and schadenfreude of the situation, cause honestly, I do get how its kinda funny and there's a sense of karma at the whole situation. But in my experience, chasing that schadenfreude / sense of revenge often kind of kept me in a space of trauma and hurt and honestly kept me from exploring and experiencing opportunities in life that were better and/or possibly better spent elsewhere.

That isn't to say that you have to forgive, or that you have to care for her either. People tend to put revenge and forgiveness as a black and white binary, but honestly, you can not-forgive but also choose to not put yourself in a mental space centered on trauma and past hurt by also choosing to not seek revenge.

If you don't feel like she has earned / deserves care that she didn't give you, you aren't obliged to give it to her. It's not your responsibility and I wouldn't blame you if you took that approach. It's your right to go and live on your life apart from negative influences in your life and if she was and is currently a negative influence on your life, I don't think you are a bad person for just walking away from it.

But if that's the case, I'd also just check in with yourself and just make sure that - with the situation regarding the POA and all for other relatives - you are okay with the potential risks that might pose for any relatives you might like and make sure to weigh your care for those individuals against your lack of interest in helping address the situation.

If you do step in, make sure you know what and why you are choosing to step in and stage an intervention. Know what matters to you and what is at the core of your actions and just try to keep that in mind when you decide to step in as it can probably help in persisting when it might not feel like something you want to do.

At the end of the day, its one of those situations where you just kind of have to find where you draw the line and if you feel she deserves that act from you. Do what works best for you both now / in the present and with what you feel will genuinely make you feel the best in the long long run.

Either way, I've done and been on both sides of the coin with similar situations - particularly with my dad - and I honestly get both perspectives.

It's a non-answer, but I hope it helped you nonetheless.

[armpirate]

UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 7

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I know making me look like a fool in front of everyone has just made his ego increase ten times. It's all over his tone and the look he's giving me. Jungkook knows everything, while I don't know anything. And, in this case, that's right. But it's his fault -and mine, for jumping to conclusions when I should've asked anyone else. But there's no way I could've asked that without having Tammy interrogating me back, and assuming I'm interested in Jungkook somehow.

Everything makes more sense now. At least I don't have to feel bad for feeling tense every single time he's just less than one meter close to me. Now it's not that I need to feel bad, I need to get it checked. Because I don't get it.

The rest of our group keeps distributing the rooms. Obviously, Mark and Jungsoo share one, Tammy and Melanie are placed in a different one, Steve and Carl (the cutest couple, that hasn't separated an inch since I arrived) got one upstairs, and Namjoon, Hobi and Yoongi got the biggest one (which makes sense, since they're three in a room and will probably not share beds).  

Although, while all of that was going on, Jungkook and I started a stare competition that neither of us wanted to lose. We kept making faces, challenging without saying a word. I don't understand why he's giving me those looks anyway. I'm the one who should be mad at him.

A loud clap interrupts whatever non-verbal battle we had going on.

—Shall we leave our things in the room? —Steve suggests.

It's not like the rest of us have much of a choice, so we just nod -some showing more enthusiasm than others. And clearly I'm in the group of those who don't really mind. I'm just hoping the room is big enough for both of us.

I almost tell him to go first, as if we weren't going to spend the whole night together in the same room. I let my mature side take control of my mouth, so I decide to stay quiet. Lips sealed.

Without looking at me, he grabs his leather backpack. And I'm surprised to realize, out of our crew, we're the ones who brought less baggage. Which makes sense, right? We're only staying here for one day. 

When he finally looks at me and is aware of me still standing here, he snorts and points his hand to the stairs, letting me go first. I don't turn a single time to make sure he's following behind me, but I hear the sound of his heavy military black boots stepping on the wooden step.

When I'm about to move to the left, his hand stops me by holding my arm and pushing me to the right. Ignoring the pumping against my chest, I follow his guidance and start walking in that direction. There's only one door open. 

All the calmness and serenity I was trying to keep, vanishes in between my fingers as soon as I poke my head inside the room, with only one bed in the middle of the room. I scan the room, looking at every corner, every hiding place possible -as if a bed would come up out of nowhere right now. When I turn to Jungkook, he's giving me a funny look, while he's resting his shoulder against the door frame.

—My brother's ex-girlfriend was supposed to come, so now we have space left.

And from what I'm seeing, the space left is in the same bed. What were they thinking about when they invited a stranger to sleep here?

—Have you never seen a bed before? —he mocks me.

—Yes, but... —I point towards the double bed— I'm not sleeping with you.

—Great —he walks next to me, leaving his bag next to the left side of the bed—. You helped us save time and effort to decide who's sleeping on the floor and who's sleeping in the bed. I appreciate your sacrifice.

I don't really mind sleeping on the floor. As seen before, I could sleep anywhere with no issue. But the mere fact of him ending up with a triumphant smile on his face, while he's giving me that annoying look is making me insist and compete for the bed.

—Who said I'm the one sleeping on the floor? —I get closer to the bed, throwing my bag on the right side of it— You sleep on the floor.

His head falls back when he laughs, both of his hands resting on his hips before he speaks again:

—You're the one who's new here, so it's pretty clear for me...

There's also the possibility of exchanging rooms with someone else, maybe Tammy or Melanie would want to sleep here. Although if that were the case, they'd have tried to trade rooms before and I wouldn't be the one here. 

—Rock, paper, scissors —he suggests.

—Are we five? 

—Great —he smiles again—. I take it as a win by default.

Before he can lie on the bed, and own it, I put my hand on his way and try to get the game started. We both look at each other deep in the eye, trying to guess what the other will use.

When we both yell "three", we show our hands from behind our backs, and I feel like my blood stops running through my veins when two of his tattooed fingers  are rising. I slowly move my eyes from his fingers to mine, finding them spread. Flat, small and pathetic, while I hear Jungkook celebrate and cheer his win. Some locks of my hair move when he throws himself on the bed.

—Best of three —I insist.

—I won and you lost —he declines—. I'm not selfish though, I can share the bed with you if you want —he uses a seductive tone.

✸ ✸ ✸

We spend the rest of the evening talking between us (well, except for Jungkook and me), trying to get to know one another better. And I'm surprised to learn that Namjoon, Hobi and Yoongi have been friends with Soo since college. And at some point, some of us start preparing the food and drinks for tonight. Although it's not like Melanie and Steve are letting any of us do anything. They keep insisting we are the guests.

While walking around the house, and stopping where the rest of the crew is sitting, I notice I haven't seen Jungkook in a while already. 

—They're picking our cousin up at the station —I hear Soo mention, drawing my eyes back to her.

I try to hide the fact that I was caught red handed while looking for Jungkook. And she seems to avoid going deeper into that when she mentions Steve and Melanie are siblings as well. So this is closer to being a family reunion then. And that doesn't help with the sensation of feeling out of place.

I know Tammy is here with me, but I can tell even she's feeling the same way I do. But I'm not too concerned about her. Let her sneak into three more conversations, get some drinks, and she'll be better than any friend you've had for years.

The main door opens, and Soo lets out a high-pitched scream before she runs to it. For one second, I'm thinking she saw Mark not that long ago. But when I turn to the door... My god. The man that she's hugging is incredibly tall. But it gets even better when his cousin lets go of him, and I get a better sight.

At first, he looks a bit shy when he's introduced to us. It's normal though, by what Soo told us, he came from Korea specifically to spend time with her and Jungkook. And going from that to being invited to a house full of people you don't know, it can be a bit overwhelming. Besides that, he smiles wide all the time, with his head slightly down. 

He's so cute.

The rest of the evening goes on just as quiet. We have dinner, we talk.. or, more like, they talk while I look at Seokwoo every once in a while, as if I have never seen a man in my life. Well, I did, but not like him. And while I smile at my own comment, my eyes find Jungkook's, but it's not like I pay much attention to it either, before I go back to the little group crackling and telling jokes. 

At some point, and as soon as we all are in the mood, Carl comes up with the idea of playing "Never Have I Ever". I keep saying I don't want to play, I just want to look. But most of them insist, and serve me a drink. It starts innocently, with things we've all done when we were younger. But soon the game starts heading in the direction it's supposed to be taking. Carl comes up with "I never had sex in my parents' bed" and everyone drinks, except me -clearly. And the rest of the comments keep going that way. I could've faked it, I could've drunk even if I hadn't done all of that shit. But I doubt anyone is paying attention to me -or so I think.

It's finally my turn, and since most of them already mentioned the most basic "dares", I'm unable to think about anything right now. So I come up with the fastest excuse I can.

—I'm getting something different —I announce, raising the full glass and heading to the table full of drinks.

I'm a bit lost in myself, overhearing the laughs and jokes as they keep coming up with hypothetical situations. And when I raise my hand to reach one of the bottles, my fingers collide against another hand. It's the biggest cliche ever. "And I felt electricity when our hands first touched". None of that shit, it just surprised me, but I instantly smiled when I saw him.

—Don't worry —I hand him the bottle, lifting it up from the table—. You first.

—You got it first —he gives me a cute look.

It's the first time we've made visual contact, and it's probably the worst thing that could happen to me, because I suddenly feel my legs trembling and my tongue getting ready to drop the biggest and most embarrassing bullshit that's ever been said.

—Don't worry, seriously. I keep seeing these, I'm sure I'll be able to wait a bit —I stop, and think about the different ways I can justify myself—. I'm a bartender. That's why. It's not because I'm drinking all day. Which isn't wrong either, I wouldn't have a job if...

I slowly saw how that cute smile turned into an uncomfortable grimace. And I'm not sure if it's the panic, but I don't feel like drinking at all anymore.

[bestbonnist]

Chapters 171.2 and 171.3

If you haven't read these chapters yet, here and here.

Since they had the doll imbue a pot with her memories/dreams and then do nothing with it, that pot is most definitely going to be important later. Chekhov's gun. But I don't know how. I don't think there's anything in the dream that wasn't in the doll's description. Eko already looked at the pot, right after the doll made it, but she got distracted. Maybe Fushi sees 32 from the doll's perspective and she reminds them of the nameless boy.

The mud Eko uses to project her thoughts is special and specifically reacts to human brain waves, but I wonder if there's a stipulation that you have to be human to leave your memories on an Earthenware pot. Because if so, the pot would serve as further proof that the doll is human. Just keep an eye out for it.

Tonari always seems to put her ghost form to more practical use than anyone else. Another way in which she uses her death for her friends' benefit... The first time she died, she found Bon and taught him about Fushi, and now she regularly uses it to spy on Kaibara. Makes me wonder if she used it for anything else while she was dead during the previous era. Maybe to follow the Defense Corps./Kahaku around to make sure they weren't planning on double crossing Fushi.

Tonari insists Mizuha's clones are only related to Mizuha on a surface-level, despite mistrusting Mizuha for her relation to Hayase for most of the present era. She denies Mizuha's connection to Kaibara, and stresses that these girls are just ordinary girls and not at fault for whatever's happening with the company. Since a lot of Tonari's dislike for Mizuha was an extension of dislike for herself/her belief that children are responsible for their elder family members' fuck-ups, to me this indicates that she's also being more lenient on herself.

Another aside about Tonari's behavior: she's committed to letting Fushi make decisions for the group but she clearly regrets it. She's kind of like Fushi's confidant, in a way, because she's privy to information that no one else knows.

The fight between the immortals gets shut down without actually being resolved—with Hylo and Tonari bowing out when Fushi gives their verdict and Messar just not caring very much one way or the other. It's over so quickly, actually, that I think it'll probably crop back up again later. It's also funny that Hylo and Messar share the same opinion on many things but Hylo just can't fucking stand agreeing with him.

Fushi keeps remaking the Aoki house, that hurts a lot... they continue to recreate a building that they lived in five hundred years ago because it's the place that they think of as "home," except the house is in ruins because the people who kept it clean and who turned it into a home for Fushi are no longer alive.

Fushi now sits at the head of the table instead of Satoru. Further signifying that they're actually taking control as a leader and decision maker, totally different from how they were in the present era. But they're doing this by shutting everyone out again. I believe it's more out of a desire to keep their relationship with Hayase's descendants and their other friends separate than because they don't want to put their trust in anybody, but let's be honest it's probably both.

The chapter contains flashbacks to two other scenes with Satoru. The first is from Chapter 160.2. Satoru did give Fushi the sphere, they touched it and passed out. Satoru says afterwards that it was too much information for Fushi to take in at once, which checks out because the sphere contains the ability to create anything. It's infinite data. But they did touch it, so they could hypothetically recreate it.

Fushi was also a sphere, before they were anything else. If the knockers take all of their vessels like they did in the previous era—although their number of vessels has probably grown exponentially—they'll be reduced to just a sphere and then the knockers could just wish that they were dead, or however it works.

The second flashback is to Chapter 164.1. This is where Satoru mentions that he already cast off this power—although he's vague about whether this is the sphere or something else—which could mean he physically cast it off. Deeply ironic that Fushi doesn't even have the power to control knockers nor wants to and the knockers haven't so much as touched them for fear that they might. Also deeply ironic that in the present era, the left hand was about to merge with Fushi and probably kill them but a different knocker shot it in the head first.

I'm super intrigued by how the story will proceed with Fushi no longer being the perspective character (at least momentarily). Seeing them from someone else's point of view again... having their thoughts hidden from the readers... why do I feel like this is because they know something that's not meant to be revealed yet. The way they react to the doll, too... it reminds me of the way they treated Mizuha and the left hand, being especially compliant with their desires. Quite possibly because of her connection to Kaibara and Mizuha's thirty two identical buddies.

If 32 was an employee at Kaibara, she had to have known that just giving the doll a tag chip wouldn't have done any good by itself. And, again because of her status as a Kaibara employee, she also must have known about the sphere. So it seems likely that her plan was to have the doll find the sphere and make her wish all along. And Fushi probably knows something about this plan, given the way they keep staring daggers into her whenever she says anything about becoming human.

[thesoleilla]

Hi i'd like to request a matchup, if possible one sperately for bsd, tomodoachi game and mystic messenger. If that doesn't bother u🥺🥺🥺

First thing first,

I'm a daddy and i'm badass. (I'm not 160 cm tall at all by the way i'm definitely... 60FEETS TALL AND SUPER STRONG, WE ALWAYS GET ALONG-)

Plz don't match me with akutagawa or mori from bsd they scawy ;;;;;;;;

I'm also very smart. 800IQ if you ask me. (I say i'm not but i am and sometimes i say i'm not and some other times i say i am but i like to pretend i am so triple confusion? I am probably the only one confused here...no actually i'm pretty sure i confused the whole audiance, yes ,there is an audiance)

I'd like to be matched with someone that can find a house for both of us where the toilet is next to the bedroom, because guess who wakes up every 2 hours or so to do their pee-pee needs? m e-

I DON'T HAVE ANY GENDER PREFFERANCES I WILL DATE WHATEVER THING, EVEN MY BED!

Also um i use any pronouns xP But when i'm Daddy please treat me like one 😏😏

I'm an ENTP and i misstyped my MBTI and thought i was an INFP for 2 whole years. Yick.

My astrological sign is a gemini if that helps

I kin funny suicidal maniac man from bsd and i kin hacker boi from mysme (i'm requesting in anonymous but now with this information... U know who i am, shi-)

Also i am very shy u//w//u

No, but i'm too lazy to use my brain to talk when there's new people around, because i don't know them and i don't know how i'm supposed to talk around them, and i feel lazy so i just don't talk

IDK WHAT TO SAYYYYYYYY

Well u know who i am so whatever

Thx

I put all the matchups in separate posts, I hope that's fine, check the bottom of the post for other fandom matchups <3

I MATCH YOU WITH DAZAI OSAMU

Matchup Masterlist - Matchup rules

 TW: suicide mention in the last paragraph because...Dazai

・★ > From your request (and also from your kinlist, totally not from the fact I've deciphered your identity hahaha), I can tell you two are pretty similar, which, I believe, tends to help in a relationship

  ・★ > He makes fun of your height. Sorry, you probably rock it, but Dazai is Dazai. He'd try to stop if it made you uncomfortable, but to be completely honest, I don't think he'd last long at that.

  ・★ > On the topic of making fun of things, when you were both talking about moving in together, you kept pestering him about your intense peeing needs. Let's just say, he took that information and RAN with it for jokes. I mean, you're so tiny it's proportional for your bladder to be this small! That explains why, when he was putting the furniture for your shared bedroom, your nightstand got replaced with a toilet. To this day, you still haven't managed to remove it.

  ・★ > On a more serious note, this man may have made fun of Kunikkida's journal for his ideals, but the instant he met you he started having one for you. He might not even have realized it, and when you asked him about it, he said it was something the therapist told him to do (the therapist you forced him to see).

  ・★ >In that Journal, he also had guessed your right MBTI before you did. Don't ask how he did it, I don't think he himself knows.

  ・★ > However, he also noticed your introverted moments and he makes sure he makes up for it because when that dude starts to talk there's no stopping. Especially if he's poking fun at something (or someone, most likely you).

  ・★ >When you two met, the whole agency did everything in their power not to let you two be in the same room, as the thought of having to handle both your anthics at the same time made them rethink their life choices. So let's just stay, when you two got together, the agency started shaking in their boots

  ・★ > Strangely enough, Dazai never once tried one of his double s**cide methods with you. When you jokingly asked him about it, he simply said he didn't want to take the risk of a situation where you'd succeed and he'd fail, so he'd rather neither of you try, just in case.

  ・★ > All in all, despite your sometimes weird behaviors, you two make a surprisingly sweet couple <3

Mystic messenger matchup

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite2023, Prompt 18: A Fish Out of Water

Estinien rushed down the halls of the Andron, wearing a fancy dark blue shirt and tight pants with tall dark black boots, aiming for the room of the Warrior of Light. Upon arrival, he knocked quickly at the door.

"Dia?"

Silence greeted him back. He knocked once more.

"Dia, are you in there?"

Once again, silence.

"I need your help. Can you open your door?"

Then a thought hit him. This group has a tendency to have some kind of horrific thing happen to them: prophetic visions, souls torn from bodies, possession by ancient beings. If she wasn't answering, that might not be the best sign as he wasn't aware of anyone leaving Sharlayan during construction of the Ragnarok.

"Dia, this isn't funny! Open the bloody door!" He demanded as he knocked repeatedly before he tried for the door handle. She locked the door, the swiving arse.

"Ah, Estinien!"

He stopped and looked at his caller. Alphinaud appeared from around the corner. "Were you looking for Dia?"

"Yeah. You know where she is?"

"She told us in the linkshell. I'm certain you listened in, yes?"

Of all the times for his lack of checking on that blasted linkshell to backfire in his face.

"She said the situation in Ishgard has come to a head, and that Lord Aymeric requested her presence to aid him and Lord Artoirel in their efforts against the blasphemy Profane Fafnir", Alphinaud explained.

"...that's not some sort of code, is it?"

"I don't believe so. At any rate, if you're looking to find her, you've a long journey to make, and little time to make it before we're due to take tea with my mother."

Is Aymeric sure he doesn't need a lancer, Estinien asked himself.

"I merely wanted to ask after my outfit. Would this be appropriate for tea time in a Sharlayan high house?"

"Well, most Sharlayans have come to wear white robes, but for the purposes of tea today, you need not concern yourself with your dress."

"All right." That did little to belay Estinien's anxieties, but at least he had the knowledge.

"Come. I'll take you to Leveilleur Manor myself."

The two walked out of the Andron and into the sunshine hanging over the city-state of Sharlayan. Estinien kept up behind Alphinaud as he led him through town, upstairs and to the right of the Rostra. They approached the doors, and the door greeters bowed to the two of them before opening the door and allowing them entry into the large mansion.

Estinien looked around the place. The large marble staircase leading up the stairs, the colorful wallpaper, the servants in every corner- it was like a high house in Ishgard.

Aside from one notable family, he hated the high houses.

"Ah, you must be Ser Estinien." He noticed a woman with white hair pulled back wearing a white robe walking out of a double door beneath the stairs. "Welcome to our home. My name is Ameliance Leveilleur, the mother of Alphinaud and Alisaie."

"Er, thank you." Estinien sincerely didn't know what to say here. She already knew who he was after all.

"Of course. Now then, the tea is being prepared as we speak. Why do we not sit in the parlor?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Estinien?" Alphinaud asked.

"Sure."

With his quick response, the three of them walked together through those same double doors. Fury help him, the parlor was huge. Even the Ishgardian nobles might have a few complaints to lodge. It was painted a light blue with windows adorning the south wall that the sun wouldn't peak in during the afternoon. The settees sat in the middle with a pale pink rug beneath them, ornately adorned, colored a deep blue, not unlike Estinien's shirt.

The three took their seats, Alphinaud sitting next to Estinien while Ameliance took the opposite settee.

"I'm glad to finally have this chance to speak with you in person, Ser Estinien. Of the people that Alphinaud has written of, two people appeared frequently in mention: Dia and you. Were it not for the emergency in Ishgard, I would have requested her presence here this day as well, but I'm still quite happy to have you join us."

Even she knew about that? Fury, Estinien chastised himself in his head.

"Er, I'm glad to be here as well", he half-lied.

"Now then, tea shall be here shortly, but please, treat yourselves to some finger sandwiches. We've cucumber, pesto chicken, egg salad, garlean cheese. There are also plenty of sweets. I know Alphinaud would be quite happy with that much."

Estinien couldn't help but smile. Thank the Fury he could act as a bouncing board.

"Yes, well", Alphinaud asked, "Estinien is here, and we're all happier for it."

"Indeed. So, Ser Estinien, what was your education?"

"...my education?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I haven't any idea of the educational aspects of Ishgard, or anywhere in Coerthas, for that matter."

"Er...well, Ishgard has the Scholasticate, but only those who don't enlist in the Temple Knights and have the ability to afford its education have access to that. What I was taught was taught to me by my parents and Alberic."

"Alberic?" Ameliance asked.

"The Azure Dragoon who came before me. Taught me everything I know about how to wield a lance. Took me in after Nidhogg attacked my home."

That was way too much information, he determined after seeing the way Alphinaud grimaced.

"Oh dear...I apologize, I meant not to stir up anything unpleasant."

"Worry not. You've done nothing wrong."

Ameliance took in a breath to center herself. "Well...what of your career plans, Ser Estinien?"

"Currently, I've employment in the Scions of the Seventh Dawn."

"Well, yes, but what of the future? Should your services no longer be needed in the Scions, do you know what would come next?"

He had absolutely no clue how to answer that. Seeing that he was to take to his taciturn staring, Alphinaud jumped in. "The Scions currently have no need to dispose of him and for the foreseeable future, I highly doubt he would need to worry about that."

Estinien grabbed a chicken finger sandwich and ate it, hoping that might deflect some questions from him. When that didn't work, Ameliance asked, "So, one mystery I know Alphinaud spent an age trying to deduce was where you went after the end of the Dragonsong War. Tell me, would you be so kind as to elucidate on this matter?"

"Oh. A bit of everywhere really."

Ameliance was keeping her patience together with incredible determination, like a button on a tight shirt. "What might that mean?"

"Well...I visited some friends", he omitted the fact that they were grave sites and the lair of Hraesvelgr, "did some searching for a certain artifiact", he leaned his head to Alphinaud, "and keeping my eye on him."

"Keeping your eye on me?" Alphinaud repeated.

"You think that cannon just destroyed itself?"

"That was you?!"

Estinien nodded with a smirk.

"Single-handedly?!"

"That so hard to believe?"

"Forgive me, but we've appeared to have veered away from an point made there", Ameliance interrupted. "A cannon?"

"Aye", Estinien answered, "A large ceruleum pipeline that fueled a cannon blocked Alliance forces from entering into The Lochs of Gyr Abania. I destroyed it. I would not allow such a thing to block their way."

"I wasn't told of a cannon", Ameliance admitted.

"Really?" He looked to Alphinaud with a shite-eating grin.

"Well...in truth, it didn't affect us much..." Alphinaud attempted to deflect.

"You mean aside from how it trapped you in Specula Imperatoris and nearly killed you?"

"What?!"

"Mother, I'll check on tea." Alphinaud quickly stood up and left.

Ameliance looked back. "I fear some things may have been left out of his letters."

"I wish I could say I blame him. I can understand the need to avoid worrying someone needlessly."

Ameliance smiled mischievously. "Yes, I suppose some things aren't worth the concern of a mother. Might I ask you this with Alphinaud out of the room?"

"Oh?"

"What is your opinion of my son? He defers a great deal of respect to you in his letters to me. In everything he says about you, his fervent admiration for you is quite clear, and I can't help but wonder...is this reciprocated?"

Estinien smiled slightly. "When I first met him, I thought him rather helpless and hopelessly idealistic. In some ways, he reminded me much of a mutual friend of ours. But much like that friend, I see now that his ideals are what paves the way for a brighter future...given we succeed in this mission of Hydaelyn's. The support of Alphinaud's comrades- nay, my comrades- carried him far and they've all shared these goals for as long as they have. Doubtless, their dedication will save us. I'm proud of him. I really am."

Ameliance seemed touched by his sincerity. "And yours?"

"My what?"

"Your dedication. Does it play its role?"

He let a laugh out of his nose. "I've come too far to not develop some dedication. Even then, I'm afraid my dedication is not placed in their goal- it's in them. Alphinaud and Dia, I mean. I trust them implicitly."

The double doors reopened and the Elezen teenager reappeared with a platter of tea cups and a kettle. "It's ready now."

Ameliance laughed. "Thank you, dear."

------

"All right, all right, you made your point", Dia laughed. A year after this, she sat in Mehryde's Meyhane with Estinien, enjoying the fare and reminiscing.

"I still recall going in there, dwarfed by the bloody staircases", Estinien complained.

"You really want to call tea with Ameliance the most harrowing thing you've experienced? You were turned into bloody wind, and tea time was the worst thing?"

"Being wind was far easier than navigating high society."

"And you thought I would be of help? Do you know how bad I am at that? There's a reason I don't go to fêtes with Aymeric."

"Besides the fact that you could barely walk for most of the year? I can't imagine how you'd fare dancing."

"Rich coming from a man who can't handle tea time with Alphinaud Leveilleur and his mother."

Estinien sighed. "In truth, it wasn't all bad. I'd rather not repeat it, mind, but there were some decent moments. I'm glad to have gotten the affair over and done with, anyway."

"Well, that's good at least."

"I still can't believe that blasphemy was real."

"Pays to check your linkshell."

Estinien scoffed. "Yes, I suppose it does."

Dia lifted her glass. "Cheers to not checking linkshells anymore, eh?"

"I'll drink to that."

They clinked their metal mugs together before partaking. Once Dia finished her sip, she asked, "Well, I know you told me at the Scions' parting that you've found work with Vrtra. How's that going for you?"

"Going well thus far. He's just having me train his lancers for a few hours a day. In exchange, I get a fine room and food. We get the chance to discuss things with each other, we look after one another. It's...interesting."

"...oh sweet Spinner, he's hoarding you", the realization clicked in Dia.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's got you in his grasp and he's not letting go. He's keeping you all to himself", she explained with a twisted smile.

"You're delusional."

"And you're his new consort."

"I am not his bloody consort!"

"Yeah? Well, say he didn't need you anymore. Where would you go?"

Estinien didn't know how to answer that. He had no wish to wander anymore. "...I can leave whenever I like."

"Really? What do you think he'd say?"

He didn't know the answer to that either, but there was something about the thought of leaving him disappointed that made him feel...

"...quit your teasing, woman."

Dia laughed mischievously. "Forget navigating high society. Try navigating a dragon's emotions."

"No, thank you."

[kyrodo]

I don't like Mana's attitude sometimes. Very impatient. Makes a lot of mean assumptions about people if they haven't uploaded anything for a few days. He needs to calm the fuck down. And before you make that observation about me when I was checking if I was still on your good side or not I wasn't reposting impatient gengar 10 times a day. And like everyone else that posts anything angry, it always feels like I'm walking on eggshells when your posting mad stuff about something, given every little thing you do might be subtext or it might not be. You didn't give me the luxury of a way to distinguish it. In fact you always gave me as little to go on as possible while also gaslighting me whenever I try to clarify anything. And I'm really fucking tired of it.

You know why Red and I stuck together for a decade and a half, he wasn't pulling off any of your stupid shenanigans. At least he doesn't make it a part time job to figure out what the fuck he's trying to say. All I did was give you a taste of your own medicine, just without the gaslighting part, but then again you never tried to find out if I would.

Next time instead of following someone's stupidity forming my own version of whatever shit they do punch for punch, I'm just gonna drop everything and be like fuck it I'm done with this. Why should I encrypt every basic little fucking thing we try to communicate? That's not a friend that's an asshole. It could be fun up to a point, I just wish someone figured out what the fuck that is. It shouldn't be mandatory for someone to do bullshit like that just to be in any kind of contact with you. You are the most strictly conditional "friend" I've ever encountered. All my friends in vrchat, haven't met one yet that has all these strings attached. But I guess it's because most people aren't fucking stupid. I was cryptic as well communicating in all these extra ways when I felt like I was talking about myself too much and wanted to still do it but in a different way. But at least I made actually talking an option.

And before you say it was always okay to talk to you, gaslighting me every single time we directly interact is a funny way of showing that. There isn't anyone else I've met where I've always had to brace myself for the next time they're going to lie to my face again, carefully pick my words cause I don't know how much of it you're actually going to acknowledge. I never had to do that with anyone before, so why did I have to do that with you?

You always kept me in a position to manipulate me, or manipulate the conversation, and all I can say is that at least you're someone else's project now. I learned from vrchat having actual interactions with people is much more enjoyable and much less prone to bullshit. I'm tired of dealing with the secret service just to say anything to someone. Talk about special needs. Go be special somewhere else.

If someone keeps giving me these short timing windows indicated by gengar or whatever I'm calling it quits on them early. I don't want to make friends out of quick time events, fuck that. And I recognize your bullshit doesn't excuse my bullshit, but at least my worst scenario doesn't get anywhere near yours and you don't sure don't take your sweet time getting there either. When my fuse blows I post stuff like this, I don't hack and harass people that don't deserve it.

If that's your deterrent for people you're getting rid of why the fuck does it take a whole month? It only takes a day to figure out what my life is like or you could do it the right way and talk to me instead. But that's never an option for you. Your job is to point out malicious ironies rather than facts to get your revenge when someone's mad at you for being a total bitch. You ever try attacking people for shit they actually do, cause it seems to be working out for me.

I'm not the one setting up double meanings for people and adding the context later when you decide if you want to be a bitch or not. I'm a programmer, I deal with enough floating point values, I don't need people I can't rely on.

[187days]

Day Sixty-Five

I admittedly did not wake up on the right side of the bed this morning. 

Over the past few days, my school community faced two tragedies involving our recent graduates: one was killed in a car accident, another murdered in an incident of domestic violence. This is Small Town, USA so there aren’t many folks who didn’t know one or both of these young people. They’ve also still got friends and family at the high school. So... it’s just going to be hard here for a while. 

I know that was impacting my mood today even though I tried not to let it. And I was slow getting ready, and my car was slow defrosting the windshield- I need to get that checked out- so there was some additional stress. But I mostly shook it off to teach APGOV. Today was all about 1963: the Birmingham desegregation campaign, A Call for Unity and Letter from Birmingham Jail, the Children’s Crusade, the March On Washington for Jobs and Freedom, etc, etc... I’ll pick up in the fall of 1963 tomorrow. It’s a decent lesson, and one of my students did an especially good job analyzing the criticism of the SCLC in Birmingham, so that’s good. 

I continued teaching about the Rwandan Genocide in World by showing the first hour and change of Shake Hands With the Devil. Since it’s r-rated, my students had to get parental permission to watch, and most had turned in their permission slips last week. A handful texted their parents before class and asked them to email me to give permission, and one put his mom on speaker (she was traveling so he wasn’t sure she could email) to ask for permission. Now, this kid is pretty funny, and as soon as I talked to his mom I could tell where he gets it from. He was trying to rush her- class was starting, after all- and she knew it, and knew she was on speaker, so she kept teasing him. She did, of course, give him the okay. Any students who didn’t get permission went to the library with an alternate assignment (reading interviews with people in various roles during the genocide and answering questions about them), which the librarian told me was fine.

Students were engaged, easily answering the movie questions I assigned, and definitely simultaneously annoyed and impressed that I hit pause on a cliffhanger just before the bell (heh). They asked about my timing, I reminded them that I’m a wizard. So, y’know, there were a lot of positives to that lesson, as well.

But there were negatives. 

First of all, one of my students- one I’ve worked with repeatedly so that he’d stay on the right track- cut class, which is just frustrating. I saw him headed to the bus as I was headed to indoor track practice, and I double-checked the attendance list to make sure he hadn’t come in late or something, but the look on his face when we saw each other told me he knew he’d been busted.

The other negative was that I lost my temper a bit with my one section. A few of the students in that section like to rile each other up while I’m taking attendance; they pick on each other about the dumbest things, and they end up yelling, and it’s super distracting. I usually just ask them to lower their volume and follow whatever instructions I’ve written on the board; today i told them they were being annoying, and I was sick of it, and there are better ways for them to seek attention. One of them asked why talking wasn’t okay, and I responded that talking was fine, but that mean comments were not, and yelling was not. I wish it had ended there, but one of the girls kept trying to argue. I finally snapped, “Enough!” 

That was the end of it, things went smoothly after that, but I’m annoyed that’s what it took. 

Sigh.

We’ll do better tomorrow.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Oct 3rd [Vernon + Supernatural]

[10:28] “You know you don’t have to do this.” You assured Hansol nervously. 

“I want to,” he shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You bit down on your lip. Ever the supportive boyfriend, Hansol was always happy to be a guinea pig for you. You were nervous enough telling him about your magical abilities and you just hoped he wouldn’t hate you for having a propensity for potions. But he was quite the opposite. He liked to watch you work and often offered to try out the potions. And usually you would say no, but since you had already tried something today and didn’t want anything to interfere…

And he was offering…

“W-Well I’m not too sure.” You mumbled.

“It’s just supposed to make me stronger, right?” He said. “Realistically what are the side effects? Anything I should worry about?”

“It might make your stomach feel… funny. A-And it could turn your skin purple.”

Hansol just stared at you for a moment. You swore one of these days you would try to make a mind reading potion and try it out with him just to see if you could tell what he was really thinking in moments like this. Did he want to back out? Was he looking for a way to get out of it graciously?

“I’ve always liked purple.” He chuckled before downing the drink.

You reached out for the glass, panicked, despite him being half done. He did choose to do this but it just worried you that you might hurt him. Testing on yourself was fine but testing on your very normal human boyfriend was something else entirely.

Hansol put the glass down. “Tastes good, like blueberries.” He informed you.

“H-How do you feel?” You asked nervously.

He shrugged. “No different. Maybe it takes some time to work?”

“Usually yeah,” you mumbled. He watched you fret around your room, double checking the recipe and worrying that he would suddenly get sick from it. He usually let you get on with things and just observed quietly or asked questions but your anxiety was evident. Hansol stood from his stool and came over to you, gripping your hands strongly and stilled them. He squeezed them very tightly for a moment.

“I’m fine,” he reassured you, but you were more focused on both the strength of his grip and the sweet, enticing scent that seemed to be coming from him.

“I-I think it’s working,” you said faintly.

“O-Oh,” he let go of your hands quickly. “Sorry, did that hurt you?”

“No, I'm fine,” you said. “Your grip is just very strong.”  You swallowed hard, finding it hard to keep looking at him. It felt something like nerves with him standing so close, even though you’d been together for some time now. And he smelled good, better than he had before drinking the potion, you were sure of it. Or was your mind playing tricks on you?

“Let’s test it out,” he grinned. You watched him step away and pick up a chair, surprise colouring his face, and then a large smile spreading as he tossed it in the air. “It’s so light!”

“C-Cool,” you bit down on your lip, wanting him to come close to you again. You wanted more of that intoxicating scent. You wanted his touch on you again. God, why did your body feel so warm all of the sudden?

“Let me see if I can lift you.” He smiled. You barely had time to register what he was saying before he scooped you up in his arms and you let out a shriek. He tossed you gently and you gripped onto him for dear life after, burying your face in his chest, an act that made your head start spinning and your heart start racing. 

Maybe this potion did have a side effect.

Hansol placed you back on your feet but you kept a tight grip on his shirt when he tried to step away.

“Is everything okay?” He questioned.

“Fine,” you assured him, not sure how to bring it up. “You- uh- smell really good.”

“I do?” He took a whiff of his shirt. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Trust me,” You turned your gaze up to him, very aware of the lust starting to cloud your expression. “You do.”

“Oh.” He said. “Did- Did the potion- uh-”

“I think I may have accidentally created an aphrodisiac.” You hummed, pressing closer to him. You could walk it off, you knew that. But you didn’t want to. Not when he was right there being utterly perfect and gorgeous and smelling so god damn good.

“Do you want me to go, or…?”

“I want the exact opposite of that.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted you with ease and you wrapped your arms around his neck, meeting him in a heated kiss. The way he tested his strength, holding you with one arm around you while the other snaked up your side, under your shirt was only adding to your arousal. You let out a sigh, pressing as close as you could as he started to toy with your chest.

“Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?” He hummed.

“Yes, let’s.” You agreed with a grin.

[banananutsmuthie]

The Perfect Shot

Idol(s): Rosé [BLACKPINK]

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Content Advisory: Quid Pro "Blow"

A/N: Based on episode 525 of Running Man. If you haven’t seen the episode, you should check it out! Not only will this story make a little more sense, but Rosé was really funny in that episode.

In all your years serving as a cameraman for the long-running Korean variety show Running Man, never had you met a guest so desperate to avoid the penalty.

“Oppa, jebal!” Rosé's hands clasped together under her chin as her pleading eyes begged for your help.

“You can speak in English if it makes it easier.” Of course, it was easier for her. It was more of a formality than permission. She seemed pleasantly surprised to learn there was another English speaker in the room.

“Oh! Good,” Rosé responded. “Oppa, can't you pull some strings with the PD to boost my rank so I can avoid the penalty?” Her sexy Australian accent overshadowed her conniving disposition. “Please, I'll do anything.”

“Is that why you dragged me in here and locked the door?”

Rosé's slender frame stood against the double metal doors she previously locked, trapping the two of you in a maintenance closet. It was a good thing the shoot was on a break just before the final mission; Rosé seemed intent on keeping you trapped with her until she got what she wanted.

The camera on your shoulder was getting heavier by the second. Placing it on the shelf was the best option, making sure Rosé was still in the shot while it kept recording. It was something the producer always preached to the cameramen: always keep the camera rolling. Even in a down time, you never knew what footage the editors would use for the episode. Some of the best scenes happened during breaks.

“Stay right there and give me a second; I need to get the perfect shot,” you told Rosé.

Getting the perfect shot was as much an art as it was a science, but as you stood there playing with the camera settings, the idea of Rosé helping you obtain the perfect shot crept into your thoughts. No, not the camera shot—a cumshot. Topless Rosé on her knees in front of your cock, lips pouted, begging for a streak of white to shoot all over her face and drip down her tiny tits: that was the perfect shot.

The camera was finally set up to your liking. You turned around to see Rosé still standing in front of the locked doors like you ordered, hands still clasped together and waiting with bated breath for your response. There was a fire burning behind those determined eyes that communicated her willingness to lie, steal, or cheat. If it was going to get her out of the penalty, she was willing to do it.

“So what do you say, oppa? Will you help me or not? I really can’t take the penalty, I’m sure we can help each other somehow.”

On a show that favored distinct personalities, Rosé was the best kind of guest. A marketable woman like her made for great content. She was brazen. She was desperate. But most importantly, she was sex personified. Cameramen salivated at the opportunity to be assigned to a guest like her. Now, it was Rosé who was going to be the one salivating—all over your cock.

“So how far are you willing to go to make that happen?” you asked.

Rosé stared back in exasperation like she was growing tired of haggling down the price of a car with an unwavering salesperson. She knew exactly what you had in mind. She was hoping you’d make a less-sexual suggestion as a discount for your help, but Rosé’s leverage disappeared the second she said she’d do “anything”. There was defeat behind her eyes. Her shoulders drooped. Her fingers untangled, arms now crossed against her chest. She realized she misplayed her hand and was annoyed she committed to paying full price.

She let out an elongated sigh. “I said I’d do anything.” Her gaze dropped down until she was staring directly at your crotch. And if that wasn't enough, she clasped her hands again, making short jerking motions in front of her mouth, tongue pressing her cheek outward as if she were sucking a lollipop. If it wasn't obvious before, it was obvious now.

There it was: the opportunity for the perfect shot.

“You like food, right?” you asked her.

“Of course.”

Rosé's eyes slowly widened in surprise at the unfolding scene. The metal on your belt buckle clanked against the concrete floor, bringing your pants down to your ankles in the process. “You're gonna love this meal I prepared for you, then.”

Rosé didn't look completely disgusted at the idea—this was all her doing, after all. She knelt down and grabbed onto you, stroking until the cock in her hands was fully erect.

Rosé’s eyes grew even larger. “That's a huge... meal.” She opened her mouth as wide as she could, stuffing the massive meal into her hungry mouth. Even then, she could only go about halfway down your shaft before withdrawing. She went back for seconds. Then thirds. You tugged at her cotton candy pink hair as she twirled her tongue around you and bobbed back and forth onto your shaft. Rosé couldn't get enough of the smorgasbord.

Foodsé wasn't a secret: everyone knew Rosé loved eating, but only a few select men (yourself now included) knew that Rosé was also a cock connoisseur. Her tongue continuously swirled around you, savoring your cock like a fine wine as it tickled her discerning palate. It was no wonder why she was such a good singer; her vocal chords must’ve been lubricated from all the guys she’s swallowed.

“Damn, Rosé. You should be a guest on this show all the time.”

You lifted up her black compression top as Rosé’s tiny but perky tits popped out from underneath. Her milky breasts were soft and supple, jiggling at even the slightest touch. You pinched at Rosé’s rivetingly rosy nipples, causing her to belt out a moan that vibrated against your cock.

Beyond the door, the PD was calling out for the cast to make their way back to the set. Hearing the news, Rosé's back suddenly arched up in attention. Her lips briefly tightened around your shaft before pulling off, her hand continuing to stroke you.

“Are you close, oppa? You heard the PD, hurry up!”

“You know, this would go a lot more quickly if you actually made an effort. If I don’t cum, no deal, Rosé.”

Rosé grew impatient. Her grasp tightened against you. Her left bicep pulsated, those milky breasts rippling freely as her furious strokes increased to a maddening pace. It was nice, but not exactly a part of the original agreement. You slapped her hand away.

“Nope. Use your pretty little lips.”

“Ugh, fine!” Rosé’s lips parted, your cock easily sliding between the saliva-lubricated hole that her lips created.

There wasn't much time now. Rosé looked back up at you, her piercing eyes beseeching you for your sticky sweet dessert to fill her mouth. Her tongue slid underneath your shaft before she continued to lick the tip in circular motions like an ice cream cone. With Rosé finally making a conscious effort, it was only a matter of time now. You knew you couldn't deny Rosé’s request any longer.

A familiar tingling washed over your body: a wave of cum was about to flood Rosé’s unsuspecting mouth. You grabbed the back of Rosé’s head and thrusted into her, successfully getting Rosé to fit the whole thing between her puckered lips. Rosé’s accommodating throat had widened; you were nearly halfway down her now.

Rosé's nose pressed into your crotch as she waited for her Michelin-starred meal. A tear streamed from her watery eyes and landed at the base of your cock, a result of Rosé attempting to resist her gag reflex.

A blast of flavor finally exploded into her mouth. Streams of salty sweet cum squirted out and filled Rosé’s warm throat. She let out a groan that slowly turned into a gargle as she drowned in cum. Her cheeks—ready to burst—puffed out as her mouth reached maximum capacity.

“I can see why you got the nickname ‘Chipmunk’,” you told Rosé. It was a cheeky joke that fell on deaf ears; she was too busy choking down nuts to appreciate the humor.

It was too much for her to handle. She pulled away and coughed out the deposited cum. It dripped down her chin, spilling onto her perky tits and tight stomach before settling on her black leggings just between her thighs. There wasn't any time for a break; even as she continued to gasp for air, you continued to unload a barrage of semen at her insatiable mouth.

Rosé was a mess when you were finally done. Her chest heaved heavily as cum continued to drop onto the outfit she was supposed to use for the final mission. She tossed her hands up in frustration, unsure what to do with the mess.

“You don’t have to swallow if you don’t want to,” you said. “Just spit it out.”

Rosé let the remaining cum ooze out of her mouth; she was too much of a lady to spit it out. The giant blob of liquid white dribbled down her lips. She tucked in her chin and directed the cum onto her pants—they were already ruined anyway.

“This better be enough to earn me an exemption for the penalty,” Rosé said, her words slightly garbled by the leftover cum in her mouth.

“I'll see what I can do.”

“I’ll see what I can do?” Rosé repeated.

All that trouble only to get a half-assed promise of “I'll see what I can do”. A fire lit behind her disillusioned eyes that gazed up with murderous intent. Rosé’s lips squeezed so tightly together that any cum still in her mouth squeezed out and formed a thin milky line between her lips. She crossed her arms in a huff. Her tiny tits pressed together, causing the cum on her chest to disappear between her newfound cleavage. But then she looked down and saw there were more pressing problems to prioritize: there was no time to change and she still hadn't figured out how to deal with the mess.

“Oppa, what am I supposed to do with all of your cum? I’m supposed to wear this for the final mission! I can’t just walk out like this!”

“It's fine. Everyone will be rolling in a sticky goop for the final mission anyway. Looks just like cum. Just say you were practicing in it.”

Rosé wiped the mess off her chin with her compression shirt before pulling it back down over her cum-covered breasts. She pulled a white cotton shirt and orange mesh vest over it, trying to conceal as much as she could. It didn't help much. The cum managed to seep through all three layers almost instantly, causing her clothing to stick to her toned body. She stormed out of the closet, leaving you behind to clean up.

“I hope you’re right,” she said as she slammed the door behind her.

Rosé was a hot, disheveled mess, but the cast and crew didn’t even say a word when she came out in her ruined clothes. Everyone mistook it for the white soapy liquid that was going to be used for the last game. Rosé let out a sigh of relief that went unnoticed by everyone but the camera.

When the results were tallied after the final game, Rosé was relieved her name wasn’t mentioned for the penalty. She gave a wink at you through your camera monitor, a small token of her gratitude for helping to raise her rank.

As the shoot ended for the day, you sneakily removed the tape from your camera and shoved it into your pocket—it was definitely going home with you for your private collection.

A/N: A finished draft of this had been sitting in my queue for four months. Up until two days ago, the title of this piece was "Chipmunk".

[greenhikingboots]

Do you ever like someone else’s fanfiction so much, it makes you want to borrow the premise and write your own gender flipped version? I feel that way about a lot of ganymede_elegy/@cellsshapedlikestars’s fics. Here’s a little thing I jotted down after reading a fairytale ending. I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll get around to continuing it. But, here, let me share it with you so its lack of ending can torture you the way it tortures me. 😘

The digital flyer was sent as a text, no further explanation included. Jon’s eyes flickered over the drawing — a woman with dark red hair and big blue eyes — then down to the cursive words below it. They spelled out a plea. It seemed the real life version of this woman was looking for a wedding date who was willing to pretend to be her boyfriend. Some PDA required, the flyer said. Specifics to be negotiated ahead of time. And then came the list of warnings. - The groom is my ex-boyfriend and his mother is the actual devil. - Other guests will include my crazy aunt and her creepy boyfriend. - It’s a destination wedding, so expect a 4-5 day time commitment. The very last section of the flyer said the woman would pay for all expenses and, If interested, contact the mutual friend who sent you this for further instructions. Jon double checked who that mutual friend was, half wondering if the flyer had found its way to him by mistake. But, no. Gilly had texted him, his screen told him. His best friend’s girlfriend. And she’d never texted him by mistake before, so — Curiosity peaked, Jon tossed aside the book he’d been reading and fired off a reply. Jon: Is this a joke? Some funny thing you stumbled across online? Instead of texting back, Gilly called right away. Speaking over the noise of the hair salon where she worked, she said, “I’ve got like, three minutes until my next appointment, so don’t interrupt, okay?” Jon kept quiet. “Okay?” Gilly repeated. “Wait? Are you there?” “That was me not interrupting,” Jon said. “Oh, gods. Okay, so her name is Sansa and she’s gorgeous and really, really nice, and she moved back to Winterfell about a year ago after living far away for like, I don’t know, seven or eight years maybe? She said she went to the private school here in town. What’s it called again? No, don’t answer that. Time crunch and all that. Anyway, the point is that you went to different schools so you don’t know each other, but you might know her brother? Wren Stark?” “You mean Robb Stark?” Jon had been a loner throughout most of his school years, but as a junior he’d let his favorite teacher, Mr. Rodrick, who was also the wrestling coach, talk him into joining an organized sport for the first time ever. Robb had been a senior and the team’s captain. Nice enough guy. Helped Jon feel included throughout the season without treating him like a totally charity case. They remained Facebook friends all these years later, though they never interacted. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe it was Robb,” Gilly answered. “Anyway, Sansa thought about making a profile on a dating app or whatever, but she was worried she’d attract some real weirdos. So she made that flyer instead and asked a few of her friends to share it — discreetly — with a few of their friends. And now, if you’re interested, I’m supposed to give her your number. And I very much want you to be interested, by the way, because you need to start dating again. Think of this as, like, a practice round or something. Oh, and you need a vacation too. Desperately. When was the last time you left the North?” “Uh… never?” Jon replied, trying not to laugh. This was ridiculous. Why did Gilly always think she could boss him around? Just because Sam let her get away with such antics didn’t mean he had to, right? “So I should give Sansa your number?” she asked. “You know her from the salon?” “Yeah. Did I not say that already? She has perfect hair, so all we ever do is trim it. But she always tips me really well.” Gilly let that comment simmer, and Jon, of course, understood why. Ever since he inherited a life-changing amount of money from his dad, he’d been weary of getting involved with a woman of little means. That made him feel like an asshole, but, hey, feeling like an asshole was better than having to wonder if the woman in question only liked him because of the size of his bank account. “I think she might be rich,” Gilly added after several beats of silence, like maybe she thought Jon was too dense to make the connection. “Yeah, but how rich?” he asked. Because he’d also been weary of getting involved with women who grew up in affluent families. He hadn’t grown up in one himself — his dad had been a distant figure in his life — and he knew he would never fit in in that world. What did he remember about the Starks? His mind raced in that direction before his question could be answered. Robb had worn nice clothes and driven an SUV that looked too expensive for a teenager to afford on their own. But if his parents were super rich, why hadn’t they sent all of their children to private school like Sansa? Wait, why had she not gone to Winterfell High? Why was she the exception to the rule within her family? Jon had more questions. “I’m hesitant to tell you everything I know,” Gilly said. “You have a tendency to draw too many conclusions from too little information. Incorrect conclusions, usually, I should remind you.” Jon scoffed. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment, but whatever. He’d let it slide. “What’s this Sansa character do for a living?” he asked. Gilly squealed. “That means you’re considering it. I can tell. I’m so excited.” “What? No. I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I can read you like a book.” Jon hesitated before admitting, in his own special way, that Gilly had the right of it. “I liked the part where she called her ex-boyfriend’s mom the actual devil. That amused me.” He took a beat to rub his hand over the back of his neck. “And it’s not as if I have anything better to do with my time,” he added. Too often lately, he’d been home, by himself, doing nothing. He was going stir crazy. He needed a change. A new person to meet. A new city to see. Something. Anything. “Oh, gods. Okay. This is thrilling,” Gilly said. “But my one o’clock just walked in, so I gotta go. I’ll send Sansa your number and tell her how wonderful you are. And then hopefully she’ll text you tonight. Don’t be weird if she does, okay? Promise me.” “I’m never weird, Gil.” She cackled, a weird way of expressing disagreement. “You’re frequently weird,” she said, “especially around girls. But I really do have to go now, okay? I’ll text her, she’ll text you. It’ll be great.” “Uh huh.” “Uh huh,” Gilly echoed teasingly. “Sam and I love you. Ba-bye.” She hung up the phone, and Jon returned his attention to the flyer in their text history. The thing looked like it could have been professionally made. Maybe Sansa worked in graphic design or marketing or something? Was that a lucrative industry? Jon wouldn’t know. He’d spent most of adulthood working at sporting goods stores, taking advantage of their employee discounts in order to outfit long backpacking trips around the North. He quit only recently, about four months after receiving his inheritance. Now he was unemployed, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with himself and the money that had opened up his options. Start his own business, maybe? But what kind of business, he had no idea. The screen on Jon’s phone turned black, catching his attention and drawing his thoughts back to the flyer he’d been studying. Rather than guess at Sansa’s career, he sent Gilly another text, wondering if she'd have time after her current appointment to reply to him. Jon: What’s Sansa do for a living? An hour passed without reply. With his patience dwindling, he realized he had other methods of research at his disposal. He logged on to Facebook, found Robb Stark, then searched his friends list for Sansa. Nothing. She either didn’t have a profile, or she had those extra security measures in place which prevented her from appearing in his search. Another twenty minutes passed and then, finally, Gilly sent him a text. This one was an embedded YouTube video, no further explanation included. Jon clicked play. He watched a door swing open to reveal a woman — not a drawing — with dark red hair and big blue eyes. “Hey, everybody,” she said. “Welcome back to my channel. Or, if you’re new here, welcome for the first time. I’m Sansa, and —” She paused to grin. It was a big, toothy thing Jon found he liked despite his reluctance to like anything to do with a YouTube star. “And today’s the big day,” she continued. “I’m so excited to walk you through the final reveal of our co-working space. Come on in.” She turned over her shoulder, beckoning the camera to follow her. She took a few steps forward, and then the video faded to a white, ever so briefly, before bubbly music and an animated introduction — similar style of the flyer — took over the screen. Jon watched all fifteen minutes of the interior design tour video without interruption, despite Sansa’s suggestion that he first go back and watch the other four in the so-called Headquarters Series. By the end of it, he’d learned that her YouTube channel focused on “rental -friendly interior designs and DIY projects on a budget.” Okay, that was sort of cool, he had to admit. He wasn’t the target audience, but he could appreciate it. And even better than that? By the end of the video, Jon had also learned that nearly four years ago, Sansa was let go from her dream job at a lifestyle magazine, which was “devastating at the time,” but, ultimately, put her on the path to where she was now — the leader of her own company, where she worked with five of her “most favorite people of all time.” Sansa made that happen for herself. And as far as Jon could tell, she hadn’t needed inherited money to do it. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her. Anyway, yeah, she had a decent amount of money, it seemed. New money, like him. And Gilly was right, she was gorgeous. So even though he would have said no sixteen minutes ago, had anyone asked if he thought he could like a YouTuber who decorated in pastel color schemes, he was intrigued. What was the story behind Sansa, her ex-boyfriend, and his devilish mother? What made her aunt so crazy and her aunt’s boyfriend so creepy? What was the destination of this destination wedding? Jon hoped he would soon find out.