#if anyone knows anything about it please tell me

[cybrheartheart]

OMFG, this is soooo important. I didn't have this; my family didn't do anything together except watch TV because my dad was retired and just needed to rest after his weary years of life. And my egg donor was never there in my life. I never learned crap from her because she was never there.

I learned more from my teachers and neighbors than anyone else, and once I got too old, they didn't want anything to do with me because I wasn't theirs and I had trauma that no one wanted to deal with, because I wasn't theirs.

I have a deep encompassing black hole in my life because of this lack of empathy for someone who just needed someone to be there for me...someone to actually be there and teach me hands on. Please be there for the next generations to come, because they won't have the systematic support that children who fall in the cracks have had when we were growing up, and even the little amount of support we have left these days in the US.

Be there for your children, or be there for those children who are not yours...be they your grandchild, nibling, neighbor kid, or students. Be a safe space, a safe harbor for their lives, and be the example I've never had in my life.

Create life in this time of destruction and harm that will be ahead...and know, we have each other, we have community, we have support, if we're able and willing to create it, even for those kids who seem weird, do weird things, and just embarrass and humiliate themselves because they just can't help it...since they're doing it because they haven't been taught the right way to do it in a way that will help them learn.

Teach why it is important for them to cook, to clean, to take care of themselves, to bathe and shower and clean areas that no one will talk about (hands off, of course), give them your silence so their voice can be heard, give them a place where they won't be looked at with judgement. Give them a loving manner without conditions. Allow them to talk about things that spew out of their minds, random things that no one else will talk about, and give them the opportunity to live without groomers opening them up to abuse.

When children are clean slates, they are open to abuse, to inappropriate touching, to violence, to malicious control, to brainwashing (gaslighting, negging, etc.), to abduction, to kidnapping, to illicit drugs*, and so much more.

Fill your children to the brim with your presence, with your time, with your attention, with your energy, otherwise someone else will fill them up with something worse, trauma, pain, suffering, emotional or psychological torture, and will resent you in their teens and into adulthood.

Don't get me wrong, my dad was always there, but that doesn't mean people were not able to get to me. He invited family and friends into the home all the time to spend time with me, to give me the parental figure I didn't have, but it didn't satisfy because they were never there but to see him and I was an afterthought. And thought he was there, he had people to keep me company and that one person abused me while he wasn't there, and he never knew, he never would have allowed me to stay with them during his heart attack.

One week of my life that damaged me beyond repair and forced me into a position to tell no one. I had no one to trust, had no one's attention, no one to understand with a look that something was wrong with me and I didn't want to go anywhere with this person. I was isolated and it traumatized me for life, and it's hard for me to trust anymore. I can trust mentally, but my body will not allow me to trust, my psychology will not allow me to trust, and it is hardest to reach out when I really needed someone, because I didn't have anyone who was willing to give me a safe space, a safe harbor.

Give children the chance to trust you. Trust is earned, not forced on others. Give them safety, security, and protection...even if they don't have that at home, school, or other places. Give them yours. Always. Choose them. Always.

*And as a side note, since illicit drugs are a lot of the time these days laced with fentanyl. Illicit drugs will most often not just be addictive, but be more often than in the past, lethal. Hospitals use patches to administer fentanyl because lethal doses are so miniscule. When it comes down it the addition of fentanyl leads to instant death. And a lot of the time, you don't know what illicit drugs are cut with, baby powder, heroin, cocaine, rat poison...but fentanyl is a game changer entirely.

Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.

[tigsbitties]

hear me out wheel except its really more of an all inclusive cartoon girlfriend catalogue im just subjecting you all to

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Irreversible.

Gif credits

Pairing: Professor Reed Richards x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 430 Summary: You get fucked against the blackboard by your hottest professor. Tags/Warning: implied legal but unspecified age gap, reader is a menace, cheating (Mr Richards is married), POV second person, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v, a dash of oral sex and nipples play, slurs, panties ripping, swearing, a reference to physics. (Look, I had terrible grades in physics in high school, I tried lol), it obviously has no connection to the plot of the film, in this one Reed Richards is a professor with a chair at Harvard and chalk is definitely more “poetic” than markers. I’m not a Marvel fan, I’m just trying to have some pwp, please don't come @ me 💀 A/N: We've all seen the pics and teasers and gifs, right? This is totally self indulgent, I wrote it because I couldn't get the image of him writing on the board out of my head. No proofreading, no beta, English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Masterlist

You loved the way you broke him. Lured him into your web to do exactly what you wanted.

You loved it.

The way he yanked at your bra, exposing your boobs, the way his hands were still chalky and leaving white marks all over you, his scruffy beard pinching your skin, his voice vibrating over your tits as he swirled his tongue over your nipples.

“You wanted this huh?” “Yes.” you cried.

You wanted exactly that when you pretended you didn't understand anything about physics.

Your skirt rolled up over your hips, his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping incessantly between your folds, up to your clit.

He stood up, his forearms muscularly sticking out of the rolled-up sleeves, wrapping around your waist, pushing you against the blackboard.

He stopped to undo his pants and kick them off.

Back on you, he squeezed your ass, coming down on your thigh, pulling up your leg to get a better grip.

"You know I'm married" "Yes" you whined, looking at him honeyed. "And you still flirted like a bitch in heat" he angrily muttered.

Of course you did. You did it every day since you started his class, battling your eyelashes, biting your lower lips, asking for tutoring about everything like you were admitted at Harvard by a fortuitous twist of fate, wearing the sluttiest tops and skirts you owned, marveling at the grey in his hair, telling him it suited him so well, while he tried to explain physics to you maintaining a professional tone.

"You couldn't wait to drag me into this mess, could you?" he snarled on your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

He clutched your panties in his fist and teared them like paper tissues.

"I want you so bad" you purred, burying your fingers in his curls at the base of his neck, encircling his waist with your leg, rocking your naked pussy against his still-clothed cock.

"Fuck me, Mr Richards"

He pulled down his boxers just enough to free his cock, and entered you with one thrust.

"Fuck" he cursed "you're soaked, you hungry slut."

You didn't respond; your pussy clutched tightly on his cock, you moaned as he began to thrust deeper and deeper into you, in a frantic rhythm, making your whole body and the blackboard just on the wall behind you vibrate. Small drops of sweat beaded his forehead, his hair now completely disheveled under the work of your hands, the fabric of his pristine white shirt crumpled as it repeatedly banged against your hard nipples.

You came right there, whimpering and quivering in an empty university classroom where every day he lectured you.

Your lust for him was irreversible, as in the second law of thermodynamics that you had pretended not to understand that day.

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed

If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thanks for reading!

[h-sleepingirl]

Dolly in the Art Gallery: A Charmed 2025 Scene Log/Recap

“Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time.”

I first heard this Jean-Michel Basquiat quote in a rope class from Barkas, in the context of how we play within both space and time in a kink scene. I think about it frequently, especially as I feel more and more passionately about the brutally human impulse to create art.

I have been coming to hypnosis events since 2013, before Charmed existed -- my first event was packed with my own manic energy, held in a dungeon where people could hypnotize me basically at will. No hotel staff, no sneaking back to a private room. I developed a reputation as an aesthetically pleasing subject, often put on display in subtle and overt ways.

I have grown up in this community. Essentially my entire adult life has been spent involved in going to events and cons. I'm 33 now, and as Charmed celebrates its 10th year I've perhaps been unconsciously influenced to reflect on myself aging.

I feel so much older than that 21 year old exhibitionist. I'm more reserved, quieter, more selective, and certainly smarter. I like who I'm becoming, but I do miss parts of who I used to be -- that confidence, that energy. 

On Friday evening I looked at the schedule and saw there was going to be a Gallery of Living Art -- it's been a staple at Charmed for a number of years, but I'd never done more than peek inside.

I thought to myself: “Why not try to get in touch with that playful younger self? Why not show everyone who I am nowadays? Why not live out a fantasy?” 

Surely I’m not too old. Surely I haven’t grown out of this.

The time comes and I connect with my partner about it. He knows that one of my absolute favorite things is being totally frozen. We decide against anything complicated. No one will touch me or trigger me or anything like that. It’s the most “negotiating” we've maybe ever done, but I still leave all details to him. I tell him: “I was really just thinking this is an opportunity for me to sit blank and still for a long time.”

We walk into the room, and it’s overwhelming. People are setting up intricate exhibits with lots of creative interactions. There is a sheet we need to fill out to describe what our “art” is, which my partner writes on cryptically.

“Dolly can't talk. Duh…”

“Dolly is precious -- don't touch!”

Under “Artist”, where he is meant to put his name, he writes a question mark.

I am so in love with him, watching his mind work on the spot.

We find a place in the loud room and look at each other. We are a fluid force of nature in a bed together, spontaneous and wild. This planning doesn't feel like us. This hypnosis isn't a formality, per se, but it just feels sort of like “We both know how this is going to end on some level -- so how do we spend this time?”

He gingerly removes my name tag and starts murmuring to me. 

Being a dolly is such a luxurious treat that the moment he suggests it, I crumble, gripping his shirt with my weak little fingers, moaning too softly to be heard by anyone but him.

He poses me. He fixes my gaze blank and forward. He lets me practice standing and sitting. This kind of rehearsal is unfamiliar for us, and I almost relish doing something that feels a little awkward.

I am a dolly when he leaves me, frozen and posed, but I know it is going to take a couple minutes to settle in. I am a dolly getting comfortable, a dolly with twinges of self-consciousness. After a couple minutes he walks me over to a different chair, one that is highlighted by empty space around it, and I sit, and I know this is truly where I am supposed to be on display.

Finally, total stillness rushes over me like pure relief. 

I sit, and I stare, and I don’t do anything else. My mind is blank, and sometimes all there is inside my head is “I’m a dolly, I’m a dolly,” in my little dolly voice. It is pure, simple bliss.

People begin to come up to me to look at me. I am a good dolly and I am silent and I do not move even my eyes. They patiently read my sign and then observe me. I cannot change my body position to be any more or less appealing to them, I cannot hide nor flaunt myself.

Some people say things to me, little compliments and appreciations, and I can’t really process their words. The little dolly voice in my head screams in pleasure when I’m spoken to and given attention.

I have ADHD, I’m addicted to my phone, I’m a fidgeter. But there is nothing that carries the unique pleasure of being frozen and still. It reminds me of Quaker meetings, of spiritual silence and meditation that makes one feel time itself as though it has a sensory texture.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about the Jewish sabbath as proof that it is not intuitive for us to sanctify time. But nevertheless as Jews we must learn to do it to make shabbat holy every week. Shabbat is “a cathedral in time,” he says, and I’ve been thinking about how much that applies to my experience of hypnosis. Hypnosis is not a physical object. We may sometimes have props but we cannot touch trance and it leaves no marks. It is time that is the sacred dimension in hypnosis, the time that we set aside (“kadosh” in Hebrew) with another human being.

Heschel says we are slaves to space and material things. And in this moment I feel like I have gotten as close as I can to releasing that. I am not even moving my physical body within the physical world. I am just relishing each passing second of stillness, building my cathedral in time.

Of course, sometimes I think sacred space and objects are very important. After all, I am in a space that is incredibly rare, that only exists very briefly, that I had to travel at length to get to.

And I am an object -- art -- inside of it. I am literally decorating the space, as Basquiat would say.

Am I thinking all of this as I sit there motionless? No, not with any sophistication. I truly feel blank. But I am feeling flashes of this as abstract mental sensations that I will untangle later.

Something else strikes me very quickly that I observe within. When people walk up to look at me, something inside me tenses up. I realize that I am unconsciously preparing myself to talk to them. I have been coming to cons for so long, and especially since beginning to write books I always meet a ton of new people every year who come up to me to talk, which I adore. But right now I am in a space where I literally cannot have a conversation with anyone. I don’t even have my nametag on anymore -- my partner was so clever to remove it.

It is the opposite of vending books, where I sit in a chair and am helpless in the sense that I must engage in conversation with the people who come up to meet me. Now, I literally cannot talk to anyone, and they cannot talk to me, and most people may not even know who I am.

It is a hit of extreme objectification, more real than it has ever felt. I am not sleepingirl -- I am a dolly. “Who” I am doesn’t matter. I am art.

My partner also is not sitting there receiving compliments for me. He is nearby, in eyesight, just watching. But he’s anonymous too. And there is something about this mutual anonymity that makes me feel even prouder about us as a couple. There is no performance of who we are. I don’t know how to describe it, but obviously it feels more authentic than public play usually ever does. Like a little secret we are sharing a corner of.

And he looks ever the artist, sitting back and watching me. I feel very strongly that this little scene isn’t the art -- it’s me. Our relationship is what’s really on display. All the work he’s done over 7 years of brainwashing me, real work on my personality and identity, my wardrobe, every single way I express myself and who I am. The people coming by are seeing his bimbo, his dolly, his [x] -- without necessarily knowing who either of us are.

The rhythm is addicting. My mind babbles my self-given dolly mantra over and over, I luxuriate in the stillness, and I stare. I only can sort of half-see with darkened vision, though my eyes are wide. I love when people notice me sitting there -- their expressions change as they observe me. They step into my metaphorical space, which is eerily silent compared to the revelry of the creative demonstrations that fill the room. They are no longer “being entertained,” and no one can communicate to them what I am doing -- they must engage with me out of their own curiosity.

Sometimes they decide to talk to me. I can’t process most of it, but I remember a few interactions.

Someone says, “What an excellent dolly.”

Someone else notices that I’m wearing a bracelet that says “bimbo,” and says, “Even the details on this one are exquisite.”

Someone else says, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen sleepingirl play before.”

That last one hits me in the gut with memories of a time now long past: Play in public spaces was universal at cons; I couldn’t move from one place to another without someone dropping me into trance; absolutely everyone knew what I looked like when hypnotized.

Even now as I am on display, I have a mask on, and the people can’t see my gently parted lips.

It is a rush of emotion that is very complex for my simple little dolly head, but it goes away.

For a long while, I just exist as a thing in bliss while the room -- the whole world -- bubbles with activity around me. 

Eventually even as I sit frozen and blank, a little timer starts ticking in my head -- I could sit here for much longer, but I don’t want to make him wait for me, and I have other things I want to do tonight.

Reading Heschel has been helping me release some of that odd panic that bubbles up when I awaken from trance -- the feeling that magic is slipping through my fingers, memories are slipping out of my mind, and I can take no memento from it. I sometimes write, draw, or make music to try to capture the things I feel in hypnosis with my partner. I think it is from that impulse to be able to touch and hold hypnosis, to make it a “thing” in space as opposed to something of time.

But I do think there is something else, just a human drive to create art about this transcendent experience that we engage in together. I need to create art to try to communicate the perfect way I don’t move and my eyes go glassy. I need to express my emotions, my desires, my dreams, my love. I am only human, a human blown away by this very human thing we do that we call hypnosis.

Only my partner sees it, and he does see so much into the soul of it for me. But this is exactly what I have wanted -- a chance to publicly communicate the beauty of what he and I do. To make this art by performing it, living it. To engage in a human act of creativity by having my humanity stripped away from me.

I am a bimbo, a dolly, I am art -- and that doesn’t go away when I get up to tell him I am done sitting here. I am his art. I am a manifestation of his creativity in this world, and he has a beautifully creative mind which I love so dearly.

This is serious for me, this is real for me, this is so highly personal and jealously guarded as my own precious identity.

Ten years ago I laid my head on his lap and he transformed my eyes into dolly eyes and told me that someday he would turn my whole body into a dolly body. And as we laid together in a bed after the Gallery on Friday he talked about how I had those dolly eyes again in that room. But to me, it’s not about being a dolly, or even being a bimbo. It’s about creating art together, art with a power imbalance. And fucking respecting that as sacred and exciting.

I don’t have much else to say except extreme heartfelt gratitude to Mazirian for running the Gallery, and everyone who came by to look at me and said nice things to me and joined me in my world for just a little while. 

(If you’re curious, I was sitting there for about 30 minutes.)

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead. 

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere. 

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there. 

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent. 

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak. 

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book. 

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book? 

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing? 

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door. 

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems. 

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer. 

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door. 

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you. 

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance. 

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze. 

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods. 

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.” 

“The dress?” 

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s…  Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat. 

“Um. I was… I lost my book.” 

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?” 

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.” 

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.” 

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around. 

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book. 

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous. 

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?” 

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.” 

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him. 

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.” 

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.  

“What?” 

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound.  “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.” 

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.” 

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap. 

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad. 

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first. 

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side. 

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working. 

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull. 

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery. 

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts. 

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs? 

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever. 

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop. 

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement. 

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son. 

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down. 

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head. 

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum. 

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”  

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure. 

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule. 

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it? 

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own. 

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days. 

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault. 

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery. 

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling. 

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!” 

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.” 

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars. 

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens. 

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day. 

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.” 

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him. 

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news. 

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried. 

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well. 

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either. 

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door. 

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches. 

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands. 

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms. 

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune. 

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers. 

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests. 

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf. 

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it. 

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears. 

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…” 

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.” 

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.  

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet.  You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak. 

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.” 

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.” 

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other. 

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows: 

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

[jeonscatalyst]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/774212277059682304/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7742039285407416

“Serves them right for being idiots” then proceeds to make the most idiotic write up of all time. The fact that anyone can have a smart phone and internet these days to spew nonsense online is beyond me.

Hi anon,

There was a time when I used to think this was the most sensible Taekook blogger on Tumblr, but over time, my opinion began to shift. I haven’t seen a single insightful post from this blogger since AYS was announced. I used to frequent Taekook blogs because it was fun to read other people’s perspectives, but eventually, I stopped visiting their spaces because I felt like I was losing brain cells after every visit.

This particular blogger frustrates me because it’s evident they truly believe they are wise or introspective, when, in reality, they are just as misguided as any other Taekooker. I won’t go into detail about the differences between Taekook and Jikook, nor the clear evidence of who is closer, as I’ve already done that in a lengthy post in the past. You can read it here…

Instead, today I want to address a few things that Taekookers, and some Jikookers as well, still fail to understand, not only about the bond between Jikook and Taekook, but also about human relationships in general.

Let’s begin with the fact that this blogger claims the Jikook ship was created by BigHit. Not only is this the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever read, but it’s also a pathetic excuse for why another pairing gained recognition. Let’s not even mention that this blogger has only been in the fandom for a short time and probably caught up on content through YouTube edits, (you can tell they’re the type to fall for YouTube edits because they cite them as references), TikTok, and various conspiracy theories from bitter Taekookers trying to explain away the connection they see between Jimin and Jungkook. This person hasn’t been around long enough to form such strong opinions about the past, yet they act as though they lived through it all personally. Not saying one couldn’t be informed about a past they didn’t experience but we all know living through something is different from getting information about it second hand.

How exactly did BigHit create the Jikook ship when the primary reason for its popularity is the GCF Jungkook posted in November 2017? That video, which Jungkook made after a trip with Jimin to Japan, was not related to work. In fact, Jungkook explicitly stated that the trip and by extension, the GCF, was not work-related in any way. How could BigHit have created the ship when nearly every major Jikook moment came from Jungkook himself? If you were to ask any Jikooker on the street why they started shipping Jikook, you’d hear about things like the GCF, MMA 2018, the Rose Bowl, Hickeygate, etc. Not a single one would mention anything related to the company, and notice how all of these key moments were initiated by Jungkook?

This blogger also goes on to say that Jimin leans into fanservice more because he wants to please the company and the fans. I find it hard to understand how this isn’t anti behavior, especially since this blog claims it doesn’t harbor any ill feelings toward Jimin. Implying that Jimin lives his entire life to cater to fans and a corporation while disregarding the feelings of his friends is such an anti move especially because Jungkook himself describes Jimin as thoughtful and selfless. I doubt he would see Jimin this way if Jimin constantly disregarded his feelings and focused more on pleading fans and a money hungry coorperation.

The reason I mentioned that Jungkook initiates most of the interactions that Jikookers find significant is because Taekookers often argue that Jimin leans more into “fanservice” than Jungkook does and that Jungkook sometimes seems hesitant to engage due to his consideration for Taehyung. However, it doesn’t seem to me that Jungkook was particularly concerned about Taehyung when he singlehandedly kickstarted the ship with his GCF. He certainly didn’t seem worried about Taehyung during MMA 2018, or when he openly shared that his “bro” Jimin had bitten him on the neck while tipsy after a late-night drink knowing exactly how shippers would react. It doesn’t appear that he had Taehyung in mind when he revealed that he showers and sings with Jimin in the military fully aware of how fans might react to that information. By now, we have to assume that all the members are aware of what fans do, and Jungkook must know about both Jikookers and Taekookers. If he were truly concerned about Taehyung’s feelings regarding his “fanservice” with Jimin, I highly doubt he would have invited himself to shower at Jimin’s during a live, fully aware of how fans would interpret that.

This blogger seems to forget that it was thanks to Jimin that Jikookers didn’t have more moments to celebrate in chapter two of their bond. It was Jungkook who kept the ship alive during that time. If it had been up to Jungkook, we would have had many more moments to highlight. He was the one going live multiple times, talking about Jimin, watching and singing his songs. If Jimin had accepted when Jungkook invited him over for chicken and beer, we would have had a Jikook moment. If Jimin had shown up when Jungkook extended an open invite to any member to join him, we would have had a Jikook moment. If Jimin had agreed when Jungkook asked to come over, do a live, and shower at his place, we would have had countless moments to talk about for years. But alas, none of these things happened because of Jimin. Yet, somehow, he’s the one being accused of leaning more into “fanservice”?

These newer fans are incredibly fortunate to have encountered a quieter version of Jimin. If they had been around pre-2020, and witnessed how unapologetically vocal Jimin was about Jungkook, they would have disliked him (well, they dislike him now, but they wouldn’t have been able to hide it as they do now). They are lucky that they came in during a time when Jimin has become more reserved. If Jimin really wanted to cater to shippers he wouldn’t have said “no” when asked if he had eaten Jungkook’s ramen yet. He would have gone to Inkigayo just to give shippers something to talk about. He could have easily gone to Jungkook’s house anytime and taken photos, posted them, or even shared a video from when he spent the night with him before Jeju. He never lacked invitations from Jungkook; in fact, Jungkook asked him over multiple times. The only reason we didn’t see those moments was because of Jimin.

They claim Jungkook holds back because he’s concerned about Taehyung, but I didn’t see him thinking about Taehyung when he cuddled into Jimin’s lap and slapped his butt in AYS. The funniest part is, in AYS, Jungkook initiated more physical contact with Jimin than Jimin did. Nearly every time Jimin initiated anything, it was usually playful, but it was Jungkook who woke up and cuddled into Jimin, touched Jimin to look for mosquito bites, who “caressed Jimin’s smooth legs on the yacht”, who leaned on Jimin’s shoulder during the train ride. It was Jungkook who constantly talked about how much he loved the trip, describing it as the best trips of his life. Most of the significant Jikook moments from AYS were once again initiated by Jungkook, but Taekookers ignore these and magnify moments when Jungkook playfully pushes or shoves Jimin away when he’s being mischievous, claiming that it’s him setting boundaries. If he were really setting boundaries, he wouldn’t have cuddled into Jimin’s lap and slapped his ass. If he were setting boundaries, he wouldn’t have leaned on Jimin’s shoulder during the train ride. If he were really worried about Taehyung, he wouldn’t have told us that the trips with Jimin were the best trips of his life, especially after taking “private” trip with Taehyung. That’s insulting. So, I fail to see how Jimin is the one who leans more into “fanservice” when many Jikookers are still here today thanks to Jungkook.

This blogger’s concept of closeness is truly amusing and highlights their ignorance. According to them, Jimin seems closer to Taehyung simply because he called him a few times in chapter two. Wouldn’t it be nice if life were that simple and linear? Wouldn’t it be easier and less complicated if relationships were so black and white? This blogger claims that the things they’ve said themselves prove who is closer among the three, but I fail to see how Taehyung and Jungkook talking about not having deep conversations or feeling awkward with each other proves how close they are. I don’t understand how Taehyung saying that he only learned about Jikook’s trip through the group chat shows how close they are. How does Taehyung not knowing Jungkook was filming a show with Jimin demonstrate their closeness? And how does Taehyung not knowing Jimin spent the night at Jungkook’s before Jeju prove that they’re close? Mind you taekookers believe that everytime Jk was on his phone in AYS he was talking with Tae and they also believe that Taekook FaceTime a lot but my question is, what do they talk about on this numerous calls if Tae keeps finding out about Jungkook’s schedules from a group chat and not from Jungkook himself? If anything, these examples illustrate exactly how Taekook’s friendship and bond truly are.

Human relationships are fluid, multifaceted, and complex. Closeness and distance are influenced by factors like mental state, career shifts, personal growth, emotional needs, stress, and misunderstandings. It’s important to remember that a single period of time doesn’t define the entirety of a relationship, but it can reflect specific phases, changes, or circumstances that affect how people interact.

The fact that Jimin might have kept in touch more with Taehyung than with Jungkook during a particular period doesn’t necessarily mean that he feels closer to Taehyung. Let me illustrate this with an example, though this is not meant to reflect what happened in Jikook’s situation. If you have a friend and a lover, you would likely communicate more with your lover, depending on the circumstances. However, if you experience a misunderstanding, disagreement, breakup, or a period of distance with your lover, you might reduce or stop contact with them during that time but still maintain communication with your friend. Does this mean you’re closer to the friend you’re still in touch with? Of course not. It’s simply a matter of circumstances. This specific period doesn’t define your bond or who you feel closer to. This is the basic concept I’ve been trying to explain to for so long and I am honestly baffled people don’t understand this. I don’t know how everyone else does it but sometimes, when I don’t understand certain things, I put myself, my relationship and that of friends, family and acquaintances in that position to see it from a more realistic point of view because it is often so easy to view these people through a tunnel that blocks every logic out. Because these aren’t people we know personally it is very easy to watch them thinking we are watching movies or something.

Relationships and their depth are not defined by one single moment in time but by history, patterns, and consistency. And that’s something Taekook lacks. They don’t have a history that demonstrates they are or have ever been closer than Jikook at least not emotionally. There’s no consistency either. You’ll notice that Taekookers often cling to the solo era, referencing it as proof of their ship, because without that period in the 13+ years BTS has been together, they have almost nothing. There’s no evidence of Taekook knowing or hanging out with each other’s friends, little or no proof of them prioritizing time together outside of work, no evidence of them being each other’s biggest supporters, and no evidence of them seeking comfort or companionship from each other, except during fun moments. They literally have nothing else, and they know this, which is why they hold onto the solo era……it’s all they have. Taekook could come out of the military and never be seen together outside of work again, but Taekookers would still cling to that era. If you carve out that solo era period from the ship and ask taekookers to make arguments for their ship, they go back to slowed down edits, narratives about two lovers being separated and oppressed or counting moles on each others faces. Most of the arguments they have today they didn’t have before the solo era and they don’t find that straight. One of the funniest thing I ever read a taekooker on here write was that Taekook is real because they kept hanging out with each other when there was no contractual obligation. These are the same people who claim every time Jk mentioned Jimin on Lives he did it because of his contract or that he couldn’t say no to the travel show because of contracts. If Hybe could make Jungkook obey the contractual obligations to do fanservice with Jimin, couldn’t they stop takeook from hanging out? Yet they themselves send off takeook to premiers with body guards, send them off to concerts, post bangtan bombs of them on Valentine’s Day which they same tkkrs gosh about mind you. As if any of these boys ever had a contractual obligation to spend time with each other outside of work. I wonder what was said in the contract to make Jikook hang out all the times we know they did consistently for years.

This blogger claims that Jikook don’t need each other on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis, and suggests that Taekook does because they hung out during the solo era. First of all, there’s a big difference between two friends hanging out out of convenience and two people actually prioritizing each other’s company over everyone else’s. Taekookers believe Taekook prioritized each other, but that’s simply not true. Prioritization happens when circumstances don’t make it easy or you have other options but you still make the effort or choose each other. Other members were busy with their solo projects so who else was there for Jungkook to do those thrilling things with except Taehyung? Also notice how Jk was almost always tagging along with Tae and his friends and not just him and Tae together doing stuff which mean even Tae’s friends were always still more of a priority for him and Jungkook was an add on to the fun. For years, we rarely saw Taekook hang out outside of work, and we even confirmed that they didn’t spend time together during breaks, birthdays, or other significant days. We also confirmed that they grew a bit distant. So, now you think they prioritized each other just because they started hanging out when both of them had free time and mind you at a time when other didn’t? That’s not how it works. And it’s clear that wasn’t the case because as soon as they got busy with their albums, the hangouts stopped. They both still made time to frequently hang out with others, just not with each other as much. This is the simplest proof that if their schedules hadn’t aligned, we definitely wouldn’t have seen them together as much. They always talk about Jimin hanging out with Yoongi and Hobi but ofcourse. That was a given because 1: they are his close friends and 2: their schedules aligned way more than they did with other people. They were all working on their albums and were probably operating on the same wavelength as opposed to Jungkook who was on a rest and no work mode so it make sense that they kept more communication because they saw each other more so it was easier to do more stuff together. Also notice how Jimin wasn’t seen going to concerts or premieres and stuff like that with Hobi and Yoongi but occasionally had drinks with them, played games with them and talked with them on the phone. It’s really not the same things to compare.

What Taekookers have never understood about Taekook is that their dynamic is a fun and lighthearted one, primarily centered around shared activities. They click well when it comes to doing fun things they both enjoy. They have many common interests, particularly when it comes to engaging in entertaining activities. Their bond is more situational and activity-based rather than deeply emotionally intertwined. While they clearly enjoy spending time together, their interactions suggest a relationship built on fun, shared interests, and a natural ease in each other’s presence, rather than one rooted in deep personal connection or emotional dependence.

If you pay close attention, you’ll notice that Taehyung and Jungkook’s hangouts are almost always centered around specific activities or events, rather than deep emotional closeness or meaningful conversations or time spent together. This is evident from the fact that, almost every time we saw or heard about them being together in Chapter Two, they were engaged in some activity or having fun, only to part ways afterward and return to their respective homes. Even the one time we learned Jungkook was at Taehyung’s place, it wasn’t for intimate, one-on-one time, it was with some of Taehyung’s other friends, and Taehyung mentioned they were just playing games. On multiple occasions, we saw Jungkook hang out with Taehyung and then return home to start a live stream, which shows that he still craved a level of companionship that his previous outings hadn’t fully satisfied. You never just hear that they choose to be together just because….

Taehyung and Jungkook don’t have the continuous need to be together that one would expect from people who truly need each other on a daily basis, as this blogger claims. They meet, have fun, and once the purpose of the hangout is served, they go their separate ways. For instance, Taehyung didn’t feel the need to stay with Jungkook at the ski resort after enjoying the fun; he chose to leave with friends, leaving Jungkook behind. He didn’t feel any obligation to remain with him, as one would expect from a lover or a friend with a deep emotional connection.

Similarly, Jungkook didn’t feel the need to stay by Taehyung’s side after the musical and premiere, even though Taehyung apparently got drunk and fell asleep. A lover wouldn’t leave you alone in such a state, but a friend who was there just for the fun and company would leave without feeling any obligation to stay. Notice how every time you see or hear about them hanging out, it’s always centered around some fun activity and never simply because they wanted to spend time together. They don’t feel the need to stick together unless there’s something they both find fun to do.

This dynamic is very different from that of Jimin and Jungkook. I don’t need to list all the ways they differ, as I’m sure it’s already clear. Jungkook going to Jimin when lonely and bored just to sit there for hours with him doing nothing speaks volumes. Jungkook going to Jimin after a 3 day tiring concert to spend time with him, cook for him and seemingly spending the night with him just to be seen with him again the next day at a restaurant with friends shows the difference. We all know that these guys lived very busy, tedious and fast paced lives where they barely got a chance to spend any alone time together except at night as they were usually together as a group. So in cases like this, one would expect that the two people who are closest and possibly in a romantic relationship will prioritize those alone times together since they always had dozens of staff and cameras shoved in their faces all day with little to no privacy and we saw that the two people who actually did this were Jimin and Jungkook not Taehyung and Jungkook. Jungkook himself coined “all nighter friends” name with Jimin which spoke a lot about how much they spent their nights and quieter moments together.

Taekook share a laid-back, fun, and comfortable dynamic, which often gives Taekookers the impression that they are much closer than they actually are. A prime example would be Taekook at the Harry Styles concert. Anyone watching them together that night would assume they were the best of friends, which in a way they are. However, what people wouldn’t know is that at that very moment, Taehyung didn’t even know Jungkook’s hotel room number. What’s more telling is that, behind the scenes, whenever Jungkook felt the need for company, he repeatedly sought out Jimin, not the one he was seen comfortably hanging out with at the concert.

These moments reveal the complexity of human relationships and how different people fulfill different needs for us. The person you turn to for fun, thrill, and adventure isn’t necessarily the one you seek when your emotional needs arise. And if we go by what Jungkook has said over the years, it’s clear who he shares a deeper emotional connection with and who he has a more laid-back, fun, but less emotionally deep connection with.

I also find it frustrating the way Taekookers have elevated the Hawaii trip into something it wasn’t. That wasn’t Jungkook traveling to fulfill some emotional need for Taehyung. It was Jungkook traveling after receiving an invite to have fun with his friend…the one he clicks with perfectly when it comes to things like this. They were on the same wavelength at the time, enjoying each other’s company in their free time. Emphasis on FREE TIME. They always have fun together, and they share common interests. I’m sure Taekook would turn to each other for fun, thrill, and adventure, but I can bet my bottom dollar that they wouldn’t turn to each other for the deeper emotional stuff. They really never have, and history has proven this.

They didn’t prioritize spending time with each other over anyone else in the solo era. It was simply convenient for them to do so, and so they did. They both had the time to hang out, and they took it. But when we talk about true prioritization, we’re talking about Jimin flying all the way from Paris to spend one day with Jungkook, then heading back to Hawaii the next day. We’re talking about Jungkook choosing to use his limited break to take Jimin to Japan…something Jimin has always wanted. We’re talking about Jungkook, knowing full well that other members were available, yet choosing to spend his quiet peaceful time with Jimin every day, prioritizing him over anyone else. That’s prioritization…not Jungkook flying to Hawaii when he had time and money to have fun with Taehyung. This is something he could have done with any other friend if he had the time or money. Do you think if Mingyu or Eunwoo call Jungkook to join them somewhere fun in ant part of the world Jungkook has access to while he has the time and money he wouldn’t go? He will definitely go. Tae didn’t call Jungkook because he missed him in the way taekookers think. He might have missed his company and known that that is something they both would really enjoy doing since they relate like that and called him but it was definitely not because he missed his boyfriend. If that was the case, his “boyfriend” wouldn’t only have found out at the moment that be was in Hawaii.

Prioritization again comes in when Taehyung gets on planes to support his wooga, or his wooga putting everything else aside to spend time with him before his enlistment, or when he ensures he doesn’t miss important days for them. He never really prioritizes seeing Jungkook on his birthdays, and vice versa. He didn’t care to see Jungkook even for a single day during their 2019 break, choosing to travel with his friends instead even when Jungkook had a birthday yet we had Jimin flying all the way from Paris to see Jungkook for a few hours and head back yet, Taekookers claim they prioritize each other in that way? They don’t.

Two friends meeting up and hanging out when they have the time doesn’t equate to prioritizing each other, nor does it signify deep emotional connection or bond. Yes, they must like and care about each other to hang out multiple times, which we know Taekook do, but if their schedules had been less aligned, they wouldn’t have cared as much, and it wouldn’t have bothered them.

Unlike Taekook, Jimin and Jungkook have a long history of prioritizing each other, keeping constant communication, and staying fully aware of what the other is doing. A few months in a 13+ year friendship doesn’t change that. Real closeness isn’t about how many hangouts or fun activities two people can have, or how many cute pictures they take together, or where they sit during meals. True closeness and a deep emotional bond are about who you want to be with even when there’s nothing to do, who you turn to when you’re going through emotional moments, and who you think of watching when you can’t sleep at 4 a.m. These are subtle things, but they speak volumes.

Closeness is relative, and we can be close to people in different ways. There are ways Jungkook is closer to Taehyung than Jimin, and vice versa, but based on everything Jungkook has said over the years, and how we’ve seen them interact, it’s clear that his emotional connection with Jimin is and has always been much deeper. I guess it’s up for debate who you think he’s closer to. If you think a dynamic based on fun activities, camaraderie and ease is closer than one built on emotional depth and closeness, then I suppose you’d think Taekook are closer.

PS: AYS is still a very sore topic for taekookers. They claim AYS proved enough but if AYS really confirmed that Taekook is real and Jikook isn’t, why do they detest the show so much?

[itslikesearcingforsomething]

“they are going to s5 as a couple” is such a telling answer and i can’t understand (respectfully) how anyone is interpreting it as mileven being endgame??? because sorry, this is not reassuring at all. no shit they didn’t break up off screen, i thought we guys agreed on it, which means they’re still a couple in the beginning of s5. listen, caleb said about lumax “i don’t remember seeing sadie that much, so i don’t know… but then i remember seeing her a lot, but i don’t know”. please, do some critical thinking and find 10 differences. no, really, just compare them at least. this is not how you answer about endgame couple.

the second thing, finn “choosing” mileven over byler, which first of all, who even expected him to say that he prefers byler? be real with me, it is known that noah is the one pushing byler and finn being radio silent. maybe, just maybe it’s because we don’t know how mike feels yet. finn cannot say anything about byler now, it’s not that big.

[marauder-misprint]

hii! could you please write a remus x reader angst, (the ending being good or bad is up to you :D) where the reader has a werewolf phobia due to past experiences? and after a lesson which involved the werewolf topic, reader says some hurtful words, obviously not on purpouse, but remus gets distanced / upset and later reader finds out why??

Did I just have a bad day or is the angst so good that I brought myself to tears writing it? You tell me.

Thank you for the request ❤︎

Werewolf prejudice

Remus Lupin x reader

3k words

cw: angst, Dead Sibling, angst, no happy ending

One of the things you had in common with your friend group was how you didn’t talk about your past or your homelife all that often. James was the most open about his, being that he came from a loving and safe home, a home that he said was open to all of them. Peter, Marlene and Mary all had similar stories, a decent enough family that they didn’t despise going back to over breaks. The rest avoided the topic. From what you knew, Remus moved around a lot as a child so nowhere really felt like home except for Hogwarts, Sirius loathed his family to the point of running away and taking the Potters up on their offer to be his new family, and Lily loved her family but her sister had gained a distaste for her. 

Your parents were intense. So intense to the point where Hogwarts was the only place where you felt free and able to relax. You knew your parents meant well, but it was a lot. They put all of their expectations on you, and you could only try your best to graze them. After all, you were trying to live up to the aspirations they had for your older brother. Your older brother who was buried six feet deep. 

In all honesty, you didn’t remember the night all that well. A therapist said your body was repressing the horrid memories as a coping mechanism. They had said it was probably for the better. But because the memory was fragmented in your mind, no one would risk casting Obliviate on you. What you did know is that a werewolf had killed your brother when he was eight years old, you witnessed it and were scratched but managed to survive. And so, you hated any and all conversations about siblings, your childhood, your scars and werewolves. 

“You with us?” Marlene asked as she threw a piece of candy at you from where she sat on the couch in front of the fireplace in the common room. 

You blinked, looking around the room. You were sitting on the floor among your friends. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I’m with you.”

“So… how was your Christmas?” Mary asked, holding up her hands to catch a candy that Marlene was sending her way.

“It was fine. Nothing too special,” you said uninterested. 

It was fine. It wasn’t special. It was a lot of your parents nagging you about grades and applications to internships that you had no desire to partake in. The actual holiday was lackluster. There was the usual family meal and exchanging of gifts. You received a quill, shoes and some chocolate. It wasn’t anything to brag about, not when James had come back with a new broom and Sirius had several new vinyls that he was going to play on repeat until they all knew the words. 

“Ugh, boring,” Marlene groaned. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything fun over break?”

“We went to a-” James started to say before Lily cut him off. 

“A professional quidditch match and got to meet some of the players, we know.”

“No need to be jealous, Evans. You could’ve come with, you know,” James said, smirking at her. 

“I’m good,” she said firmly.

“Was fun though,” Remus said, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Shame the rest of you couldn’t come.” 

When Remus looked your way, you gave him a sad smile. You had received the invite, but your parents wouldn’t allow you to go, especially not when it was four boys going and no other girls. You argued that James’ parents would be there and if they let you go, maybe the other girls’ parents would let them go. No luck. So the boys got to meet famous players and you got to hear about it. 

“Rem, rest of your break good?” Mary asked.

He nodded with a hum. It was typical of him to not go into detail. 

“My sister came back from France! Was good to see her,” Peter said. 

You leaned back against the armchair Mary was sitting in, letting your eyes close. You listened to Peter recall the adventures his older sister had working for Beauxbaton. He noted that her French was getting so much better, although he said he couldn’t really be a judge of that being he didn’t speak it himself. 

“I can be the judge of that. Next time you write her, tell her I say bonjour,” Sirius said slyly. 

“You will not be flirting with my sister through my letters!” Peter gasped, causing the group to laugh. 

The peace that being with your friends brought you took over your senses. It was refreshing. Soon enough, one by one, your friends turned in for bed. You took Marlene’s spot on the couch after she left, putting you next to Remus. He moved his arm, which had been resting on the back on the couch, to be around your shoulder. As if it were second nature, you leaned into his side with a deep breath. 

Yes, it really had been a shame that you weren’t able to go to the quidditch match.

“So your break was fine?” he asked in a low voice when it was just the two of you left of your group. 

You sighed loudly as you gazed into the dying fire. 

“Grilled about grades, denied seeing my friends and best present were shoes,” you said dryly. “Yours?”

“Quidditch was definitely the highlight of it,” he said, sounding just as disappointed in his break as you did. 

“Wish I could’ve gone,” you grumbled, making Remus give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

“Me too,” he whispered.

Then you fell into a comfortable silence. You listened to the crackling of the embers and Remus’ steady breathing. You don’t know when your friendship with him started to feel like there might be a chance for something more. It was moments like this that heightened that feeling - his arm around you fueling the warmth inside your chest. The two of you had exchanged gifts before leaving on break and broke down into uncontrollable fits of laughter when you realized you bought each other the same book, saying ‘I heard it was good.’ (It was good. You wrote each other about every chapter.)

Remus nudged you awake. The fire was reduced to barely glowing coals and the entire common room had emptied out. 

“I think it’s time for bed, love,” he said.

You groaned but nodded, helping him up off the couch once you had stood up yourself. You bid each other goodnight before heading to your respective dorms. 

---

The professors wasted no time in getting back into the swing of things. You felt like you didn’t get to hang out with your friends as much as you wanted to with the piles of homework the professors assigned. You saw the most of Lily and Remus as they would join you in the library for hours on end. At least Professor Grimiski, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, took the first week to review some of the spells you learned in the fall term. 

“Now that we’ve finished the fall review, we will be moving into a deep dive about werewolves,” he told the class. 

You shifted uncomfortably next to Lily, unable to Remus slouch in his chair as he braced for the worst. Werewolves had been discussed in your previous years and you had managed to suffer through those lessons. You had a few nightmares after those lessons, but you were able to push through it. 

“Let’s see what you remember. Can anyone tell me some defining characteristics?” 

“Murderous, bloodthirsty, horrid,” you listed off under your breath.

“What was that? Please speak up,” Professor Grimiski instructed. 

“Sorry, professor. I was just saying that they are murderous, bloodthirsty, horrid creatures,” you said loudly. 

Your comment received mixed reactions from the classroom. Several students agreed with you. James, Sirius and Peter voiced loud objections as Remus shrunk further into his chair. Of all the people in the classroom who might have said something like that, he wasn’t expecting it to be you. 

“I see. Um, those aren’t the characteristics I was looking for…” the professor said, speaking slowly and scanning the room. “Snape, do you know-”

“They have a shorter snout, more human-like eyes and a tufted tail,” Sirius interrupted aggressively, sounding annoyed. 

“Ah, Mr. Black! There we go! Ten points to Gryffindor.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. Your expression was cold and unmoving for the rest of the lesson. You were only able to semi-pay attention. What you could remember of that night was on repeat in your mind. The night you lost your brother. The night your leg got the deep scars. The night you became an only child with the burden of living up to what he could never do. 

The moment Professor Grimiski dismissed the class, you stalked out of the room and disappeared into a bathroom. You needed to be alone for a little bit before you could tolerate another lesson. As you paced around the bathroom, you felt your breathing speed up. Fuck. You needed to be calming down, not getting more worked up. You splashed water onto your face and tried to take deep breaths. 

When you were composed again, you went to Transfiguration. You stood awkwardly off to the side of the room when you saw Remus sitting with James, deep in a whispered conversation. Usually you sat with Remus during Transfiguration. After a moment, you took an open seat next to Emmeline Vance. She gave you a kind smile. 

It was like that for the rest of the day. Remus sat next to James, Sirius or Peter in every class, even the ones he usually sat next to you. That left you sitting with new people and throwing off your groove. None of the boys would make eye contact with you. Even at lunch, they turned away from you. You were suddenly iced out without any inclination as to why. 

“Remus, Lil and I are headed to the library. You coming?” you asked in the common room after dinner. 

“No,” he said.

You swore that the armchair he was in was about to swallow him whole with how he was sitting in it. You doubted it was comfortable. The walk to the library with Lily was quiet. Both of you felt like something was up with Remus but neither was going to say anything. It was like each knew the other didn’t have the answer. 

After a few days of similar behavior from the Marauders, they returned to their usual seating habits. You were able to sit with Remus again, but it wasn’t the same as it was. He was far more quiet, more distant than before. He didn’t chuckle at any of your quiet jokes. He didn’t respond to any notes you slid his way. James, Sirius and Peter still seemed minorly upset with you, but at least they weren’t giving you the silent treatment anymore. 

Still, the silence from Remus was driving you crazy. How could you have gone from maybe almost something to not even friends? His behavior affected you more than the lessons on werewolves. Each lesson left you feeling tense and the more in depth Professor Grimiski got, the harder it was to breathe in the classroom. Remus, on the other hand, left you feeling empty and scared. You walked on eggshells around him, not wanting to upset him any more than you already had. 

In essence, it was a very rough start to the semester. 

Lily, Marlene and Mary all urged you to talk to Remus. You all knew him to be fairly level headed, at least out of the Marauders. He was reasonable. If you just asked, they were sure he would tell you what was wrong. 

You just had to wait for the right time. It had to be when he was alone and lately, it felt like he always had one of the boys glued to his side when classes weren’t in session. You figured your best bet was Saturday. James had quidditch practice and Sirius managed to get detention already. The girls said that they would rope Peter into a Wizards’ Chess tournament if they had to, which they did. Remus and Peter had walked into the common room together. Remus headed up to their dorm when the girls summoned Peter over with a prize for the first place that they knew he couldn’t turn down. 

It was your chance. You slipped up the boys’ stairs and knocked on the door to Remus’ dorm. 

“Wormtail, you don’t have to knock for your dorm, Merlin,” his voice called out. 

You opened the door tentatively. Remus froze where he stood. He was in the middle of putting on a sweater. You stared at each other, neither moving nor speaking.

You cleared your throat after a few beats. “Can I come in?” 

“It’s just me in here,” he said coldly.

“I… I know,” you said, entering and closing the door behind you. As you stepped further into the room, you fidgeted with your fingers. “I was hoping we could talk.”

He finished pulling on his sweater and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He was on guard. 

“About?” 

“What did I do?” you asked, your voice cracking and tears immediately threatening to fall. “What did I do to upset you?” 

He took a sharp breath. He hadn’t expected you to sound so broken. He swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep himself steady. In that moment, he hated the effects you had on him. 

“I-” he started to say before needing to take another breath. “I didn’t expect you to be so prejudiced.” 

Confusion immediately appeared on your face.

“What do you mean? Prejudiced?”

“Yes. Erm, about werewolves.” He pressed his lips together as he watched you chew on the inside of your lips. 

“You shut me out because of what I said about werewolves?” you asked incredulously. 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

“Yes.” 

“Wh-why?”

“Not all werewolves are… that,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust as he finished his statement. 

“But they are,” you said, your voice warbling. “They are horrible, horrible beasts. They are capable of ruining lives.”

“I know what they’re capable of,” Remus said. 

“Do you? Because if you did, I don’t think you’d be so sympathetic towards them.” You took your own deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Did you know that I’m not an only child? I had a brother. Until one killed him.” Your voice hitched and you felt the tears begin to stream down your face. “It almost killed me.” 

You lifted your skirt enough to show the deep scars on your leg. 

“Oh,” Remus breathed, taking a step back despite raising his arm to reach out to you. “Oh.” 

You nodded. “Oh is right.” 

“Oh gods… you’re going to hate me,” he said in a quiet voice to himself. He chuckled but it sounded eerily similar to a sob. “You’re going to hate me.” 

“Why am I going to hate you?” you asked in a voice just as quiet. 

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to sit on his bed. 

“I think you should sit down.” 

You gave him a quizzical look, but listened, sitting down on Sirius’ bed across from him. 

“I’m… I’m a werewolf.”

You stared at him. You were certain you didn’t hear him right. There was no way that your favorite person, the scarred boy sitting across from you whose arms made you feel like everything was okay in the world, was the same kind of creature as the one who doomed you to a life of never being enough for your parents.

“What?” you gasped after what felt like an entire minute.

“I’m a werewolf,” he repeated. “Please, please don’t hate me.” 

“But… you can’t be,” you said, shaking your head. “No. You’re… you’re you! You can’t be a monster… You’re…”

“I’m a werewolf.” 

“Remus,” you whispered. “Oh, Remus…” 

“Please, even if you hate me now, please don’t tell anyone. Some of the teachers know. And Sirius, Peter, James. But that’s it. I can't… I can’t have this getting out.” 

Your features softened as you took in the worry on Remus’ face. 

“How long… how long have you been a… a…” You can’t bring yourself to call Remus a werewolf. It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real.

“Since I was young. That’s, uh, that’s why I don’t talk about my childhood. It’s why we moved ‘round so much. I’m a risk. To everyone.” 

You nodded, not knowing what to say. You just looked at Remus and let your thoughts try to come to terms with it. 

“I… I don’t think I can hate you,” you said after a while. “Oh, Remus…” You paused. “What do you do… every… erm, full moon? How dangerous are you?” 

“I leave the grounds. I’m contained. Dumbledore made it so I could come to Hogwarts and not actively endanger anyone,” he explained. 

You nodded. You were full of conflicted feelings. You know you can’t hate Remus, but you don’t know how you can be around him when he’s a werewolf, not with your family. 

“I… I don’t hate you. And… I won’t say anything,” you said slowly. “But I need time. I… I don’t know if I can be friends with you.”

You stood up, wiping away the tears that stained your face. You left Remus sitting on his bed alone in his dorm. As much as it killed you to walk away, you knew you had to. At least for now. You had to figure out if you could separate the werewolf who ruined your family from the werewolf you sat next to in class. You didn’t know if you had the ability to accept the possibility of a good werewolf, although you did know that if there ever was a good werewolf, it would be in the form of Remus. 

[pomefioredove]

I kinda wanted to be a little different with this one—

May I request a sugar cookie #5 with dried fruit and chestnuts please? Thank you very much!

this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever written /positive I hope you guys enjoy

order #5, sugar with dry fruit, chestnuts

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ sickness and kisses

summary: kalim wants to be a part of everything- including your cold. what better way to share germs than getting close? tropes: sick fic, first kiss characters: kalim additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, a little gross

"It should have been me!"

Jamil winces and takes a step away from the bed. You hold out a hand to him, as if to say "take me with you."

"Kalim, they're not dying. It's nothing but a cold,"

The boy peels himself off bed at your feet, which he's been attached to all afternoon.

"You don't get it, Jamil! They're going to miss my birthday party- the desserts, the music, the games! Who knows if the Prefect will be here for my birthday next year!"

"Kalim," you pat his head to comfort him, though, if anyone needs comfort, it's you. "I'll be fine. We can have another party when I'm better."

He sighs, leaning into your touch. "It's not the same..."

Jamil looks more sick than you now.

"Ahem. I've brought soup and tea, and there are extra blankets in the foyer. Kalim, we should be going,"

Kalim pouts and clings to your blankets. "Just a moment..."

"I'll be waiting outside,"

Jamil doesn't need to be excused twice, leaving the room and closing the door on his way out.

Kalim sighs. "I just hate when my friends are sick... I wish there was a way I could share some of your pain,"

"That's nice, but you don't have to- ack," you cough into your fist.

Kalim's sympathetic pat would be comforting, if not for that look. You can tell he's thinking something.

He waits for you to finish hacking and coughing, at least. Then:

"I have an idea," he says. "You can get me sick. That way, we can still spend my birthday together, and you won't be alone!"

Thinking something, alright. You're surprised Jamil couldn't feel that on his "Kalim's bad ideas" radar and come running before anything more happened.

"I appreciate that, Kalim, but this kinda sucks," you smile. "I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy."

He smiles back and sits beside you on the bed, closer now.

"But you and Jamil said it's just a cold! I've been poisoned, you know- I think I could handle it!"

You blink. "Well... yeah, but it's still sucky,"

"But we'll be together!" he insists. "Now, how should we do this? I've never gotten sick on purpose before, so I don't- oh, I know!"

"Huh?"

He comes a little closer, leaning over you. "I'll kiss you!"

Your eyes widen, and again, you're surprised Jamil didn't feel that and burst through the door like the room was on fire.

"Like... seriously?"

"Why not? It's the fastest way. But I could figure something else out if you don't want to," he eyes your hands. "Maybe you could-"

"Alright! I concede! Just... one kiss,"

Kalim beams. "One is all I need!"

With no further warning, questioning, or thought, he dips in and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. It doesn't last for more than a second, but it still leaves you a little flustered.

He hums, licks his lips, and then hops off the bed. "Thanks, Prefect! I'll be back in no time, don't worry!"

He leaves the door open behind him. You're honestly the last person he should worry about, now.

You wonder, for a moment, what he was thinking- Kalim is ditzy, not dense. He had to have known what he was...

Your eyes widen as you remember something else. Oh, crap.

If this works, Jamil is going to kill you.

[floralscented]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDAHLIA'S SWEET 23 !

my birthday is on a holiday this year & so i decided that i'm actually just going to celebrate forrrr the entire month! hehehe. in april, i will be posting a drabbie / one shot / fic update a day, all centric around jackles characters ( . . . but primarily, probably, soldier boy PLS. ) and i want to invite you to help guide it!

rules include :

must be jackles or a jackles character (and one i know) !

anyone can participate! you may send in a general idea for what you want me to write, or reserve a day and worry about the details of what you want written for a little later, without the stress of deciding now on the spot ! all reserved days are randomly chosen. unavailable days will be listed.

you don't have to have an april birthday to claim a day, but if you have an april birthday, please tell me !! you will get priority over that day being claimed <3 happy birthmonth to us !

don't request weird shit. i hope this went without saying but i am not a cnc / dubcon / w!ncest / anything along these lines safespace with my writing.

that being said, there's no limitations to what you could request except for the things above ! fluff, angst, smut, slowburn, enemies to lovers, familial, romantic, platonic, aus ⎯⎯ you name it !! go ham !!

i am starting the preparations and plannings for this now because a month long, daily ordeal is a lot !! and i wanna give myself as much room for success in this feat as possible <3

make a reservation ! bold are unavailable. 23/30 taken !

april 1 . april 2 . april 3 . april 4 . april 5 . april 6 . april 7 . april 8 . april 9 . april 10 . april 11 . april 12 . april 13 . april 14 . april 15 . april 16 . april 17 . april 18 . april 19 . april 20 (happy birthday to me!) . april 21 . april 22 . april 23 . april 24 . april 25 . april 26 . april 27 . april 28 . april 29 . april 30 .

& finally, thank you, if you decide to participate !! i love the thought of celebrating my birthday (month. LMFAO.) with everyone, and thought i could give back in the process! not that i won't accept birthday gifts in return HAHAHA.

[avekgrambs]

ANYONE WHO EVER MET JLB PLEASE TELL ME ANYTHING YOU KNOW OR ANYTHING YOU ASKED ABOUT LYRAGRAYSON OR GLORIOUS RIVALS!!!

i know that @swiftreader1989 made a post about lyrason BUT I NEED ANY INFORMATION BECAHSE NEITHER THE NOVL OR JLB IS POSTING ANYTHING TIG RELATED!!! not even about jameson or avery or anyoneeeeee!!

[someone1348]

It was long overdue...its time; I'm doing a squid games fic! I'm scared, but I'm posting it anyway! I've wanted to write for it for a while now, I just never had ideas or motivation! There's already so many great squid games writers, and I just am nervous!

Anyway!

The people in this: Ler!Jung-Bae, Lee!Dae-ho (naturally, I had to do them first!)

Tw: Anxiety, a little cursing, regardless this is a tickle fic, so if you don't like it, please keep scrolling! Thank you! :]

Also, squid games season 2 spoilers, so if you haven't watched it, I'd recommend watching it first!

With that being said enjoy!! <3

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Such a ticklish marine

They had just finished the six-legged pentathlon. Spirits were high for about five seconds before they heard the gunshots again from the other side of the room. Dae-ho squirmed back again, covering his ears. Heart racing as Jung-Bae put a hand to his shoulder. It was almost like it was second nature. Dae-ho definitely showed his love through physical touch, and Jung-Bae did, too, so it just worked. They mirrored each other perfectly. The older of the two really took Dae-ho in, especially after he found out he was also an ex-marine. The bond of marines is unbreakable, but with how big Jung-Bae's heart is, he saw Dae-ho like the son he never had. Even if he doesn't admit it out loud, his actions show everything.

So when he's freaking out, covering his ears, fidgeting, the whole nine yards, he clocked his ptsd pretty fast. It made his heart ache a little for the poor boy. He wanted to, no, needed to do something to help him out. Jung-Bae took a deep breath and walked behind him as they entered the main room. Several teams who made it already sitting on one of the bunks groupped together, naturally. They did the same, sitting down waiting now for dinner to be served. Dae-ho was fidgeting again with his hands, scanning the room as some of the teams gave their team ugly stares. Jung-Bae placed a gentle hand to his knee for support, to try and ground him so he knows that he's not alone. Dae-ho's shoulders jumped a little at the impact but relaxed when he realized it was just Jung-Bae.

"Don't worry about them... they're just greedy assholes. We won't let anything happen to you or anyone on our team." Jung-Bae said with a determined smile as Dae-ho nodded.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Dae-ho replied out of instinct as Jung-Bae giggled gently at this.

"Atta boy!" He gently squeezed Dae-ho's knee as his hearty laughter grew. Without having time to hold back a reaction, Dae-ho squeaked quietly, but it definitely caught Jung-Bae's attention. Even through his laughter, he definitely heard that correctly. Blinking gently, Jung-Bae looked up at the boy with curiosity. Dae-ho's eyes widened. He tried to keep a poker face, like nothing happened, but he was really bad at that. Jung-Bae and everyone around him could see right through him.

"Dae-ho...?" Jung-Bae said a slight tease in his voice.

Dae-ho gulped gently and blinked "Yes...Sir...?"

The nervous reaction sent Jung-Bae's smile into a wicked smirk. He scooted closer to the already anxious marine. Now his heart was racing again, not out of fear, though. It moved quickly knowing what was potentially about to happen. He has four older sisters. He knows a 'I'm gonna tickle you' look when he sees one!

"Don't tell me, you, a strong, brave, ex-marine is ticklish?" He teased him, obviously not talking down to him. Dae-ho knew this and was thankful that he didn't make fun of him for it. It was normal, nothing to be ashamed about. Dae-ho took a deep breath, not knowing how to respond. Jung-Bae just giggled.

"This is gold!" He seemed happier than ever at this newfound information. Was...was that it? Was he really not going to get tickled? Dae-ho was overthinking it before the gaurds called everyone to grab dinner. Snapping out of his thoughts, they all got in line to get their portion of the meals. It was barely anything. Every day, there was less. They did that on purpose, but hey, at least they were getting something to eat.

After getting his tin and water, Dae-ho sat back down in the same spot. Jung-Bae, however, moved up a step to sit next to Dae-ho. The younger looked at the older with wider eyes than normal. Jung-Bae didn't say anything he just opened his tin and started eating.

"What did you get?" The question made Dae-ho blink before he opened his tin.

"Um...the same thing as you, we all get the same thing, sir," he said matter-of-factly. Which again made Jung-Bae giggle. This man was just always full of laughter, even in a situation like this. Something that made Dae-ho admire him even further. The conversation fell silent again as they kept eating. Jung-Bae talking to Gi-Hun and the others before turning back to Dae-ho.

"So...where are you most ticklish?" He asked teasingly and excitedly.

Dae-ho nearly choked on his rice at the question. Coughing a little before regaining his senses, Jung-Bae laughed.

"You okay, soldier?"

Dae-ho nodded quickly. The older patted his shoulder again happily. Jung-Bae was doing all of this on purpose. Sure, he wanted to know this information, but he wanted to help, mostly. He thought that maybe tickling him could help get him distracted enough to calm his anxiety. It worked on Gi-Hun whenever he had nightmares as kids, so maybe it'll help Dae-ho, too. He needed to try regardless. If it doesn't work, he'll try something else. Jung-Bae smirked and went back to teasing.

"If you won't talk, that's fine, I'll figure it out one way or another," he hummed gently, running a hand down his spine. Dae-ho arched gently out of instinct and smiled. Good a smile, that's a start. He's not uncomfortable. That's all he wanted to make sure of first before he could do anything.

Once dinner was completed, Jung-Bae finally put his plan into action. Dae-ho tried to move away to throw his tin away, but Jung-Bae pulled him back.

"Ah ah ah... you can do that later! I wanna see what you can do, boy! You've impressed me a lot as of recently. Let's keep that streak up, sha'll we?" He hummed as Dae-ho raised an eyebrow.

"I'm honored, sir, but I'm not exactly following..." He said honestly as Jung-Bae's smirk returned.

"Don't laugh~" he teased. Without warning, he used both hands to gently squeeze at Dae-ho's sides. A loud shriek rang through the place, followed by laughter and Dae-ho rolling over, trying to escape him. If he started with any other spot, he would've been able to hold it in, but Jung-Bae had to get his worst spot first! On a total guess too! Not fair!

Jung-Bae giggled with him. "You didn't even last a second! Such a ticklish marine~" he teased again, stopping for a second so Dae-ho could catch his breath and sit up.

"That wasn't fair! I could've done better if you didn't go for-" he inhaled and bit his lip as Jung-Bae tickled his neck in retaliation for the attitude. This was so fun for him now.

"Ohhhh, there we go! You're lastly relatively well. Let's see how you pair up against two spots at once!" He cheered before using his other hand to skitter gently across his ribs. Dae-ho squirmed a little but kept his laughter back as best as he could.

"You can do it, Dae-ho!" He supported him while actively scribbling across his stomach to get to each side of his ribs. Back and forth, while his other hand still wiggled against the right side of Dae-ho's neck. It took 10 more seconds before Dae-ho burst out in giggles again. Lying on the steps to try and get away. Jung-Bae's hands followed his movements with a smile.

"Juhuhung-bahahae!! Sihihir! Please! Hahaha!" It was light airy giggles since Jung-Bae was being relatively nice about it, for now. The older marines heart practically melted into puddy at the sound.

"Please what Dae-ho? I can't understand you with all this laughter!" He pulled up his shirt a little, using both hands to now tickle his stomach, which got Dae-ho kicking now. His water bottle now knocked off the stairs. Thank God it was closed. But Young-il had to duck, moving out of the way of the water bottle and the pair.

"JUHuhUhung-BAHaEHe!" He laughed a little more as his hands held onto the others' wrists. The other laughed with him and continued to tease him. One finger finding it's way into his belly button. This caused Dae-ho to make a sound similar to a snort and laugh some more.

"You know I think this might be why you're not a marine anymore, you're an interrogation risk, one little tickle and you'd spill all the beans of our plans" he joked which made the other a little embarrassed. His ears were a little red as he kept laughing.

"HaHaHAHAHA!" He kept going. "I wOhoHould nEHeHeVer! BETraHAhay! My TeHEHEheam!" He tried to defend himself before Jung-Bae smirked. He knew that, duh, but that was still adorable. He liked it when he was laughing rather than panicking. It suited him.

"Tickle Tickle Tickle~" he teased more, moving up to gently tickle his underarms. Dae-ho slammed them down quickly, his laughter never subsiding as he squirmed around on the step.

"GEhehEt OhoHOUT oF tHEHehere!!" He shook his head no as Jung-Bae giggled.

"Oh? Do you want me to pick a different spot?" He asked gently as Dae-ho nodded frantically through his laughter. He soon regretted his decision as Jung-Bae's hands went from his underarms to his sides, squeezing the ex-marine's most ticklish spot with determination.

"AHAHAHAHA NOHOHO HAHAHAHA!" Dae-ho let out a bout of laughter mixed with some incoherent speech. His kicking increased ten-folds as well. He was a squirmer, that's for sure. Jung-Bae smiled and kept going.

"What's the matter soldier? Is it too ticklish for ya? Hmm? I'm gonna getcha!" He was deep into tickle monster mode now. There was no stopping Jung-Bae now. Dae-ho squeaked this time as he let himself laugh.

"IHIHHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! JUHUHUHUNG-BAHAEHE!" He threw his head back gently, laughing as his back arched into his hands out of instinct. This was amusing to Jung-Bae. So he was enjoying this, good!

"SHIHIHIT!-" He said, moving his body back to the floor. Jung-Bae smirked at this.

"Such fowl language for an ex-marine! Watch your tone, young man!" He smiled before blowing a raspberry into one of his sides, still tickling his other side with the other hand. He lost his mind.

"SIHIHIHIR! IHIM SOHOHORRY! MERCY PLEHEHEHEHEASE HAHAHA!" He asked for mercy. Jung-Bae gave him a few more scribbles before he finally stopped. Beaming, Jung-Bae sat back and watched Dae-ho catch his breath, giggles poking through every now and again.

"At ease, buddy"

"Thahank you...sir" he sat up gently as Jung-Bae patted his shoulder again. His duty was done. Mission completed.

"Dae-ho, don't worry about it, you aren't the only ticklish ex-marine around." Gi-Hun smirked as Jung-Bae gasped

"Gi-Hun!" He said, sounded offended even though he really wasn't. Dae-ho giggled at this and turned to Jung-Bae.

"I see..." he hummed teasingly

Like father like son.

---------------------------------------------------

Thank you @sleepy--anon for pushing me further to write for squid games and giving me the duo idea! I hope I did the fandom/show justice!

-K :]

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FOURTH; side a — about you - the 1975 | d. lizewski x reader

w; dave & r is aged up (both in their twenties!), ‘old flames’ (really just best friends - who have lost touch but still remember everything about one another - to lovers) reunite, i sort of change the story about his dad (he’s still kick a—!) an; i had to change up his dad’s story about getting beaten </3 for the plot to work. i hope no one minds and everyone enjoys at least!!!!

mixtape here!

Your chin rests in the palm of your hands as your eyes glance around the restaurant, fingers slowly tapping against the table as you let out a small sigh. Leaning back, your eyes look down at your phone to check the time and to see if any messages have suddenly appeared. 

Nothing. And an hour late. 

Rubbing your forehead in embarrassment, you stand from your chair and ignore the looks from the many people who sit together with a stupid little red rose and stupid little candles. 

Slipping on your jacket, you quickly grab your clutch and make your way out of the restaurant without a single word to anyone. It’s eight now, and you’d gotten dressed up for nothing. 

You’re aimlessly walking around now — not quite ready to go home, yet not quite sure where to go either. 

Until you’re met with the sight of the familiar comic shop that you used to go to regularly with friends. You don’t go as much anymore — if you do, it’s strictly for a family member’s birthday or to stop by and get coffee, and maybe look to see what all has changed. 

Which, nothing has. It’s a bit brighter inside with new paint and new lights, but other than that, nothing else has changed. Stepping towards the counter, you smile at the teenager behind it. “One iced caramel latte, please.” 

She nods, putting in the order. “Anything else?” 

Glancing over at the case of pastries, you point at a muffin. “A blueberry muffin as well, please.” The girl nods once again, entering it before telling you the price. Handing over the cash, plus a tip for her being so nice — and for working on the suckiest holiday of the year — you step away after telling her your name. 

You walk slowly around the collection of comics, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips. You wished you could go back to being a teenage girl — who had been constantly considered ‘weird’ — even if that meant figuring everything out once again. 

Part of you thinks that, maybe, if you would have the chance to go back, there’s a lot more you would’ve changed. Maybe admitted to others. 

The wave of nostalgia almost knocks you off your feet from the nausea it gives you suddenly. Shaking your head, you pick a superhero that you always gravitate towards — Spider-man. 

You pick up your treats from the counter and make your way towards a table, slipping into a booth and laying everything out before opening the comic book. 

You forget how much the silly little things can pull you in — you hadn’t realized the numbness in your legs, or that the ice in your drink had now melted, watering down the coffee and droplets had left a ring around it. 

Or that someone was in front of you. 

“I see you still get pulled into the pages.” 

Startled, you blink a couple of times and quickly look up at the man who stands in front of the table. Lips parting, your heart drops. “Dave?” 

He grins and nods. “The one and only.” 

Laughing slightly, you slip out of the booth and quickly pull him into a hug. “Oh, my god. Look at you!” You pull away, your hands gripping onto his biceps. “Your…hair! It’s gone!” 

He lets out a small chuckle. “And I hit puberty, finally. So you can’t laugh at me anymore about my squeaky voice.” 

You make a face at that. “Sorry about that.” 

“It was all done in fun,” His brow lifts slightly. “Wasn’t it?” 

“What? Of course it was,” You nod quickly, flushing under his gaze. “I’d never intentionally make fun of you.” 

His demeanor slightly falls before he lets out a soft chuckle. “I know that. I was only teasing,” His eyes fell into the red dress that you’d picked out specifically for today. “Hot date?” 

Looking down at the dress, you tug at the material. “No. Stood me up so I just left,” You shrug a bit. “It was embarrassing walking out to say the least.” 

“He stood you up? There’s no way,” He lets out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whoever it is, is clearly missing out.” 

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, collecting your trash so he wouldn’t catch onto the redness that caught your cheeks aflame. 

“I’m being serious!” He watches as you toss the items, picking up the comic book. He follows behind you, lips pursing a bit before clearing his throat. “Let me take you out.” 

You stop abruptly, causing him to stumble into your back, his hands quickly shooting out to stabilize himself on your arms. “What?” 

“Would it be so weird?” He shrugs as you turn to face him. “You’re already dressed up. Plus, we were best friends,” Your eyes drop down to the ground at that. 

“You can let me take you out on one date. Then you can pretend I never exist again.” 

You frown and quickly look at him. “Dave, I could never forget you,” You shake your head, pinching your brows together. “You were…” Trailing off, your heart skips a beat in your chest as your eyes linger on his blue ones. 

“You were special to me. We just…fell out of contact, is all.” 

Dave nods and glances at the comic in your hand. He reaches out and slowly pulls it from your hand, slipping it back into its designated spot before holding his hand. “Then let me take you out. Just this once.” 

Glancing down at his hand, you place yours into his. He smiles and grips your hand softly, pulling you towards the door without a second thought. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, curiously. If he were to lead you blindly into a burning building, you don’t think you would’ve cared. 

He glances over at you, a small smile pulling at his lips as he shrugs. “For me to know.” 

“And for me to find out.” You sigh playfully, shaking your head. He chuckles and comes to a stop. 

“Wait here,” You watch as he jogs back, confused but you do as he had said, looking around at the busy street and sidewalk, smiling a bit at the loud laughter and singing coming from all around. 

Dave comes back five minutes later, hands behind his back. You turn and lift your brows, tilting your head. “Alright…you’re worrying me now.” That has him chuckling. 

He pulls his arm from behind his back, your smile dropping slightly as you stare at the flowers in his hand — that just so happens to be your favorite. 

He clears his throat a bit. “I remember you saying something about liking these. And I needed to start the date off right.” 

“I said those were my favorite in middle school, Dave—”

“Do you…not like these anymore? I can go and—”

You quickly cut him off. “No. I mean, yes. I still love them. I’m just…” You let out a small laugh, truly in awe about how he even remembered such a small detail about you. “I don’t know how you remembered those were my favorite.” 

He scratches at the side of his neck, shrugging. “I just remember.” 

You smile and gently pull them from his grip, the brown paper crinkling in your hands. “Thank you,” You stare at the petals before your eyes lift and meet his. “I can’t remember when the last time I got flowers was.” 

Never. 

The answer was simply never. No boy — or man, now — has stopped to get you flowers as a simple gift. Not that it’s a necessity to bring flowers to a date, but taking the time and showing you care… 

It’s something that, now you can admit, can make a heart skip a beat. 

He smiles softly and nods. “Yeah…” He clears his throat as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Of course. Yeah. I just…I thought it’d be nice.” 

“This was very nice,” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip slightly, the action having his blue eyes drop for a second before looking back up. “Well, Lizewski, lead the way.” 

He smiles a bit and nods, beginning to walk down the sidewalk, your feet following beside him. 

After a couple of moments, he stops abruptly and turns towards you, causing your brows to pinch together in confusion as you look over at him. “Are you—”

“Close your eyes,” He nudges his chin towards you. A small playful smile spreads over his lips when he notices how confused you look at the request. “Just do it.” 

“You aren’t going to—”

“No,” He laughs softly, knowing what you were going to ask. Taking a step over to stand in behind you, his hand grazes your arm as he turns you a bit. Sighing, you give in and allow your eyes to slip shut. You suddenly feel his hands covering your eyes as well. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes,” His voice is soft and your breath hitches from how close he truly is. “Trust me.” 

You’re rendered speechless only for a moment before you quickly nod. “I do.” 

He smiles softly, allowing you to lead the way as you follow his instructions blindly. “…Okay, stop,”

Your movements cease and you feel the warmth of him disappear — slightly disappointed. “Open.” His voice is now coming from your left side. 

Your eyes slowly open, adjusting a bit to the change of lighting. Your lips part in surprise before a smile tugs at your lips. “It’s still here?” You look away from the treehouse, instead looking at Dave. 

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” He motions towards the house he grew up in. “Dad left the house to me in the will.” 

Your smile slowly fades, shoulders dropping slightly. “James died?” 

He nods a bit. “Sadly, that’s the only reason I’m back,” He clears his throat. “But after cleaning everything out and putting the house on the market—”

“You’re not staying?” 

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head hesitantly. “No. I’m going back home.” 

I’m going back home. 

It’s not much of anything, but the words have your heart twisting in a painful way and your eyes drop towards the flowers as you nod slightly. He would be leaving you — again. 

But you will not be selfish. Even if you want to. 

“Alright, let’s climb up and see what we used to hide away, shall we?” 

Your eyes lift and a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth but never fully expands to anything more. You nod and walk towards the tree, placing your flowers onto the chair next to it before crawling up the ladder. 

Pushing the door open, you push yourself up and crawl inside before standing and dusting off your legs. Looking around, the wave of nostalgia is suddenly hitting you once again, almost knocking you back onto the ground. 

Stepping closer to the carving you’d once done, your fingers trace over the initials, a small laugh leaving your lips as your head tilts. 

“Oh, god,” You quickly look over your shoulder, noticing the box Dave was holding. “The green and yellow suit.” You let out a laugh when he holds it up, shaking it a bit. 

You cover your mouth when you notice the look he gives you. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize. 

“You laughing at the super suit?” 

“Uh,” You glance at the suit that he holds in his hands once again, before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” You let out another laugh. He smiles and rolls his eyes, grabbing the mask from the bottom and tosses the box onto the wooden ground. 

He steps over and tugs it down on your head, grinning. “Mhm,” He nods. “You do look like a dork in this.” 

“Ha-ha. Funny,” You roll your eyes, despite the smile that remains glued onto your face. You tug the mask from your head. He lifts his hands and quickly fixes the strands of hair that had covered your face. 

You gulp quietly, feeling the pad of his thumb brush over your cheek as he does so. “Thanks.” 

He nods and pulls his hands away, now turning and sitting down on the small dusty blanket in the corner. Your face scrunches a bit when he does. 

He pats the spot beside him wordlessly. You make your way over and sit next to him, the mask still in your hands. Thumbing the material, you lean your head back on the wood. 

“Are you still…?” 

He bites his cheek slightly before nodding a bit. “I’ll always be,” His eyes linger on the mask in your hands. “Even if I’m not actively out and saving people like I used to when I was a…teenager — God, a teenager,” 

He lets out a small sound of disbelief as he shakes his head. “A part of that is still with me. No matter how much I kind of wish it wasn’t.” 

You nod in understanding. “You got hurt. A lot.” 

“That I did.” He smirks a bit — though, it’s not an amused one. 

You debate on what you're about to say. Tell him now and regret it later. 

Or never say anything and still regret it. 

Inhaling deeply, you will yourself to calm down before speaking. “I thought that first time — when you went into the hospital and your dad called me — that I had…” You pause. You can feel his eyes on you now, rather than the mask in your hands. 

“But, when I came to visit you, you were okay,” You smiled a bit with a nod. “That calmed me. Then, long story short, I found out why you’d ended up in the hospital,” 

You look over at him. “I remember asking you to stop because I didn’t want you to get hurt or worse,” He nods a bit. “You told me I didn’t understand and I never would. Then, Katie and you became a thing and suddenly…you’d listened to her,”

He frowns and looks away quickly. “I’m not mad about it. I mean, at first I was — because I had been your best friend and I thought maybe you’d listen to me, yet you just kind of shrugged me off. But when Katie asked you, you had no problem with the idea,” You shrug a bit. “I was also just a teenager trying to…navigate my feelings. I got angry at you, more than I probably should have.” 

“You never…told me. Or even showed it.” 

“That’s because I loved you, Dave,” He quickly looks back at you. You give him a weak smile and quickly look away when you feel the upcoming tears suddenly tingle and prick at your eyes. You laugh at yourself airly, shaking your head. “And that was a hard thing to feel because I was so…confused. I had never felt that way towards anyone before,” 

“And I was trying to figure out why I would keep letting you in when you’d get hurt and…” You’re now regretting dredging up the past. Because that’s exactly where it’s supposed to stay — in the past. “And I finally figured out when you had left without even really saying anything to me. Not that you had to, because I understand why you wanted to leave, but it still hurt all the same.” 

Dave blinks a couple of times at your words but remains staring at you as he does so. He clears his throat, mouth opening and shutting a few times before only saying; “You loved me?” 

You nod your head. “Yeah. Of course,” You tuck your hair behind your ear and finally place the mask down on the blanket next to you. “It wasn’t just because I grew up with you, it was just because it was…easy,” You shrug. 

“It was easy to love you and I always thought…” You trail off, eyes cutting towards the side to glance out the small window. 

“Thought what?” He asks softly. 

“I had always thought you and I both would’ve…ended up together,” You lean your head back. “It’s a bit silly now to say, especially when I know you had never viewed me that way back then. It was just the typical white fence, big wedding, two kids, type of dream I had.” 

“Why do you think I never thought of you in the same way?” He shakes his head. 

“Oh, come on,” You let out a small scoff, looking over at him. He genuinely looks confused and you lift your head from the wall. “You had gotten Katie. Katie, Dave. You would’ve never gone after someone like me.” 

“That’s not true,” He sits up, pointing towards you. Your brows lift slightly. “That is so not true. I used to try to get you to go on dates with me all the time.” 

“Asking if I wanted to go to the movies — like we always did, might I add — was not asking me on a date,” You let out a small laugh. “Especially if Todd and Marty were joining,” 

He frowns and looks down. You sigh and drop your hand on top of his. “Dave, it’s okay. Really. It’s over now and—”

“Do you still feel the same?” He cuts you off quickly. You stare at him as if you had imagined him saying it. 

After a moment of silence and a slight, silent urge of lifted brows, you speak. “I-I mean…” You purse your lips, your heart beating in your throat now instead of it staying where it needed to stay. 

“I don’t think loving someone ever comes to an end,” You shake your head. “Especially after loving them for so long.” 

Dave stares at you silently for a moment before surging forward and catching your lips with his, his hands cradling your jaw. The initial shock wears off quickly and your fingers are finally wrapping around his wrist gently. 

He slowly pulls away, still staying close where you could feel his breath brush over your lips and the top of his lip graze your own. 

“Did that just—”

“Yeah.” He cuts you off with a whisper. 

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Teenage me is screaming,” You whisper. He snorts, pressing another soft kiss against your lips before the corner of your mouth. “But you didn’t have to do that.” 

He pulls his forehead away from yours, tilting his head a bit. “I wanted to,” He nods. “I’ve always wanted to. I was just too scared to put myself out on the line for you. But I should’ve.” 

“You should’ve,” You nod, leaning into his hand the remains on your cheek. “Are you still going to leave?” You whisper. His eyes remain on yours, a small smile on his face. 

“I think I found a reason to stay.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Nineteen

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Nineteen: Mint for Virtue

Summary: (Y/N) runs into someone unexpected at the mall.

            Okay, errands are run…I have some spare change, maybe I can get myself a new book. Ana Huang’s latest book has come out. I could buy that. Yeah. (Y/N) smiled to themself as they walked through the mall. That’ll be good— (Y/N) paused as they spotted the one person they had never expected to see in a regular mall.

            “Kyoya?”

            Kyoya looked at (Y/N).

            “What are you doing here?” they asked.

            “Tamaki,” said Kyoya.

            “Hm.” (Y/N) nodded. Honestly, the word “Tamaki” could explain everything almost all the time, especially the strange situations the hosts got into.

            An irk mark appeared on Kyoya’s forehead. “He didn’t even give me my phone or wallet.”

            “So you’re stuck here?” said (Y/N).

            “Unfortunately,” said Kyoya. “Tamaki couldn’t even be bothered to tell me where he was going.”

            “Well, you can use my phone to call your driver, or I can loan you some money for a cab,” offered (Y/N).

            Kyoya looked at them. “You don’t have to spend money on me.”

            “You’re my friend, and you need help,” said (Y/N). “It’s not an issue.”

            “I would pay you back,” said Kyoya.

            “You’re too polite not to,” said (Y/N), smiling. They trusted him.

            Kyoya’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he heard the words. “Thank you—” His stomach growled, and they both paused.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Maybe we should grab some food before sending you home.”

            Kyoya sighed. He was really going to owe (Y/N) after this.

l

            “Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere a bit fancier?” asked (Y/N).

            “I’m not going to have you spend more money than necessary on me,” said Kyoya as they stood in line at the fast food shop in the food court. He smiled coldly at (Y/N). “In fact, for all the trouble, I’ll have Tamaki pay you back, as well.”

            Poor Tamaki, thought (Y/N). “Thank you, but it’s no trouble. This is a fast food place. It’s not putting a dent in my money.” My savings, anyways. My little bit of free money? Yikes…

            “He’ll pay you back ten times over,” said Kyoya.

            Oh, dear. “Okay,” said (Y/N), giving up the fight and going to order. “What do you want?”

            “I don’t know how to order here,” said Kyoya. “Get anything.”

            “Two burgers and medium fries, please,” said (Y/N), smiling at the cashier.

            The cashier looked up and saw Kyoya. (Y/N) recognized the blush that appeared on her cheeks.

            “Thank you for your order!” She beamed at Kyoya. “Would you like some dessert? There’s a brand-new item—”

            “No dessert for me,” said Kyoya, bored.

            “How about our new milkshake?” she continued, still trying.

            “I said I don’t want any,” said Kyoya.

            Poor retail worker, thought (Y/N). “Thank you.”

            The receipt came out, and, soon enough, so did their food. As they picked it up, Kyoya saw a scrawled note on the receipt, and Kyoya narrowed his eyes. A phone number. Carelessly, he crumpled it up and threw it away as (Y/N) grabbed a table. He had no use for that. He wasn’t interested in anyone but (Y/N).

            “Hm.” Kyoya regarded his hamburger after taking a bite.

            “Not to your tastes?” said (Y/N), amused.

            “It’s a gift. I won’t complain,” said Kyoya.

            Aha, so he would if it wasn’t a gift. (Y/N) sweat-dropped. That’s Kyoya. “Well, once you’re done eating, I can give you money for a cab and you escape for the sake of your ‘taste.’ ”

            “What are you planning to do?” asked Kyoya.

            “I was going to take a look at the market,” said (Y/N). Not that I have money left to do that. “But I might head home.”

            “What if we walk around?” said Kyoya. “With my name, we can put anything you want aside and come back once I have my wallet to get it.”

            “Kyoya, you’re paying me back for food,” said (Y/N). “You’re not paying for books or trinkets or whatever else is here. That’s on me. I’m independent.”

            “Are you sure?” said Kyoya.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N). “I don’t want you to continuously spend money on me.” They were independent. They were ambitious. They were going to make their own money. They appreciated gifts, but they didn’t need to be continuously spoiled by their friends. That was fine with them. “But thank you for the offer. We can still walk around, if you want?”

            “That would be nice.” Kyoya respected them too much to push. They were their own person, after all. He liked to gift them things—the denim romper looked amazing on them—but he wouldn’t go too far. He would never cross (Y/N)’s boundaries.

            Besides, as long as he got to spend time with (Y/N), he’d be satisfied.

l

            “Small businesses are so interesting,” said (Y/N). “To see people love something so much that they want to make something out of it…it’s inspiring.” They smiled.

            “I don’t see much of this,” said Kyoya. “My family and the families of my peers, they all order things from larger companies. Reliable.”

            “But less personal,” said (Y/N). Kyoya inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I suppose it’s all a balance.” They examined a piece of pottery. “I mean, reliable is good, but new ideas come from—”

            “Hey, watch where you’re looking,” said the old man running the stall. “Shoo, shoo. This is too valuable for some kid to look at or, worse, touch.”

            (Y/N) straightened and flinched back. Kyoya narrowed his eyes slightly.

            “Honestly, the amount of ignorant window-shoppers who try to paw my merchandise,” grumbled the man.

            “Oh, my,” said a woman, looking at the pottery. “Is this Shoin Komatsu’s work? How odd to see them here.”

            Instantly, the man’s attitude changed, and he beamed at her. “What good eyes you have, madame!”

            (Y/N) sighed and rolled their eyes. Their age and class caused people to be condescending, and this was one of the examples.

            “As a matter of fact, they are a bit too high-quality for a venue such as this,” continued the man.

            Kyoya raised a brow. This vendor wanted to disrespect (Y/N)? Very well. Kyoya would handle it appropriately.

            The man continued without any knowledge that Kyoya was planning his downfall. “They’re so valuable that the Komatsu family kept them out of the public eye for generations—”

            “They’re counterfeits, madame,” said Kyoya smoothly.

            “What did you say?!” cried the man in both shock and offense—obviously, Kyoya was right.

            “The blue of this dish looks extremely similar to the kind Shoin Komatsu produces, but the base differs in gradation, and this coating is too clean,” said Kyoya, beginning to take apart the pieces of the vendor’s scam. He flipped the bowl over. “Ah, as I thought. The signature at the bottom has somewhat different strokes than the original.” He looked up at the terrified vendor. “Of course, if it is genuine, then you surely have a certificate of authentication. Shall we get someone to verify?”

            “I—Well—the certificates are all kept back at the store,” said the man hastily.

            “Fair enough. If that’s the case…” Kyoya smirked. “My family has known the Komatsu family for years. If you don’t mind, I’ll put in a call and have my men look into it right away.”

            The vendor was trapped by his lies. Kyoya had won. It didn’t take long for the people in charge of the market to escort him out, and the older woman was grateful enough to bow formally to Kyoya, who waves her thanks off with more humility than (Y/N) was used to him showing.

            “It’s unusual for you to help someone like that,” said (Y/N). They smiled at Kyoya. “I’m glad you did, though.”

            Kyoya certainly hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart—mostly, anyway. It was for (Y/N). They had been disrespected, and Kyoya had rectified that. He wouldn’t let the person he loved be treated so rudely. Besides, a low-brow scam like that was unacceptable.

            However, Kyoya didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “That lady is the wife to the chairman of a large economics firm. I’d ever met her before, but by her kimono and ring, I figured she must belong to a reasonably good family. So it turned out alright.”

            “Thank you again, young man,” said the woman, smiling. “Who would have thought I’d come across an Ootori here of all places? I’ll be sure to let my husband know how you helped. He’s been unsure about going to your resorts due to the distance from here, but I’m sure the resorts would do us good coming from such a polite family.”

            “We’d be honored to have you,” said Kyoya, bowing his head and smiling as the woman walked off.

            “So you did it to secure someone’s good favor?” said (Y/N).

            “Business connections are made from good impressions and word of mouth,” said Kyoya, the trained response of someone used to being PR for his family coming out.

            (Y/N) smiled and chuckled. “That’s true, but not everything you said was.”

            Kyoya glanced at them. “Oh?”

            “There was a crow around the vendor,” said (Y/N). “You couldn’t see the woman’s ring.” They smiled so knowingly at him that Kyoya was worried they were staring right into his soul. “Thank you all the same for helping.”

            They understood why he’d done it. Kyoya faltered for but a moment, and then he cleared his throat to respond. “I—”

            Bring! A loud ring sounded over the PA system, and everyone paused.

            “Attention customers,” said the voice. “There is a lost child. Please be on the lookout for Kyoya Ootori. The missing child is Kyoya Ootori.”

            (Y/N) and Kyoya paused and just stared at one another. Huh?

            “His guardian, Mr. Suoh, is waiting at reception on the second floor,” continued the announcement. “Kyoya is 181 centimeters and wears glasses. He has on a patterned shirt and jeans. The child is currently penniless, and his guardian is extremely worried. If anyone spots him, please contact our staff immediately.”

            People glanced at Kyoya strangely and began to whisper. It was strange, after all, for a young adult to be referred to as a child. It was possible, though, that there was something wrong with him…

            A giant irk mark appeared on Kyoya’s forehead. “I’ll kill him!”

            Poor Tamaki, thought (Y/N) again. He was in for quite the lecture (and punishment) from Kyoya.

l

            “Kyoya! Mon ami! I was so worried about you!” cried Tamaki as Kyoya approached reception. He ran towards his friend and jumped to hug him. Kyoya sidestepped and let him crash into the ground.

            “You called me a child because you didn’t leave me my wallet?” said Kyoya, looking down at him coldly.

            Tears came to Tamaki’s eyes. “I’m sorry! I was so worried!”

            “Yeah, and we know how grouchy you get without sleep and food,” said Kaoru, shrugging.

            “You could’ve been terrorizing the commoners,” said Hikaru.

            “You’re scary in the morning,” agreed Honey, and Mori nodded.

            A larger irk mark was appearing on Kyoya’s forehead. “I have better sense than that.”

            “Don’t worry, he was fine,” said (Y/N), walking up.

            “(Y/N)!” said Tamaki happily. “When did you get here?”

            “I go to this market regularly,” said (Y/N), smiling. “I happened to find Kyoya.”

            “You owe them money for lunch,” said Kyoya.

            “But I didn’t get lunch with them—”

            Kyoya glared at Tamaki.

            “How much?”

            (Y/N) chuckled. Kyoya held back a smile at the sound. Ah, well. Tamaki had caused him a lot of trouble, but at least he’d gotten time with (Y/N) out of it.

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[theocddiaries]

Rouge: Come on, Abe, it's not that bad. The boiler was twenty years old, it's normal that we have to replace it. Abraham: That's not the point, Rouge. I've been here as long as that boiler, and I'm twice as burned out. Rouge: Oh, please, you're just saying that because you had to chip in and you're in a bad mood. Abraham: No. I'm too bored to even get mad anymore. It's the same thing every day. You don't believe me? What time is it? Rouge: Around noon. Abraham: You forgot your lunch, didn't you? [Rouge hisses.] Abraham: Aha. That means your brother is about to storm in, swearing up and down that he won't cook for you anymore because if you're going to be that ungrateful, you might as well spend money at the cafeteria. And then he'll leave, slamming the door. Rouge: Well— [Shadow enters without knocking and throws the tupperware at Rouge like a frisbee.] Shadow: Here, choke on it. I'm done. Tomorrow, you eat at the cafeteria, because I'm not coming here every damn day to see these miserable people just because you can't be responsible with food I went through hell to cook for you. [storms off, slamming the door] Abraham: And that's just round one. Now, he's so pissed he forgot to ask you for the visitor's pass he needs to leave. That is, unless he punches a hole through the wall, which, honestly, I'd appreciate, because at least something different would happen. Rouge: Oh, come on, Abraham. Shadow is mad at life itself, and the only reason I don’t forget my head is because it’s attached to my body. Anyone could’ve seen that coming. Abraham: Okay, then. Now, Topaz is going to show up late with an excuse that involves two relatives and a vegetable. [Topaz comes running, knocks on the door, and opens it, her face red and panting from the sprint.] Topaz: Hello, Commander. Uh, sorry for being late, but my cousin's rabbit got loose, and her mom and I were chasing it all over Square with a carrot. Hehe, well, I'll get to my post now. [leaves before they can say anything] Abraham: And now, you'll hear Rockwell yelling because someone ate her brownie, only to realize she already ate it herself and then blame everyone else anyway. Rockwell [from the break room]: Where the hell is my food?! I am SICK of nobody respecting ANYTHING in this damn pla-- Oh, wait, I already ate it. I came here for a napkin… You guys are driving me crazy! I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore!!! Abraham: And now you're going to tell me I'm just having a bad day and that I need a hug. [glances at her] [Rouge lowers her arms, scratching the back of her head] Rouge: Well, uh… look, if a job like ours has monotony, that’s a good sign, isn’t it? Abraham: Probably. But that’s not what’s getting to me. The worst part is that nobody here gives a damn about what happens to me. [Abraham gets up, looking downcast, and opens the door, stepping aside just in time for Shadow, who indeed came back to ask Rouge for the visitor's pass.] Shadow: Rouge, please, give me the-- [looks Abraham up and down]: Abraham, are you alright? Abraham: It's none of your business, gossip. [walks off] Shadow: Hope your day gets worse then, asshole. Rouge: That’s one habit I’m getting sick of too…

[my-castles-crumbling]

help.

I just got critique on ao3. It wasn't even anything bad. Just 'wow, this is cool. I do have an idea what could make it even better though' and idk why this hits so hard.

They're basically just proving the perfectionist voice in my head right that my writing could be better and that it isn't good enough.

And now I don't know what to do. Do I ignore them? Do I tell them to stop?

(Also, to anyone reading this: don't 'hate' on people's works. We're really fucking insecure about it.)

Hi!

Honestly, people have NO right to leave anything other than positivity on your work. That's so rude of them- you didn't ask for it and it's not their job. Please remember, the person who left the comment is just a random person on the internet. They could literally be ten, or some crazy old troll just commenting to piss people off. Their comment has no meaning unless you give it meaning. And I know that's easy for me to say, I'm not the one that got the comment. But you do not deserve criticism from someone who wasn't asked to give it, and who is probably completely unqualified to give it.

Please just delete it and focus on positive comments <3