#if the want is still there i may make it happen!

[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…”

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Letters

Dpxdc Prompt #34

Family dinner in the Wayne Household could be a bit of a... tense affair. With everything that's happened over the years, making them all stay in the same room at least once a month may not be the best idea.

It makes Alfred happy though, and who are they to deny the man that practically raised all of them? he's still holding onto hope that maybe with enough exposure in a safe space they could heal, they could forgive

Bruce and Jason were about to get into another screaming fit when they were interrupted by two bright green letters appearing out of no where, one next to Damian, and one right in front of Jason.

Dear dead, undead, or anything in between being,

You are cordially invited to the coronation of the new High King and Savior of the Infinite Realms—the halfa, vigilante, Phantom.

The ceremony will take place exactly one week after this letter is sent, if you accept the invitation burn it and you shall be transported to the location of the ceremony 10 minutes prior to the event.

We await your decision.

All hell broke loose in the Manor, some arguing that the two should go while others were against it.

"This obviously is an important ceremony if everyone that has ever died is being invited! We do not want to offend the new king of a place called the Infinite Realms."

"If the realms truly are infinite as their name suggests then why would they miss two people? Plus it could be a trap!"

"I agree, mysterious glowing letters—this practically screams 'cult'."

"But if it is legit then we could be making a powerful enemy as opposed to perhaps making an alliance if we did attend."

And on and on and on.

With all of the chaos occurring, no one noticed the letters that were the topic of conversation had been floating dangerously near the fireplace until it was far too late and the decision on whether to go or not had been made for them.

[yun-fangz]

Sleepy Head.

synopsis: waking needy, you can't help but crave the taste of your boyfriend.

pairings: ateez (member not specified) x gn!reader

warnings: smut, consensual somnophilia, cursing, oral (m rec.)

a/n: hiii thank u so much for requesting this, although I deviated a tad bit from what you wanted, I hope that this is still enjoyable for you! id also like to let everyone know that my inbox is open! however, writing out requests may take me a long while, I apologize!

You guys had discussed this before, and countless times have you woken up to the man's head buried between your thighs, so you don’t understand why you’re so nervous to return the favor. 

You had woken up hot and bothered this morning, an itch for something, someone, to satisfy that itch under your skin. You turned to face your sleeping boyfriend, your eyes naturally drifting down to the exposed area of his stomach, where his shirt had ridden up some throughout the night. 

The smooth and toned plane of your boyfriend's torso was driving you furtherly insane,  convincing your already horny brain that there was nothing to be afraid of. Snaking a hand out, you begin to brush the area of skin with the pads of your fingers, a deep inhale escaping the man's lips at the sudden touch. You bite back a small smile at his reaction, letting your eyes drift lower towards his boxers. A faint outline of his cock was visible, sending straight hot waves of arousal down to your core, urging you to act faster. 

You settle yourself further down the bed, hands drifting to the sides of his hips as your nails toy with the elastic band of his underwear. Taking a final deep breath, you slowly drag the fabric down to about mid-thigh, just enough to free his already semi-hard cock. You take his length into your hands, feeling the way it immediately twitches into one of your palms. Feeling emboldened, your hand begins to move at a slow but rhythmic pace, stroking your sleeping boyfriend into full hardness, your eyes never leaving his sleeping face. Occasionally you paused as he stirred, small groans and deep puffs of air leaving his lips as his brows knitted almost confusedly at the pleasure. 

Once you know he's fully hard, you then lean down to leave a light, explorative kiss on the tip of his cock, enjoying the way it jumps at your touch. Trailing down his cock, you leave small open-mouthed kisses along the way, stopping just above his balls before trailing back up. As you reach his tip once more, you leave one last kiss onto his slit as you open your mouth, taking in his cock with one swift motion. You waste no time now, burying his cock into the back of your throat, resisting the urge to gag as his hips subconsciously buck deeper into your mouth. 

His groans soon turn into gasped moans as the the feeling of your mouth rouses him from sleep, his eyes cracking open to see yours staring right back at him. It takes him a moment to fully process what was happening as you sucked on his cock, his head eventually falling back into the pillows as the pleasure soon consumed his entire body. 

“Fuck…” He groaned, his voice gravelly from just waking up. Simply humming as a response, you continue to work your mouth over his cock, eventually feeling his hands tangle into your hair. You can hear his moans rise in volume the longer you suck him off, his hips beginning to stutter more against your mouth. 

Soon enough, to your displeasure, you feel a small tug at your hair as he pulls you off his cock, his eyes blown wide just as yours as he takes deep breaths to steady himself.

“God, you’re gonna make me cum too soon if you keep doing that…” He groans, voice heavy with lust. 

“That's the point” You reply quietly, your lips resting against his reddened tip as you stare up at him with wide eyes. He has to take a second to close his eyes and compose himself so as to not cum at just the look of you with your red and swollen lips pressed against his raging boner. Smiling to yourself at the small effect you have on him, your hands stroke up and down his thighs in a coaxing manner, causing him to open his eyes and look at you once more.

“Let me take care of you…” You purr sweetly into his skin before you latch yourself back onto his cock, sending him back into the deep throws of morning pleasure.

© 2025 Yun-Fangz All Rights Reserved.

[tangents-within-tangents]

Like fr to everyone talking about headcanons/AUs/"having fun" in the notes: the word you are looking for is REinterpretation. Not to go webster or anything but

-Interpret: explain the meaning of information, words, or actions. (explain, expound, clarify)

-Misinterpret: interpret something or someone wrongly. (misunderstand, misconstrue, mistake)

-Reinterpret: interpret something in a new or different light.

It seems in fandom spaces the word interpretation is often used at times when what they actually mean is reinterpretation (or sometimes just reaction or impression, ex: your opinion of a character is subjective and valid, but that's not the same as an interpretation).

If your "interpretation" is completely divorced from or contradicts the text, it's not an interpretation anymore. It's a reinterpretation. A reimagining. And yeah you can totally have your fun, go off! Just don't act like it IS an interpretation. Because valid interpretations come with supporting evidence, which is the whole point of the og post.

I think this bit from OP's other reblog describes it best:

this is one way it gets messy that fandom is a space for both media analysis and transformative works even though those two things don’t always co-exist comfortably or necessarily serve each other.

This is the crux. Both happen in fandom because both are a form of engaging with a work that you appreciate. But one literally relies upon analyzing what IS presented in the text, and the other upon reinventing and transforming that text (and headcanon sometimes straddles this line in between). So the important thing is recognizing the distinctions and not mixing them up. And it goes both ways:

-“He would never act that way” we know, it’s an intentional recharacterization bc we're exploring something different right now

-“But he's just a poor meow meow” not relevant right now because we're analyzing how the writing actually portrayed him

Textual evidence doesn't matter when we're just having fun and making incorrect quote memes, and headcanons don't matter when we're analyzing thematic content. The distinction helps us to have more productive conversations. And crossing the streams can sometimes take us to harmful or frustrating extremes.

To borrow an example from Rowan Ellis: You relate to a Taylor Swift song and feel seen in your queer identity? That's great, no one can stop you from experiencing the song that way even if Taylor didn't intend it. But if you turn that around and say this is proof that Taylor herself must be secretly queer, or worse that she's somehow queerbaiting? Please stop!

Another example: Someone once pulled the "we're just having fun, you can scroll past" card on me when they were straight up bashing the writing for not going the way they wanted. Please, have your fun, I won't stop you. Write a fix-it au where your blorbo comes back to life. Vive la fanfic! But when you say "the writers should have done [random specific thing] if they wanted me to believe he was truly dead" whilst blatantly misinterpreting the thing the writers did do to confirm it so it can fit into your theories/denial? That's not 'just having fun' anymore, that's flawed/unfair criticism and I'mma push back on it. (I didn't actually, just for the record)

Headcanons by definition are not canon, and I think you'll find most people are totally fine with you having whatever headcanons you want, so long as you don't start claiming that they are canon or that your way is the only way. That's where people have a problem.

But even headcanons that don't contradict canon, that could fit into ambiguous gaps where canon did not confirm or deny the possibility either way, are still headcanons. They aren't presented in the text itself and therefore not useful to analysis and criticism.

And I think this is where the distinction can feel blurry at times. Because some headcanoning is based on evidence from the source material. So some may think it's the same as media analysis, but I'd call it extrapolation rather than interpretation. It uses canon evidence in more of a imaginative/conspiracy theory/inspiration to bounce off type of way. Especially since fanon is often about filling in gaps.

Fanon focuses on the story, and treats it almost as if it and the characters are living. But media analysis relies upon treating it as media. On recognizing it was written by a person who made choices and used literary devices and elements intentionally to convey meaning (even if we can debate on what that meaning is).

Subtext is not just whatever you want to project onto a story. Subtext is an actual literary device. Meaning that is intentionally implied by the author because you shouldn't spell everything out and it's important to let the readers participate. It's what the characters aren't saying but the author is.

Unreliable narrator is also a literary device, that is intentionally crafted and indicated throughout the whole text. It's the author saying something through the character saying the opposite. It's not an excuse to ignore whatever you want to ignore of what the narrator says.

Characters aren't people and they don't actually make any choices. Everything they do, everything they are, was written and crafted by the author.

(In short, when I analyze character arcs or critique writing choices, I'd love for the discussion I get to point out things I may have overlooked or misinterpreted. Not for it to just shove in a bunch of irrelevant headcanons, character personifications, and Watsonian explanations that have nothing to do with my arguments.)

Fanon is very open-world concept (and open multiverse lol), but analysis is about looking at what the author did give you, what they chose to include or not and what it is meant to show us.

Writing is about crafting an iceberg that implies a keel under the water. Therefore analysis is about studying the iceberg to try to interpret that keel. And fanon is about exploring the whole ocean. And transformative work is about idk cutting off chunks and making ice sculptures.

All of them are very cool and fun in their own right but I think we can see how they can definitely clash and get in each other's way.

Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”

[lostinlovingrevery]

Van's Valentines - Lollipops

Trilogy Logan X F! Reader

A/N: Idk why this one made me real giggly. I don't think i'm being very discreet in what happens in this one

Plot: Lollipops taste good, Logan tastes better.

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Oral, (M and F recieving) blowjobs and cunninglingus, slight facial, cum..swapping?, messy makeout, you and logan are giggly fools,

Word Count: 1673

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?

You thought back to the old commercial you’d probably seen a hundred times when you were a kid, as you sat in your study grading essays from your students. You were enjoying a tootsie pop, a little Valentine candy that one of your younger students gave you, along with a little card of Spongebob saying ‘Happy Valentines!” 

How cute

You licked the lollipop, before swirling the candy on your tongue and then sucking it back into your mouth, closing your lips around it. 

“Taste good bub?”

Your eyes looked up to where the voice came from, Logan, with his arms crossed and leaning against the door, a coy smile on his face. You blushed, realizing how sexual you may have just looked sucking on the candy. You leaned back in your chair raising a brow. He looked good. His usual wife beater and jeans with that ridiculous belt buckle. As if you haven’t gotten yourself off on it before.

“Sweet and sugary.” You say casually. 

 He grinned, moving to close the door behind him as he walked farther into your study towards you. That’s when you noticed the bulge in his jeans, and the blush on the tip of his ears. “Wanted to make sure you’re still free tonight.” 

You and Logan had made plans to go out tonight for Valentine's. He had something special planned for you, but won’t tell you what. He was standing next to you while you were seated in your chair, and you turned the swivel chair towards him, your hand coming up to the lollipop stick, opening your mouth with a cheeky grin and swirling your tongue around the candy and sticking it back between your lips. 

“Depends, you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” You finally ask, making a loud pop with your lips as you pull the sucker out. You saw his eye twitch, and you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, acting innocent towards him. You weren’t interested in sucking on the candy anymore. 

“All I’ll say is you’ll enjoy it. Promise.” He smirks, leaning down and placing his hands on the arms of your chair. The blush on his ears has spread to his cheeks, and you could see the lustful desire in his eyes. So pent up from watching you suck on a lollipop. 

You sat up and brought the lollipop to his lips. “Hold it for me?” You asked. He quirked a brow, before opening his mouth, allowing you to slide the sucker onto his tongue before he closed his lips around it. He hallowed his cheeks sucking on it, making eye contact with you. 

“Taste good?” You asked, repeating the same question he asked earlier, and tilted your head at him. He nodded. 

“Only cause it’s got you on it.” He mumbles with the candy in his mouth. You blushed, and your hands reached for his belt. You undo it with practiced efficiency, looking up at him as he straightened his back, a goofy grin on his face with the stick on the lollipop stuck between his lips. “Can’t wait for tonight bub? Gonna spoil your appetite.” 

You pressed a kiss to his cock through the fabric of his jeans. “Got a sugar craving only you can fix Lo.” You grinned up at him, and then burst out laughing, your head falling against his belly as you giggled over your cheesiness. You heard him chuckling warmly. 

“You’re a real romantic princess.” He teases. You shook your head, sitting back up as you undid the button of his pants and unzipped him, and moved to pull out his cock. Hard, his tip red and swollen with pre-cum leaking from the slit slowly. He groaned as you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips. 

“All this for me Lo?” You looked up at him, fluttering your lashes. He swallowed the sucker still in his mouth.

“All yours baby.” 

You felt a gush of arousal soak your panties at his words. You licked a long stripe from his base to his tip, and he moaned, tipping his head back. He continued sucking on the lollipop, giving him something to focus on so he couldn’t cum on your face right then and there. Your hand gripped his base feeling him throb, as you brought your other hand to cup his heavy balls, as you lowered yourself to press a chaste kiss to each of them. He let out a shaky breath, and you suddenly had a thought come across your mind. 

How many licks does it take to make Logan cum?

You began working on him, your fist sticking his base as you began with little kitten licks to his tip. The taste of his pre-cum tasted better than any candy you could’ve gotten. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “You’re gonna make me cum bub-” He mumbled over the sucker, as he looked down at you, watching in awe as you continued running your tongue over him. His hand curled into your hair, as you gave him a few lazy pumps, taking him completely into your warm mouth, down to your throat, making you gag a little. “That’s it… Good girl” He purred, as his hips thrusted forward into your mouth, eliciting another gag from you. 

You leaned back, a long string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of Logan’s cock. You leaned forward, running your tongue flat against him again, licking from base to tip once more, going around his whole length, as you stroked him at the same time. Logan bit back loud moans, attempting to focus on the sucker - the taste of you still lingering on it. 

Your tongue found the thick vein that crawled up to his red tip, and you ran it up to his tip, dipping your tongue into his slip and you moaned, your eyes rolling back. He just tasted so good. The pretty sounds coming from your mouth were the last straw for Logan.

His teeth came down hard, biting down on the sucker and breaking into pieces by the force of his teeth. His thighs trembled as strings of cum shot out of his throbbing cock, coating your lips and tongue that you stuck out- catching every last bit of him as you continued stroking him through his orgasm. A few more spurts of cum came out, and Logan let out a loud grunt, before panting into the air. 

You began to close your mouth, about to swallow him full but his hand came to your jaw, keeping it open as he leaned down, pressing his tongue to yours, the tiny pieces of sucker that broke apart from the force of his teeth combining with his cum, creating an extremely sweet mix. He continued kissing you messily, his own cum smearing onto his tongue and lips that you eagerly licked off him before he pulled away. 

“Fuck baby.” He groaned against you, his hand still gripping your jaw. “You’re something else.” He looked down at you, a mess of spit and leftover cum painting your lips and chin. “My turn.” 

He pulled you up with ease, setting you on the desk and learning you back. 

“Lo!” You giggled. “You’re gonna spoil your appetite for tonight-” you teased him, mocking his earlier tone. He began working your pants off of you. 

“Well, like you said darling.” He grunted as he yanked your pants, and your panties off your ankles and dropped them to the side, before kneeling to the floor, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him, your ass hanging off the edge of the desk. “I got a sugar craving only you could fill.”

You tipped your head back as his lips made contact with your swollen bud, and you realized just how needy you’ve become for him while you were sucking him off. You felt his tongue swirling around your bud, as you tipped your head back, your hand going to his hair. 

“Lo-” You bite your lip attempting to keep quiet, squeezing your eyes shut. Your thighs tightened around his head as you crossed your ankles over his back. You felt a gush of arousal escape you, that he quickly drank up.

“Taste so sweet bub-” You could barely hear him, muffled into your pussy, as his tongue returned, running a stripe from your hole to your clit, before moving down to dip his tongue into your hole. He moved back you, his tongue working ministrations over your clit.

He pulled his head back, observing your puffy cunt, as he brought his fingers over your folds, carefully rubbing through them, making your legs shake from the stimulation. He teased at your hole, clenching around nothing as he pulled his fingers away, now messing with your clit again. "So damn beautiful, you know that? Fuck. Ain't seen nothing prettier than this bub." He groaned as his thumb flicked your clit, making your hip jump and he chuckled.

"Logan!" You whined, desperate for his mouth again.

"Sorry bub, you just taste so good I'm getting a toothache."

You couldn't help but laugh, and Logan grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. Your laughter turned into moans again, as his mouth returned to your pussy.

Your toes curled as you felt your orgasm fast approaching, your hand tugged his curls, as your hips began grinding against him. He wrapped his arms around you, supporting you on the desk and keeping you close as the thin string in your belly finally snapped, and your vision went white as you came, effectively soaking Logan's face with your fluids. Your legs dropped weakly from around his head, as you fell back onto your desk, chest heaving as you felt like you were floating. 

Logan stood up, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The taste of you, him, and sugar on his lips. “I'm a sucker for you, you know that?” 

[pacofprunes]

WILDFLOWER — “she was crying on my shoulder, all i could do was hold her”

you had both been set to watch over to make sure nobody tried to attack you guys. the third game was terrible. it felt like kill or be killed and you felt like so much blood was on your hands. you saw so many people you considered yourself to be pretty close to die right in front of your eyes. daeho was sitting across from you, actually watching out while you just stared at your lap.

“you tired?”

you look up. his eyes were so pretty but you didn’t really remanence in them for too long before putting your head back down. tired of this game or tired and you wanna go to sleep? you didn’t ask, just shaking your head no before puckering your lips out to the side and messing with your lip with your fingers. the nerves just messing with you. you two just sat in silence again, but of course he’s the one to break it.

“all we can do is move forward. we have to put it all behind us, it’s all we can do.”

put it all behind us? how could you possibly do that? he just upset you more honestly and you let out a sigh before pressing your face into your hands. feeling them start to slip off your face as your tears start to dampen them. he couldn’t see you were crying, but he knew you weren’t okay. it was obvious, nobody was okay.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be so blunt or harsh or—”

he cuts himself off before swallowing and getting up. you feel the bed dip beside you before he wraps his arm around you and he moves your hands off your face, they easily slide off and his eyes are stricken with even more concern. he didn’t want to speak though, not wanting to say the wrong thing to you before he flinches, you pushing your face into his shoulder, holding in your sobs as well as you could to not make them super loud, but they were still audible. your hands move up and start gripping on his bloody jacket for dear life. he moves to face you more instead of sideways and pulls you into an actual hug, rubbing your back while it heaved up and down. he couldn’t tell if he was helping or making things worse, but by the grip you had on him, he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

you mumble a load of sorrys into his shoulder before he just shushes you. he tried to push all his emotions and thoughts to the side about this all, but when in a position like this, he wanted to cry with you. he hadn’t even realized that he was until he started to notice your own jacket getting damper, turning a darker shade of green. he just keeps seeing your teary face in his mind now. sure he only saw it for a brief second, but it was etched in his mind. it would be until he died. he waits until you still a little and your grip loosens before he pulls away. your eyes completely drenched in tears. he takes his thumb and wipes the ones continuing to silently come down. he speaks up.

“i’m sorry.”

you shake your head no back and forth, the tears spraying everywhere. he had nothing to be sorry for. you take your sleeve and start wiping your face completely before shoving your face back into your hands. he moves his legs completely up onto the bed, criss crossed before grabbing your wrists and pulling them down, looking you in the eyes.

“we’ll get out of here.”

we’ll. we’ll. we’ll get out of here. it was on repeat in your head. he may have been lying, he didn’t know what would happen. he was freaking out himself. but he sure as hell would try his hardest to get you both out of here. and he’d protect you forever, even if it meant he’d lose his own life. you just stare into each others eyes before you pull your wrists out of his grip and wrap him in a tight hug, arms around his neck before he slowly reciprocates it. he wanted to treasure this moment as long as he could, not knowing how many more chances he’d get to do this with you, or if this would be the first and the last.

[elodieunderglass]

I have two jockeyposting questions, if I may! 1. Killie has a delightful bear of a boyfriend. Is he out? Horseracing doesn't seem like it would be very queer-friendly but maybe I'm wrong about that. 2. Is the fact that people are generally getting taller a problem for finding tiny jockeys?

Of course thank you so much! I adore getting these thank you so much ☺️

1.) horse racing is not queer-friendly to jockeys.

There is one ☝️ out gay jockey in the Anglosphere/Europe/probably the world, Jack Duern. (1) Duern came out on Twitter and his career tanked, with trainers openly disapproving and no longer offering rides. Since no mounts = no pay, he left the field. Interestingly, he came back a few years later, with lots of inclusion campaigns in the UK promising that “horse racing is for everyone,” but it’s reasonable that nobody else has followed him out! Duern has said that of course there are other gay jockeys, and that the jockeys themselves are actually quite supportive of each other. But as disposable freelancers with no collective bargaining, who don’t hold power in the sport and get rides based on reputation, why risk what very much happened to Duern for no benefit? All the people who hold power in horse racing are ghastly Tories, and the rainbow capitalism clearly hasn’t created conditions of safety or trust in the real world.

Now Killie is of course a fictional jockey who lives in my head. Realistically, he is Not Out in the modern era. Him being out would be MASSIVE. He is barely out to himself. His emotional baggage requires a storage unit. Probably the biggest single piece of baggage was that his twin brother was thrown out (of family, home and sport) for dating men, and disappeared for several years; which broke several load-bearing things in Killie.

He will definitely have to come out of the closet, like a badger boiling furiously from a hole to bite your feet off, possibly in the end by simply bringing Derek as his plus-one to a black-tie event and then lunging at the first person to Have a Problem With It. Suspended jockey license for three months for biting, again.

Mind you, Killie is terrible queer representation. Can you imagine.

Pride is for everyone, even Killie. Pride is for everyone, even Killie. Pride is for -

The answer to question 2) has a trigger warning for discussion of size/weight, tap “keep reading” to keep reading

2.) the legendary tiny jockeys are indeed getting rarer, and their extinction has been claimed in the UK. There is no preference - no economic pressure - for short jockeys; the industry doesn’t care much if you’re a healthy short bastard or a starving lanky skeleton. But there’s two approaches to it at the moment: in the UK, they’ve raised weight limits across the profession. In the rest of the world, where jockey weights are still around 118lbs, jockeys just get recruited to wealthy countries.

Killie races in the UK and there’s a slight problem now. He was initially formed in the 1990s by a child who did NOT want him to have an eating disorder, and therefore, I waved my hand and said that he’s 4’10”, the same size as Julie Krone (Triple Crown winner) and Willie Shoemaker (said to be the best American jockey of all time). This was realistic then, but might be a problem now.

The UK has some of the highest permitted jockey weights in the world, and is the stronghold of steeplechasing (jump racing) which allows the highest weights of all. In 2025 a UK jump jockey can now be 160 lbs, with a minimum floor of 140 (including gear) meaning that a jump jockey needs a minimum riding weight of around 133 lbs(this can include as much lead weight as they need.) Underweight jockeys make up their weight to the assigned number by adding lead weights in the weight cloth, which is absolutely normal, although less desirable than living weight; and handicapping adds extra dimensions; but Killie could realistically jump at close to an average weight, and no longer needs to be extra-tiny to be a flat-and-jump jockey.

The last two UK lightweight jockeys of the old school both just retired Autumn 2024. They were quite successful until the end, and it’s clear that there’s an advantage to their frames - even now and even in the UK - but you can see that at their retirements they had gone from archetypal-jockey-type to outlier-among-the-young-bloods. Killie was intended to have the same build: if he was a person aging at normal rates, he would have been in his 20s when created by a dumb kid in the 90s, and exactly this age (50s) now. Instead, if he’s in his 30s now, he was now probably born around 1990 - and would be the short outlier!

(The UK’s “last lightweight jockeys”, born in the 1970s. Left, Jimmy Quinn (centre, yellow silk) Irish flat jockey with colleagues; centre photo Franny Norton, English flat jockey with sports physiologists; right, Franny Norton, having also been a boxer, showing a child how to box. Jimmy and Franny both retired Autumn 2024, hailed as “the last of the UK’s great lightweight jockeys.” They were both very short, very muscular, very successful and rode healthily into their fifties. The younger jockeys on the left would be considered smaller than average people, but are noticeably in the lankier-framed modern style.)

However. That’s the UK, and its heavier jockeys, higher weight limits and its overarching steeplechase obsession. The rest of the world prefers flat racing, and is stuck firmly on basically the same weight limit as the 1990s, of about 118 lbs. Killie might now be well-below-average for UK steeplechasers; but to ride the most famous flat races in the world, he’s comfortable. He could easily and healthily do the big famous flat races - Japan Cup! Kentucky Derby! - where steeplechasers are limited to very few races.

So given that the UK steeplechasing has pulled away from the rest of the world, we might have to either make Killie a bit taller to keep up with that, or let him focus on international flat racing. ANYWAY, that’s just to say that that’s the immediate impact of rising average heights on Killie as a character.

So how do the flat-racing nations manage to get their tiny jockeys?

Japan pulls from a population that, statistically, has more people who are able to match the weight requirements.

France seems to naturally produce enough little guys to export excesses to the USA. Flavien Prat, who is 5’1” and wins a lot, is one of those.

For better or worse, the USA relies heavily on jockeys from other countries, particularly Latin America. You can draw your own conclusions about colonial power and land justice from this. But on the personal level there is significant representation from Puerto Rico (Irad Ortiz Jr, John R Velasquez) and countries like Panama, the Dominican Republic, Peru, and Mexico. When you subtract French and LatAm riders from the top lists in the USA, you’re left with a few American generational jockeys.

Australian horse racing annoys me so much I don’t even want to touch on them or acknowledge them!! There is a problem with indentured child jockeys around the world, but Australia really kicked this up a notch.

Aotearoa / NZ is not a prominent racing nation, but you know how in the LotR films, most of the Riders of Rohan were women because that’s who the most competent local equestrians were? 40% of their jockeys are women, apparently!

Today, the UAE tends to operate through the UK training system, recruiting UK/EU jockeys. In the past they had widely-reported child jockey and kidnapping scandals.

Ireland is known for producing generational jockeys (Killie’s from a fictional “racing dynasty.”) By nature and nurture or both, they’ll probably keep doing this. Small parents don’t necessarily produce small people, of course, but horse-obsessed families tend to produce horse-obsessed people.

So it’s hard to say! Setting higher weight limits like the UK would offer more talent, but then again, Extracting Immigrant Labour is the system working as intended. the sport itself is declining in most countries, with millennials and everyone after being pretty uninterested.

Killie’s a special little guy, staring into the distance while “Last of My Kind” by Shaboozey plays

(1) There are only a handful of horse-racing countries outside of the Anglosphere and France, where Duern is the only out gay jockey. Japan - whose racing association is famously controlling of the public image of its jockeys - doesn’t have any English-language gossip about them being LGBTQ. I don’t know much about the Hong Kong racing scenes ditto; homosexuality is illegal in the United Arab Emirates. The other nations of the world produce jockeys, and occasionally horses, but don’t host the grade 1 world famous cups that make them major players.

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, since I was tagged in this, I'll weigh in.

First, the original source is just a screenshot of a tweet. Because we need to get better about our information literacy practices, I went and got the original text of the resolution, which you can find here or on Rep. Ogles's website (ogles.house.gov, but I don't recommend it, as it's Trump ass-kissing central). This is because Ogles is a notorious and egregious Trump toady for whom this is basically par for the course. He is an obnoxious Trump sycophant. Publicity stunts to prove his MAGA loyalty is what he does.

Next: yes, this proposes amending the constitution to let Trump serve three terms (which would invariably become more). Yes, this is what happened with Putin in Russia. However, once again, we need to be more mindful about the tone of the information we are sharing and what we are suggesting is possible as a result. I have written before about how the Russian and American political systems are not very similar, and saying "well, Russia has elections and a president and a constitution that was amended to let that president serve for life so that could/would happen in America" is misleading. I don't have the space to go into the whole comparative analysis here, but I'll just point out that America (for now) still in fact does have genuinely competitive elections and a real opposition party, and this is not remotely something that could be pulled off in the present timeframe. Putin pulled this stunt after a decade-plus of ruthlessly consolidating his power on the back of Yeltsin's brief and disastrous privatization in the 90s and 500 years of absolute dictatorship (whether by the Russian Empire or the USSR) before that. By the time he did so, he had also successfully organized the Duma and the State Council (the houses of the Russian parliament) to be full of loyal stooges who would obediently rubber-stamp whatever he said, which continues today. There has never been a real or functional democracy in Russia, full stop.

Of course, you may say, Trump and co. are trying to destroy democracy in America, so we may end up like that! Which! We might, it's very possible, especially if we fall asleep at the wheel! Again, however, the fact that Ogles filed this as a publicity stunt two weeks ago (it's from January 23) does not mean we are in imminent danger of it happening. It also recognizes the fact that they would need a constitutional amendment to make it happen, and as I have said before, the process for full ratification of a new constitutional amendment is deliberately very high. Two-thirds of both the House and Senate and three-fourths (38) of the 50 states need to ratify it (after those same number of states call a constitutional convention) for it to take effect. They do not pass by one simple majority vote in the House and/or Senate, and even in the current congress, there's no guarantee it would be a majority. The GOP has a majority of something like 2 in the House (pending special elections to fill vacancies) and 4 in the Senate. This is razor-thin. Also, I looked at the original text of Ogles's resolution. There's nothing even saying that it was even referred to the relevant committee (the line that should be filled in there is a blank). Because again, landmark legislation does not happen by one idiot MAGA congressman eagerly tonguing Trump's senile orange ass as an inauguration gift of feudal fealty. (Like, if the Orange Fuhrer actually makes it to the end of his second term, he'll be 82, and he's already demonstrably deranged. Are they going to Weekend at Bernie's him for this putative third term, or...?)

Also: The last successful constitutional amendment was the 27th Amendment, ratified in 1992, and it referred to the salary of House members. Guess when it was first proposed? 1789. Yeah, it took literally 200 years to become the law of the land. Hmm.

Lastly, if you're still worried and want to make absolutely sure this doesn't happen, then: vote for Democrats in the 2026 midterms. Even if they literally do nothing and just sit there, they will ensure that this is never brought up for a vote, let alone any of Trump's other legislative bad ideas (national trans ban, national abortion ban, putting migrants in jail for life, what have you). Again: I am not saying that you should not be worried about this, that you should just brush it off, that you should ignore this repeated-yet-again clear statement of fascist intent, or anything else. But if you're panicking about this, then you're distracted from looking at anything else they're doing, and which might have a much more clear and present risk (such as Musk's smash-and-grab of classified information and Treasury data).

Trust me, if this or anything like it gets to the actual point where I think it's a real and present danger, then I will be sounding the all-hands-on-deck alarm like no tomorrow. But in the meantime, even if we're all scared, we gotta do better than posting a screenshot of an unsourced tweet with a "spread this and panic now" message. If you are scared, then take the time (such as I laid out above) to look into how the constitutional amendment process works, what would be necessary to ever ratify it (and which doesn't even take into account the mass opposition that would be mustered), what actually happened in Russia, or anything else. Information is power, so let's do it right.

Courage, etc.

Source

Transcript:

“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.

"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."

It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).

Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.

They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.

One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.

Fight. Fight for God’s sake.

Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.

We are going to end up in a dictatorship.

@ikiyou

Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “I’M GLAD THEY CAUGHT US..”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!gdragon x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff with some slight angst and super cute moments that will make you ASCEND! also you’re an idol so kinda.. idolish things happening lol

୨ৎ summary: you had known jiyong since you were both young trainees trying to go above and beyond to become better than each other. what you weren’t expecting is falling for him and on a warm summer day ready to tattle on yourself.. he confessed and your life changed for the better. a few months into the relationship dispatch had caught the both of you wanting answers and interviews—that’s where you were now.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello!! I feel as if I’m so bad at these summaries! hopefully I get better and better as I work harder! I’m so happy to take this request and get it done for you. I hope you can enjoy it!! x

summer flashback

pink lips curling up into a gentle smile when seeing the man struggle with the numerous ice cream bars he had in both arms, almost tripping over his own shoe as he finally reached you and the bench you both sat on every afternoon or evening. his laugh caught you off guard when trying to grab one of the melona bars knowing that he would grab the same one which only made you crack another smile at him. “you know I always get us an extra one just in case.” he spoke and you only nodded popping open the package and biting a chunk of the green ice cream letting it melt in your mouth instantly feeling much cooler. though.. it was time. time for you to confess something that’s been bothering you for quite some time. lips parting and head turning to face him—jiyong was already looking at you. his eyes were soft and he had the cutest smile on his face you fell even more in love with him just by this sight. “jiyong I—” but you were never able to finish. he had beat you to it just like he beat you in everything else. “I like you.” and that day your life changed forever but for the better. that day was always your lucky one.

“what if pictures were taken of you? are you crazy jiyong!” you rarely yelled at the man but he had crossed the line with not caring about who saw him entering your apartment building. being an idol yourself wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows.. a lot of hiding and not being able to act yourself was involved. the media and fans already knew you had grown up with the man himself, gdragon or kwon jiyong as you knew—but nothing about the relationship you’ve started with him only months ago. “oh so what? your fans love you way too much to do any harm. plus.. I follow a few pages that ship us together.” jiyong couldn’t help but smirk as his arms wrapped around your waist bringing you closer to his body, letting his face hide in the warmth of your neck as he pressed a few gentle kisses against your soft skin. you wanted to push him away but it was always hard to do so especially when he acted cute and cuddly like this and he knew you loved it. “even if they don’t get upset there’s still a group of your fans! we don’t know how they’ll react ji. I don’t want you in any kind of trouble either.” that’s what jiyong loved the most about you is how caring, attentive, and loving you were to not only him but those around you. “princess, no one will be able to take me from you, okay?” and with that the discussion was over with a sealed kiss.

it had only been a few hours since jiyong arrived at your apartment and the article popped up causing a stir within your fanbase and his own. “so.. something may have happened.” the sound of his voice was enough to make you cringe but not in a bad way—more of a.. I don’t want to know what you did or what happened way. jiyong handed you his phone and hesitantly taking it your eyes widened the second you seen the article. how would pictures be out this fast..? how hard did those reporters work? “gdragon caught arriving at his girlfriend’s house who’s also an idol! pictures below!”

the urge to throw up was stronger than ever and you felt a sudden wave of regret, anxiety, and anger wash over you. why even agree to this? dispatch should be sued for invading your and his privacy in several ways! of course your apartment building wasn’t a secret since it had been leaked months prior but to camp outside and wait for any movement was the most creepiest part. “princess? look at you.. it’s going to be okay, hm? just take a few deep breaths. we’ve gotten through a lot of things together and we can get through this one.” jiyong had a way with words each time he spoke to you like this it made all of the worries and anxiety disappear and never come back. you were most thankful for him.

cutely waving to the camera knowing your fans would enjoy it the most jiyong did the same thing and leaned into your shoulder just a bit, giving off ‘shocking’ pda that made the hosts gasp and tease you. this wasn’t your first rodeo you were a 3rd gen idol you knew how things worked and came about but.. this wasn’t any typical show you’d be on with your group, a boyfriend was here with you and not just any man but the kwon jiyong himself from bigbang. “you both have gotten so much support the past few days! how’s that making you feel?” the question was directed to you and in that moment you paused while looking down at your hands, playing with the charms from your fake nail set. your lips curling up into a sweet smile when you finally found the words to speak up for the first time, “I think it’s.. shocked me the most. I didn’t want to surprise my fans in a negative way but I’m thankful to be here with them on this journey.” you stopped to look at the camera and bowed your head, “thank you my angels.” and gave up a ‘fighting’ fist which you always did with your fans.

jiyong answered a lot more questions since he was far more experienced, popular, and knowledgeable than you but that didn’t mean anything negative. he was the gdragon himself and it was so nice to see him interact with the hosts with confidence rather than his usual anxious and nervous self. confidence looked good on him and he always thanked you which was something you couldn’t ever understand but he always mentioned you gave him his strength and courage to continue on.

“I have a different opinion about that though..” you spoke up quietly not wanting to be rude but it naturally came about and the hosts turned to listen, “I’m dating the kwon jiyong himself! it definitely feels so surreal. we’ve know each other since we were younger and I watched him blossom into this man full of talent and love for what he does. it’s been a great experience so far and I’m very lucky to be dating a k-pop legend.” jiyong covered his face after you finished speaking and for a moment there you felt like it was just him and you back at your apartment being silly together. jiyong would gently push you in a playful way and get so easily embarrassed it was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. that’s how it felt now and a few giggles left your lips, the chemistry between you both lighting up the entire room—the hosts noticing and making cute comments about it to one another and the camera. “I don’t know what makes her say such things because I’m very lucky to be dating the most popular, loved, and sought after girl.. you’re truly amazing my love.” it shocked you to see how he didn’t shy away from being so intimate with you on camera, his large hand grabbed your own and held it for the rest of the interview. this is what all girls wanted a gentle, genuine, and magnificent love.

after the interview jiyong took you to your favorite ice cream shop.. in daylight. in BROAD daylight which is something you both haven’t done since trainees at such young ages. jiyong was finally able to hold you close to him in public without caring about who was watching. he was finally able to kiss you as much as he wanted loving it when you got embarrassed and shy. “might sound crazy but I’m glad they caught us.” and he only earned a playful slap to his chest. although you had been so pissed about it earlier.. the urge to agree with him was strong—now being able to be a real couple in the public was something so rewarding.

[xxchumanixx]

May I please request a fic where the reader (who's a famous singer) falls in love with Tim but is reluctant to fully trust and be vulnerable with him due to bad experiences she's had with men in the past? The reader could eventually write and sing a song about her love for Tim which blows up and even wins awards like Grammys too which makes their relationship stronger and she opens up her heart more? 🥺

Be myself

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit of angst, mentions of physical abuse / hitting (please look for help if you're in an abusive relationship! Being abused is not normal and it shouldn't be simply endured and viewed as it) Word count: 2.421 Authors note: I don't know if I used the gif before (probably did), but it just fits perfectly. I know you linked Whats love got to do with it by our legend Tina, but I kinda didn't vibe with it. I hope you'll still like it, though (if it was even meant for reference to the song the reader writes). I'm in no way a songwriter, so I'm not at all sure about that small part i wrote there. I know I posted a sneak peak for something different, but this gave me so much motivation to write so i put it first. Enjoy!

He didn't know how he ended up with you of all people.

Not that he'd complain.

Never.

But a famous singer like you and a cop like him? It had to be fate that brought you together when him and his rookie had been called to deescalate a situation at a concert of yours.

He didn't expect to fall for you - hell, you probably didn't either. It just kinda happened after you gave him your number before him and his rookie left.

It had been meant more like a joke - yet he hadn't been able to get you out of his head and neither did you. So he texted you.

Three weeks later you went on your first date.

You had been cautious, bad experiences with previous boyfriends and dates branding you more than you'd have liked to admit.

And so you didn't.

The date went great, leading to another one shortly after.

Tim swore you were playing some magic trick on him. The speed in which he fell for you was shocking. In a few weeks you had him wrapped around your finger.

It didn't take long for him to admit his feelings to you, saying he'd understand if you weren't ready for anything yet, and as he rambled on, you'd cut him off with a kiss.

Because you were indeed ready.

At least that's what you thought.

Not that you didn't have feelings for him - you had, and they were strong. You just had trouble letting yourself be too open, too vulnerable.

To trust easily.

Though, right from the start, you knew he was different. He was interested in your career, yes, but in a way that didn't profit him or made him want to brag about his girlfriend being famous.

Or try and hit you if you didn't spend all your money on him. It had happened once, leaving a mark on your soul you had trouble getting rid of. Getting rid of the douchebag wasn't exactly easy, either.

But that was another thing.

No, Tim supported you, took days off to watch your concerts and be there for you. And maybe to have the time of his life with you in your wardrobe backstage.

For a while now, you had been working on a project - a new song that one day came to your mind when you thought about the past few months and your relationship with Tim.

It had almost been a year now, and you started to question whether your cautiousness was misplaced.

Not that you didn't trust him.

You trusted him more than you did any other man you'd been with, it just was like a habit of sorts. Some sort of protection your mind had put up in the beginning.

It wasn't easy to let that guard down.

It was one of the main parts you included in that song. How he made you want to be more open, to trust and give up that control you so desperately held onto.

To love without the constant fear of it all going downhill.

Your producer, Savannah, supported you all the way. You wrote your song, recorded it over and over again until you were a hundred percent convinced that it did Tim justice in a way.

Or rather his love for you. The way he never treated you differently even though you were famous.

Sure, there were times when his face would be plastered along magazine articles alongside yours - especially the beginning hadn't been easy.

Hiding a relationship wasn't easy and it certainly didn't work in this case, either. The first time it happened it had been on Instagram.

Someone had seen you and him together, taking a video and posting it for everyone to see. Once it reached a certain amount of views, it spread like wildfire, and everyone knew.

Tim wasn't very happy about it.

He understood that it was part of your life, but he didn't like it - and that included him - plastered all over the internet.

When you were shopping and hoarded by paparazzi or too many fans and he'd notice you were overwhelmed, he'd play the 'I'm a cop, please stand back' card, effectively getting you out of the situation.

Another thing you loved him for.

He didn't thrive on the constant attention, didn't suck it up like a sponge and used it to his advantage. Not like other men had tried to do before.

So why was it so hard to let go? Why was it so hard to trust, to let yourself be too vulnerable?

When you published the song, Tim had yet to hear it.

Yes, maybe you should have let him listen to it before publishing it, but you were too nervous. Too nervous he'd laugh at you, tell you that you were crazy for writing and publishing that song.

It would have also meant he'd question the origin - why you had such trust issues, had these problems of opening up.

You didn't want to be judged. After all, you still hadn't told him about it.

Only a few days later, you and Tim were driving in his truck home, when suddenly, the radio moderator announced your new song. Tim's gaze snapped to you - normally you'd show him your upcoming projects, talk to him about them.

He didn't know you'd just published a new song.

Your cheeks heated up as he stared at you in confusion before his gaze fixed back on the street. You knew he was listening, picking up on the lyrics.

Another thing you loved about him.

He didn't just hear the songs, he listened to them. Analyzing them, understanding them.

So it was no surprise he did understand this song, too. About a minute into the song he parked in his driveway, killing the engine but leaving the radio on.

You nibbled on your lip nervously, heart beating wildly as you tried to make out his reaction. You couldn't read his thoughts, so you had to rely on his body language.

And when he understood the song was about him, his gaze snapped to yours right as the second chorus hit.

You let me be myself, and I thank you for that.

You ban all the bad thoughts from my head.

No matter how hard I try, I can't find anything bad about you.

And I hope you see me like that, too.

You support me, give me strength,

It is wrong to hold you at arms length.

I love you and I hope you see,

that your're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

You swallowed, not interrupting him as he listened to the rest of the song. This certainly hadn't been how you'd planned this.

Sure, you wanted him to know about the song and all the things it expressed sooner or later, but when you published it, the thought of him hearing it that soon hadn't exactly crossed your mind.

When the song ended and the next came up, he immediately turned the radio off.

He stared at you, shocked, surprised.

In awe.

You bit your lip as his own parted, though nothing came out. His head tilted slightly, thinking.

"Is it true?" was the first thing he asked. "Or is it just... I don't know, a random love song?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head. "No, it's not a random love song." you said. "It... It's about you, Tim."

He nodded slightly, still shocked. "What about the- the trust issues you talk about? Or sing, for that matter." he inquired further. "Or the 'keeping at arms length'?"

You swallowed, sighing quietly as you looked away. "It's all true, yes." you admitted quietly. "And I know I should have told you, and I know you're having a lot of questions right now, but... I'm sorry."

Tim leaned forward over the middle console and placed his finger under your chin to lift your head, his blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." he said, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, it would be nice to know the details behind it, but I understand that you didn't tell me. Or show me the song beforehand, for that matter. It's great, by the way - just like everything else about you."

You blushed, suddenly feeling undeserving of him. He was way too caring and understanding.

"I mean, I assumed some things..." he continued, tilting his head from side to side for a moment. "But I never pushed you to tell me. And I won't now. Neither did you on the subject of Isabel. If you want to tell me, I'm happy to listen, but you don't have to. Just know that I feel incredibly honored and love you."

Tears burned in your eyes, and suddenly, you knew you could trust him with everything. No more keeping him at arms length.

"I love you, too." you breathed out, smiling through the tears. "I just- I don't know." you shook your head in sudden embarrassment. "Ever since I got famous all the men seemed to want the same thing. Fame, my face as their way into Hollywood. To brag about their girlfriend being famous and make themselves look more important. Or try and hit me for not spoiling them like the ungrateful bitch I am." you grimaced, and his eyes widened before they narrowed. "I know you aren't like that, I do. I just couldn't shake this... habit of closing myself off and trying to avoid another one of these situations. I'm sorry, Tim. I know you are better than them. That song is about you and it is supposed to express how I feel about you."

Tim smiled, cupping your face with his hands. "You're so much more than your career, Y/N." he told you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You're a caring, beautiful and brilliant woman. You're far more than I deserve yet I'm too selfish to ever let you go. I love you more than you can imagine, and I want you to know that I'd never try to get any fame or benefits or whatever from you or your career. Let alone lay a hand on you. I love you too much to risk us - not that I'd need your fame or money. I'm a cop and I love being a cop. My girlfriend just happens to be an amazing singer."

You laughed quietly, blushing more. His words spread a warmth through you like no one else ever did. "You're flattering me." you mumbled sheepishly. He cocked a brow. "I'm not." he said. "You are an amazing singer. You're amazing in general, all over."

You laughed once more, a smile on your lips. "You're way too good for me, Tim Bradford." you said. "I'm the one not deserving you."

He huffed, tilting his head from side to side again. "Debatable." he said. He leaned closer, capturing your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. "Come on, let's head inside." he mumbled against them. "I want to celebrate this song."

It had been about two weeks until your song seemed to have gained massive popularity, and when the letter landed in the mail weeks later, you screamed.

Tim had rushed into the kitchen, gun drawn as he tried to find out what happened. When he saw you with the letter in hand, pressing a hand to your mouth, he lowered the gun, stepping beside you.

One look at the letter and his lips parted.

You looked up in your excitement, almost headbutting him where he was looking over your shoulder. "Tim-" you breathed out, cutting yourself off with another squeal. He grimaced at the high sound, though laughing as he moved to hug you from behind.

"Baby, that's amazing." he breathed out. "I'm so proud of you." You bit your cheek, heart pounding wildly. "I- I mean, I haven't won anything yet." you said, fingers trembling as they held the letter. "But..." "But you're nominated." Tim finished for you. "That's more than most can wish for. This is amazing, Y/N. God, I'm so proud of you."

You smiled widely, clutching the letter to your chest. You giggled and jumped up and down in his arms, pressing a hand to your lips. Tim laughed quietly, holding tighter onto you, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. In the last few weeks you'd grown even closer, and it all felt more right than ever.

"Told you you're amazing."

Nervous wasn't word enough to describe your current state.

The Grammys.

The fucking Grammys.

Never would you have thought this would happen. Who would have thought you'd make it this far?

Fidgeting with your small clutch nervously, you took a deep, trembling breath. Tim grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You'll be okay.

The wait had been torture.

Waiting for the day to come, waiting for the announcements. It was like a dream come true, yet the wait left you on edge.

You'd been nominated for single of the year. Your song about Tim Be Myself had literally exploded, landing you a spot at the Grammys.

You inhaled shakily as the nominees were announced before the moderator opened an envelope. She drew it out, making the anticipation rise higher and higher until your heart suddenly slammed to a stop.

"Best single of the year goes to... Be Myself!" Your lips parted, not believing what just happened. Tim cheered, the crowd applauded, and you got up on shaky legs.

You couldn't believe it.

This was more than you could have ever wished for, and as Tim pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you the biggest, most proudest smile you'd ever seen on him before he ushered you to the stage, you knew it.

You knew he was the one.

He was the one that treated you right. The one that loved you unconditionally.

And you'd be forever grateful for that.

Tag List

@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly @augustvandyne @RookieTrek @dhundhchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @caplanbuckybarnes @sacredwarrior88

[alaveii]

ok legitimately this pisses me off so much. art is defined (quite literally!*) by humanity’s role in creating it. a bird cannot create art. a dog cannot create art. an elephant cannot create art. even if you can dig up a hundred thousand paintings that were made by animals, they still cannot be defined as art. the animal cannot and will not create art by their own desire, as they have no such desires.

by definition ‘ai art’ does not qualify as art because it was not created by an actual person. no one actually worked, tried, failed, experimented, practiced to generate an ‘ai art’ piece. no one put in effort or intent. the only human influence these pieces have is that a human ordered they be made.

this would be akin to crediting an art piece to the commissioner rather than the artist. it sounds ridiculous, because it is. (do ai users even pay for their softwares?)

you cannot refer to a mimicry as the true, because it never will be, no matter how much you try.

art is not defined by the final product, it is defined by the labor and emotion that is put into making it. by stripping a piece of those crucial aspects that it give meaning and value, you not only devalue the piece to a forgery of an actual but rob those around you.

ai art has become rather prevalent, especially in fandom spaces, over the past few years. while i (personally) have no problem either it being used for reference or inspiration (some artists do), the main issue with it is that

its not actual art, and thus something of a mockery to actual artists (who may spend years developing their skills) who put genuine love and effort to spread their enjoyment of media

as it has gotten more prevalent, it places more suspicion on actual artists as to whether their pieces are real

this is incredibly discouraging to artists, to have their effort be critiqued and accused of being false. it can discourage artists from sharing their work in fandom spaces, because 1) who would want to be accused of plagiarism for something they created with their own hands but also 2) they are aware that by sharing their work, they raise the possibility that their work will be stolen and they will be accused of being the thief.

ai art steals from artists. thats just how it works. it takes pieces from the internet, cuts and splices them together, then spits out an image (or images) for the person who ordered them.

on the matter of being outshone, that will happen regardless of whether ai is in the question or not. there will always be someone better than you in some aspect, and you, as the artist will see that most prevalently. this is not a matter of quality, it is perspective. you are your own worst critic. similarly, you may be much better than someone else at something, but you won’t realize it because its not something youd notice unless you carefully scrutinize multiple pieces.

theres no such thing as ‘the best artist.’ you can have a favorite artist, but that boils down to personal opinion. it’s part of what makes art so beautiful, that so many people can excel at the same time, without being artists of different forms, styles, or even medias. everyone can be incredible in art, if only they put in the effort.

an athlete will not become olympic level simply because they command it so, they have to work for it. it’s the same principle with art, to exercise your mind, wrists, fingers, palms, forearms, shoulders, your creativity to become talented, to become someone worthy of mass admiration. that is how you become a good artist. that is how you become good at anything.

art is not defined by the final product, it is defined by the labor and emotion that is put into making it. by stripping a piece of those crucial aspects that it give meaning and value, you not only devalue the piece to a forgery, but also rob both those who share interests with you and yourself of authenticity.

Your comments about AI users being talentless tells me you don't really understand art. It's about the product, not the tools. You can waste your life learning how to use a thousand of brushes and programs and you'll be easily outshone by someone who uses AI to draw what they want. The 'talentless' usually crow on about techniques and tools and miss the point of making art.

"You can waste your life learning how to use a thousand brushes and programs" And there, this is the attitude of the non-artists-AI-lovers in a nutshell. You see, drawing artists like using brushes. "Someone who uses AI to draw what they want."

No. If you instruct the AI to do something, you aren't 'drawing' anything. "The talentless" The 'talentless' is you. Telling an AI what image you want to be drawn doesn't require any talent.

[cupidwritessillystories]

A headcanon with them meeting their child from the future with hsr men

Character: phainon, mydei, anaxa, dan heng, jing yuan, blade, sunday and caelus

Fem reader

Something like the hsr men meet their kid from the future and the kid say that they're his kid from the future. At first the hsr man don't believe that, but then the kid show the family album photo that make the hsr man believe the kid. The male hsr can already know reader or haven't know reader yet. Maybe after that they meet reader and try to court her 👀

Hi, thank you for the request so much! It was really fun to write (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Just fluff, confused hsr men, time travel and kids that try to convince their dads that they really are their kids from the future!

Characters included: Phynon, Mydei, Anaxa, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday and Caelus.

Anaxa may and probably will be ooc, since he's not even out yet and the content we currently have of him is mainly leaks. His part is also exceptionally short. Either way, I hope you guys like it!

Love always, Cupid♡

Phainon

He met your future child inside a prophecy, as weird as it sounds. Usually, it was just whispers of Titans, words of maidens, the prophecies rarely ever appeared in a form of hallucinations, but this one did.

He listened intently, trying to catch what the prophecy wanted him to know, but when he opened his eyes, there was no one around besides a small child tugging at his sleeve.

“Dad” he called him. Phainon was surprised, to say the least. From what he understood from the strange story he heard, he would later on get with you, and this little one was supposed to be his future kid.

“Is this even a prophecy, or am I just dreaming?” He asked himself. He would enjoy a future like that, a future with you, but you had already turned him down once. Was he just projecting his unfulfilled desires, had the said “prophecy” read his mind and just gave him the answer he most wanted to hear?

He didn't believe it, he wanted to, but he didn't. The child looked up at him, confused, and then gave him a photograph that looked just a tad bit too real. He jolted awake suddenly, thinking that it was just as he suspected, a dream. But when he looked at what he had in his hand, his whole perception of what just happened changed.

It was the same exact photo the little one gave him. There was no way it was a dream, then, for the things you see in dreams can't just materialize in the real world. He believed now.

It was probably naive to believe that ridiculous story, no one in their right mind would do so, but Phynon couldn't help himself. It felt real, and he hoped it was real.

Little did he know, you were trying to think of a way to apologize to him for turning him down before, because you did feel the same way he did. The time of his confession just happened to be unfortunate, which resulted in you loosing your cool and shutting him down immediately, which later on made you regret your choice of words.

Fate is such a curious thing, isn't it? when two people are destined to be together, they will. No matter what challenges they may face along the way. And so, the “prophecy” did end up being true.

Mydei

Mydei met your child from the future back when he was still a Crown Prince of Kastrum Kremnos. He was on his way to the training arena when he heard weird noises coming from the nearby corridor. There were a lot of stupid people trying to play smart thieves around here lately, so he went to check it out just in case.

To his surprise, the presumed “thief” turned out to be just a young boy, not above the age of 13. He was scavenging through a bunch of crap laying loosely on the floor, a worried look plastered on his face.

“What are you doing?” Mydei asked, still contemplating whether to help him or throw him out of the castle, for he was definitely not supposed to be there. Mydeis’ face when he heard the boy call him “dad” followed by an unbelievable story about time travel and his non-existing family was priceless. A mix of emotion washed over him, most of which were negative ones. Who in their right mind comes up with bullshit like that?

He ended up ordering the guards to escort the boy outside, he wouldn't be able to stand another word from him. Although the boy has been escorted already, a weird feeling that Mydei wasn't exactly able to explain lingered somewhere inside of him. He noticed an envelope on the floor right when he was about to head to the training ground and forget all about this insignificant event. This must've been what the boy was searching for. He picked it up and the first thing he noticed was that it was meant for him all along. Not thinking much, he opened it. Inside there was a photo that looked like it had been taken in Okhema, the Holy city.

What really threw him off was the fact that it was him in the frame together with two people whom he didn’t know. One, he recognised as the young boy that caused him unnecessary trouble earlier on, but the other one was a woman whom he had never met.

It's been years until he finally found you. What's ironic is that he wasn't even searching for you. When he saw the photo, he decided it'd be best to just throw it out, but in the end, he never did. He kept it close to him at all times. He wasn't sure why himself. As soon as he noticed you among the crowd, giving your supplies of medicine out to those who clearly needed it, it suddenly dawned on him.

You were the woman from the photograph. He stared, and stared, and kept staring, untill you finally noticed him. You smiled at him softly, the sun illuminating your hair in a way that made them seem to glow. A flower crown adorned your head, making you look akin to an angel. You walked over to him, waving your hand in a friendly manner. It never happened to him before. People in Okhema were hesitant to talk to him, they probably thought him scary. But not you. No, not you.

When you were in hand's reach away from him, you stopped. You picked a flower out of the many on your head and tangled it in his hair. It was a beautiful white camellia that matched him perfectly. “Thank you, hero.” You said, and then walked away. Later on, Mydei found himself seeking you out on various occasions, making up a multitude of excuses just to be able to spend time with you.

Anaxa

Well, what can I say? Anaxa is a certified non-beliver. If he defies even the gods, he has no problem telling a kid that his story is bullshit and that he probably should focus on helping his parents with whatever they do. No regards for the child's feelings.

He does so repeatedly, but the little boy doesn't seem to be giving up anytime soon. They both stand their ground, using solid arguments to try and convince the other one that they are right. Unsurprisingly, it leads to nowhere.

The kid decides to prove his point by sharing a family photo with Anaxa, who doesn't even want to look at it at first, but after some time he gets irritated by the child's persistence and says that he will take a look at it.

And so, he does. It feels weird, because after further examining the photo he came to the conclusion that it is, in fact, real. He won't ever admit it, but something inside him stirred, and he may have believed that absurd story presented to him. A little bit, at least.

You looked really happy on the photograph, and so did he. It would really be a pity if it all was just a lie, a joke made by a bored kid. Luckily, it wasn't.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng was never the one to believe in fairy tales. He based his opinion solely on facts, so when a random kid suddenly appeared in front of him, trying to convince him that she's his “future daughter”. He genuinely contemplated calling a psychiatrist for her. He'd even pay for the services if he had to. That being said, he doesn't know what compelled him to doing a throughout research on you.

You, who seemed eerily familiar when he saw you on a photograph he received from the child right before she ran off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure he had seen you somewhere before.

He fell into a spiral. He spent almost every minute he could searching for you. For signs of you, however small, whether it be in his memory or on the internet, but nothing ever came up.

He was loosing his mind every time he looked at that photo. It was a picture of you, him, and the strange kid that gave it to him. You were holding the camera, he was standing behind you on a beach, his back turned to you. The girl from before was holding tightly onto his sleeve. She seemed younger than when she suddenly appeared in front of him that unusual day.

Just when he was about to give up, when he almost convinced himself that it was all just an unfunny joke played on him by a bored-to-death kid, he saw you.

He saw you when he was buying some snacks with March 7th and the trailblazer in Aurum Alley. The place was very crowded that day, he left his companions and ran after you before he could loose sight of you in the mass of people.

He grabbed your shoulder, you turned around, your eyes met, and suddenly, something clicked. He remembers now, and judging by the look on your face, you do, too.

Memories of his past incarnation cloud his mind. “Those are not my memories” he reminds himself. He let's go of your shoulder, he wants to leave, but before he can do so, you pull him close into a tight hug. He was hesitant at first, but when you rested your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the embrace.

You knew he wasn't the same person now, what you knew is that if he would give you a chance, you'd fall in love with him all over again. More even than with his past self, and he seemed to be aware of that, too.

Jing Yuan

He was as calm as ever, even though for the past couple of minutes he was listening to a kid around the age of 10 excitedly explaining to him how he’s his future son. Truthfully, he didn't believe a single word that kid said, yet he still decided to entertain him. He was paying attention to every word the child said, asking different questions and letting out dramatic gasps from time to time.

It was until the kid mentioned your name. How was it that he knew you? Why did he suddenly bring you up, of all people? Jing Yuan didn't spare a second to ask the question he had on mind. “How do you know her?” The kid stopped his storytelling and looked at him, bewildered. “huh? Didn't I just tell you? Are you even listening to me?”

Jing Yuan's voice was still his usual, sleepy one, but underneath it, there was a hint of curiosity. “Sure i am. I'm just wondering, what does she look like?” The previous moment of hesitation that could be seen on his face for just a brief moment was now gone completly. He decides to play it cool, as he always did.

“Stop playing dumb!” The child retorted, a bit irritated by now. He managed to come to the conclusion that Jong Yuan doesn't believe him at all, and he wasn't wrong. “You don't believe me, do you?” The kid tilted his head to the side, waiting for a response even tho he knew the answer already.

Jing Yuan sighed in defeat. He got caught red-handed and lost a battle against that youngster. “I suppose I don't. Not entirely.” A second later, he already had a whole photo album laying in front of him. He raised a brow at the boy next to him. “Just look through it. Maybe it'll convince you.”

And so, he did. Not only did he look through it, no. He deeply analyzed every single photo that the album contained. He spent hours that he should be spending on work looking at the pictures. He was lucky enough that he convinced the kid to let him keep the album. None of the shots seemed fake, and some of them even had a signature. Your signature. He would be able to recognize your hand writing anywhere.

Later that day, he visited the alchemy commission where you were supposed to be resting after receiving a fatal injury. He was embarrassed, because the whole time you've been recovering he had never visited you once. He never missed a chance to ask people from the commission about the state of your well being, bit that was it. He wasn't sure himself why didn't he visit you, not even once. Maybe it was because he was scared, because he knew that everything that happened to you was entirely his fault.

His previous confidence faltered, but he wasn't about to back out now. He entered the room where you slept and placed a single peony on a nightstand besides your bed. He didn't wake you up, you will know he was there once you do, and that's enough.

Blade

Him being a stellaron hunter usually means that he has no contact with kids whatsoever, so when a sassy teen pops up randomly right before his mission, he doesn't know what to do. He tried to ignore her, but she's too stubborn to back down. After some persuasion, he finally gives in. He doesn't even say anything to her, just listens to her peculiar story. Besides the fact that the whole situation is rather unusual, everything seems normal, she goes on to explain time travel to him, but when your name slips off her tongue right next to the word “mom” he stops in his tracks.

He wasn't even paying attention to her meaningless monologue, but that didn't fail to reach his ears. His expression turns from an unpleasant one to something borderline threatening.

When she calls him “dad” he freezes once again. For a moment, he thought that she was your long lost daughter or something like that, deliberately ignoring the rest of the unbelievable story she bragged about just moments ago. He clenched the handle of his sword, but she just looked at him mockingly.

“I can prove it. I have a photo.” She said. “A photo… why would that convince me? Get lost.” He answered, but she handed him the photo anyway. She must've come to the conclusion that this is all pointless, because soon enough she disappeared from his sight. He didn't even notice it. He was too focused on the picture. It was real, he could tell, and that was what threw him off the most.

He quickly crumpled it in his palm to hide it when he felt your hands on both his shoulders. You were always unnecessarily clingy, even more with him than with other stellaron hunters. He thought you peculiar, your reason for joining was even weirder than your personality, because you literally didn't have a reason, or just didn't want to reveal it. When someone asked you why did you join the stellaron hunters, your answer was always short. “Fun.” He suspected your reason was entirely different in reality.

He never pried about it, though. He pretended it didn't interest him at all, even though deep down he was intrigued by your person. Maybe he did believe that kid, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Sunday

A little while before the Charmony Festival announcement something strange happened to him. He met someone, a child, that claimed to be his future future kid.

It was rather a peculiar encounter. Let's be fair - he doesn't know how to talk to kids. He's way too formal at all times, so the communication between the two went miserably.

Either way, he agreed to entertain the kid and listen to his made up story, or what he thought was a made up story. It had no logic to it, just a wild imagination of a young person, so there was no reason for him to think about it more than necessary, yet he found himself intrigued by it somewhat.

The conversation was cut short when the child looked at a clock and decided that it's time to go already. Before running off, he gave Sunday a single photo.

A weird feeling rose up in his chest once he looked at what it was. It was him in the frame. Him and a few other people, whom he recognised as the famous crew of the astral express. There was also the kid from before standing between him and a woman who he claimed was his mother.

Sunday didn't want to believe it. Why would he, of all people, ever join the Astral Express? He was content where he was, here on Penacony. It seemed ridiculous at the time.

Everything changed after the Charmony festival, when he got detained by the IPC and later on managed to strike a deal with Jade. Ironic as it is, he found himself asking the astral express crew whether he could board the express with them, at least for a little while.

At first, of course, they were skeptical towards that idea. He couldn't blame them, really. The one who seemed to have the biggest issue with him was you. He must admit, you've made some good points during the debate, if not for Welt advocating for him, you'd probably just kick him out the moment he first stepped foot on the express.

The conversation went on for a long time, with Sunday just standing to the side, waiting for the decision to be made. In the end you agreed, just like the rest of the crew, but the looked you gave him right after it was announced revealed that you weren't exactly happy about it.

He remembered his bizarre meeting with the kid, and the photo that he got, and the fact that supposedly, you and him were the parents. He still didn't believe in all of that, mostly because of your attitude towards him. The worst part was that the way you acted was justified. You seemed to hate him with a burning passion. But nothing lasts forever, and that, too, changed over time.

You started being more open to conversations with Sunday, you let yourself forget about all the unpleasant situations he managed to put the crew into back on Penacony. After some time, you got used to his presence. He would even argue that you kinda liked him, even though you wouldn't admit it.

As time passed, it only made you two closer, and he realised that the kid might’ve been right all along.

Caelus

at first, when the kid came up to him, claiming to be his child from the future, he burst out laughing. Like, really loud and hard, to the point his eyes started watering. It took him good fifteen minutes to calm down. He thought it hilarious.

After he finally cooled off, and your child kept explaining about them, you, and the future, Caelus stopped them way before they could finish. “okay that's not funny. It was only funny the first time around. Stop it.” man was creeped out.

His second instinct was to threaten your child with his baseball bat, and so, he did. It didn't quite work out the way he wanted to, because the kid laughed him off and threw a heavy book right at him, which he, caught off guard, didn't manage to catch in time, resulting in it hitting him in the face. Ouch.

Either way, he picked it up, asking what it is. Only thing he got as an answer was a quick “just open it.” And so he did. He turned it to a random page, and the expression of pure shock on his face said it all.

He expected everything, but not what he saw. There was only one photo on the page he happened to open the album on. In the frame, the first thing he noticed was you. You were cradling a little kid in your arms, and he was standing slightly behind you, his hands rested gently on your waist.

He was still skeptical about the truth, but the photo did look real. And you… You looked ethereal, he thought. Your eyes reflecting your love for the two, your hair slightly longer than it was now, and your smile seemed so sincere. He suddenly felt his heart skip a beat.

You were a passenger on the astral express currently, not yet a member, but you did travel quite a few worlds with the crew already. Caelus never seemed to notice the way you looked at him, although he looked at you exactly the same.

In that moment, he started to believe in the story presented by the kid just a little bit more. He hoped it was true, at least, and if it wasn't, he would make sure it'd come true. That's when he finally got the courage to ask you out, although when you asked what made him do it, he was too embarrassed to actually admit anything, so he quickly changed the topic by making some weird remarks about the lack of trashcan on Xianzhou Luofu.

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Hedgehog, porcupine, it's the same thing (pt.5)"

or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt.5"

Shadow the Hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I finally have connection again!!! This part feels a little of to me but anyway, leave a comment if you want to be in the taglist or leave a comment if you liked it! ENJOY!

Part 4.

It happened so fast that you could barely process it, the creature looked at the room, then at you, then at the window and in a red flash it disappeared.

For only a fraction of a second, because as soon as it disappeared it appeared right back, but now besides your bedroom's window.

It fell to the floor with a thud and you swore you heard it say something.

But that would be ridiculous, animals don't talk.

"What the fu-?" You didn't even finished your question when the thing turned around to look at you.

The room was silent. Everything felt like it was made of very thin glass, and any sudden move coul shatter it all.

You crouched.

You didn´t know if you wanted to make yourself less intimidating or if you just wanted to be able to protect your hole body in case it tried to move again.

And so, you both just looked at each other. It was really the first time you had stopped to look at the creature so closely.

It´s eyes were red, but not just any red, they were crimson like blood on the outer part of the iris with a warmer fire-like red on the center. It had fur which looked super soft covering all of it´s body, but there was something like spikes coming out of it´s head.

Yeahhh, you knew what animal it reminded you of...

"Hey there" you said softly as not to scare it.

"Who are you and where am I?" the creature demanded more than asked.

"Holy shit, you can TALK!!??"

"Where am I? Did G.U.N sent you?" It had now started to get on it´s feet and speak louder, though it still seemed as in pain.

Everything about what was happening felt kind of surreal to you, one thing a little more than anything else.

"Why do you sound like Keanu Reeves?"

"Is that another agent? I will kill you in seconds if you don´t answer my questions" It furrowed something that you assumed were his eyebrows.

But between everything that was happening you suddenly lost balance in your crouching position, and fell on your back. When you managed to sit on the floor you found yourself with the sight of the alienish creature which had also fallen flat on it´s bottom, presumably trying to protect itself from you.

So then you were both sitting in the ground.

"I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot" you started to say, as calmly as you could. "I´m not here to hurt you, you were the one who crashed on my backyard".

It kept on looking at you as if you were going to attack it at any moment, so you decided to give him something more, you told him your name.

"Shadow" It... He answered back, though it felt more as an attempt to get you to shut up than anything. More time passed in silence.

And so you got up, and left.

Shadow just sat there, slightly confused, but soon enough he weakly got on his feet and turned towards the window. He tried to give a step, but all of his muscles ached at it. He felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless, it reminded him of the cryo tube he was kept in for fifty years.

His efforts did not last too long either, as he felt two warm hands pick him up from under his armpits and sit him back down on the bed. Even though he slightly hissed at the pain and tried to fight back his efforts were usless and he found himself comfortably sat against the cushions.

You smiled at him and apologized for any discomfort that you may had caused, then you offered him a pastry (your aunt Maddie had brought them for tea).

He picked one up, and after a troughout examination, which to you kind of looked as a cat smelling something to see if it was food or not, he actually took a bite.

It was actually nice, and it had a slight bitter taste to it.

"So... are you some kind of porcupine?"

"I´m a hedghog and the ultimate life form" He answered back with still looking angry, but his voice had slightly less bite to it. You smiled kindly back as you held back a laugh.

"Hedghog, porcupine, it´s the same thing."

Taglist:@boogiemansbitch@vxllys@whoisgami@baby-bloos@sapphireravensworld@mothmanperson@4rm-the-mf-concrete@eliknowsnothing

[karanseraph]

It goes back to the voters, though, right?

Like, I know people were saying this last year after the election: I can't believe so many Americans voted against their own self interest

But, a bunch did.

And even if that percent wasn't the majority of everyone, or the majority of all registered voters, the situation and turn-out was such that it was enough to result in our current situation. (Where there's no "mandate", but they keep repeating there is.)

And so, understandably, now, a lot of people who didn't vote for that, or didn't vote, or regret how they voted are now stressed and frustrated in their own ways.

And I don't know what to do to make any future votes we may have better. My Congresswoman and two Senators happen to be Democrats and have been making some statements about what is going on. But Republican majorities, even if narrow still exist.

Yet, in my own household there is an enjoyer of a certain news channel who is an apologist for anything Trump and Republicans do, no matter what I say. One of those "I don't like him personally, but..." Just steadfastly convinced that somehow Republicans were the way to go.

And I have tried for years to argue against this and it does not work. I will just be seen as a hysterical girl or indoctrinated. I talk about Project 2025 "Oh, he said that's not his". I talk about the recent "buyout" of federal employees being an attempt to evade unemployment payments and labor policies, "lots of people think it's a good idea".I say something is seems wrong or unjust, "That's the way the world works."

There's people who for whatever reason can't process that society is what we make it at any given time. We can change it. But we have to want to and then do the work. We need a certain number (I don't know the percent) to tip change in a given direction.

I mean in 2020 we rapidly made sweeping societal changes and showed remote work could work for a lot of people (not everyone) and maybe it was better for the environment, but ever since there's been those who want to go back to the way things were before. Get everyone back in an office. Saying think of all the businesses like restaurants and shops that are near workplaces that will go out of business.

Well, those shops could be located closer to where people actually live where we could walk to them.

Anyway, that's my rant.

(But PS, extra side-rant, this person in my household will tell anecdotes about how back in the day in their industry it was rare to hire women as engineers, but he told those co-workers, that no he seriously did want them to consider the resumes of the women and not just pretend. So, it was all a great thing when he could be the good one and let these resumes be considered or to go do recruiting at universities, but now he can defend people who say DEI is a bad thing with all the insinuation that it's like saying "straight white men need not apply" when really it's saying "No, seriously, everyone can apply". (and then, yanno, have their resume read by a bot for some ghost position.))

[splinterclan]

If I was in a clan that forced me to get pregnant and then I escaped, I would never want to go anywhere near anything like that, so I can understand her about that. Well, I don't understand why she sended her kids to a clan if she thinks a clan always like that, but I guess it's hard to raise them in the wild on your own, and she's been living alone the whole time. Although I still think it doesn't make any sense. If she said she was raising them on her own, would Cedar have stayed with her instead of going back to the clan?

She left Oakclan before ever getting pregnant! The expectation was just there - Bess mostly gave her kits up because she never saw herself wanting to be a mother in the first place and being uncomfortable with it when they were born (hating being/feeling trapped is a big part of her character). She realized she didn't mind it so much once the kits were old enough to take care of themselves mostly and the mothering she had to do was minimal.

That's such an interesting question HMMM If Bess had decided to keep the kits with her I think that may have actually been the one thing to get Cedar to leave the clan yeah! I just can't see him abandoning her if he knew she was having his kits/leaving with them.

No, Cedar was caught to be a barn cat so there was no reason to get him fixed. Anything important like that that happens to a main splinterclan cat I'll make sure to let you guys know :>

Yep this update took place the morning after the night Moonpaw left camp! We are now fully back into the present day

[soangelbaby]

i’ve been summoned too & i still haven’t stopped thinking about perv clark bc that tree of a man probably can’t even look you in the eyes without creaming his pants even after watching you through your window all night 🙂‍↔️😵‍💫

— @preyingfaes / @fae-of-prey

ugh riightt he can’t even look at you the same without thinking what else he can do, what else he can get away with, how far he can go before he gets caught, before you start catching on, but he’ll try to play it cool, subtly dropping hints about thing he should never know, like “you wear that perfume alot huh?” or if he’s overheard your conversations, “hanging out with your friends tonight?” he’d know exactly where you’re going, who you’re with like nmmm

can you imagine how he feels, just standing there, watching you through the window? the way he can see every little detail of you—every move, every breath you take, and all he wants to do is reach out and touch.

but he can’t. not yet. the thought of being so close to you, hearing you breathe, watching your body move—he can barely breathe himself.

and when he finally does get close, you won’t even have to speak. he’ll already know. because he’s been watching—and he’s been getting off on it. every little thing you do, every second you’re unaware, it makes him crazy. you’re the only thing he can think about now.

AND his heightened senses make him acutely aware of your smallest movements, and it drives him crazy that he can’t just have you in the way his mind wants. every time you laugh, breathe, move in a way that intrigues him, it makes the hunger worse. he might even find himself pacing late at night, unable to shake the overwhelming desire to be close to you, but also terrified of what would happen if he crossed that line.

clark would also occasionally feel the weight of guilt, especially if you get a little too close or his control slips. maybe he’ll sense that you’re starting to notice him more, and a pang of remorse will hit him. but then, it’s quickly overshadowed by the rush of satisfaction. he may feel guilty for a fleeting moment, but the rush of knowing that he has complete access to you soon overrides those feelings.

i just love this so so hot i could go ALL DAYYY