I’M A FAN. platonic or not, their friendship never fails to make me smile. they’re so supportive and goofy?? and affectionate? and when they quarrel (which is quite often) they both look like they are having the Time of their Life.
jungkook tries so hard to maintain this Cool Guy™ image but when he’s with tae he reverts back to his childish nature :’)
let’s not forget their honeymoon in Dubai~
don’t even get me started on their cuddle sessions…ouch………my soul…
ok so I really didn’t want to make this that long so lastly(!!!) look how soft they are!!!
the iconic ear kiss! (I dare you to show me something more pure and precious)
In Conclusion: platonic or otherwise, they clearly cherish each other a lot. and their friendship just seems so honest and supportive!! taehyung or jungkook couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime tbh
so many fans take shipping way too seriously… and fail to see how genuine these kids are. please appreciate this friendship♡
They sat in the soft pleather booth of Pops, tangled up in each other for what felt like hours. Careful touches and gentle kisses were the only thing keeping the two troubled teens grounded, The safety they felt in each other’s arms was all they had for now, but in the afterglow of a terrible night filled with insecurities and revelations, just being there was enough.
“It’s getting late.” Betty whispered, her voice hoarse from her crying and her movements sluggish, she felt defeated, embarrassed. She wanted to stay here in Jugheads arms for as long as possible but she knew her mother would be worried. “I have to get home.” She sighed softly, pulling away and dropping a slow kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for longer than necessary. “I’ll see you at school on Monday.” She slid from the booth and began her walk to the door.
Betty was still hurt, sure they had talked it through, but having him tell her just how little he thought of their relationship, how simple he thought she was? It weighed on her heart. She just wanted to make him happy. She had been trying to make everyone happy for so long and she had been failing. She failed every single time.
Suddenly she felt her arm being tugged and her body being shoved into a solid object, said objects lips dropping down to her own.
Jughead had a steady grip on her hips as he wildly attacked her lips, she could feel the passion he was trying to push through, he wanted her to know he cared, wanted her to know she mattered to him. This was his version of an apology. They boy with the vocabulary of a dictionary was reduced to a puddle of kisses in her presence. Betty slowly ran her hands up his back and finally into his wavy dark hair. As soon as her fingertips touched the smooth locks, she pulled back abruptly, eliciting a muffled groan from the boy.
“Juggie. I think you forgot something.” She whispered, the hint of a smile toying on her face.
He looked up at her with confused eyes and raised a brow.
“What did I forget?” He asked absently, eyes still lusty from their heated moment. Betty giggled and tapped her head, making her fingers into a crown. Jugheads eyes widened comically as he realized he had forgotten his beanie on the table at Pops. “I’ll be right back! Don’t move!” He shouted, tripping over his feet in pursuit of his prized possession.
Rolling her eyes, Betty watched through the window as he raced to the table quickly snatching the hat up and running back to her.
“Sorry..I..” he panted looking helplessly at his hat, he wanted to explain why it meant so much to him, wanted her to know that it wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with her, he just needed the hat, but he couldn’t form words, he couldn’t tell her. He felt the hat being taken out of his hands by a pair of tinier fingers, Betty wordlessly lifted the hat from his hands and gently placed it into his head, tugging until it fit right.
“I get it.” She whispered with a soft smile, quickly adjusting her ponytail and shrugging her shoulders.
He felt himself relax almost instantly, quickly taking her hand in his as they headed home. Jughead wrapped an arm around her as she shivered, the night air was cold and she was only wearing a sweater, Jughead quickly took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
Betty looked up at him and frowned
“Oh no Jughead I’m fine. You’ll freeze.” She tried to take the denim jacket off before he placed His hands on her shoulders, securing its place.
“As much as I hate to cover up that ridiculously silly sweater, you’re much smaller then me I’m fairly certain it’s you who will freeze. Speaking of sweaters. Where did you get that crown one from?” He smirked at her blushing cheeks
“I made it.” She said smiling shyly “I made it last night. I figured, you don’t really have a letterman jacket like the football players and this isn’t the 1950s and you don’t have a class ring for me to wear. I just wanted everyone to know I was your girl I guess. I mean atleast for your birthday. It is pretty silly isn’t it?” She looked down, playing with the hem of her sweater.
Jughead abruptly stopped, moving to stand in front of her he took her hands
“No.” he whispered, catching her eyes as she looked up “I was wrong. That’s not silly at all.” He dropped a quick kiss to her lips, his fingers tracing the crown on her chest “I like it. A lot. Crowns suit you.” He smirked, moving back to her side, he could see her house in the distance.
Betty blushed again before smiling cockily
“Well I am a princess after all am I not?” She raised a brow as he stood before her in her front porch.
“Sure thing Juliet.” He rolled his eyes affectionately, looking at her front door.
“You got that right mister.” She walked toward him wrapping her arms around his center as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sugary strawberry scent of her hair. This was his home, right here on this front porch wrapped up in Betty Coopers arms.
“Where are you staying tonight?” He heard her whisper into his chest.
“Figure I’ll sleep in Fred’s room tonight, it’ll be nice to have an actual bed for once, gotta keep an eye on Arch, kid can’t hold his alcohol.” Pulling away he dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead, tucking his fingers under her chin to catch her eyes.
“We’re okay aren’t we?” He asked his tone slightly scared.
Betty smiled softly and placed a lingering kiss on his lips
“We’re okay.” She smiled before squeezing his fingers and heading inside.
“We’re okay.” He mumbled to himself, his shoulders slumping with relief as he braced himself for the war zone that was bound to be Archie’s house.
For the chronically ill, our symptoms, our aches, our pains, our struggles. Those are our normals. We wake each and every day bracing ourselves for the war we constantly fight.
Day in. Day out.
And yes, there are good days! Days where the pain is less! Days where we can keep up with the healthy folks in our lives!
But there are also the bad days. The days where you cry and moan endlessly from pain. The days where your mental illnesses (if you have any) join in to fight you. The days where you want to make yourself disappear because ANYTHING is better than just another second of living like this.
But you know what?
We keep fighting. Day in, day out. And it sucks. And it isn’t fair. And it hurts. Living hurts more than anything else.
But like I said, this is our normal. Chronic illnesses, mental illnesses, disabilities… It comes with the playing field; the war zone that is our daily lives.
The fight against ourselves.
And even on days where you’re losing, remember: You’re a warrior. A fucking WARRIOR for going through this.
Even on days where you “only” did laundry. Or “only” had a shower. That was a fight, and you won.
And I’m proud of you.
And we all keep fighting day in and day out, because that’s our normal. We don’t stop fighting.
And for the healthy/abled people reading this: Please remember that we fight tooth and nail to keep up with you some days. Don’t pity us, but help us fight instead.
Anonymous asked: “I’m sorry I let you fall for me” Could you do this prompt with ponyboy?
“I’m sorry I let you fall for me.”
He was staring at you, tortured.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, entangling your fingers with his.
Ponyboy set his teeth on edge, turning away first. “There’s a rumble tonight. I don’t know if you heard.”
His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Distantly, you felt the Greaser tighten his grip on your hand, his thumb running over your skin in a shaky way. He was scared, that was obvious. You were scared. It was so stupid, both of you knew this.
You were a Soc and he was a Greaser. You’d face each other tonight in battle.
Both of you were sworn enemies. Water and oil. Blessings and curses. Deep and shallow-
“I won’t show.” Ponyboy’s suggestion tore you from your thoughts.
“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “They’ll find out. We both need to go.” You sighed. “We just have to try not to meet in the fray.”
Ponyboy looked unsure, but managed a smile. It perished before it reached his eyes, though.
“I love you,” he breathed.
You didn’t like that. This was a big deal, sure, but nobody was going to die. What the two of you had wasn’t going to fade. Your divisions weren’t going to take that away from you guys.
“I love you too, Ponyboy,” you murmured.
You lifted his hand up to your face and kissed the top of it, smiling back at him. “This isn’t going to change anything, you hear? We’re still on our date for Thursday,” you chuckled.
It took a few moments, but ultimately the boy joined you in laughter. “Good. I’ve been saving up some cash. You’re in for a treat, Y/N,” he said contently.
The most obvious issue seemed to wear away at that second, and Ponyboy wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. You exhaled softly as he pulled you close against his chest, running his fingers through your hair and humming easily. You felt his heart beat beneath the heel of your hand as his fingers fell away from yours.
It was dusk. Streams of orange bolted across the sky and melted deep into the horizon. Some stars flickered in and out of sight. You liked the way the scenery reflected off of Ponyboy’s eyes.
The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with your hands snagging in the boy’s shirt and his fingers combing through your hair. It was too late to relent your feelings for Ponyboy, you knew this. You loved him from the bottom of your heart. He felt the same way towards you. That wouldn’t cease. Well, you hoped it wouldn’t. It was truly your worst fear.
“Ponyboy!” a familiar voice echoed over the terrain.
“Time to come home, bud! Gotta get ready!”
Ponyboy stiffened against you. It was evident that his brother was talking about the upcoming rumble. He pressed his lips to your forehead before gazing down at you.
“I have to go, but, I mean, I’ll see you later,” he stammered.
“Okay. Stay safe.” You kissed his cheek as he stood up. “See you soon.”
The night was still. There was no wind. No more stars either, too many clouds. And no Greasers. Yet.
You were sitting on top of the hood of your friend’s car. Most of the Socs were wrestling with each other already, but careful enough not to push each other to the ground. Your outfits were clean, something the Greasers never contributed in rumbles. Playful cursing filled the air and twigs snapped beneath people’s feet. Nobody was scared. Nobody allocated your fears.
“They’re here!” someone cried out.
So they were, you thought. Familiar faces came into your line of sight and you hurried to join your rank.
“Time to demolish the town’s inferior kids,” someone beside you growled. You were too busy looking for Ponyboy to pay them any real mind, though.
You still didn’t know all of the Greasers, but you recognized the three Curtis brothers and some more of their friends. Though a handful of them still looked unfamiliar.
Ponyboy took your breath away when you finally spotted him. It seemed you did the same for him when he saw you. The world between you two froze, and it was simply you and Ponyboy. No other labels were needed.
For a fraction of time, you weren’t a Soc and he wasn’t a Greaser. You were equals. You loved each other, and that was enough.
But the truth caught up to you and just like that, your hopes were eradicated. You were back, and Ponyboy dipped his head, averting your gaze. You did the same.
At this point the two groups were in a line, bracing each other for war. People’s teeth bared and hands formed fists. Anticipation was wearing.
“You cannot be your own saviors,” a Greaser taunted suddenly. It was Ponyboy’s eldest brother. He stepped out from his band and glared at the people you had grown up with.
“You cannot protect yourselves from us,” another Greaser jeered.
You knew the second Greaser. You had never talked to him, but you knew of him. Everyone did. It was Dallas Winston. Patches of purple already stained his knuckles. He was hungry for a fight. He was desperate.
“We wouldn’t dream of protecting ourselves against delinquents,” one of your Socs sneered.
Dallas stepped to the side of Ponyboy’s older brother, Darry, and puffed his chest. He was goading the Socs. You could almost see the steam pouring out of his ears.
“You deserve all of the hurt you’re about to get,” he seethed.
Your fellow Soc gritted his teeth. You saw the muscles straining in his neck, how his jaw tightened, how his eyes gleamed dangerously.
“Good thing your parents’ll be able to pay for your hospital bills,” Dallas stated.
The Soc couldn’t take it any longer. He pounced without say, but Dallas was ready.
The rumble was on.
A Greaser took you by surprise, slugging your shoulder and causing your dominant arm to go numb. His gray eyes flickered, and his grin widened. You did your best to protect yourself, jabbing at his stomach and dodging behind him, kicking the back of his knees. He was strong, though, too tall and too stocky for you to stand a real chance. A snicker escaped him as he landed another punch to your jaw, and you realized who this Greaser was.
Ponyboy had told you stories about the guy who could get out of any business with the fuzz. How he was still a junior at eighteen and a half. How he could brighten up anyone’s day with a joke. As he decorated you with dark colors, you wished you had gotten to know that side of him.
“Two-Bit!” you heard someone shriek. “You’re pummeling a body! Take a real challenge over here.”
That was Ponyboy talking, you perceived leisurely. Two-Bit gave you one last shove, and you stumbled to the ground, receding to your knees. But the male was gone when you peered back up.
By now your body was throbbing in multiple places. The side of your head hurt. You saw yourself curl your fingers, but didn’t feel it. There was a burning sensation in your shoulder.
“Y/N,” a hushed voice said.
Ponyboy was suddenly right beside you. You gazed at him and did your best to hide your smile. He didn’t do the same, but instead put his hand behind your head and repositioned you onto your back, grabbing the collar of your shirt to keep you from falling. At this angle, it looked like he was looming over you, spewing threats. But his eyes were soft and his lip was already bleeding.
“Stay low,” he instructed. “I don’t know how long this will last. This has been building up for months. Both sides are fired up,” he admitted.
“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’m fine. You should go, before someone realizes what you’re doing.”
Ponyboy grimaced, but laid your head on the grass gently.
“I’m sorry I let you fall for me,” he whispered.
You weren’t hurt bad, but your mind was slow, and you told him that he hadn’t let you fall. That he set you down gingerly.
Ponyboy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, although another voice rang out. A Greaser compelled him back to the fight, but he kissed the top of your hand as you had done to him only hours before. Then he bolted away.
you wrote me a letter / your words were raging snowstorms / ice piled up on the
corners of my lungs / and each time i tried to / breathe / it hurt / your words
were a sharpened machete / all the callous on my skin were cut open / enough
for you to see the scars it has hidden / from the world and / the scars / the
scars were arranged in letters of your name / as i began writing to you in
reply / my hands have turned into an earthquake / magnitude six point five / and
the city that lives underneath the edges of my palms / has shattered into words
/ the blood in my veins cannot drown away / are
you hurt enough? / you asked me at the end of your last paragraph / i could
have told you about the first time / i heard my father cry loud enough to drown
out / the deafening silence in our house / about the story of when i loved
someone i was not supposed to / about nights when the strings of my past
strangle me in my sleep / and i wake with my own hands wrapped around my neck /
about the very last time my mother / called our house her home and since then /
our house became a photograph slowly / burning in the furnace / yet the words
do not slip from my tongue and instead i only answered yes / see I come to you empty handed i am but a floating cellar of
words / and believe me when I tell you that these words have sheltered my bones
long enough to brace me for the war / and later on as your words create wreckage on my bones / find your name
caged within the spaces of my poems / they tell you writing is a catharsis / did
they never tell you / writing is a prison / for people whose feet stomped on my
ribs / whose hands crushed the beating of my heart / now as I write to you in
reply / I begin by telling you that there are not enough words for the pain you
have caused. -Valerie T.
The Gamble of Two Kings ― In the Tale of Pak Belalang The (Fake) Fortuneteller, when an army from Masai along with its Sultan arrived in Beringin Rendang, the kingdom braced for war. Instead, the Sultan of Masai challenged the Sultan of Beringin Rendang for a match of wits between their Royal Fortunetellers with their own kingdom as the prize. Confident with the abilities of his Royal Fortuneteller, Pak Belalang, the Sultan of Beringin Rendang agreed.
The riddles, given by the Masai Sultan’s Royal Fortuneteller were: How can you differentiate between the root and the branch of a stick nicely carved with equal width? How can you tell the sexes of two newly-hatched ducklings? What is the answer to this riddle: One is many, two is sometimes, three is infrequent, four is rare? Where does the strength of Admiral Hang Tuah lie: In his keris or his spirit?
Pak Belalang was given a night to meditate the answers. He went home and started packing. He asked his son to go to the pier and find a boat to smuggle in. At the pier, his son, spotted the Masai Sultan going on a boat with his Royal Fortuneteller and he managed to hide on it. His son overheard the answers to the riddles after the Masai Sultan begged his Royal Fortuneteller to confide him. His son went back home and relayed what he heard to his father. Overjoyed, Pak Belalang didn’t run away and came back to answer the riddles the next day. His Sultan won the wager and gained a kingdom. (answers)
Naekusaba+Junko. Naegi wants to ask Mukuro out. Junko wants despair. The result is Junko constantly cockblocking Naegi, with Mukuro oblivious to it all.
A/N junko causing ordinary despair gives me life and naekusaba gives me life so my life is doubled now. for @tkmacintosh HAPPY BIRTHDAY to one of my best buddies who’s been with me since well ever since! bro, I wouldn’t be writing so much naekusaba if you weren’t there fuelling me so stay awesome!!
Just Let Me Confess Already - Junko cockblocks naekusaba
Naegi was finally going to confess his feelings to Ikusaba– or so he’s been trying to for the whole week now.
He swears it’s not his fault. It’s not that he lacked the courage or that he’d chicken out at the last second. On the contrary, he was very much prepared to go through the whole confession just like he had planned. Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have other plans for him. There’s always some sort of divine intervention which inconveniently happens each time and thus, preventing him from getting his words across. But maybe divine wasn’t the right word because he could feel the malicious intent sometimes.
Sometimes literally. At first it seemed just coincidences. A friend had called out to him. He had tripped at seemingly nothing over the stairs. He’s still not sure how he had gotten a wrong turn at the hallway. And then from those small harmless coincidences, they escalated to a worrying level. A baseball flew just an inch away from his face. A dagger had almost slit his throat. He was even gagged by someone at one point.
He started having doubts if it really was just his luck when that last one happened. If the coincidences weren’t just too good and perhaps also a bit lethal then he wouldn’t have thought that someone was after his life. Well, he wasn’t that far off the bat since that someone obviously had no problem with literally cutting it too close with him. And he had a strange foreboding feeling as to who that someone was. He’s not one for accusations but this was getting ridiculous.
“Um, Enoshima…?” Naegi started as soon as he approached her seated on a bench outside after class hours.
“No.” She didn’t even spare him a glance.
“But I haven’t even said anything yet.” He tried to reason with her.
“Oh, but I already know!” She declared and that’s when she finally and boldly stared back at him. She stood up, chest proudly puffed out, and her finger was pointed at him accusingly. “You’re trying to steal my beloved and disappointing sister from me!”
“Uh, I think you got that last adjective wrong.” He corrected her.
As if not hearing his small comment, she prattled on, “But I won’t hand her!”
“Why not?” He asked with utmost sincerity.
This was it. If he could just find out why and get her to think otherwise then maybe he’d finally get the privacy he’d been meaning to have. His shoulders tensed as he braced himself for whatever war he was prepared to fight in. In truth, he’s a bit scared and nervous but he didn’t want to give up without even trying. He firmly planted his feet on the ground. Okay, he’s ready for whatever she has in it for him.
“No reason in particular.” She declared in a flippant tone.
He stared at her with confusion written all over his face. “Huh? If there’s no particular reason then why won’t you just let me confess to her then?”
“Dear boy, Naegi.” She shook her head.
“Um, I’m not really comfortable being addressed that way.” He flushed in embarrassment.
“It’s precisely because I don’t have a reason that’s why I’m trying so hard to stop you!” She explained with a commanding voice. “Here you are, doing your best to get your feelings across but alas, here I am to make sure that you are here, cockblocked, for no reason at all!” She struck a pose and changed her tone to a sickly sweet one. “Isn’t it frustrating? Isn’t it condescending? Isn’t it… absolutely despairing~?”
“Well I don’t know about despair but it sure is annoying.” He muttered under his breath.
“Exactly! That’s why you should give up on her!” She cheered with more enthusiasm than he’s ever seen from her. After which, she murmured to herself, “Besides, it’ll be even more despairing for her when the game begins.”
“What did you just say?” He asked, oblivious to her true intentions.
“Nothing~” She sang and smiled sweetly at him.
“Well if you say so.” He felt as though she was hiding something but he let it go since he also felt that it wasn’t that much relevant to his original goal. He sighed and went for the last resort which was pleading. “Please, Enoshima. I still don’t get why you’re so against this but I really want to talk to her. Just give me one shot at this.”
“Ugh, why don’t you just drop it after the first death threat you got?” She groaned at his persistence as she then fell back on her seat and casually threw shade at her own sibling. “I don’t know what you see in her. She’s just a huge disappointment.”
“You’ve got that wrong!” He immediately countered with a voice full of confidence. “Ikusaba isn’t a disappointment. She’s a wonderful person who always tries her best. Even though you sometimes say hurtful things about her, she still loves you dearly. Even though it’s hard for her to adapt to society, she’s giving it her all to change. Even though she hardly smiles, the few times that she does, I think those are the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen.”
He paused in his speech as he took a deep breath and then continued, “She’s not a disappointment. Especially not to me. She’s actually incredible and that’s why I…” He trailed as his ears heard movement behind him. “I…” He turned around and his eyes widened in surprise. His jaw dropped.
“I love you.”
And the words had left his lips before he could even stop them.
There she was, Ikusaba was standing before him with a face flushed red that rivalled his own. Time stood still for them or rather, they were both so shocked that they just stood there for a long while. They just stared at each other in a daze as if in disbelief over what had just been said and in uncertainty over what to do next. The words hang in the air they breathe.
“Oh my god. This is painful to watch!” Enoshima yelled and broke the silence although the tension was still thick. She scowled at her sister and beckoned her, “Are you like going to even say anything?!”
Ikusaba opened her mouth only to close it. She did it again. And again. It was as if the words she was trying to say was still stuck in her throat. Naegi saw her struggle. He had understood. This was all too sudden for her and he didn’t know what to say either. And so he didn’t speak. He just did what he felt natural at the time.
Naegi just smiled at her, sheepish but also earnest.
Almost instantaneously, his smile had melted whatever was lodged in Ikusaba’s throat and the words had already slipped past her lips, “Me too.”
And not only was Naegi finally able to confess his feelings to Ikusaba, he had also received her answer and the feeling was mutual.