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Misunderstood By Society (6)

Asylum Patient! Konig x Doctor! GN! Reader

Warnings: Posted here

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The box of activities in my arms wasn’t much. Simple things—some puzzles, a few basic sketch pads, even a stress ball. It wasn’t about the activities themselves. It was about control. König had none in this place. Every decision, every movement, every choice was made for him. I wanted to change that, even in small ways.

But first, I had to get his food.

I made my way to the meal cart, already spotting Jacobs lingering nearby. I should have expected him. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Didn’t take you for a babysitter, doc," he mused, his voice thick with faux charm. "Bringing the big guy toys now?"

I didn’t take the bait, simply setting down the box and reaching for König’s tray. The moment I lifted the lid, my stomach turned.

The food was bland—overcooked, dry, and utterly unappetizing—but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was the faint, crushed-up remnants of something mixed into the potatoes.

I frowned, glancing at the kitchen staff behind the counter. "What is this?"

One of them hesitated, looking over at Jacobs, who didn’t bother to hide his grin.

"Standard procedure," he said smoothly. "Gotta make sure the big guy gets his meds one way or another."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "And this is the best you could do? Bland, disgusting, and drugged?" I looked back at the tray. "No wonder he doesn’t eat."

Jacobs’ smirk didn’t falter. "You’re new here, doc. You don’t get how things work."

I exhaled through my nose, turning fully to face him. "Oh, I understand just fine. I understand that König reacts to you the way he does because he distrusts you. And do you know why, Jacobs?" I tilted my head slightly, my voice eerily even. "Because you treat him like an animal."

The grin on Jacobs’ face twitched, just slightly, before hardening into something else.

I saw the shift in his posture, the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to people calling him out.

He took a step forward, lowering his voice. "Careful, doc," he murmured, his tone dripping with warning. "You’re playing a dangerous game. You’re new. They can replace you just as fast as they hired you."

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, I simply smiled.

Not a kind one.

A cold one.

"Then I guess we’ll see who lasts longer."

Jacobs' eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dark, before he huffed a quiet laugh and backed off. "Suit yourself."

I grabbed König’s tray, picking up my box of activities, and walked away without another word.

When I returned to König’s room, he was where I left him—sitting on the floor, his hood drawn low, his posture stiff but less guarded than before. His eyes flicked to the tray in my hands.

I set it down in front of him before carefully removing the plate and wiping the mashed potatoes clean with a napkin. The faint traces of crushed medication smeared onto the paper, proof of what had been hidden there.

König’s gaze lingered on my movements.

I pushed the plate toward him. "It’s out. You can take the pills when you’re ready."

He didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around the fork. He picked at the food, shoving the vegetables aside until only the meat remained.

I made another note: He only eats the meat.

The water sat untouched.

I noticed the subtle way his fingers twitched toward it before retracting.

He was hesitant. Suspicious.

I picked up the napkin, holding it up so he could see the powdery remnants. "See?" I said quietly. "It was in the food, not the water."

His fingers flexed again.

A long silence stretched between us before he finally reached for the cup.

He didn’t drink right away.

But he held it.

And for now, that was enough.

The small table between us felt like a fragile boundary, something uncertain but unbroken. I had spread out the activities—simple things, nothing complicated. I wanted to see what he gravitated toward, what caught his interest.

König eyed them warily, his large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The pencil I had set near the notepad remained untouched. His fingers twitched toward it but never quite closed around it.

Minutes passed before he finally picked it up.

I didn’t move. Didn’t offer guidance. I just watched.

He held it awkwardly, his grip too tight, his movements stiff. When he tried to press it to the paper, it barely scratched across the surface, the pressure uneven. His breathing changed—shallow, irritated. The tip of the pencil snapped, and he gritted his teeth.

His fingers flexed, and the pencil rolled from his grip onto the floor. He didn’t pick it up.

Instead, he reached for the puzzle.

I wrote in my notes without making a sound. Hesitant with fine motor skills. Difficulty gripping pencil. Signs of memory loss? Discomfort? Frustration.

The puzzle pieces were large, meant for children, but he didn’t seem to care. He worked through them slowly, his massive fingers surprisingly careful as he fit the edges together.

Then, quietly, he mumbled.

The first time, I thought he was speaking to me.

But then I realized—

He was talking to himself.

His voice was low, muttering in German and occasionally switching to English. It wasn’t nonsensical. It was structured, like a conversation.

"Here? No—there. That piece is wrong."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"No, it fits—see?"

A pause.

"It does not. Try again."

He was responding to himself.

Like two halves of his mind were speaking to each other.

I kept writing. Conversational murmuring. Auditory hallucinations? Inner dialogue?

I didn’t react. Didn’t try to stop him.

König’s fingers trembled slightly when he got a piece wrong, his breathing uneven. He paused, his hood dipping forward, hands curling into fists before relaxing again.

Still, I said nothing.

He noticed.

"You are quiet." His voice cut through the room, sharp and suspicious.

I looked up from my notes. "Do you want me to speak?"

He stiffened, clearly not expecting the question. His fingers twitched again. "You are a doctor," he muttered. "You are supposed to… show me how it is done."

I set my pen down. "Do you want help?"

Silence.

His shoulders tensed. His fingers tapped against the table once—twice. His head tilted slightly beneath the hood, something unreadable in his posture.

He didn’t answer.

And I didn’t press.

I leaned back in my chair. "I believe people should ask for help when they need it," I said simply. "After they’ve tried to find a solution first."

König’s breathing was slow, measured. He reached for another piece of the puzzle.

This time, he fit it in correctly.

He exhaled—quiet, barely noticeable. But I noticed.

And I wrote it down.

I made some....like...a day ago-

Would you both like offerings?? 🍪 🍪 🍪 🍪

Now I really want homemade chocolate chip cookies...

Happy Holidays!!

Okay so I finished everything in my ibox!!! Im so sorry if I didnt do your request, I just did what was sitting so i think tumblr ate some stuff!

Either waaayyy I had times where I woke up and randomly started writing stuff! SOOO I will be posting those!! Much love and Happy holidays to everyone!

-Writer Icy<3

Guess you'll find out when I climb through your window to steal the knees...

This is all the context I can give...

*runs*

That's a little bit concerning--

G7yg7tf7tft7f7tg7t hiiii! I'm new here and I wanted to ask before I request anything and bare with me as English isn't my first language but what do you write for SBG? Like whats off limits and what's okay?

Honestly I write for alot except extreme, descriptive gore/violence and non-con stuff. Just nothing horrible that crosses my ML things that I wont write for :') other than that, feel free to request anything!

For a Moment

Chapter 1: A Night to Remember

Dawn's POV

The hum of voices and clinking glasses filled the restaurant, a small, cozy place I’d practically grown up in thanks to Tommy. Tonight, though, felt different. There was a buzz in the air, an energy I couldn’t quite explain.

I leaned against the bar, arms crossed, watching my brother like a hawk as he chatted with a couple of his bandmates. “So, what’s the deal with this guy?” I asked, nudging Tommy’s arm.

“Relax, Dawn. Frankie’s got pipes, trust me,” Tommy replied with a smirk, not even glancing my way.

“That’s what you said about the last guy, and he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Tommy finally turned to look at me, his smirk shifting into something closer to annoyance. “You’ll see. Just… stick around, alright?”

I huffed, but curiosity got the better of me, so I stayed put, nursing a soda and watching as Tommy waved Frankie over.

When Frankie stepped up to the stage, the crowd quieted. He was smaller than I expected, with this boyish charm that made him seem almost out of place among the seasoned musicians Tommy usually ran with. But there was something about the way he carried himself—nervous but confident, like he had a secret he was dying to share.

Tommy grabbed the mic first, his grin wide and easy. “Alright, folks, we got a treat for ya tonight. Frankie here’s gonna show ya what he’s got!”

The crowd clapped politely, and I could see Frankie shift on his feet, adjusting the mic stand. Then he started singing.

“I can't give you anything but love, baby…”

The room transformed. His voice wasn’t just good—it was *magical*. Smooth, velvety, with a touch of vulnerability that made you lean in, made you *want* to listen.

I watched as the women in the crowd melted—leaning forward, whispering to each other, their eyes sparkling. But while they fell in love with Frankie Valli, the heartthrob, I was drawn to something deeper. The way he sang felt personal, like he was sharing a piece of himself with everyone in the room.

I found myself gripping the edge of my seat, hanging on every note.

"Alright so the kid can sing,” I muttered, not tearing my eyes away from the stage.

By the time Frankie hit the last note, the room erupted in applause. He ducked his head, a shy smile on his face, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration.

Tommy leaned closer, a sly grin playing on his lips. “What’d I tell ya, huh? Kid’s gonna be a star.”

I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching Frankie step off the stage with his shy smile, already wondering how someone so small could fill a room like that.

————————————————————————

Now, of course, the usual problem came up with the crashed car in the jewlery shop with a giant safe came along and Frankie got blamed.

But he was loyal to Tommy, holding his own until that court date that landed Tommy 6 months in jail.

Now, Tommy being in jail wasn’t exactly new territory, but this time it felt different. Six months was a long time, even for him. And while I could’ve used the break from his constant scheming, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was counting on me to keep an eye on Frankie.

Frankie was good—too good to waste his time sneaking around town, crooning to impress every girl who batted her lashes at him. He had potential, but if he didn’t take himself seriously, he was going to get nowhere fast.

I spotted him one afternoon, leaning against the side of a diner, serenading a small group of girls with that same song he’d sung at the restaurant. “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love.” It was sweet, sure, but I could see right through him—the way he tilted his head just so, smiling at their giggles. He was eating it up.

“Seriously, Frankie?” I called, crossing my arms as I walked up to him.

The girls looked at me like I’d interrupted the second coming, but Frankie just grinned, finishing the last note before lowering his voice. “Hey, Dawn. What’s the matter? Jealous?”

“Jealous of what? A guy who’s got a fan club but no direction? Please.” I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched, betraying the smallest smile.

“Direction?” He scoffed, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You sound like my old teacher.”

“Yeah, well, she was probably right,” I shot back. “If you keep wasting your time with these sidewalk performances, you’re never going to get anywhere.”

The girls murmured their disapproval, but Frankie waved them off. “Go on, girls. We’ll pick this up later.”

Once we were alone, he turned to me, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “You really think I’m wasting my time?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’ve got talent, Frankie. Real talent. But if you don’t take it seriously, no one else will.”

“Alright,” he said, tilting his head playfully. “What do you suggest, Coach?”

I ignored the sarcasm and straightened my posture. “First of all, stop singing the same song to every girl who’ll listen. Show some range. Second, work on your stage presence. You’ve got a good voice, but you fidget like you’re afraid someone’s going to throw a tomato at you.”

“Tomatoes, huh?” His lips quirked, and he leaned closer, his tone teasing. “What, you gonna start chucking them if I mess up?”

I gave him a light shove, unable to hold back a laugh. “Maybe I will, if it gets you to focus.”

From that day on, we had this strange rhythm. Whenever we crossed paths—at the diner, the grocery store, even on the street—he’d have some new line, half flirty, half sassy, and I’d throw it right back at him.

“Dawn,” he’d call out one afternoon, his hands cupped around his mouth. “Wanna hear a new one? I’ve been practicing.”

“Not if it’s another love song,” I’d reply, pretending to groan.

“It’s jazz!” he’d counter, flashing that boyish grin that somehow made it hard to stay mad.

Frankie had a way of getting under my skin, but I couldn’t deny he was improving. Little by little, his voice grew stronger, his confidence steadier. And while I still wanted to strangle him every time he flirted his way through a practice session, I couldn’t help but feel proud.

Tommy might’ve been the one who brought him into the fold, but I was the one keeping him on track. For now, at least.

After Nick landed himself in jail after Frankie's little rendezvous with a lady in a church, that left me to carry the boys heavy work until Tommy came home.

Frankie and I had already spent a bit of time together...not bonding though. It was more like teaching and slightly insulting him to step it up.

When Tommy came home though, I was off the hook and back into sidelines... Watching the miss Mary Delgado find a special spot in Frankie's heart.

Misunderstood By Society (1)

Asylum Patient! Konig x GN! Doctor! Reader

SOO... I've finally decided to make this an actual story. Heeyyy @gremlinmodetweeker Thought you might like it!!! ♡♡

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The scent of old books and sterilized floors filled the office, a strange combination of history and control. Mr. Wiles sat across from me, his gnarled hands resting atop a folder marked with thick red ink—KÖNIG. The name alone carried weight. I had heard it whispered through the halls before I even stepped foot into this office, spoken in hushed tones by orderlies and doctors alike.

"You're aware of the assignment, Dr. Y/N?" Mr. Wiles' voice was soft, deliberate, but there was something unreadable in his gaze.

"Yes, sir," I replied, sitting up straighter. "König. High risk. History of violent outbursts. Resistance to treatment."

Mr. Wiles nodded, flipping open the file. His brow creased ever so slightly as he traced his finger down the page. "He's... difficult. Bigger than any of our other patients. Stronger. He has attacked staff before, and his reactions to sedation are—" He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "Severe."

I had done my research before taking this position. König had been here for years, in and out of high-security confinement, yet no one had truly reached him. The reports were conflicting.

Some described him as a mindless brute, others painted him as an intelligent but deeply scarred man, one who refused to speak unless it was in anger. He never removed the hood that obscured his face. Some believed he never would.

"He refuses his medication," I said, watching Wiles closely. "And he doesn't react well to needles."

"He despises them," Wiles confirmed. "We've had to restrain him on more than one occasion. It only makes things worse." I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my mind was already turning.

König had spent his life fighting—whether it was his past, his captors, or himself, I didn't know yet. But the approach they had taken so far wasn’t working. Restraints, forced medication, treating him like a caged animal... of course he resisted.

"And my role?" I asked.

Mr. Wiles closed the file, exhaling through his nose. "You're his personal caretaker now. You’ll oversee his treatment, manage his outbursts, and—if possible—try to reach him. You will be the one he sees the most, the one responsible for ensuring he doesn’t become a danger to himself or others." He met my eyes.

"No one has succeeded yet, Dr. Y/N. Many have quit. Some were injured. You are new, and I admire your determination, but I must ask—are you certain?"

I held his gaze. "If no one has succeeded, then that means no one has tried the right way yet. I don’t believe in giving up before I’ve even begun." Mr. Wiles studied me for a long moment before a small, knowing smile crossed his lips.

"I thought you might say that." He pushed the folder toward me. "Your first session begins tomorrow morning. Be careful, Doctor. König may not be the monster they say he is... but he is still dangerous."

I took the file, gripping it firmly.

"We'll see."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH the yandere schoolbus graveyard kissing is SO GOOD!!! Thank you for doing it!

I promise this is gonna be my last request for the month! This is a yandere too😭👌

How would the character of yandere schoolbus graveyard react after getting REALLY MAD LIKE REALLY REALLY MAD at y/n for not paying attention to them so they drag y/n to one of the bathroom stalls in the school and makes out with them untill y/n is covered in hickeys and bite marks

(It's ok if you don't wanna do or if it just makes you feel uncomfortable!)

-by iluvoptimus (≧∇≦)b

Yandere SBG Gang jealousy HC's:

Ashlynn, Taylor, Tyler, Aiden, Logan, Ben

⚠️Warning: Yandere tendencies, steamy/make-out/bruising/biting

AIEEEEEE- this had me kicking my feet giggling. optimus, i love seeing your request ideas, they get me on kicks tehe<3

Anywayyy, I hope this is gooood!! enjoy!!

-Writer Icy♡

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Ashlynn:

- Rage Building: Ashlynn’s anger stems from feeling neglected, as her intense need for affection and attention from the reader goes unmet. She’s usually calm and protective, but when she feels pushed aside, her yandere side flares up in jealousy.

- In the Bathroom: Once they’re in the stall, Ashlynn’s aggression is barely contained. She presses the reader against the wall, her lips crashing onto theirs with desperate hunger. As she bites down, she whispers, “Why did you look at them? You should’ve looked at me…Just look at me… only me.” She bites their neck and collarbone, leaving small marks that are more territorial than violent. 

- Aftermath: Once her rage is spent, Ashlynn becomes overly apologetic, tending to the bite marks and softly kissing them in a soothing manner. Her possessiveness remains strong, but she’ll soften afterward, fearing she went too far in trying to control the reader’s attention.

Tyler:

- Rage Building: Tyler’s anger is explosive, born out of deep-seated insecurity and possessiveness. If the reader isn’t giving him attention, it feels like a personal betrayal, fueling his obsession with making sure the reader’s focus is always on him.

- In the Bathroom: Tyler shoves the reader roughly against the stall, his fingers digging into their skin as he pulls them close. His voice is low, dangerous. “Don’t ever forget who you belong to. You’re mine.” His kisses are aggressive, almost punishing, as he bites and sucks their lips, neck, and shoulders with enough force to leave dark marks. Aggressive, fiery and possessive is what is felt aside from the intense care he feels for the reader.

- Aftermath: Even after calming down, Tyler stays possessive, running his hands over the reader’s bite marks as if to claim them over and over again. He revels in the visible signs of his control over them, making sure they understand that no one else gets their attention but him.

Taylor:

- Rage Building: Taylor is usually soft-spoken and needy, but being ignored pushes her into a jealous frenzy. Her fear of abandonment drives her to lash out emotionally, and in a moment of overwhelming frustration, she snaps.

- In the Bathroom: Taylor’s kisses are frantic and desperate. She’s less aggressive with her bites but leaves enough marks on the reader’s neck and jawline to make it clear they’re hers. Tears of frustration mix with her anger as she mutters, “You can’t ignore me… I need you… why won’t you pay attention to me?”

- Aftermath: After the intensity subsides, Taylor clings to the reader, her yandere side softening into neediness. She’ll apologize profusely while tracing the bite marks with her fingertips, promising never to never leave them alone for too long again—even though it’s really her fear of being ignored that triggered the outbursts.

Aiden:

- Rage Building: Aiden’s anger is quiet but seething. His emotions boil beneath the surface when he feels the reader slipping away or not focusing on him. His possessiveness comes quietly but once it’s fully unleashed, it’s intense.

- In the Bathroom: Aiden corners the reader in the stall, his movements calm but firm. His kisses start slow, methodical, but quickly turn aggressive as he sucks and bites marks onto their skin, deep and deliberate. He whispers darkly, “You know it's not nice to ignore me.” He leaves no part of them untouched—neck, collarbone, shoulders and lips: all equally bruised. 

 - Aftermath: Once he’s satisfied, Aiden’s demeanor changes to a more happy, clingy one. He’ll caress the bite marks, feeling both giddy and proud of leaving his mark. His possessiveness is still there, but he’ll be quieter about it, watching for signs that the reader learned their “lesson.”

Ben:

- Rage Building: Ben’s anger flares up quickly when he feels like he’s not getting the attention he craves. His jealousy and possessiveness combine, driving him to take control of the situation immediately.

- In the Bathroom: Ben pushes the reader into the stall, his hands gripping them tightly as he crashes his lips onto theirs. His bites are fierce, almost playful, but with a possessive edge. He bites their neck, shoulders, and lips, leaving visible marks. He wont talk much but he makes sure its known that the reader belongs to him and no one else. The marks are very visible so everyone sees and already knows who caused it.

- Aftermath: Afterward, Ben’s mood shifts to being more affectionate. He’ll brush his hands over the marks he left, poking and teasing the reader for them, though the possessiveness in his eyes lingers. He’ll continue to hover around them afterward, making sure they don’t drift too far away again.

Logan:

- Rage Building: Logan doesn't really feel anger, more so insecure and is more quiet and calculating. He’s not one for explosive outbursts, but when he feels neglected, his obsessive side takes over, and he becomes laser-focused on making sure the reader knows exactly who they belong to but still being slightly desperate to make sure they know that so they don’t try to leave.

- In the Bathroom: Logan drags the reader into the stall with a shaky but unyielding grip. His kisses are slow and shy, but each one is followed by a sharp, hesitant bite, leaving a trail of marks on the reader’s skin. His voice is quiet and shaky as he murmurs, “You’re mine right? You won’t leave me…please dont go.”

- Aftermath: Logan takes his time inspecting the bite marks, satisfied with the results but also feeling nervous. He apologizes, and will make sure the reader knows they are very loved and will take care of them, making sure the marks dont hurt too bad. His possessiveness lingers, manifesting in quiet but ever-present monitoring of their every move after the incident.

Short Story Snippets:

Ashlynn:

The stall door slammed shut behind them as Ashlynn’s eyes bore into the reader’s. “Why’d you ignore me?” she hissed, pushing them up against the cold tile wall. Her lips found their way to their neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark before sucking fast, leaving open mouthed and sloppy kisses across the readers collarbone and shoulder. The reader gasped as Ashlynn’s fingers curled into their shirt, her teeth grazing over their collarbone. “You and everyone else are gonna know who you belong to.”

Tyler:

Tyler’s breath was ragged as he shoved the reader into the stall, locking the door with a click. “You think that was funny?” His hands gripped their arms tightly, pulling them closer as his lips crashed onto theirs. The bites that followed were rough, deliberate, leaving bruises on their neck. “You’re mine. Not theirs, not anyone’s. Mine. This should show that.” he growled, each word punctuated by another bite before he sucked harshly, leaving a bruise right between your shoulder and neck.

Taylor:

Tears welled in Taylor’s eyes as she dragged the reader into the bathroom stall. “Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Her voice was soft but laced with desperation. She pressed her lips against theirs, biting gently but insistently along their jawline and neck. With each mark she left, her voice grew more frantic. “Will this get me attention? Please?”

Aiden:

Aiden’s hands were firm as he guided the reader into the stall, his expression unreadable. “I can’t stand it when you ignore me” he said quietly, his lips brushing against theirs in a slow, calculated kiss. The bites came next, precise and deliberate, marking their skin, his fingers tracing the bruises he’d left behind.

Ben:

Ben’s laughter was low and almost playful as he pulled the reader into the bathroom stall. His kisses were anything but light. His teeth grazed their neck, leaving dark marks that he admired with a fiery passion in his eyes. Even through his silence, they should know they’re his anyway.

Logan:

Logan’s grip was shy but firm as he guided the reader into the stall, locking the door behind him. “Why can't you just understand that you're mine..?” he said softly, his lips brushing theirs before moving to their neck. His bites were slow, methodical, leaving bruises that he inspected with satisfaction.

dangan req: Leon with an ultimate chocolatier reader! (Platonic Kork romantic is up to you)

Leon Kuwata x Ultimate Chocolatier Reader

Danganronpa 1 :Leon Kuwata

My first thought was the inanse amount of times I watched TImothee Chalamate's Wonka and laughed because hes so silly...ANYWAY-

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-When Leon finds out you’re the Ultimate Chocolatier, he’s initially blown away. “Wait, chocolate? Like, you’re the best at making chocolate? That’s freakin’ awesome!”

--He’d probably joke about you making a chocolate baseball for him to crush in a home run but would quickly pivot to begging you for samples.

-The first time you offer him one of your creations, he’s genuinely floored by the taste. "Dude, this is insane! It’s, like, better than anything I’ve ever bought! You’re crazy talented!"

--He'd be shameless in his praise, boasting to the others about how amazing you are and how lucky he is to have someone so skilled.

-Leon’s sweet tooth would make him your #1 fan—and your worst taste tester. He’d be overly enthusiastic, often scarfing down your work before you even have a chance to finish decorating or perfecting it. “Hey, it’s not my fault it smells so good! That’s on you!”

--Despite his carefree attitude, Leon would deeply respect your dedication to your craft. If he caught you overworking yourself, he’d get serious for a moment. "Hey, don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re amazing, but even pros need to take breaks...Sooo any new candies you got for me to try?"

-In quieter moments, Leon would express his admiration in a more heartfelt way. "You know, I always thought I was passionate about my music and baseball, but watching you work... it’s something else. You’re incredible, and I’m glad I get to see that up close."

--Leon would also try to involve your talents in his music career. “What if we sell some of your chocolates at my concerts? It’d be, like, the sweetest merch ever—pun totally intended.”

-Though his ideas might be a little wild, his excitement about your talent would always be sincere. He’d love hyping you up and seeing you shine, even if it meant getting a sugar high from all the chocolate you’d let him sample.