#also as i was writing this I learned the phrase was “make do” not “make due” and gotta say not a fan

[kissandtellus]

A Lemurian Gesture

Synopsis: MC is deaf, seeing the world through a different lense than Rafayel. But after a mishap with her implant, Rafayel is ever the beautiful artist.

Tags: This is actually so sweet pls give it a read, Rafayel is a caring boyfriend friend and amazing artist also first, Hearing loss, Loss of “Fins”, Tooth rotting FLUFF. MC is deaf & had Cochlear Implants.

“Finally!” Rafayel announced, setting his paintbrush down when he heard Mc’s footsteps.

As soon as she stepped into his studio, Rafayel already had a boyish grin plastered on his face. He wasted no time taking her hand and dragging her in front of his unfinished painting — a seashore landscape with vibrant hues of blue and green. Despite being unfinished, it was obvious that Raf had taken a lot of time as well as care into each of his strokes.

Rafayel was chirping away in extravagant body language, pointing out each small detail of the piece.

But the world was silent to MC. Usually her implant would make Rafayel’s voice clearer, but right now it sounded like his voice was underwater in his own painting.

MC sighed, pointing at the ear with her hearing aid. The battery had malfunctioned while she was fighting Wanderers. She held up her hands, signaling her struggles and praying to God Rafayel had actually been studying sign language.

“Really, the hearing aid battery malfunctioned again?”

Rafayel raised an eyebrow, his cocky smirk not leaving his face as he glanced at her hands. His eyes widened when he realized what she was telling him. Now he was wishing he had actually paid attention when she tried to teach him sign language.

Looking around and scratching the back of his head awkwardly, Rafayel tried to think of how he can communicate with her. His gaze wandered around the room, his eyes eventually landing on an unopened sketchbook. Snapping his fingers, an idea struck him and he reached for the sketchbook.

Grabbing a charcoal pencil from his supplies, he handed the sketchbook and pencil to MC, gesturing her to write, "Alright, let's do it this way then."

While he waited, Rafayel leaned back and crossed his arms, studying her. She looked tired. It was obvious there had been quite a few Wanderers to be fought today.

MC sighed and scribbled fast on the sketchbook. “I thought you told me you’ve been practicing?”

"Who, me?"

Rafayel chuckled, feigning ignorance. He knew damn well he had promised to learn, but in his defense, art came first. He leaned in close, peering over her shoulder to see what she was writing.

"I have been practicing," he said with a cheeky grin, his voice low and teasing. "I've just been practicing other...things."

He trailed his gaze down her form, taking in each and every detail. Despite having just fought Wanderers, her attire was still neat without a single wrinkle, but her hair was another story. Soft, messy locks fell over her shoulders and framed her face, and Rafayel couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and run his fingers through them.

Odette smacked his hand away with a pout before scribbling on the sketched. “I told you that you need to learn 5 phrases before I would let you paint my Cochlear Transmitter and Processor.”

Rafayel feigned a look of hurt, sticking out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. He pretended to rub the spot where she smacked him, looking like a wounded puppy.

"Damn, you’ve become such a hard-ass, you know that?" he whined, his gaze shifting to the sketchbook again.

"And here I was, all ready to paint your ear thingy with the perfect shade of blue," he said, his voice dripping with mock disappointment.

Despite his playful demeanor, there was a hint of genuine excitement in his eyes at the thought of decorating her transmitter. It wasn't just about adding a touch of his artistry to an object; it was an opportunity to be close to her, to spend time together in a way that both fascinated him and satisfied his need for physical closeness.

He stepped closer, invading her personal space, and leaned his head on her shoulder. He couldn't help but tease her a little more. "You know, if I were painting that thing, I'd make sure it'd draw all the stares..."

His voice dropped to a low whisper, his breath grazing her ear as he continued, "Because nothing is more captivating than something made by me, right?"

She deadpanned. He seriously was still running his mouth despite her not being able to hear him.

Typical Raf.

MC blushed but scribbled on the sketch pad. “I’ll give you until the end of the week.”

The smirk on Rafayel's face widened at her flushed cheeks. He lived for moments like this, where his teasing had an effect on her.

"Oh, so you’re giving me a deadline now, huh?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

He leaned back and puffed out his chest, a cocksure grin plastered on his face. "Don’t underestimate my learning abilities. By the end of the week, I’ll be signing sonnets just for you."

Days passed, and true to his word, Rafayel had actually been practicing his signs. Granted, some he mispronounced and others just out right butchered, but the effort was definitely there.

At the end of the week, he finally managed to master the five phrases MC had asked him to learn. It was nothing extraordinary, mainly everyday words like 'hello', 'thanks', 'good morning', 'I hate you', and his personal favorite, 'I love you'.

"Alright, watch and learn," Rafayel said, clearing his throat dramatically. He shifted his weight onto one foot and raised his hands, fingers moving in coordination with the words he signed.

With a playful grin on his face, he flawlessly signed 'I love you', his hands moving in a fluid motion. He waited for her reaction, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

A huge smile spread across his face as he watched her reaction. It was adorable. He was proud of himself for having learned something properly, but he was also simply proud of getting to see her reaction to his silly antics.

"What can I say?" he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I'm a fast learner."

His gaze lingered on the sketchbook, and he remembered their deal. "So, about that painting I promised you..."

She sprawled out across the chaise lounging chair, doodling away on one of Rafayel’s sketchbooks while she waited on Rafayel to finish painting her implant. Since she couldn’t remove it, he was very careful painting it around wisps of her hair.

He carefully painted delicate brushstrokes, transforming the metallic implant into a canvas. He started from the edges of the device and worked his way in, using a combination of dark navy blues and rich Prussian blue to create depth and dimension. Every now and then, he would step back and admire his work from a distance, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, as if he were studying a prized painting. He wanted to make damn sure that he did this right.

After what seemed like hours of painstaking attention to detail, Rafayel finally finished painting the implant. He has painted over a silicone mold of the implant, making sure to avoid putting any pain on the actual machinery. He took a step back and admired his work, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Perfect," he murmured to himself, his gaze fixated on the now vibrant and intricate implant. He turned to MC, his eyes sparkling with pride and accomplishment. "You can look now."

He handed her a mirror and she turned her head. She gasped at the final product. He had painted it exactly like the Lemurian fins that grew behind his ears when he was in his true form.

Rafayel beamed with pride as MC admired the finished product. He chuckled, genuinely amused by her reaction. "I knew you were going to like it," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the table.

He studied her reaction in the mirror, his gaze fixed on her awe-struck face. "I'm not just a one trick pony, you know?" he said, his voice filled with arrogance and pride. "I can be artistic AND a smartass."

He approached from behind and gently grabbed a lock of her hair, toying with it in his fingers, his touch soft and playful. He couldn't help but bask in the satisfaction of a job well done, and he was also secretly enjoying the proximity. "So, what do you think?" he asked, his voice a low whisper, almost against her ear.

As he fiddled with her hair, his gaze wandered down to her neck. A wicked thought crossed his mind, and he smirked to himself before speaking again. "You know, I've noticed..." he murmured, his breath ghosting over her skin, "That you look incredibly good with blue..."

MC ignored his flirty comment before turning around, hugging her arms tightly around his neck. She tried to hold back her tears from the beautiful gesture but she couldn’t stop them.

Rafayel was taken aback by her sudden hug, his heart skipping a beat. He returned the embrace, his strong arms gently wrapping around her waist. He could feel the slight tremble in her form, and he let out a soft sigh, his cheek resting against her head.

"Hey, hey," he whispered softly, his voice tender, "No need for tears, sweetheart."

He tightened his grip on her, his fingers tracing comforting circles on her back. "It's just a bit of paint," he said, his voice teasing but not unkind. "I mean, it looks fantastic, but it's not worth crying over."

MC touched the scar behind his ears, he never told her the real reason behind him losing his fins, perhaps even he did not remember.

As MC’s fingers touched the scar behind his ears, a jolt of unexpected emotion surged through him. It was a touch so sensitive, so intimate, that he couldn't help but shiver slightly at the sensation.

He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat. He didn't pull away, though. Instead, he closed his eyes, his head tilting slightly against her touch. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed the closeness.

"That scar..." he murmured, his voice a mix of vulnerability and hesitation.

MC had a determined look on her face. She got up from the chaise and started scrambling around Rafayel’s art studio for the right supplies.

Rafayel watched her curiously as she rummaged around his art studio, her determined face making him even more puzzled. He tilted his head to the side, his eyebrow raising in skepticism.

"What are you even looking for?" he asked, his voice filled with intrigue. "Last I checked, we're here to admire my brilliant artistry, not play hide and seek."

MC grabbed the cardboard, metal wire, scissors and paint and got to work.

The curiosity grew in Rafayel's eyes as MC gathered the supplies, but he couldn't quite piece together her plan. He watched her in silence, his arms crossed and his head still cocked to the side in skepticism.

"You're not going to make some abstract sculpture, are you...?" he asked cautiously, a hint of worry in his voice.

MC stuck her tongue out in concentration. Usually she would just turn off her implant and ignore his antics but she was busy creating her own surprise for him.

Rafayel's lips curled into a lopsided smirk at her cute but focused expression. He leaned against the wall, watching her intently. Despite his initial skepticism, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by her mystery project.

"You know, you're being all secretive about this," he teased, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I'm starting to think you're up to no good back there."

She finished letting the paint dry before turning and slipping on the makeshift fins that matched her cochlear implant now, behind his ears.

Replacing the Lumerian fins he had lost long ago.

Rafayel's eyes widened as he realized what MC had made. He couldn't believe what he was seeing in the hand mirror.

Without a word, he reached up and touched the fins behind his ears in disbelief. They felt surprisingly sturdy, given that they were made so quickly and out of cardboard and metal wire. It was almost as if his own fins had been magically restored.

"You... made me fins...?" he said, his voice soft and incredulous.

He stepped closer, his eyes scanning every detail of the fins. They were painted meticulously to match the color scheme of her implant, and the design was surprisingly accurate.

He turned to face her, his heart swelling with a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something else.

"How did you... Why...?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

He was so stunned that he couldn't find the right words to convey his feelings. No one had done anything this thoughtful for him before, and his usual cocky facade was nowhere to be seen.

He reached out for her, his touch gentle as he pulled her closer. He could feel his heart racing, the gesture of recreating his lost fins stirring emotions he hadn't expected.

Odette smiled brightly before quickly signing one of the phrases he had learned within the week.

“I love you.”

[abbotjack]

Hi! I love your writing SO much. You are incredibly gifted and so intelligent and just—- wow. Constantly amazed at everything you write.

I had a question about the latest installment of the Life We Grew series — specifically, when Jack is proposing.

While they’re in the throes of it (so good btw!!) he says the line “we’re alcoholics” and that threw me! I’d so greatly appreciate if you could expand on that and your thought process behind that because I was a little confused; are they actually alcoholics? Is Jack just joking? Nothing in their story ever led me to believe that and it felt like such a specific detail to include and I couldn’t stop bumping against it. And maybe (because I have my own personal history with alcoholism in my family) I just couldn’t stop thinking about whether it was true, whether it was a throwaway comment, etc. Curious to hear your thoughts on this line!

So appreciate you taking the time to respond to this if you have the capacity to do so.

Cannot wait to read more of whatever you write!

Hi anon — thank you so much for this message. For the honesty, the care, and the softness it takes to ask a question like this, especially when something doesn’t sit right. I really appreciate the way you phrased it, and how much thought you clearly gave before reaching out. I’m so grateful you’re reading this story with your whole heart — that means more to me than I can put into words.

So let’s talk about that line:

“I know we’re both fucking alcoholics.”

Right away, I want to say clearly and respectfully: no, Jack and the reader are not alcoholics. That line wasn’t meant to be literal, and it absolutely wasn’t meant to diagnose or define either of them. It also wasn’t meant to make light of something as real and heavy as addiction. I completely understand why the phrasing gave you pause — especially if you or someone close to you has lived through that experience — and I want to explain exactly what I meant by it, where it came from emotionally, and how it fits into the scene from a character and story perspective.

That moment — mid-proposal, pre-orgasm, trembling in the quiet dark — is Jack at his most emotionally stripped bare. He’s not performing. He’s not posturing. He’s not even thinking clearly. He’s doing what he never lets himself do in daylight: he’s asking for more. Asking for something permanent. Something safe. Something that could break his heart if he touches it wrong.

And Jack doesn’t know how to ask softly. He never learned. He didn’t grow up in softness. He didn’t serve in it. He doesn’t work in it. He lives in a world of triage and night shifts, of unrelenting chaos and controlled urgency. He’s the man who listens to a police scanner while off-duty, who comes in early and leaves late, who jokes about therapy because it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He doesn’t believe he deserves love — he’s just trying to earn a piece of it before it slips through his hands.

So when he proposes, what comes out of his mouth first — before the tenderness, before the I love you, before the quiet grief of how long he’s waited — is a list of flaws. Of all the reasons she might say no. Of all the ways he’s convinced himself he’s going to ruin this.

“I know we won’t get married yet. I know we’re both fucking alcoholics. I know we argue over the thermostat and forget groceries and ruin bedsheets we don’t replace.”

And this is Jack’s language. His shorthand. His cracked, jagged, not-actually-true way of saying: We’re not perfect. We’re not balanced. We’re not living the kind of life that feels sustainable right now. But I need you to know I still want forever anyway.

Because here��s the thing: the reader isn’t a trauma doctor. She’s not part of his world in that way. She’s an accountant — sharp, brilliant, holding her own in a firm full of high-stakes pressure, deadlines, and polished precision. Her life runs on structure. On systems. On numbers that reconcile at the end of the day. Jack’s life doesn’t. His world is unrelenting and bloody and full of grief he can’t process fast enough to name. Their connection shouldn’t work — and yet, it does. It’s the contrast that gives him hope.

But in that contrast, there’s tension too. She’s steadier. She’s better at controlling the chaos. And Jack knows that. It’s part of what humbles him about her. It’s also part of what terrifies him. Because in his mind, she could leave. She could walk away and find someone more stable.

And so when he says that line, what he really means is: "I know you’ve seen me on my worst days — the nights when I show up late, the mornings I smell like sweat and adrenaline, the weeks I work through without noticing I’m bleeding. I know you drink to come down and I drink to stay numb and neither of us wants to talk about what that means. But I still want this. I want you. I want to try.”

The word choice is harsh. Abrasive. And in retrospect, it might have landed softer if I’d written “I know we’re both coping like shit” or “I know we both use things to survive that aren’t good for us.” But Jack — in that exact moment — is not editing. He’s not filtering. He’s offering her the rawest version of himself, even if it comes out in dark humor and cracked honesty.

That’s the kind of man he is. He doesn’t believe in polishing the truth before presenting it. He believes in laying it out like a battlefield map: here are the landmines. Here’s where I fall short. Here’s the part where I might hurt you. But I want you anyway. Please tell me you want me too.

And what’s beautiful — what makes the moment theirs — is that the reader understands him. She knows what he means. She doesn’t hear addiction. She hears fear. She hears honesty. She hears Jack offering her the mess first, so she can still choose him knowing it’s not perfect. And she does. She puts the ring on herself. She says yes with her whole body. She meets him in the wreckage and says, I’m not scared anymore. I’m home.

So to return to your very thoughtful question — no, the reader and Jack are not alcoholics. That line wasn’t written to label them. It wasn’t written to make light of addiction. It was written to reflect how people who are scared of being loved sometimes speak — too sharply. Too honestly. Without polish. With the fear so loud in their throats they have to say something bold just to feel like they have control over how they’re seen.

And I also want to say: I take your concern seriously. Language matters. And I’ll always strive to be intentional in how I write it. I never want a reader to feel unseen, especially when it comes to something as sensitive and personal as addiction. I’m really grateful that you gave me the space to explain, and even more grateful that you asked instead of turning away.

Thank you again — from the bottom of my heart — for reading with such care. And for trusting me with your question. I’m so glad you’re here. Sending all my love 🖤

[celtrist]

Why does Vassago already have merch, we haven't even met him yet

[leftoverbriocheloaf]

8 for wip ask game?? ^w^

This is my attempt at a little mermaid au (bc Ive been DYING for a ranpoe themed little mermaid au) where Ranpo basically declared himself the smartest person in the world and poe, who was in the sea, was like NO YOU ARENT and obviously they fall in love

I might make it a bit more on theme and have poe save ranpo first (mainly bc it would be really funny to have that first "romantic" moment become a bitter rivalry (one-sided obviously) maybe Ranpo says "mermaids aren't real" or smth and poe just gets so annoyed he gets legs to go talk shit) idk I've gotta think of a way to incorporate that asljdadksl

_________________________

It takes him approximately six years, but Edgar is finally on his own two feet.

He has to say, it isn’t all that great. He vastly prefers his tail.

But Fitzgerald isn’t one to take things back, and neither is he (and he definitely isn’t designing another palace for the man, architecture proficiency be damned), so he makes do. At least he still has Karl, though his friend is still getting used to having fur and not scales. And to having legs—even if they are much smaller than Edgar's own.

Edgar feels a bit bad, so he eventually picks Karl up and sets him on his shoulders. It takes him a moment to adjust to the new weight, and he stumbles far more than he would be willing to admit as he slowly makes his way across the beach, but for his first time walking, he’ll take it.

It’s also dreadfully hot. He certainly isn’t used to the feeling of fabric on his skin, and it seems to be doing nothing but make the heat worse. Unfortunately, human customs require it, no matter how disgusting it feels. He'll survive. Probably.

After all, he can’t imagine getting this far only to be refused for modesty’s sake. At least his hair remains the same as it was before– still long enough over his face to protect his eyes. Unfortunately, it also makes the heat worse.

But it’s nothing he can’t handle for revenge. He’s already waited this long.

Even if it is a tad… overwhelming.

He takes another shaky step, just a bit mesmerized by the way the sand falls in place around his feet—it’s worlds away from the way it clumps together under the water—when he hears a voice.

“Hey!”

Shit. Edgar spins in the direction of the voice, taking special care not to slip and make an utter fool of himself. His gaze meets an irritated man, who stands a few feet away with his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed sharply. His eyes are closed, which Edgar is almost certain is unusual for humans, unless they are asleep or potentially dying. 

He doesn’t think the man is either.

Edgar also realizes that he must be rather tall for a human, unless this one is just bizarrely short.

“Can–” Edgar starts, but stops when a scratchy cough forces itself out of his throat. It feels dry, which is a very new and very unpleasant feeling. He would not recommend. Edgar tries to swallow, which alleviates the sensation just barely. He’s able to speak, but the words still burn in his throat. “Can I help you?”

The man clicks his tongue, which Edgar finds rude.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

Edgar blinks, somewhat irked at the man’s curt tone, “I’ll… be on my way, then?”

The stranger doesn’t respond, and Edgar hopes that the confusion he feels doesn’t show on his face. As he takes another shaky step, the man crosses his arms.

“Y’know,” he huffs, “You’ll never blend in walking like that.”

Edgar flinches, and Karl lets out a distressed yelp as he’s jostled from his perch. 

“Were you watching me?” Edgar asks, a bit offended. He’s also mortified, because if the man saw his pathetic attempts at walking, then he probably also knew Edgar wasn’t human. 

Which, as far as Edgar was aware, wasn’t good.

“Why do you have a raccoon anyway?” the man asks, ignoring Edgar’s question.

“A raccoon?”

The man raises an eyebrow, which Edgar finds both comedic and patronizing. “The thing on your shoulder.”

“Oh,” he replies, before, “He isn’t a raccoon.”

“That is a raccoon.”

“No,” Edgar insists, “He's a dog.”

Fitzgerald said himself that dogs were common human companions, and told Edgar that Karl’s presence wouldn’t be questioned if he were pretending to be one. So why was this human insisting that Karl was a raccoon? What even was a raccoon?

“That is not a dog,” the stranger argues back. “Are you blind?”

“Aren’t your eyes actually closed?” Edgar asks exasperatedly. He doesn’t have time for this! He isn’t getting any closer to finding him, and arguing over Karl’s species with a stranger on the very beach he started on wasn’t going to help.

Edgar almost jumps when he hears a frantic “Prince!” shouted from across the beach. It comes from a boy with white hair (does that actually make him an old man?) who barely stops himself from running right into Edgar.

“You–” the young/old boy starts, before stopping to catch his breath, “You can’t leave by yourself like that! Everyone thought you got kidnapped!”

“No one thought that but you, Atsushi,” the man (the prince?) responds, rolling his eyes.

“Still!” he frowns before his gaze makes its way to Edgar and he jolts, “Who are you? This is private property!”

“The… sand?” Edgar asks. Were humans really in the business of privatizing beaches? He supposes the Guild wasn’t much better. Fitzgerald would have taxed the bubbles in the ocean if he could just figure out how.

“This is hard to watch,” the annoying one mutters.

____________

See they're literally in love

Anyway I'm having fun w this one bc its a fine line between poe is incredibly intelligent and poe is NOT human and therefore has very little idea of what humans actually do/are lmao

Also I just love the idea of poe and fitz, objectively smart individuals, being like yea thats a dog if ive ever seen one. yep.

(also yes karl is sebastian in this au bc Im not doing that to poor lucy)

[sheeezu]

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

[moon-ttokki-x]

Hey, how are you? May I ask for stray kids 9th member being a poliglot?

this was a cool request, ngl . . . i didn't do a traditional fic bc i like this format a lot, and plus, it's cuter that way >< also can we just appreciate the pretty purple theme guys

skz x 9th member!reader who can speak multiple languages

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member polyglot!reader

summary: skz with a 9th member who is a polyglot.

genre: extremely fluffy, very cute stuff, pretty soft, some member x reader stuff, chaotic skz, naughty minho and maknaes, leader chan agenda, romantic hyune, reader who can read, write, and speak multiple different languages

a/n: interesting request . . . divider by @chachachannah

skz masterlist

Chan who wants you to teach him how to say lovely little phrases like 'i love you' and 'you are the light of my life' in different languages, asking you cutely with the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. He goes around saying them to the other members, who don't understand what language he's talking in, and ignore him. But it doesn't matter, because now he feels like he has a little part of you with him wherever he goes. Is always fascinated as he watches you change languages in the blink of an eye. Makes a sweet sentence in one of your languages his bubble caption.

Minho who, on the other hand, asks you to teach him the dirtiest, filthiest phrases you can think of. They're too graphic to be put here, but some of the milder phrases include 'fuck you' and 'i hope you swallow spiders in your sleep'. Like Chan, he also goes around telling the members these sentences and grins the biggest you've ever seen because now he can swear without being caught. Sometimes does it on stage too, but really quietly just in case there's a couple Stays who actually understand what he's saying.

Changbin who watches in awe as you seamlessly transition between being on the phone, writing things down, and chatting with someone all at once while swapping languages. His head hurts after and he watches you quietly as you go about your usual business, not quite understanding how you do it. He learnt English with some a lot of difficulty, so he's stupefied by the fact that you've learnt not one but multiple languages, and can speak them all fluently. Always asking what you said after you switch back to a language he can understand.

Hyunjin who thinks up the cutest, sweetest, most romantic phrases on a whim, and after he asks how to say them in a language. So you tell him, thinking he's just curious. A few weeks later, you find a painting in your bedroom, a vase of your birth flowers and one of the phrases painted delicately in black across the bottom. He always asks what certain words mean, and asks you to translate random sentences. Has the biggest shine in his eyes as you sit down with him and tell him what all of the words mean, and how to say them. Stumbles through pronunciation but it's cute, so you kiss him as a reward.

Han who also asks what certain words mean, but more often than not, has a translating app open on his phone so he can find out for himself. Spends hours in secret trying to learn sentences by himself, and records himself saying the lines so he can check if he's saying them correctly. Like Changbin, is fascinated when you can switch languages just like that. Once said a rude phrase in front of his hyungs and got scolded because Chan actually understood what it meant (somehow). Got sentenced to 25 pushups as a punishment and never did it again.

Felix who buys workbooks and installs language-learning apps in a bid to try and communicate with you in your languages. Ends up spending over $400 just to spend hours upon hours studying them, much like he did when he was learning Korean. Doesn't notice when you sit down next to him and stroke his hair, he's so focused on learning your languages. Wants to communicate with you in every way he can. Refuses to talk to you in Korean or English until he gets fluent in at least two of your languages, and asks for kisses and hugs when he understands what you're saying to him.

Seungmin who sits in quiet fascination as you write in one language and talk on the phone in another. Isn't as forward in telling you that he wants to learn some of your languages, but definitely goes online and does his own research. Likes looking up the origins of each language and how the words were formed. Finds himself repeating little phrases he'd caught you saying that morning or the night before. Will never admit that he finds it fascinating that you can talk, read, and write in different languages, but nods and listens when you tell him all about it anyway, admiring the passion in your eyes with a warm heart.

Jeongin who learns weird phrases to catch you off guard, because he loves the speechless look on your face when you hear them. Is too shy to ask you outright to teach him your languages but also does research so he can learn himself. Recites off lines to the members and forces them to sit and listen so he can say them to you without messing up. Ends up wasting a lot of practice time, but he doesn't really care. Learns to write keywords and cute little sentences, and writes them in the margins of your notebooks to surprise you. Doodles love hearts and stars around each phrase.

a/n: very cute

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[racke7]

I took a year's worth of writing-classes, way back in the day. And this was one of the most important things I learned.

It's not your job to "make the story better", it's your job to "help the author make the story that they want to write".

If a scene felt confusing to you, maybe just try to give a step-by-step summary of what happened in that scene (what they were talking about, what they were doing, the implications that you could read into it, etc). Sometimes you're spot-on (and your confusion is important), sometimes you just failed at reading, sometimes the author might go "wait, fuck, did I not explain this part?".

BUT.

But, very importantly, this is for writer's workshops. This is advice for how to be a beta-reader, or an editor. This is the "constructive criticism" that an author specifically asks for prior to publishing.

Don't drop this kind of stuff on someone who's already published their fic (unless they're specifically asking their readers for it). Because that just puts you into the: "unasked for criticism"-hole, and you don't want to go there.

“But let me give you the dark side of writing groups. One really dark side of writing groups is, particularly newer writers, don’t know how to workshop.

“And one of the things they’ll try to do is they’ll try to make your story into the story they would write, instead of a better version of the story you want to write.

“And that is the single worst thing that can happen in feedback, is someone who is not appreciating the story you want to make, and they want to turn it into something else.

“New workshoppers are really bad at doing this. In other words, they’re really good at doing a bad thing, and they’re doing it from the goodness of their heart. They want you to be a better writer. They want to help you. The only way they know is to tell you how they would do it, which can be completely wrong for your story.”

—Brandon Sanderson, Lecture #1 Introduction, Writing Science Fiction And Fantasy

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?” 

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!” 

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really. 

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations. 

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them. 

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers. 

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him. 

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it. 

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah. 

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes. 

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before. 

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd. 

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears. 

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft. 

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him. 

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer. 

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes. 

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs. 

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again. 

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands. 

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too. 

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too. 

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back. 

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong. 

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die. 

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard. 

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield. 

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away. 

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means. 

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

[luvvyouforever]

Hello, could I request Stardew Valley Sam relationship headcanons with a female reader? Sfw and nsfw, please and thank you!

absolutely! <3

sdv sam boyfriend headcanons ౨ৎ

content: fluff, cheesy things, nicknames, cuddling, overstimulation, dom/sub mention, nudes, praise, fantasies. author's note: i've never actually romanced or married sam in sdv but i did research for this so i hope it's somewhat accurate hehe

sfw:

-loves doing cheesy stuff with you! like if you see any internet couple trend you wanna do, he would jump at the opportunity to do with you!! is just totally not afraid to show his love for you, even if it can be a little corny at times.

-he probably calls you "babe" and "baby" a lot! they're easy pet names that roll of his tongue easily. tbh, he probably uses them more than your actual name! if he's addressing you all flirtatiously, he uses "cutie." i think he also likes coming up with a very special nickname for you that comes from an inside joke.

-will totally write and dedicate songs to you, are you kidding me?? and oh my god he's so cute and cheesy with it too. like, when you guys have just started to flirt and get closer to each other, you're hanging out at sunset on the pier or he's watching you excitedly play video games on his bedroom floor and he looks at you all puppy-eyed and says, "i could write a song about you." and it becomes a phrase he uses for those extra special moments in life.

-loves watching you support him and his band. seeks you out in the crowd, points to you, and makes eye contact with you through the whole show. pleaseee make a t-shirt with the band name on it and wear it around him. he's never been more in love.

-when he's working at joja, he's totally the kind to have you come over and just hang around him while he's at work. does morris find it incredibly annoying that the farmer trying to put him out of business is distracting one of his only workers? yes, but are you gonna stop? no, your bf needs company!

-speaking of keeping him company, his love language is def quality time. feels so loved when you just want to spend time with him, regardless of what you're doing. he's so happy just to have you in his room while he's playing games or playing the guitar and you can work on whatever you'd like! just loves your presence and really values it.

-would also be incredibly happy if you got along with abigail and sebastian. those are his best friends and bandmates! he invites you to their practices and hang outs and he feels his heart grow a little wider when you're laughing with everyone like you've been there the whole time.

-likes doing things around the farm with you! he might not be the best at some of the chores (aka he once pulled up an entire patch of carrots thinking they were ready to be harvested...they were not), but he's gonna offer to help anyway! maybe give him the job of petting all your cows and pigs and chickens, or collecting the honey from your beehives.

-learns your favorite song on guitar and plays it for you when you've been having a bad day. he's so sweet.

-is such a cuddle bug. before he moves into the farmhouse, he always sadly leaves you at night and looks back at you with a pout on his face the whole walk home. you laugh at his antics from the porch, but really, you get the best sleep when you both are a tangled mess of limbs with the blankets folded beyond recognition.

-he is such a typical skater bf. tries to teach you to skateboard and holds your arms really steady as he pulls you along the sidewalk outside of his house. he's so encouraging and keeps telling you, "look! you're doing it! you're doing so good!" if you fell, he would ask if you're okay and if there's no injuries, he will let out a little giggle.

-he really wants to support you when you go into the mines. even goes as far as offering to come with you! he lasts through the slimes and the flying bug things, but the minute he sees the ghosts and the skeletons and the golems, he's finding the next elevator and leaving immediately. shouts "you got this babe!" from the top of the cave.

-loves putting you in and see you in his clothes. if it's cold, he likes wrapping you up in his jacket. if you're sleeping over, will not hesitate to offer one of his shirts to wear. if you're in the saloon watching him play pool, he offers you his denim jacket to wear. it's not really a possessive thing, but more so a "ohmygodyoulooksocute" thing.

-gets cuteness aggression with you, tbh. like when you've woken up in the morning engulfed in oversized hoodies and sweatpants with a tired pout on your lips, he just wants to bite you and squeeze you.

-forgets everything. poor baby. like his memory is just awful and he won't forget the chords to your favorite song or how to do a trick on the skateboard that impressed you early on, but he will forget to set out food to thaw for dinner and he will forget to put the newest batches of wine into the shipping box.

-really finds your connection with his family to be incredibly important. like he would be okay if you didn't click well with his friends, but if you weren't playing with vincent on the living room floor or helping jodi wash the dishes after dinner, he would be a little more than turned off.

-if you're the type of person to mess with lewis and steal his purple shorts and use them in every event, he's right behind you. giggles when the only thing you've brought for the showcase is his shorts and even stalls him while you place them in the box. loves getting all the town gossip from you too!

-sam just really wants to be with someone who appreciates his presence, who is willing to be a part of his life, and someone he can have a lot of fun with. he just loves loving you and he makes sure you know that too.

nsfw:

-i don't think sam's got a lot of experience tbh. i don't think he's entirely new to the concept of sex, as in i don't think he's a virgin, but he's just on the younger side in a small town where everybody knows everybody!

-that's not to say that he doesn't know what he's doing with you. in a more modern stardew valley world, he's likely consumed at least some kind of pornography (probably in normal sdv too, idk what they get up to at nightime), and also knows what gets him going.

-he's also a quick learner and adaptable. if you don't like something he's doing, he wants you to guide him to where you want him. once you've taught it to him once, it becomes second nature after that.

-is really allllll about pleasure during sex. he can't really put up with teasing or edging too long because damn it, let the man make you feel good! would much prefer to overstimulate both you and himself than deny both of your pleasures.

-in fact, he actually thinks overstimulation is hot both for you and him. you'd have to tug him off of you because he just never wants you to stop feeling good. he thinks seeing your scrunched up face and hearing your intense moans is soooo hot. as for him, he loves when you keep touching him even after he's came. whether it's with your hand or mouth or pussy, he doesn't care. he loves the way it feels.

-is such a sucker for lingerie. when he's not with you in bed and really needs to jerk off, he imagines stripping you down, starting with your pants, then moving to his band t-shirt that he throws to the side, revealing the prettiest, lacy set underneath that makes his mouth water.

-definitely fucks to music and even makes a CD to play while you guys are having sex. it's a combination of songs he loves, songs that fit the mood, and songs you love. he just likes having the background noise accompanying your moans.

-can really either be more dominant or more submissive. i see him as a very sweet, soft dom though. he's calling you all kinds of cute names and adorning your body with a billion kisses and encouraging you to cum for him or to cum another time and then he's caressing your body really gently while he slides in. as for being submissive, he just thinks there's something so hot about a strong woman taking lead. he'll listen to you like a puppy and thrives on praise.

-speaking of praise, the man lives and breathes it. tell him how good he's doing, let him know that you're feeling fucking amazing. in turn, he'll spill compliment after compliment, so many, in fact, that you have to tell him to hush.

-kinda thinks the thrill of you and him fucking in his bedroom is so hot. it's late at night, the rest of the house is definitely asleep, but you're giggling and sneaking in through the window and kissing him so his moans are subdued.

-i think sam really needs to be with someone who thinks hands/fingers are hot, can i say that? like the man plays guitar so his fingers are long and slender and i feel like he's got these nice veins that pop out when he plays, and he blushes when you can't stop staring at them, imagining all the things those hands could be doing right then.

-regardless of whether he's feeling more dominant or submissive, he's so incredibly needy. when he's in the mood, he's touching you all over from the minute the both of you are home to the minute you fall asleep after having sex. he's whispering pleases and giving you these big puppy dog eyes. he's all pouty when you have to get him to stop touching you, like when he's at work or when you're at the saloon.

-if you imagine a modern sdv with phones, he's such a sucker for nudes. before he moves in, when you're in separate bedrooms, you'll surprise him with a pic of you in his t-shirt lifted up to show what's underneath. he responds within seconds, telling you how pretty you are. it just grows from there. he's soooo the kind of guy to send you videos of him touching himself. and cumming too.

-really loves you riding him i think. he's a boob guy and likes having them right there in front of his face. he's running his hands all over you and groping you and throwing his head into your chest. i think he's also down to try 69ing. both of you get pleasure while also giving pleasure??? he's all for it.

-before you actually make a move and have sex with him, he's all about sloppy makeouts in his bed. you've snuck into his room after jodi went to bed and he has you perched in his lap, making out to some kind of soft rock music.

-is such a sucker for hickies too. while he does try to hide them the day after, he just love seeing your handiwork in the mirror the morning after. he gets needy again seeing the huge purple and red splotches on his neck and touches them while reminding himself how he got them. would send you a picture too with a winky face and a cheeky comment hehe.

-i think he has a lot of fantasies in his head. like he adores you for how you are, but when he's by himself, he's imagining these scenarios like rockstar x fan backstage or, dare i say, professor x student (w you as the professor of course). he'll be so ashamed to admit these out loud, but once you encourage him enough, he gets so excited and makes it an entire production.

hope you enjoyed! (i might need to romance sam on my next farm)

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[quillsnink]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[kestalsblog]

Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing

I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!

-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.

-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.

-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.

-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.

-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."

-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).

-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.

-Use a consistent verb tense.

-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.

-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.

-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.

-Also, related, there's no need to start tossing out every character trait for each character if it's not relevant to the story.

-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?

[danyasblogsblog]

CULTURAL/FOREIGN READER COD MEN

warnings : too cute

- cod guys with a reader from another country!!!!!

- this idea when i thought of it made me screamm i just think its so cute, idk if anyone’s done this before but i just think this idea is so adorable

- includes task force 141 (kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish, simon ‘ghost’ riley, john price), könig and keegan p. russ

gaz would ALWAYS be asking about your culture. the way your eyes light up telling him a fun fact about the history means everything to him. listening to your voice squeal and go high pitched when he mentions something you told him from another conversation you guys had makes him kick his feet and giggle. ‘oh my god, you remembered!!’ as if he could ever forget 😭😭ily gaz u little cutie pie

soap would be all about the food. asking you to make the recipes your grandma made you when you were a kid? check. begging you to cook him food from your childhood when he gets home from deployment? check. trying to learn how to make your cultural food so he can surprise you on your birthday with it? check. making a mess while trying to do that? check. you cant even be mad though. what a cutie

price would be researching about your culture so he could impress you/your family abroad. he would learn common phrases in your language, would learn about the traditions and the history of your country, etc. if he’s ever confused about something, he’ll ask you about it and listen to you talk about it for hours, a bit like how gaz would. he would also love to impress you with his knowledge.

ghost would be a lot like soap and gaz i think. he would always be asking about the history of how certain foods came to be, the enemies and allies of your country, how it was like growing up, etc just to hear you talk. he is definitely the listener in your guys’ relationship, contrasting to you, the yapper. he could basically hear you talk his ear off and he wouldnt care. would always be eternally grateful when you make him your nice, hot cultural food when he gets home from deployment.

könig would definitely want to visit your country. i lowk headcanon him as being a massive traveller. being from austria, he also understands feeling like an outsider in a new country, so if you ever wanna talk about the differences between your homeland and the country you live in now, he’d listen. i feel like you guys would have a date where he cooks you austrian food and you cook him your cultural food. omg thats so cute i should write something about that

keegan would absolutely encourage you to embrace your culture. i feel like when its your countries’ independence day, he’d go around telling the ghosts, ‘you know, it’s (countries names’) independence day’. would definitely, after a long day, appreciate your cultural cooking. i can imagine during your guys’ long term relationship, him asking ‘what about marriage in (countries’ name)’

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

[bloomseishiro]

TONGUE TIED AT THE THOUGHT OF YOU — NAGI SEISHIRO

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: nagi gets away with lots of things by sleeping, including not cleaning the classroom when it’s his turn to help out. too bad for nagi, you won’t let him get away with that. strange…that’s the first time this has happened to him.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, modern high school au/no blue lock au?, they are 3rd years, reader is shorter than nagi, NAGI MAKING READER ALL FLUSTERED AHH THIS GUY ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 3.0k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: nagi the shoujo male lead that u are !! i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing some parts of this :p 

Nagi Seishiro wasn’t known to have many friends. 

At least, that’s what you’ve heard from your friend who shared homeroom class him during your first year. He would fall asleep in class, not participate in after school activities, and didn’t even try to eat lunch or form study groups with anyone.

It was high school sacrilege, and, for some reason, you kind of admired him for it. How cool was it to not care at all about what others thought? As weird as your friends said you were for this, you honestly found Nagi Seishiro to be pretty cute. 

His messy, white hair and relaxed attitude… There was something about it you quite liked. It also helped he was tall and athletic-looking.

Still, there was no way you would act on it right now— You were certain, for one, that he didn’t even know your name despite being in two whole classes together this year. Somehow, even in the close proximity of a classroom, your paths have never crossed. 

That was, until now. 

“Y/N, Nagi. The two of you are on cleaning duty today,” said your teacher with a smile. “You can ask your friends if they want to stay and help, but it shouldn’t be too much today. Just a wipe-down of the tables and sweeping the floor.” 

Your jaw almost dropped at the announcement. You were ready for the school day to end without anything exciting happening, but then this happened. 

“Yes, Matsumoto-sensei,” you acknowledged, waving goodbye as your classmates left the room. “I’ll help clean with Nagi.” 

As the students emptied out, the teacher let you know she was going to grab a quick snack at the teacher’s lounge. By the time you were about to start cleaning, you noticed Nagi hadn’t moved from his seat. In fact, he hadn’t even lifted his head…

This didn’t exactly surprise you, but you hoped you wouldn’t have to clean the classroom all by yourself. 

You hesitated before leaning over his desk and tapping his shoulder. “Nagi? Are you asleep?” 

There was no response. 

Leaning in closer, you shook his shoulders even harder, squinting at him as if the intensity of your stare would be enough to wake him up. 

And to your surprise, perhaps it did. As if on cue, one of his eyes groggily opened. 

Proud of your success, you smiled. “Good not-morning, Nagi.”

He yawned, not lifting his head up from his desk. “Who are you?” 

“Me?” You pointed to yourself.

He nodded.

You frowned, but responded, “I’m Y/N. It’s our turn to clean the classroom today.” You blinked, feeling a bit hurt even though you knew it was silly. Nagi hardly interacted with anyone, even his teachers, unless he had to. It should be no surprise he hadn’t bothered to learn your name as well. But still, having that confirmed felt sort of…hurtful. “You know, that’s a bit mean.” 

His eyes widened a fraction but he kept his voice toneless. “Mean? How?”

“We’ve been in the same school for three years, I’ve even shared a few classes with you. Like this one. I guess it kind of stings you never bothered to learn my name.”

Nagi finally lifted his head from his desk, sitting in a mostly upright position. “Is that something you care about?” 

The phrasing was off, but it didn’t seem like he had any malicious intent behind his words. 

“I suppose I do care a little. You should make an effort to learn your fellow classmates names,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I mean, I know your name, don’t I?”

“I guess,” he said, as if he didn’t even think twice about why people would know his name. “I didn’t know your name. But I did recognize you. Is that still mean?”

You nodded but your hardened expression faltered. Some people were bad with names, you supposed. “I guess I feel better hearing that…”

“I know you’re that person that tripped during the last leg of the relay race during sports day.”

His words brought the embarrassing memories rushing back and you cringed, hiding your face behind your hands. “I take it back. I’d rather you did not know my name and did not recognize me if it’s for something like that!” 

“Well, I do know your name now. Y/N,” he stated. “And that scene is kind of hard to forget. It’s like it happened in slow-motion. Like I was watching an anime.” 

You grimaced even more. Slow-motion? Could it get any worse? Why couldn’t he remember you for placing first in last year’s spelling bee? Or for getting the most chocolate’s received on White Day in Class 3-A? Of course, his singular memory of you had to be your most embarrassing high school moment thus far. 

“Okay, you know what? Since you’re awake now, maybe we should just clean,” you said in resignation, trying to change the subject. 

He shook his head. “Don’t wanna.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. You couldn’t just say you “don’t wanna” do chores the teacher assigned. That was unfair to the other students assigned the clean. In this case— You. 

“You still have to contribute,” you asserted. 

Nagi titled his head back to look lazily up at you. “Why? Would it be mean not to?” 

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he threw your words back in your face. “Yes, exactly! It’s nice to contribute. It’s mean to…not.” 

“How tiresome,” he sighed, finally standing up from his desk. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings again, though. So, okay. Where is the broom?” 

“You don’t know where the broom is?” 

Nagi shook his head. 

“Have you never been assigned to clean before?” you asked, incredulous. 

He shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe. Must’ve slept through it all.” 

“All your years of schooling and you got away with that?” You were appalled. Was this the power of pretty privilege combined with the aura of a strange weirdo? “That’s so unfair to the others who were assigned to clean with you, Nagi! We should help other people out, not ignore them if the task inconveniences you.”

You understood why your friends were so quick to judge you when you told them about your tiny, budding crush on Nagi. He was a peculiar one, after all. But it didn’t seem like he meant any harm. 

“You’re scolding me,” he stated, tone neutral and not accusatory. “That never happpens.”

You drew back, a look of reluctance taking over your face. For someone who spoke about fairness and what is right and wrong with such fervor, you would think the matters were bigger than simply cleaning a silly classroom. “You’re right, I was scolding you, wasn’t I? I’m sorry for being pushy. I have been told I can get a little naggy. Sorry.”

“Ah? Don’t say sorry. It’s fine. I’m just not used to it. But it’s fine.” 

You lifted a brow. “You’re a strange one, Nagi.”

He nodded. 

You made your way to the supply closet where the cleaning supplies were kept, gesturing for him to follow behind you. To your surprise, Nagi actually stood from his desk and followed suit. 

Maybe he just needs some sense talked into him sometimes.

“So here is the supply closet,” you said, opening the door. “The broom is, well, that thing with the long stick handle right there.”

“I know how a broom looks.”

You raised your hands defensively, a teasing grin gracing your lips. “Just checking, that’s all.”

“Hm.”

“And that up there, on the top shelf, is the cleaning spray,” you said, staring up at the bottle. “Now, who in their right mind would put it all the way up there? Did a giant clean the class last?!” You hmphed, trying to reach the cleaning solution so you could finish your class chores as quickly as possible.

Standing on you tippy-toes, you swatted blindly at the shelf, trying to push the items forward so you could have a better chance at reaching what you needed. You felt your fingers moving items around, and you were sure this plan was fool-proof. 

“Hey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let me—”

Too late. 

“Oh, no!” you yelped, flinching as you saw a full jug of liquid tipping over the shelf and falling closer to your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced yourself for the impact that never came. 

When you gathered the courage to open your eyes, you saw Nagi’s arms outstretched on either side of your head, grabbing the container of water (that was terrifyingly less than two inches away from your face) with his hands. 

You felt his warm chest against your back— Nagi had to lunge forward in order for you to not get hit, and this was the position you landed yourselves in. You tried hard not to breathe, but the smell of musk and vanilla flooded your senses. He was simply too close for you to ignore. 

Nagi made a small noise—perhaps one of amusement?—and said, “You’re clumsy, aren’t you?”

You didn’t have to read his mind to know he was thinking back to you faceplanting during the sports day relay race. Great, now he had another embarrassing moment for him to remember you by… 

“I’m not clumsy, you just happen to catch me at my bad moments,” you insisted, but there was no fight to your words. As you stared at death (also known as a plastic jug) in the eye, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. “Thank you for saving me.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and you expected him to back away, but his arms stayed on either side of your head. If Nagi didn’t move soon, you weren’t sure how long you would last before you passed out from both his scent and the warmth of his body. 

“Er, you can move now,” you said hesitantly. “I don’t think the jug will hit me anymore…”

“Eh. Too lazy.”

You blinked. “You’d rather stand with your arms upright because you are too lazy to put them back down?”

Nagi sighed, leaning forward until his chin plopped softly on the back of your head. “Yes.”

You jolted upright, eyes widen. Was he just casually leaning on you? This guy really was crazy!

“Nagi!” You shoved him away from you in a panic. He swayed, hardly bothering to catch himself. “You can’t just…do that!”

Placing the container of liquid back on the top shelf, he questioned, “Why? Is it mean?” 

With burning cheeks, you ducked away from his outspread arms, escaping the cramped supply closet. “Well, no. It’s not mean, but you’re in my personal space! And… I guess that can be seen as rude to some people. And— Are you teasing me?!”

You noticed the slightest change in his expression. From 100% blank to 95% blank and 5% amused.

Nagi shrugged in silent admission. That amused expression was enough of a tell.

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Maybe it was better before you knew of my existence. You can go ahead and forget my name now.”

“Nah.”

You quirked a brow.

“Too bothersome,” he explained. 

“It’s too bothersome to forget a name you didn’t even know ten minutes ago?”

He nodded.

Laughter bubbled out of you as you shook your head in disbelief. “You, Nagi Seishiro, are one of the strangest people I have ever met. Lucky for you, I’m the second strangest person I’ve ever met. So it doesn’t scare me.” 

Nagi grabbed the cleaning spray from the supply closet (he didn’t even need to go on his tip-toes to reach it from the back of the top shelf…) and handed it to you dutifully. 

“You are strange,” he agreed.

“Maybe that means you’ll remember me better.”

“Yeah.”

You smiled at him before finding a clean rag to start wiping down the desk surfaces. “Well, now that we are officially acquainted, you should have lunch with me.”

“Huh? I don’t know…”

You frowned at him. “That’s no way to treat a new friend.”

Nagi lazily swept the same spot over and over again, not bothering to walk around the room. “I don’t like cafeterias. Too loud and annoying.”

“Where do you go for lunch then?”

He pointed up.

“The roof?” you guessed.

“Yes.” 

You tapped your finger to your chin. “Maybe I can join you, then? Just once a week, though. I still want to spend time with my other friends.”

Nagi considered it for a moment before deciding, “Sure.”

“Really?” you asked, not actually expecting him to agree to your whims. You wanted to throw it out there, yes. As weird as he was, Nagi was fun. And you wanted to get closer to him. But you didn’t think he would actually humor you.

“Yeah. Can you bring my lunch those days?”

You almost choked on air in astonishment. “Huh? Nagi, what the heck! You can’t just ask people that when you aren’t close to them yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s unfair?” you said uncertainly. “I can bring you lunch, but only if you do too. We can take turns!” 

“Sounds like a pain,” he sighed.

“Then deal’s off.”

He signed louder. “Okay, fine.”

“Fine?”

“We can, you know,” he waved his hand around, “take turns.”

You clasped your hands together, beaming in excitement. “Great! You have yourself a deal, then. I’ll see you for lunch on… Let’s say, Fridays?”

Nagi shrugged, sitting down with the broom in hand. “Sure. I’m tired.” 

“Good thing we’re almost done then.”

“Mhm.”

Once you finished wiping down the last desk, you put the cleaning supplies back in their proper places and gave Nagi a thumbs up. He was on the verge of lying his head back down on a desk and falling asleep. You giggled at the sight.

“Save that for your bed, sleepy head,” you chirped, tapping him on the shoulder. “We’re done now! you’re free to go home.”

“Walking home is…so tiresome,” he groaned, but followed you out of the classroom and into the front entrance of the schoolyard.

There was a nice, light breeze greeting you as your face hit the fresh air. The leaves were dancing along as you began to part ways with Nagi.

“I’m going this way,” you stated, pointing to the direction opposite of where he was facing. “So goodbye for now. But I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He lifted his hand in acknowledgement. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Nagi took one step forward before hesitating.

“Need something?” you asked.

“For lunch this Friday…” You waited patiently for him to finish his sentence. “I can bring lemon tea.”

“Tea?” you repeated. “For lunch?”

He nodded. “It’s easy and fast. My go-to meal.”

You attempted to hide the horrified look on your face. Tea as a meal? You began to understand why he asked you to bring him food on the days you were to have lunch with him. Still, you didn’t want to dismiss his efforts. 

“Okay, sure,” you agreed amicably. “You can bring lemon tea, and I can bring egg salad sandwiches. A collaboration!”

Nagis eyes brightened at the sound of that. “Yes, please. Can Friday come sooner?”

You giggled at his newfound eagerness. Food really was the way to someone’s heart, after all.

“It’s only two days away. It’ll come in no time,” you assured. “I hope you make a yummy lemon tea!”

Nagi rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… It’s just hot water and lemon. But I will try.”

For whatever reason, you get the idea that even trying was a lot for him. You couldn’t help but feel just a little bit flattered that Mr. “How Tiresome” was willing to put in some effort for your brand new friendship.

“That’s all that matters,” you said happily. “Now, have a goodnight, Nagi!”

“Night,” he said with a wave. But he still didn’t begin walking away. “Y/N.”

You paused in your steps and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Can you wear the same perfume you had on today again? I smelled it in the supply closet. You smell good.”

“Huh— Nagi!? You can’t just say—” you cut yourself off. How many times have you said that just this afternoon? It was Nagi after all. He could say whatever he wanted and somehow get away with it. With your cheeks burning, you marched up to him. “Fine,” you scolded poking his chest with your index finger. You tried not to notice just how nice and muscular his chest felt. “You can say that to me. But you can’t just go around saying those things to…other people.” 

Your attempt at intimidation did not faze him. He placed his hand on the top of your head and ruffled it once. “I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

You blinked, speechless. “Wh-What do you mean?” His words were so blunt you might even begin to mistake them as flirting if he wasn’t careful. “Ugh, never mind! Nagi, you are so mean! You’ve been teasing me so much. Why?”

“Because of your reactions. They’re fun.”

“Fun?!” 

The side of Nagi’s mouth quirked up for a fraction of a second before he turned around and began to walk home without a further explanation. “Yeah. Fun. Teasing you is fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

You groaned in frustration, a smile forming despite yourself. “Okay, Nagi,” you relented. “You are so confusing, you know that? But, it’s fine.”

He let out a small snort. A hint of a laugh, maybe?

“Goodnight for real this time, Nagi. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

As you began to walk in the opposite direction, you couldn’t help but think of how he really was the strangest guy you’ve met. But for some reason, it just made the butterflies in your stomach flutter around even more. 

Nagi was a bit of a mystery, but you had plenty of time to solve it. And you were certain you’d enjoy every minute of it.