#i'll probably come back to this and edit it every once in a while just as a heads up

[emmylksblog]

I’LL COME BACK BABY // H.FORT

the night before hector leaves to usa. based on this request.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

a/n: he played so well that i couldn’t help but write about him 😮‍💨 also we have more content about him yall edit girlies should be working 🫡

Hector and you sat on your couch, a cozy atmosphere filling the room. Soft music played in the background as you cuddled together, enjoying each other's company. You rested your head on his chest, tracing patterns on his shirt with your fingers. "I'm going to miss you while you're away," you said, looking up at him with a small pout on your lips. Hector smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around you. "I'll be back before you know it amor," he replied, kissing the top of your head.

"But it'll still be a week without you," you said, pouting even more. You knew it was childish, but you hated the thought of being apart from him even for a few days.

Hector chuckled and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. "I'll be thinking of you every single day," he assured you. "And I'll call you every night, I promise.

You took a deep breath and snuggled closer to him, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Just promise me you'll be careful over there," you said quietly.

Hector tilted your chin up and looked into your eyes. "Of course, amor. I'll be playing in a friendly match, what's the worst that could happen?" he asked with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling at his nonchalance. "Don't jinx it," you replied, poking his chest. "I would never forgive you if something happened to you."

Hector pretended to be hurt, clutching his heart dramatically. "You wound me, amor," he said with a grin. "You really don't think I can handle myself?"

You smirked. "You can be pretty reckless sometimes," you said, recalling all the times he'd come home with a bruise after a particularly aggressive match.

Hector laughed, knowing that you had a point. "And I always survive," he said, shrugging. "I'll be fine, I promise. Just worry about missing me."

Hector could see the worry still present in your eyes despite your smile. He brought your face closer to his and gave you a soft kiss. "Amor, I promise I'll be fine," he said, trying to reassure you again.

You took a deep breath and nodded, forcing your worries aside. "I know baby, I know," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

He stroked your hair and held you close. "Just think about all the fun we'll have when I get back," he said, trying to distract you from your worries. "We can go out to your favorite restaurant, go on a weekend getaway..."

You smiled, imagining all the things you could do together once he was back. "I like the sound of that," you replied, feeling your anxiety slowly dissipating.

Hector gave you a mischievous grin. "And I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun making up for lost time," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

You felt a blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words. "Hector!" you exclaimed playfully, lightly swatting his chest.

Hector laughed and pulled you closer. "What? I'm just saying what we're both thinking," he said, nuzzling your neck.

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly relishing the feeling of his touch. "You're terrible," you said, biting back a smile.

You looked at the clock and realized that it was getting late. "You should probably get some sleep cariño," you said reluctantly. "You have an early flight tomorrow."

Hector groaned and pulled you closer to him. "But I don't want to leave you yet," he said, pouting dramatically.

You chuckled at his pouting. "Don't worry, I'll join you in bed too," you reassured him.

Hector perked up at your words and a smirk appeared on his face. "In that case, let's go to bed immediately," he said, standing up and scooping you up into his arms.

You let out a surprised shriek as he carried you bridal style towards the bedroom. "Hector, put me down!" you protested, half-laughing.

He just chuckled and shook his head, continuing to carry you until he reached the bed. He laid you down gently before climbing in beside you and pulling you close.

You snuggled into his chest, feeling safe and comfortable in his embrace. "You're such a menace," you said, shaking your head.

Hector just laughed and buried his face in your hair. "But you love me anyway," he said smugly.

"Unfortunately," you muttered, though there was no heat behind your words.

Hector chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "You're stuck with me, amor," he said, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Despite your teasing, you couldn't deny the way your heart rate quickened whenever he was near.

"Just promise me you'll come back in one piece," you said softly, your worries surfacing again.

Hector hugged you closer, rubbing your back reassuringly. "I promise, amor. I'll always come back to you," he said, his voice firm and sincere.

You took a deep breath and nodded, trying to find comfort in his words. "I love you," you said quietly.

Hector's hold on you tightened at your words, and he nuzzled your hair. "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice low and heartfelt. "More than anything."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. "Hector?" you said suddenly.

"Hmm?" he replied, not opening his eyes as he continued to hold you.

You took a breath, not quite sure if you wanted to ask the question that was on your mind. "Will you still love me when you come back?" you blurted out, unable to stop yourself.

Hector opened his eyes and looked down at you, his expression serious. "Of course I will," he said firmly, cupping your face in his hand. "Why would you even ask that?"

You looked up at him, your insecurity clear in your expression. "But there will be so many pretty girls in America," you said quietly. "What if you meet someone else and forget all about me?"

Hector chuckled at your words, finding your insecurity endearing. But when he saw the look on your face and you turned away from him, he quickly realized that you were actually upset.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close to his chest. "Amor, you have nothing to worry about," he said gently, nuzzling your neck.

You stayed silent, biting your lip as you tried to suppress your doubts. Hector continued to hold you, tracing soothing patterns on your skin with his fingers.

"You really think I could forget about you that easily?" he asked, his voice soft but with a hint of amusement. "Have you seen yourself, amor? You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, inside and out."

Hector pulled you even closer, enveloping you in his warm embrace. "Don't worry anymore, amor," he whispered. "You're worrying me too."

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over you. "Goodnight, cariño," you said, finally relaxing against him.

He reached over to turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness. "Goodnight, amor," he replied, kissing the top of your head.

You were abruptly woken up by a loud thump and a few muttered curses coming from the bathroom. You sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you tried to orient yourself.

Panicked, you searched for Hector, hoping he wasn't already gone. When you heard him shuffling around in the bathroom, you quickly got out of bed and walked towards it.

You barged into the bathroom and immediately enveloped him in your arms. "Why didn't you wake me?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and frustration. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Hector wrapped his arms around you in return, a mixture of guilt and tenderness on his face. "I didn't want to wake you, amor," he said softly. "You looked so peaceful asleep."

You kissed him gently, your lips lingering on his for a moment. "Let me help you finish packing," you said, taking his hands in yours. "It'll go faster, and I want to make sure you have everything you need."

Hector smiled and squeezed your hands, grateful for your help. "Okay, amor," he said as he picked up the items he had dropped earlier.

You stood by the front door, Hector's manager waiting just outside. You couldn't help but poke at him one last time. "Are you sure you have everything? Your passport, wallet, keys...?"

Hector rolled his eyes playfully, feigning irritation as he checked his pockets for the thousandth time. "I have everything, amor. I swear."

You laughed and gave him a gentle nudge. "You forgot something, though," you said, a sly smile on your lips.

Hector raised an eyebrow, looking slightly suspicious. "Oh, really? What did I forget?"

You leaned up on the tips of your toes and whispered in his ear, "Good luck kiss?"

Hector chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "How could I forget that?" he replied, his voice mischievous as he pressed a deep, lingering kiss on your lips.

For a moment, the world around you faded away, and you lost yourself in his embrace. But eventually, he pulled away, breaking the spell.

He kissed your forehead gently before reluctantly stepping back. "I'll make sure to call you every night amor," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

You nodded, a bittersweet smile on your face. "I'll be waiting," you said quietly.

Hector gave you one last lingering look before turning to leave, his manager waiting patiently outside. He looked back at you from the doorway, giving you a small wave.

You waved back, watching as he disappeared down the sidewalk. A pang of sadness hit you as you closed the door, feeling already lonely without his presence. But you took a deep breath, knowing that he would be back soon.

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

[lynnimini]

₊⊹ 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ₊⊹

description: fluff ⋆ headcanons ⋆ cute

⋆ in which the members of boynextdoor do whatever it takes to get the attention of their lover.

words: 730

pairings: bnd x gn!reader

warnings: N/A

p. sungho

- he probably gets bored of just sitting across the room from you and stares at you every now and then

- you're just laying there doing whatever you've been doing on the phone for the past hour while sungho gets antsy and wants to spend time with you :(

- he would clear his throat and you'd look at him the first time, not understanding what he wants

- but when he does it 5 times you put your phone down and hold your arms out to summon him over

- he comes casually walking over as if he hasn't been indirectly begging for attention for the past 20 minutes

- he'll get shy and just lay his head on your lap so he can rest while you play with his hair and talk about your day

l. riwoo

- you've been doing so much housework while riwoo's been out on schedules that he feels guilty it's left to you and just wants to cling to you 24/7

- you'll be in the middle of doing dishes when he comes over and gives you a little hug

- "i'll help you so we can watch tv together quicker okay?"

- of course you agree. how could you not when all he wants to do is help to spend time with you?

- he splashes you with soapy water while you two laugh and try not to break any dishes

- he successfully distracts you and keeps putting dishes on his side of the sink so you have way way less

- once you're finally done he carries you to the couch and cuddles into you, putting on your favorite tv series and watching with you

m. jaehyun

- jaehyun always claims he's not like a puppy but never gives you any reason to think otherwise...

- he's the complete opposite of sungho

- will 100% come sit next to you and knock anything out of your hands (or carefully put your breakable/spillable things down for you) while laying all over you

- if you call him a puppy while he's doing all this he will most definitely get off you and pout on the other side of the room

- he would come right back in five minutes, still pouting, but he couldn't stand being away from you longer than he already has

h. taesan

- taesan would be more likely to make YOU go over to HIM

- he never wants to admit that he wants to cuddle or spend time with you

- instead, taesan will be walking into the room trying to silently seduce you by subtly flexing his biceps and fixing his hair

- meanwhile you're just thinking about how hot taesan looks because just look at him???

- he's so good at winning you over and pulling you straight to him that you've never even noticed his little tricks

- without fail, you always walk over to give him a kiss and he smiles all happy knowing his plan worked

k. leehan

- leehan's very blunt and not afraid to voice what he wants

- it'll literally just be a quick "come here so i can show you something" or "lemme sit with you" and that's that

- sometimes you refuse or purposely take really long to go over to him

- "okayokay, after i finish this", "make me move over then"

- however, be warned that if you tease leehan he'll keep it in the back of his mind until he gets a chance to tease back

- he'll pretend to be asleep if you want him to come to you, but he knows you'll end up coming over to him instead and laying on top of him, so it's still a win for both

k. woonhak

- woonhak is a gamble between shy and blunt

- sometimes he's in the type of mood where he'll just cozy up to you and lay his head on your shoulder to watch you do whatever

- other times he'll not so subtly look at you every now and then and wonder if he should go over to you or not

- you always notice his little glances and send him a text telling him to come over so you can show him an edit of him you found

- woonhak's ego always sends him flying straight over to see how amazingly handsome onedoor has made him look, forgetting all about his shyness while he playfully shoves you upon seeing a goofy edit of the way he falls over when being struck by an imaginary arrow

[etherealily]

𝟡 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Darker. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You should be grateful.

════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ════════════════════

He wasn't supposed to text you. He was supposed to take the beating you'd given him for being a prick, like a man, and shut the fuck up about it.

But here you were, midnight, staring at the chat that had started it all.

'yo, u up?'

You rolled your eyes, going back to your scrolling.

'I hate seenzoners.'

You liked his message.

'That's so much worse.'

'The fuck do u want?'

Nate Jacobs sent a voice message.

You could have just ignored it. You could just block him. You could just… stop. But the allure was far too much. The urge of finding out what he wanted was too strong.

"Guess where I am."

He could've just texted that. No need for a voice message, but he was Nate Jacobs.

"I don't know, the psych ward?"

"You wanna know? You'll have to drive and follow my instructions, though. You trust me enough for that?"

Ha. No fucking chance. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Oh, so you'll text me, but won't see me in person?"

His voice was oddly sultry, as if he'd either just woken up or hadn't slept for days. Most likely the second one.

"Bingo. Go to sleep, Jacobs."

And then he sent you a picture of him from the bleachers of your school's football stadium - how the fuck did he get in?

"C'mon, don't you want to see what our school looks like at night?"

Uh, yes. But with him? No.

"It's 12:05, ASSHOLE. No fucking way."

"This is the scene where you cave and meet me and we have a cute little nighttime school montage where we sit and talk about life."

You listened to that message a good four times before you stopped laughing.

"This is the scene where I block you."

"I will come over if you don't come to the school. Uh, y'know, if you want your parents to think you're fooling around with the QB."

"I will literally shoot you if you come within fifty feet of my house."

"Come. I'll make it worth your while."

Was it possible to hear smirks?

"I'm not coming, Nate."

No way he was actually at the high school. It was probably an insanely good edit.

"You will be."

The FUCK was that supposed to mean? Not like he could force you to show up.

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure. Fifty bucks says you show up to the high school tonight."

"Not blowing fifty bucks on anything, even if I do win."

"What's it going to take for you to come? Look, I-I know it's been weird, and I might've scared you, but that's… that wasn't my intention, I swear."

Yeah, his intention was just to show you what his blood looked like. You liked his message once more, rolling your eyes.

"Dude, seriously, I swear, I'm not like, a serial killer or anything. You can bring pepper spray, a taser, whatever, if it makes you feel better. I'm just- okay, fuck, you're right. Dumb idea, trying to convince you like this."

Wait, okay, good. That was good. He was getting the message.

Another voice message.

"I forgot who I was talking to. You leave me no choice."

"What?" No.

And then, you received a video. He was teetering off the edge of the top-most row of bleachers. With a gun at his head.

"Come on, Y/N, this is getting really sad, that the only way I can grab your attention is by almost killing myself."

"I don't care. Do whatever. Not falling for it this time."

═════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"FUCK!", you yelled, as you found yourself running frantically through the school football field for the second time in two weeks.

You'd actually kept your word for a while, pushing out every Nate-related thought for a good night's sleep - you didn't fall for it.

Until McKay called and informed you that Nate wasn't picking up his phone - and that his last message was something along the lines of : 'Call Y/N if you don't hear from me in the next couple of minutes'.

He was deranged. Playing Russian Roulette with his own life was absolutely deranged.

"You actually showed."

GOOD, he was still alive, meaning you could kill him.

You didn't speak. That would simply complicate things, because then you'd have to look at him.

"Plus, you didn't flinch when you saw me. Think that's a win for me in the trust department."

You stood there, glaring at him as he jumped down from the bleachers, even doing that dangerously, as if he was a cat with nine lives, or he was playing a video game and would just respawn.

"You know, you could say something."

He wasn't getting impatient, though, like his tone was trying to portray. No, he was getting more amused. He liked this. He liked the fact that he got you to come to a basically abandoned-for-the-holidays-high school at midnight. He reveled in it.

"Like hey, Nate, thanks for convincing me to actually live a little for a change instead of staying cooped up in my house.", he suggested.

You punched him.

Yeah. You kept running across that field till you were close enough and you punched him right then and there.

You full-on punched him, shoved him back, slapped him, clawed at him. "Stop FUCKING doing this to me! STOP! You can't FUCKING do this to me!", you screamed, hitting him repeatedly on his chest.

He took every beating, and the fact that it seemed he was trying not to laugh just egged you on even more to actually kill him, make his nose bleed, make his head fall clean off his egotistical body.

Eventually, though, it seemed even Nate Jacobs had his limit. He grappled against your hands as he held them between both your chests, clenching his jaw. He wouldn't risk saying anything, seeing as your eyes were already burning with tears.

"You…", you cried out as he shifted his grip on your hands to only one hand, wrapping the other around you. "…Can't keep…"

"Shh, shh, I know.", he muttered as he rested his chin on your head. "Shh, I had to."

"No, you didn't."

He kissed your head, then your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and stopped for a moment, hovering over your lips but not touching them, as though he was more scared than you were. "You know I did."

You wondered if he could taste the tears, whether he relished it. Knowing what little you did of him, he might have.

"I would've come."

"No, you wouldn't have. Shh." He was right, but there had to be some other way.

"You know what, sweetheart?"

It was sickening how he could do this to you and then use words of endearment against you.

"You should actually be grateful."

And that's when you noticed that he was actually gripping onto your hair, tightening it when your face didn't show any contortion due to pain (only contortion due to unbridled rage and the urge to stab him with your car keys).

"I usually hurt people to get what I want. With you, I'm hurting myself."

You fought the urge to say 'so fucking what?'

"You're not bleeding, baby, that's what you don't get. You're untouched, and safe, and not bleeding. Me, however?"

What was his point? That he was being a gentleman by scaring you half to death instead of having a normal adult conversation?

"I'm bleeding. I'm hurt. I'm in pain. But I'm still holding you."

He said it with exaggerated magnanimity, like he was doing you a favour, or something, like all your problems, trauma, worries, stress, had just disappeared because he was holding you in his 'big strong arms'.

"Then stop!"

"Neither of us wants me to stop holding you."

"I do."

He grinned, knowingly, with a subtle shake of his head. "No, you don't."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Nate."

"Fine. Because you called me Nate and not Jacobs.", he nodded, letting go of you and throwing up his arms. "Don't hit me again."

"Was McKay in on this?"

He frowned momentarily, before realization swept over his face. "Shit. Yeah, no, he wasn't. I should text him, huh?"

Oh, now he was asking if he should be a courteous human being?

You watched him loathingly, as he typed out what you guessed was a half-assed apology.

'Sorry, McKay, I'm good, man. Chicks, y'know?' or some absolutely fucked up shit like that, to be sure.

"Done. Now, will you stop being so square and enjoy the fact that you're here at school at midnight?"

"What?" Enjoy?

"I'll bet this is your first time out at midnight period, let alone your first time out at midnight somewhere you're not legally supposed to be."

"Why am I here?"

The condescending look he gave you set your teeth on edge. 'Oh, poor, naive girl. Of course she doesn't even know why she's here. This is why I told her to stay in my grasp. She never listens.'

FUCKING ASSHOLE.

"You're my good luck charm. My good luck charm, but I heard you're fucking Shane. You can't be doing that."

The softness in his movements, the gentleness, it had either completely stopped, or entirely overshadowed the fact that he had put you through yet another nerve-wracking event that would raise your blood pressure.

Shane who, Shane who, Shane- oh. Shane.

Not so much fucking as went on one date with, but it was better for everyone if Nate thought you had already gone that far.

"Why not?"

"He's a punk."

"You're one to talk."

"Look, he plays defense. What if you're just, like, intensely fortunate? Can't have him sneak in a quickie before the game and then he's lucky."

It's like he wanted you to punch him again.

"He's on your team. You'll win anyway."

He shrugged, as though he could see where you were coming from, but was about to respectfully absolutely ruin your argument.

"I like to win."

"Not a team player, are you?"

"Never claimed to be."

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

He was so clearly getting frustrated with your lack of response - the initial dopamine and thrill of being a disgusting element of surprise by shooting/not-shooting himself in the head gone.

But what could you say?

You'd already ghosted Shane after the date had tanked, so technically there was no reason for you to still be here. The chances of a 'lucky quickie' were virtually zero.

And so, you just stood there, the two of you, with inexplicable rage pooling within.

Your senses were heightened, your emotions wilder than the crazed look in your eyes as he stood there, looking down at you like an adult looking down at their childhood toy. As if you were the naivest, most precious, pathetically adorable thing he owned, reminding him of a simpler time.

At this point, even a rabbit's foot had been treated with more respect than you.

And you hated every moment of it because it was thrusted upon you, just like the silence of the eerie, void-like field you two were in.

"Why are you like this, Y/N?", he groaned, with the nerve to sound tired.

You? Why were you like this? What about him?

"You're… so cold." His hands flexed as if they were about to move from your hair to your throat. "Just… let loose, please. You're the reason I'm winning, I'd at least like to get to know you!"

"Oh, so this is like, an interview? Is she good enough to be associated with me? You think you're hot shit? Dude, I- you gotta realize how fucked up all of this is."

You were practically pleading. Acknowledge your absurdity, Nate Jacobs, please.

"Hey, whoa, look, you chose to associate yourself with me. Not my problem, ok?", he spat back, clearly happy with the return of banter.

"I didn't choose any of this!"

"You requested to follow me after I followed you. You chose not to block me after I followed you."

"You're putting this all on me?"

That's what normal people do ; they follow people back! He was grasping at straws, but it still seemed as though he had an iron grip on them.

"There wouldn't have been a first time if you didn't care so goddamn much." Like he was mocking you. You almost screamed. You almost hit him. He was so nonchalant.

But that… rang true. However, the humanitarian in you was adamant that there was absolutely no one cold enough to shrug off a video of someone slicing so effortlessly into their palm and exposing their blood so unabashedly.

Well, except Nate Jacobs himself.

"But, y'know what, Y/N?", he said, clearing his throat, matter-of-factly. "That's all in the past. Because now, now, we're going to sort out this arrangement between us and everything will go back to normal."

Normal? Normal as in, both of you go back to being strangers? Unlikely.

"Arrangement?"

"How this thing is going to go. Before every game, you fist-bump me. You don't touch any other players whatsoever, Blackhawk or otherwise."

Great, he was policing who you could fist-bump now.

"I- you brought me here at midnight for this?"

"Uh, no, I brought you here at midnight for fun.", he replied, scoffing. "But since you wanted to be all violent and physical, I thought we should stick to business."

Did he mean to be this insufferable? Was it a bit? There was no way an actual human being could act like this, yes? There was no way anyone could think that this was a justifiable response to a genuine question. Right?

At this point, you didn't know anymore.

Nate Jacobs had officially stumped you.

"If I say okay, can I leave?"

"No, you cannot leave, but you definitely can go sit over there and think about your little attitude before I bring out the tequila."

He burst out laughing at your annoyed face, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulder in an oddly possessive display of 'familiarity'.

"Relax. Loosen up, like I said, and you'll be fine.", he snorted, and that was your only indication that he did not, in fact, actually wish to put you into time-out.

The insane man with a gun had a sense of humour, apparently.

"You brought tequila?"

"I told you, the whole point of tonight was fun and getting to know the reason I'm winning better. So, sit."

You sat, still glaring up at him. You must have looked absolutely fucking cute or something, because he pouted at you before reaching into a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before and whipping out two bottles of straight tequila.

"Body shots?"

"Jacobs…"

"I'm joking, I'm joking. You'll come around soon, though. They all do."

Great. That's brilliant. You'd been reduced from a stranger, to a bitch, to a joke, to now a stereotype. This was just spectacular.

"Why me?"

That question seemed to genuinely catch him off-guard.

Good. Now he knows what this past week with him has been like.

"Hm?'

"Why me? Why am I the good luck charm?"

"I don't know."

"You could just be a really good player. You don't know, you haven't gone a single game without it, so you assume you're winning because of it."

"The third game was the one you weren't there for. You must remember hearing about it, though? Most embarrassing game for East Highland, I swear. 34-nil? That was shameful. That's why I decided, fourth game onwards, I wouldn't have to risk it because I got you."

Shit. That actually made sense.

"Okay, now you tell me.", he began, slightly turning the bottle in his hand around and examining the contents, curiously. "Shane Crestin? Seriously?"

"What?"

He scoff-snickered, taking an impressively large gulp before answering. "Y/N, the guy's a tool."

Look who's talking.

"He asked me out after the game."

"So, he knows you're my good luck charm.", he said, quietly, like a king trying to figure out where his men's loyalties lay.

Did Julius Caesar have a girl who he gaslit in order to get her to watch him in battle because of superstition? If so, she'd have been the first to stab him.

"Of course he knows, you made a huge spectacle of it that first time."

"Oh, yeah. But still, what a bastard. Trying to steal my lucky girl and her luck like that."

You needed to do a lobotomy on this man, seriously.

It wasn't even like you could ask him what the hell that meant because that would just bring him immense amounts of joy.

"You're not drinking. Why?", he inquired, opening the second bottle and forcing it to your lips.

You frowned as you held onto it. "I don't drink."

"Oh, bullshit. Come on, drink, don't be a nerd."

"I said no, okay?"

"Wait, do you not want to drink around me?"

He was really going above and beyond to break the 'dumb jock' stereotype, wasn't he?

"I can't believe it.", he continued, leaning back on the bleachers as he watched your face. "After all this, you don't trust me."

After all this, he said, as if he had spent his entire life working solely for your benefit. Like a tired mentor.

"I mean, dude, this is like… such a bitch move, you know that? I'm just trying to be nice."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Nate."

"Uh, trust me? Thought we were cool now, Y/N. You think I'm going to get you blackout drunk then have my way with you? Rape you? Are you scared to be around me? At midnight? In a quiet, empty football stadium where no one would think to look for you?", he questioned, still holding your gaze as he lifted his bottle to his mouth.

The elaboration of that statement unnerved you.

"I don't think you're going to rape me, I'm just-"

"Just scared of the possibility?"

"Don't take it personal, but-"

"There's no other way to take it. You're all but accusing me of assault. I thought you were different."

Was that meant to make you melt? 'Oh, no, I'm just like everyone else in that I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere, the horror!'

"Maybe I'm not.", you shrugged.

"But you came. Tonight. No one else would have. So maybe you're a judgmental bitch like everyone else, but you've at least got your stupidly huge heart going for you."

If you strained your ears, that almost sounded like a compliment.

"Uh, thanks?"

"Drink, Y/N. Please."

Oh, fuck it. You needed that goddamn tequila to shoot through you with a vengeance.

"There we go.", he mumbled, watching you. "Dude, look at you."

"Hm?"

"You're finally badass."

His eyes lit up as he saw your finger enter the scene. He chuckled for a moment. "I'm being serious. I mean, you've beaten me up, what, three times so far - once in front of the entire school - and now you're doing underage shots with me at night at school, which is like, two illegal things at the same time."

See, that's where the difference between the two of you lay.

He thought that was being a badass.

You thought that was being a dumbass.

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"…So yeah. That's why I joined football, basically. Made me feel, like, stronger and more in control, I guess."

This asshole had just told the most human story, and now you had to see him as a person. The cunt.

You watched as he stood in the middle of the field, aiming and shooting at the banners that were strewn up all around the field.

God, he was so fucking terrifying.

How does he play Russian Roulette to bait you into coming one minute and then reload and shoot at banners like a child with his first Nerf the next?

"Control. Yeah, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want everything to go your way. You get pissed when other people do things of their own will."

"Can't argue with that.", he shrugged, as he turned his back to you and shot another banner, impressively shooting right in the centre of the 'O' in a 'GO BLACKHAWKS!' sign. "You know how to shoot?"

"No."

"You should learn."

"I'll get right on that.", you scoffed, as you observed your tequila bottle intensely, ignoring him coming back to rest his feet on the bleachers from your peripheral vision.

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Humour me."

"I've humoured you enough tonight."

"Please? Pretty please?"

You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth. You had no idea what you expected, but it sure as hell was not him stuffing the barrel of his gun in there. You suddenly felt the tequila evaporating from your bloodstream as he slapped your hands away after you tried taking it out, like anyone would. Shit, it hurt. FUCK.

"Just relax.", he whispered, so soothingly that he might as well have been talking you through a panic attack. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Besides the hot gun you've got basically lodged up my throat.

Suddenly, the amount of danger you really were in began to materialize in your head. He was right. It was midnight. It was spring break. It was at high school. No one would think to look for you there.

"Are you scared?"

Oh, God. He was one of those freaks who got off on these things.

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do.

"You think I'll shoot you?"

You shook your head.

"Kill you?"

You shook your head.

"Then why are you scared?"

Honestly, it was the fact that he wasn't going to do either of those things, and decided to shove a gun down your throat simply for shits and giggles.

"You need more tequila."

WHAT?

You frowned, but nodded. Anything to get the gun out of your mouth.

He poured it straight from the bottle into your mouth, watching with sick satisfaction as you swallowed, and you realized that he was psychotically drunk.

"How's that? I do it all the time, y'know? Hot metal plus cold tequila equals the best fucking night ever."

Um, ew. No. But that would be super unwise to say.

"You shove a gun down your throat then take a shot?"

"One of my more dangerous drinking games, yes. God, dude, look at you. Like, you're so fucking uptight, loosen THE FUCK up!"

You were unsure how much 'looser' you could get - you were already going along with his 'dangerous drinking game'.

"I am!"

"Not enough. Not even close. You need more."

"We're all out.", you said, (thankfully) pointing at the empty duffle bag next to him.

"Oh.", he sighed, slumping down next to you and using the duffle bag as a pillow. "Just- I don't get it. What is it about you?"

"That makes you get suicidal?"

He snorted, softly. "That makes me so mad?"

"You're mad?"

"Not like angry-mad. I mean like… crazy-mad. Like I go mad around you."

Five-year-olds could explain things better than him, but, to his credit, he was shitfaced.

"Really? Thought you were born that way."

"I mean, last week? When I kissed you? I don't do that shit. But it was the only way to shut you up. I-ugh. It's you, Y/N. Just fucking up my brain, one game at a time."

"Oh, oh, so you being a psychopath is because I didn't show up to one game?"

"When you're constantly worried about someone needing to be there, you do crazy things. Like cut yourself. I would have done it, too, seriously."

"I know. That's why I came."

"So, we weren't entirely strangers, huh? You knew me a little, at least?"

"Uh, no, we were definitely strangers."

"Now? What are we now?"

"Uh… friends?" You didn't mean that. You wouldn't be his friend if it killed you.

"No, I think I'd know it if we were friends." Phew.

"So, you tell me."

"What? No, you've been in charge this whole time, you tell me."

He just said you'd been in charge.

One offhanded, sweeping statement, and he'd shifted all the blame on you as easy as pie.

How did he do that?

It was obvious what he was referring to: the fact that none of these interactions would have happened if you just hadn't given a shit in the first place.

The fact that every single move of his had been linked to you, in whatever this weird everybody (except you) ante, sketchy poker game he was playing was supposed to be.

And it unnerved you.

Because in some twisted way, it was true.

"Acquaintances."

"But we've kissed.", he reminded, diligently and unwantedly. "Acquaintances - and classmates, before you suggest that - don't just kiss."

"Dude, then what do you want to be?"

Shit. That was what he'd wanted all along. For you to ask in exasperation, to give you his interpretation.

"You know, just… an average relationship between a man and his good luck charm." He inched closer, his hand loosening its grip on the railing as if it was going to do something, but there was no more tequila to reach out for.

There was only you.

And reach, he did.

First, his hands were on your cheek, like they had been a half hour ago. Then, suddenly, they were in your hair, and his tongue was trying to coax your words out of you directly from the source.

And you just let it happen.

If anyone knew why you let it happen, you'd have loved to start a suggestion box.

But you had a funny feeling that the only person who knew why was Nate Jacobs himself.

Fat chance he'd tell you.

[samscartoonsofficial]

Major art Dump incoming

all the MW ocs I have so far plus concept art of future ones in development.

I just want to have all my fav art pieces together in one post to track my progress :]

So of course we got the main trio themselves :]. My pride and joy. The amigos :]

Cephany and Tungston were the very FIRST fellas me and my partner came up with.

CopyKat came later to join the group after basing them on @havockingboo 's mimic species.

The idea just stuck after realizing they are the silliest cat alien in the galaxy. Their character is literally every cat meme rolled into one.

And I love them MWAH!! 🐈

NEXT UP!!

The villains!!!

EVIL EVIL EVIL ‼️💥‼️

Already planning on writing a comic for the trio. So if they would have any major villains it's THESE GUYS!

Brutus and Deoxy were developed by both me and my partner after we realized that if they're gonna fight bad guys. They should have some bad guys!

Took a while to make them and figure out what exact aliens we wanted for these guys!

But orugh the final result for them so far has been good :]

Deoxy still has a long way to go.

But Brutus is perfect.

Tagging @sammysamps 's once again because these are 4 out of theeeee...*counts fingers* 6 ocs I have based on their vampoctarion and Tremoctarion species!

The first two goobers are Oc x canon fanchildren.

The blue rocker lady is Joan

And the peachy Tremoctarion is my little princess Evangeline ✨

Me and my good friend @houseofdoodles love her and a certain crab pirate loves her too teehee :]

Okay let's see who elllllse 🤔

ANOTHER MW SONA STILL IN THE WORKS!

this was made by the help of another friend of mine

@coprolite-moment during a stream/magma doodle sesh! Its a Sona originally made for helluva boss. They really helped me develope and figure out this ladies color pallet/design which STILL amazes me btw HOLY shit 😭

But ALSO you should check out their dead eye comic hehehehe it's reeeeally goooooood :] *wiggles it around like I'm wiggling car keys*

Okay...who else? Uhhhhhhh

I have ONE unicorn fella I still gotta finish..aaaaaand...*counts all these rabbits*

THESE GUYS! again, another species inspired by havoc :] /theyre multiplying send help/

Cutler, Hartman, and...dog guy *squint*

I think I called him Richard but he's a fella I'm either gonna keep or scrap for later. Not sure yet

Same for Cutler!

But Hartman *kisses his head* I need to redesign you baby boy :]

Uhm I THINK that's it so far but honestly I know there's more! Might come back and edit the thread even more with updates!

But I got a pretty good chunk done.

I'll probably make a part 2 explaining concept for some NEW guys I've been thinking of all well.

Buuuuut thats it for now :]

[callme-holly]

I was wondering if you could please write a Steve Randle x sister reader where maybe she is walking to the DX from school and gets jumped (similar to the Winston sibling one) but she gets away. So once she gets to the DX soda is the first to see her so he calls Steve over and he just goes full big brother comforter and protective mode. 😂 sorry if none of this makes sense

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 '𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 '

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - omg I finally got this done! I might edit it a little tomorrow and I need to find a pic to go along with it but I just wanted to get it out today. Hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.2k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of getting jumped, slight injury detail (not graphic), mild swearing

Your hands shake and your lungs burn as you try desperately to catch your breath, your whole body burning with exertion. The sun feels unbearably hot on your skin, sweat runs down the back of your neck, and you stick your shirt uncomfortably to your body as you force yourself to keep moving, trying to put some distance between you and that goddamn blue mustang. 

You’re panting hard, every muscle aching, and your chest burning with the effort it takes to draw air into your body and then let it out again. Blood trickles down the side of your face, hot and sticky against your skin, while the gash above your eye stings with pain.

You must look quite the sight: bruises blossoming on one side of your face, blood drying beneath your nose and lips, dirt matting into your tangled hair. Your knees are scraped raw through your tattered jeans and bleeding sluggishly in places, but you refuse to stop until the DX is in view, letting out one finally ragged breath before collapsing back against the side of the building. 

You lean there for a second, your head swimming and your vision blurry, your breathing coming in shallow pants. The world is suddenly spinning a little too fast, and your stomach lurches unpleasantly, forcing you to take another deep, shuddering breath. You feel sick, nauseous even, and everything hurts like hell, which is probably just as well considering how much energy was spent running from that damn car. You rub a hand down your face, grimacing when it comes away red and wet with blood and sweat.  

“Great..” You mumble, wiping at your split lip with the sleeve of your jacket, before pushing yourself shakily to your feet. “Fucking great…” 

You stumble forward, taking care not to trip over your own feet, as you shove open the door to the little store, the bell jangling obnoxiously above you.  

Inside, the air is cool, the air conditioning is whirring noisily overhead, and you close your eyes and breathe deeply. It helps somewhat, your head clearing a little as you head for the counter where Sodapop is pouring over a magazine. He looks up briefly as you shuffle towards him, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Holy shit–” he discards the magazine in a sudden rush, jumping over the counter and grabbing hold of your arms gently. “What the hell happened?” 

You wince, pressing your forehead against his shoulder to avoid looking directly at him. His touch is steady and grounding, but you still flinch as he tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“I got jumped.” You grumble, trying to shrug off his concern, but it proves a little more difficult than anticipated. 

Soda makes a concerned sound in the back of his throat, guiding you to sit in the chair he’d previously been in. “By who?”

“Those damn socs,” you grit your teeth together. “The same ones who got Johnny.” You pause. “And Pony.” 

His expression shifts immediately and he releases your shoulders, turning to head for the back. “I'll get Steve.” 

You nod absently, looking down at your jeans, picking at the loose threads in the knees, and rubbing at one of the bloodstains. You wipe your palm across it roughly and grimace, knowing that it'll be a pain in the ass to wash out later on. 

It’s not long before you hear the backdoor bang open and footsteps hurry inside, the telltale sound of Steve’s voice booming throughout the room. 

“I thought I told you to go straight home from school. The hell are you doin’ here?” His tone is sharp and impatient, but there’s no real bite to it, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he stops in front of you. He grabs a hold of your chin, his touch a little rougher than Soda’s had been, his eyes scanning over your face as he inspects your injuries.  “Who did this?” 

“No one,” you say quickly, pulling away from his grip. “Just some stupid ass kids at school–” You falter, watching as your brother narrows his eyes at you, suspicion and frustration warring on his face.

“Bullshit.” He scoffs, heading around the counter to grab the first aid kit tucked away under the register.  “Don’t even try to lie to me. Who was is?” His hands move deftly as he opens the kit, digging through the box and pulling out a few supplies: a bottle of rubbing alcohol, gauze, and bandages. 

“Why were they messing with ya? What did they want, kid?”

You frown, feeling the cut on your temple flare as your brow furrows. “I don't know what they wanted,” you spit out, glaring at him as he begins to wipe at the dried blood on your cheek. “They just started yelling at me until I yelled back, and then they came at me.” 

““You yelled back?!” He barks incredulously, pausing momentarily to shoot a glare your way. “Jesus Christ, kid, have I taught you nothing?” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Like you're any better.”

There's a long pause as the two of you glare at each other before Steve sighs, shaking his head and beginning to wipe at the cut on your brow, ignoring your protests as he does so. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles out. “But you’re the one explaining this to dad if he asks.” 

If… You think bitterly. You doubt your father will even notice; he doesn’t usually. 

Steve pulls back after a moment or two, examining his work with narrowed eyes. Then, seemingly satisfied with what he sees, he closes the first aid box and tucks it back beneath the counter. He turns around and fixes you with a stern look, arms folded across his chest.

“You didn’t hit your head too badly, right? I don't want you gettin' a concussion or nothin.” 

You snort derisively and shake your head. “Nah, nothing I can't take.” 

“Good,” He says curtly.  Then he glances behind him before leaning forward, his eyebrows pinching together. “Now, tell me who did this. And I want the truth.” 

You hesitate. The last thing you want is for him to go out and start something to get himself into trouble. But it won't help to lie now, not when Soda already knows and will no doubt let it slip sooner or later. 

So, reluctantly, you tell him everything, and by the end of it, his eyes are wide with shock, his hands clenched into fists, and he's muttering profanities under his breath.

“Are you fucking serious?” he snarls. “How could you let them beat the fuck outta you like that? Why didn't you run?”

You blink and stare at him in confusion for a minute, confused as to why he was so upset, until realisation dawns in your eyes.

He's scared… Scared of losing you. 

You give him a crooked smile. “‘Cause you would’ve done the same thing. You would’ve fought back, the same as I did.” 

He glares at you fiercely, his mouth opening as though to reply but no words seem to come out. “You’re an idiot.” He snaps after a while, and you grin.

“Takes one to know one.” 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 1 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your Step Father would like to introduce you into high society but you're required to take lessons to learn how to play the part and from your instructor's perspective it seems like you have a lot of catching up to do. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Explicit Language, not really anything else at this point lol a/n: Planning on turning this into a short series so please let me know what you think <3 p.s. this is horribly edited and was written in one sitting lol

"Why do I have to suffer the consequences of the decisions you made for this family?" I say chasing after my mother as she walks down the main hallway in our new home. "Y/n becoming a debutant is not a consequence" she says, making her way into the main living room.

"To me it is" I complain, dreading this entire ordeal already. "The whole process only lasts about a year so-" "A year? You expect me to be parade around in pretty dresses and entertain people I have absolutely no interest in just because you decided to marry a rich man? Yeah, no I'm not doing it" I say, watching as she takes a seat on the couch waiting for me to tell her my grievances, knowing that I won't back down easily. 

"It's not a huge commitment I promise. You'll have etiquette lessons twice a week, go to a fitting every once in a while and take dance lessons once a week. I'm sure you can sacrifice a few hours out of your week for this. "Your father wa-" "Step father" I cut her off, making my stance on the man known. "Your step father wants to introduce you as his daughter and the best way to do so would be having you come out at a debutant ball" she explains hoping to show me their reasoning behind it. "Oh I'm straight so don't worry I won't be needing a coming out event or anything like that" I say teasing her. 

"Very funny" she says clearly unamused, "I would really appreciate it if you just did this for us, and if you don't want to do it for us then do it for you, for your future. Do you know how pivotal this moment could be for you? A lot of important people go to these balls so if you want to make a name for yourself in this city then that's a great place to start" she says hoping to entice me, showing how this could benefit me as well. "Just think about it, okay?" she says standing up to leave the room and placing a hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance, leaving me conflicted. 

A few days later at the breakfast table I finally decide to give them my answer. "Um, dad" I say hoping to get his attention. "Yes honey?" he says putting down the newspaper that he had just been flipping through. "I think I want to go through with the whole debutant thing if you still wanted me to" I say playing with my sleeve, still unsure of the choice I've made but I guess theres no going back now. "That's great! I'll contact the agency and get all of your lessons set up straight away" he says quickly texting his assistant, asking them to get things set in motion.

"Would you prefer private lessons or would you like to take them with some of the other girls that are preparing to come out as well?" he questions, still looking down at his phone. "Oh it's okay don't worry about getting her pri-" "Private lessons would be great" I say cutting my mom off. The less interactions I can have with these spoiled rich kids, the better. I send her a tight lipped smile, telling her to back off before I change my mind and she does just that. 

"Alright, I have Matthew working on it now so we could probably get everything set up by the time your classes end. You finish up at four right?" he asks, catching me off guard, "You know my class schedule?" I question. "Of course I do! What kind of father would I be if I didn't pay attention to my daughter's academics?" he says, giving me a warm smile before taking one last sip of his coffee, standing up to go. 

"I've gotta head off, love you" he says giving my mother a quick peck and then coming over to me to give me a kiss on the top of my head. "Have a good day you two" he says to us as his final adieu, heading out to where his driver is waiting for him. "Thank you" my mother says, happy with the effort I'm putting into assimilating our family. "I'm doing this for you guys, but I'm also doing this for me like you had said, I guess I'll just have to suffer through it for the next year" I say, already questioning myself. 

"I promise you won't regret it!" she reassures me, reaching out for my hand across the table and I mirror her action. 'I sure hope not' I say to myself and give her a pained smile before leaving to head off to class. 

"You're what?" my friend Jesse say, not believing a word I just said. "I'm gonna start taking lessons to become a debutante" I say, repeating myself, hoping he'll just take in the information so we can move past it. "So you're blowing me off so you can go to Barbie school?" he says, still in disbelief. "It's not Barbie school" I say rolling my eyes at him before sitting down at the table we usually hang out at during our breaks. 

"Aren't they going to be dressing you up and making you all girly so you can go to tea parties and balls?" he questions, sitting across from me. "Yes..." I say trailing off not being able to prove him wrong. "Barbie school" he says satisfied with himself, taking a bite out of the apple he had just bought for dramatic affect. "Whatever" I say crossing my arms across my chest. "So when do you start?" he asks, suddenly curious about the topic. "Matthew sent me a text with the address I'm supposed to go to for my first etiquette lesson so I guess I'll be headed there after class. 

"And Matthew is...?" he questions, "My dad's assistant, I've told you this like five times already" I say rolling my eyes at him. "I'm sorry okay, there have been a lot of changes in your life and brand new characters added to the cast so it's hard to keep it all straight" he explains. "Name one other person besides Matthew that I've told you about" I say with a raised brow, curious as to who these 'new characters' might be. "Your step dad" he says proudly, not elaborating further. 

"Anyone else?" I ask, rolling my eyes at the cop out answer he gave me and he decides to sit in silence after putting little to no thought into anyone else I might've told him about. "Do you even know his name?" I scoff, feigning irritation. "Scott? No Thomas!" he says confident in his second answer. "It's James" I say standing up and grabbing my stuff so I can walk towards my next class. 

"I'm sorry, you know I have shit memory" he says throwing his arm around my shoulder after catching up to me, having only been a few steps behind. "I know" I shake my head laughing it off, "It's funny how clueless you are sometimes" I say, shrugging his arm off of me. "Hey!" he whines, semi offended. "It's okay though, I still love you" I say waving him off as we part in different directions and blowing a kiss at him which he bats off to the side, rejecting my love. "Later loser" he says and we head off to our respective classes.

After the lecture is finally over my professor calls me to the front. "Yes?" I question, waiting for what he has to tell me. "I read your paper last night" he starts, "I'm sorry Professor I had some other assignments due at the same time so I wasn't able to put in as much effort as I wanted to" I confess feeling guilty about putting that assignment on the back burner. "Well I was actually going to tell you that I was rather impressed with it" he says looking up at me from his seated position at his desk, fixing his glasses. 

"Really?" I question, surprised that it was good enough for him to even single out. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in participating in this writing contest at the end of next month" he proposes and hands me the flyer showing all of the details. "You really think my writing is good enough?" I question, not even having considered signing up for something like this. "I wouldn't be speaking to you about it if I didn't think it was" he says laughing at my reactions. 

"This would be amazing thank you!" I say starting to skim through the details real quick. "You can take that with you if you'd like" he offers and at that I nod in thanks and say my goodbyes before walking out and heading out towards my car. 

"Now where exactly is this place?" I ask myself aloud, pulling up the text I got and putting the address into my gps. "45 minutes?" I say in astonishment, now slightly panicked seeing that even if I leave now I'll still be 10 minutes late. "What the hell Matthew?" I curse and put my seatbelt on, speeding out of the parking lot and down the street, praying that I'll be able to somehow shave a few minutes off the eta to make it in time.

"Punctuality is one of the most important aspects of proper etiquette" I hear the man say to me with his back turned as I walk into the area of his home he has dedicated to these lessons. "I'm very sorry I did not realize how far these lessons would be in relation to my University" I apologize hating that I've already made a bad impression which has clearly started us off on the wrong foot. 

"Proper planning is also something you must consider to be able to maintain a certain sense of decorum before arriving to your intended destination" he says still with his back to me. "I apologize again Mr. Jeon it won't happen again" I say using what I hope is the proper way he would like to be addressed. "See that it doesn't" he says finally turning around to face me. I nod my head in acknowledgement and he gives me a sour look showing he's displeased with my response. 

"One must verbally respond to properly communicate with one another" he says, placing his hands behind his back and interlocking his fingers while walking towards me and stalking around me like a predator sizing up his prey. "Understood" I respond and once he finally comes back around facing me he looks me up and down one last time before uttering another word. 

"For your next lesson be sure to come in a dress or skirt that sits at the knee as well as stockings and heels of some sort and a blouse of course to pair with the skirt. If one wants to act like a lady, one must dress like a lady" he says and turns away to grab something in the corner of the room. "Noted" I say under my breath already exasperated, "What was that?" he questions looking over his shoulder at me, sorting through a few books to bring over. "Understood Mr. Jeon" I say, trying to play along and follow his rules.

"Seeing as we need to start from the very beginnings of the art of etiquette I need you to read these books by this time next week" he says handing me five very large books weighing my arms down and requiring me to stumble back to regain my balance. "All of them in a week? That's almost a book a day!" I say surprised by the workload I've been given after not even starting the actual lesson yet.

"I was not aware of the fact I would be required to teach you everything from the very start so let's just say we both have a lot of work to do" he says and motions towards a place I can set my purse down along with my five new headaches for this next week.

"Take a seat here please" he now motions to a chair that he has placed in the middle of the room waiting for me to do as he says. I walk up cautiously and take a seat, sitting on it like I normally would, knowing that he's meant to critique how I sit to change it. "Sit up straight, roll your shoulders back" he says taking in my posture at all angles while I follow along with his orders. "Loosen the tension in your back and shoulders" he says placing his hands on my shoulders from behind making me tense up even more from the unexpected contact. 

"You've done the opposite of what I've asked you to" he says and I can hear how fed up with me he continues to be. "You startled me, I didn't realize you were going to do that" I say under my breath but loud enough for him to hear. "One must never mumble or talk back to anyone no matter the circumstances. Especially aimed to or in front of an authority figure" he says and walks back around to face me again. "So you see yourself as an authority figure to me?" I question, curious to see what his answer might be.

"I see myself as someone who deserves your respect and obedience" he says and tilts my chin up with his pointer finger maintaining purposeful eye contact. "And you will treat me as such". 

prev / next

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or comment below to be added :)

[alicechess]

Yandere The Unknown x reader (part 1)

(Dead by daylight)

Note: don't question this

Also this is going to become a proper fanfic, I have no idea how long. I might connect it to my dbd fanfic.

Also I might edit it to make more sense, a lot of this has been written at 3am. Please ignore any errors they might be fixed at some point.

----

You found a new job a few weeks ago, working at a movie theatre. Honestly, you were kind of happy for it. Although the area was dirty and sticky, you were able to get a discount on the movies and snacks, which made it worth it for you. It isn't something you wanted for the rest of your life, but it was good enough for now. You moved to this new town a few months ago, and previously worked at a wreckers, but quickly moved on since the people working there were sketchy.

One of your old friends suggested to work here and of course you agreed. You got discounts and your friend everyday, she also helped you get the job. But not long after you started she disappeared. It was difficult, and you hoped every night she'd come back. The place hurt to be at sometimes, but maybe one day she'll walk in through the doors with that beautiful smile on her face.

You shook your head, you couldn't think about it now. You can't do anything to get her back. You just had to hope the police would take it seriously. But with the recent disappearances, you doubt they'd focus heavily on her. Within the past month there's been over 10 people who've gone missing. Maybe to them she's just a number. There's a few people who go missing every month. It's just... normal for this town. The police do what they can... I guess. But they never will focus for long on one person, because there's always another who goes within a few days or a week. There's just too many crimes happening that it's difficult to keep track. There's maybe a few thousand people who live there, and maybe two stations. So there needs to be more, but they probably won't bother. It's been the same two for maybe 20 years from what you'd heard.

You vacuumed the crumb covered floor, wiping down the chairs, trying to get it as clean as you could. You wanted to keep this job, at least till you could find something more stable. While mopping the linoleum floors, you listened to some music. You ignored the world around you. It was nice to have a distraction. Although cleaning wasn't a nightmare, you'd prefer not too. Some parts of the cinema was darker, your boss was always insistent on turning off the lights if you aren't in the room. It was a bit unnerving, but eventually you learnt to get used to it. It wasn't exactly welcoming, but it wasn't terrifying either.

Occasionally you'd take off your headphones for a few moments, as your ears started to get sore from the pressure. You wanted to get better ones, but you were in a somewhat small town, and there weren't a lot of electronic stores. It was annoying having the wire in the way, but you learnt how to deal with it. You decided to just let them sit on your shoulders, around your neck. Still hearing the music, although it was quieter. You hummed along, eventually sighing at peoples disgustingness. Was it so hard just to put their rubbish away?

Once the bin was full, you picked it up and went outside. The dumpster was almost overflowing, but it wasn't your job to empty that. You threw the bag on top, trying to prevent it from falling down. Once it was stable, you were about to walk inside when you heard someone voice from in the parking lot.

"Can... can you please help me? I'm stuck!" The voice sounded wrong, it's tone was off as it lacked any emotion behind the words he was saying.

You were about to walk over, but remembered all the disappearances. You felt a loud tinge of guilt. "I'm... I'm sorry I can't! I'll get the police to help." You yelled back.

"P-please I really need help!"

You gulped and stepped back, "I can't, I promise the police will come soon!"

You ran inside slamming the door, hearing the cries begging for help coming closer and closer. You were confused, if they were stuck how were they getting closer... Something wasn't right. The situation made your skin crawl. You ran to the phone which sat on the desk. You dialed the number for emergency services and asked for a police officer. You explained the situation, and made it sound more normal as you didn't want to be labelled crazy. You said it rather simply, that there was someone saying they were stuck but something seemed off and suspicious and you wanted the police to take care of it.

While you waited for the police, you sat on one of the chairs at the front desk, fidgeting while listening to music, trying to prevent yourself from panicking. You wanted to keep level-headed. You sang the song quietly, tapping your fingers on the desk. You laid your head back and closed your eyes. You kept one side of the headphone off your ear, so you could hear the police knocking and let them in.

Once they arrived, they checked the whole building and area surrounding it, eventually finding nothing. They also checked the security cameras which showed only you, nothing else. The footage showed no one in the parking lot or anywhere else.

This made you doubt yourself even more.

--

Eventually you went home and laid in bed. You struggled to fall asleep as all you could think about was what happened and the fear you felt. You kept replaying it over and over, analyzing any details you could remember. You remembered how off the voice was, how almost inhuman it was.

You brushed it off, maybe it was because of a lack of sleep. You weren't sure anymore. You tried to stop thinking of it because you really needed to sleep. But it kept squeezing through the cracks and coming back into your mind.

Your eyes slowly closed, and your breathing softened. You were so tired, so, so tired. You just wanted to rest.

Eventually, you started to hear light tapping against the window and low whispers of which sounded like it came from hundreds of people. You thought it was just because you were exhausted. It went away after a few minutes, leaving you to think you were right.

However, after tossing and turning for another 30 minutes, you were rustling in the bushes and voices near your bedroom. You shot out of bed, then peered slightly through the crack of the curtains.

You saw a head peeking out of the bushes, the main thing you noticed about the being was it's lifeless, black hole like eyes. It had no emotion and truly seemed inhuman regardless of its humanoid-like stature.

You felt your stomach drop and your heart stopped for a few moments. It twitched its head every few seconds, every time, it made your stomach twist more and more, the anxiety and fear filling you to the brim. You couldn't look away, it was almost hypnotic and left you in an awful trance with its horrifying appearance.

"Can you help me? I'm... Stuck." It said without its face moving. Your eyes widened in utter horror.

"I'm scared, please help me." It said with a loud snap of its neck, finally pulling you out of your trance. You fell onto the ground with a loud thud, you rubbed your back attempting to soothe the pain. After about a minute you got up, and went back to the curtain.

You watched as the legs of the creature disappeared from your line of sight. You weren't sure if you truly saw that, maybe you were truly going insane you couldn't tell anymore.

---

You awoke in a cold sweat to your alarm blaring into your ears. You groaned, turning it off. You didn't remember crawling back into bed, was it a nightmare? You shook it off. It was just because of the fear you felt last night, it just made you bring it into your dreams.

You stood up and got ready. You looked awful, but attempted to fix it with some makeup. You wore some more dramatic makeup, especially around the eyes. You wore some eyeliner, smudged it a little and combed your hair. You then applied some lip gloss and grabbed some random clothes from your closet.

You decided to call your boss. You knew it would be better to tell him yourself than someone else. You made it sound less bizarre and brushed it off. You didn't want to lose any shifts if he thought you needed a break.

After attempting to cover the tremble in your breath as you explained the situation, you walked to your car and headed to work. You've been taking longer shifts to earn more money. You would've left earlier yesterday if you could've but apparently that... Thing had to show up.

You stepped out of the car, the harsh winter wind making you shiver. You felt ill as you walked to the door. You had to go in though, you knew there was no other choice.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, you were swapping shifts with one of your coworkers. Your shifts often start from 6pm to 12am. The theatre often closes at 10pm, which then gives you a couple hours to do some cleaning. Sometimes you do have to stay overtime, however, which can be a bit frustrating.

As you stepped inside your coworker greeted you. Another one was working as the cashier, which you also did but in between movies you gave a quick clean to the theatre room. The other coworker leaves at 10pm, which then leaves you alone in the building.

You plopped down next to them at the register, asking how busy it was.

They sighed, scratching the back of their head. "Surprisingly, not many. A lot of people are too scared to come down this way."

"Huh? Why?"

"I'm surprised you don't know. Last night there was another disappearance nearby. The police are on high alert and people are freaking out."

"How'd they figure out they disappeared so quickly? Doesn't it normally take longer?"

"Well... It makes more sense when you know that there were screams at 2am coming from their house."

"I guess so... Sucks knowing I'm gonna be in this creepy place in the middle of the night." You grumbled, leaning back on the chair.

"Better you than me man, I'd rather quit than do that shit."

"Wow so comforting of you, thanks." You rolled your eyes, drawing on a random piece of paper to distract you.

"Yeah yeah, at least I'm being truthful! Honestly it's kinda shitty boss is still telling you to continue your shift.

"Ehh, it's fine. I need the money anyway, so the more hours the better."

"Your time not mine, just keep an eye out."

"Was planning on doing that. Also, do you think boss is going to be more of a tight ass? I hate having to have half the place pitch black while cleaning. Not the safest or efficient way to do it."

"I'm sure more people will come in the next few weeks, let's just hope the next disappearance is further away."

"I can pray, maybe god will damn help me this time." You murmur, tapping the pencil against the desk.

----

Very few people came in, only maybe 20 compared to the normal 100 or more. It meant you had less to clean, so maybe... You'll be able to leave earlier. And won't have to be in this uncomfortable place anymore. You can only pray.

As the shift passed, some people were on edge, but overall seemed fine. One child must've overheard about what happened recently, as they were scared, their eyes wide, they grabbed their mothers arm and attempted to pull them away from this place.

The mother rolled her eyes, saying they were safe since it was daylight.

"Monsters don't come out during the day, darling. You'll be fine. And there's other people here, they'll make sure to protect you." She leans down and pats her daughter on the head. "I promise you'll be okay sweetheart, it's just a movie theatre."

----

As night crept in, you started to slowly dread being there more and more. It started to slowly consume your thoughts, of what could potentially happen if you were left alone once more in this building. You hoped that since there wasn't as many people, you had more of a chance of being able to clean faster. And therefore, be able to leave earlier.

As your coworker left and put the closed sign up, you felt your stomach sink. You were sure that you were fucked. But what else could you do? You had to do your job. You had to do it regardless of what you wanted.

You went to the janitors closet, pulling the strings which turned the light on. It was rather claustrophobic. Dust had built up after what seemed like years of not being cleaned. You grabbed the vacuum and left the closet, and went over towards the front desk. You started there, and moved towards the movie room then upstairs. You were hyper aware of your surroundings, you couldn't help but feel on edge after last night. Every tap on the windows or hum of the electricity made you feel sick.

Once you were done vacuuming, out started to mop the floors. You wanted to listen to music, but you were afraid of not hearing if someone was lurking inside. You wanted to know what was happening around you.

After you did the basics, you sat down for a bit and wondered if you could get away with leaving the theatre like this. It's not like your boss comes in everyday.

You eventually decided to leave the place as is, you didn't feel safe being in there any longer. You instantly grabbed your handbag, but noticed your keys were missing and so was your phone... And wallet.

You felt bile instantly run up your throat. That awful feeling of knowing you were truly at another's mercy started to suffocate you. You panicked, looking under the desk, in the janitor's closet... Nothing. It was nowhere. You attempted to calm yourself down, saying you just misplaced it. That's all you did. There was nothing lurking around the corner watching your every move waiting to pounce and kill you.

You were fine. Just fine.

How the hell was everything missing? There's no way it all fell out when it was closed, and that it's been in the same spot since you got here.

You rushed around the building, searching everywhere for your stupid belongings. And in the middle of the already awful experience, you started to hear tapping on the windows. It was slow and intentional.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You went over towards it, moving the curtains. Nothing was there, but the bushes did move slowly. Those same, dead eyes pearing at you. That's when you realised everything you've witnessed was real.

Something was after you.

And you had no idea what the fuck it was, it definitely wasn't human. No humans neck twists like that, no human has the void-like holes, where no ounce of light can go through.

It slowly crept out of the bush, it's mangled limbs moving in unnatural, inhuman positions as it came towards the window.

It has already came in before, why the fuck was it trying to come in again? It could come in before, what now? Was there more than one? What did it want? Did it just get off on scaring you?

You stepped back, feeling like how you did the night before.

"No... No no. No." You murmured, grabbing the phone that hung on the wall. You attempted to dial the emergency services, but the lines were down. You shook your head, you had to have something to defend yourself from that... Thing. All these awful thoughts came into your mind. Of what it could do, of what it wanted.... And what it's true form was.

You heard popping sounds from the other side of the window.

"Can... You help me?"

Those distorted voices sent a shiver down your spine. That unnatural, disgusting sound.

You slowly glanced over your shoulder at the monster. It had the most awful, disgusting grin which showed all its teeth. It's disfigured head and body contorted as it started to tap on the window again.

"I... Need your... Help."

It said as it cocked its head.

"I am... Scared." It's mouth twitched wider. Both it's hands were placed on the window. Its face squished against it.

"I'm so scared."

If the situation wasn't serious, you would've laughed at the irony.

"Stay away from me!"

You yelled, grabbing a pair of scissors from the drawer. You pointed it towards the creature, even though you knew it was futile.

"Stay away from me!"

It mimicked, the dread which formed was sickening. It... Said the same thing. The two voices at once made it even more horrifying. The distorted sound triggered you more. It said things which were already unnerving, but it mimicked you in your tone, just slightly distorted was utterly mortifying. The fear you felt that night here and at home could never compare to this.

You decided that you had to get far away from this thing. You couldn't sit there forever, even another second was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and rot. A being like that shouldn't exist.

You ran up the stairs, you felt it's... Sockets following your figure, analysing every movement. You went into the bathrooms and slammed the door shut. You locked the door, then moved over to the window. You glanced outside, and saw that it was clear.

You heard fast, but light footsteps coming from outside. You knew it was toying with you. You knew it enjoyed the chase and it made you feel sick.

The tapping continued once more, but this time at the bathroom door.

"I'm scared... Why won't you help me?"

"What do you want from me?!" You screamed back, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at the door.

"I'm stuck."

The more you listened to it, the more its voice sounded normal and close to human. You rapidly shook your had, murmuring to yourself.

"No, no this isn't happening."

It sounded so normal, its panic was so evident and felt real. Earlier it didn't, what was going on?!

You felt dizzy, your vision started to become slightly blurry. You collapsed onto the ground, in front of one of the bathroom stalls.. Your head thumped, the pain made you groan. You knew you had to get out, that's the only thing you could do. You weren't sure what was going on anymore. You had to get out.

You slowly stood up, holding onto the edge of the stall. You moved towards the window, contemplating how you were going to get down. There were bushes underneath, but you knew you were screwed if you landed wrong. There were no other options unless you wanted to face that thing. You slowly opened the window, attempting to be quiet just in case the... Thing will hear. To your relief it made no noise. You slowly placed your legs over, holding onto the edge tightly. You took a deep breath then pushed yourself off.

You groaned as your body hit the floor hard, causing pain to radiate through you. you groaned, knowing your body was going to be covered in bruises. You hissed as you slowly sat up. You brushed the twigs off of your shirt, then used the brick wall to attempt to help yourself up. You moved around the outside of the building, attempting to be quiet.

You knew you couldn't use your car, you had no idea how to hotwire it. The only option you had was to walk home, well, better run.

You started to sprint away, ignoring every aching muscle and joint. You gritted your teeth as you forced your legs to move. You occasionally glanced over your shoulder, and to your relief, saw nothing there. You started to slow down when you felt safer since you were further away from that thing.

You leaned over, placing your hands on your knees as you took deep breaths. You felt dizzy, but knew you had to get home. After a minute, you started to walk again. As you walked down the street, occasionally you spotted cars driving by or the really odd person or two walking by. You always held the scissors tight, regardless of how much it dug into your skin.

Eventually, you got to your home. You searched your pockets for your keys, then remembered you lost them at the theatre. You hoped that thing wouldn't find them. You went to the backyard and grabbed them from under one of the pots. You unlocked the door, then went inside.

You placed some chairs behind the front and back door under the handle. You then slipped the latch so unlocking wouldn't work. You made sure you did everything you could to prevent the thing from coming inside.

You felt relieved once you glanced around knowing that you were safe.

So you could finally have a good sleep, you went to have a warm shower. You washed away all the dirt from your skin, watching as the dirt slowly went down the drain. You sat in the warmth, soaking up the comfort from it for as long as you can. You sat in the shower for a while till the hot water ran out, forcing you to go back into the cold. Reminding you of the bitter reality you'll have to face eventually.

You got dressed then went to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the utensil drawer. You tapped the point, dragging your finger across the blade. You wanted to make sure it'd actually be useful if you needed to defend yourself.

You locked your bedroom door, making sure the latch would be strong enough to keep anything out. The hairs on your skin were constantly standing. Every shadow and movement puts you on edge. Your own home didn't make you feel safe, only the slightest bit safer than if you were to be outside.

You walked over to your bedside drawer, then placed the knife on top of it.. You left the lamp which sat beside you on. You pulled open one of the draws and grabbed one of your old alarms since your phone was lost.

You haven't used it for so long it took a while to figure it out. Once you set it, you laid down in bed. You stared at the ceiling, getting dragged into your thoughts. You occasionally focused on shadows that danced on your walls, wondering if one of them will ever be the creature which tortured your emotions hours before.

----

[corvid-language-library]

I see you talk about shadowing as a language learning method. I understand it had something to do with YT videos? Can you tell a bit more about that, how does it work and how did you come up with it?

Hi there!

Shadowing is where you listen to a language and simultaneously attempt to repeat what you hear - mimicking sounds and intonation - even if you don't understand it right away. By mimicking native speakers this way you acquire more native-like pronunciation while also (ideally) absorbing vocabulary and sentence patterns and grammar structures. I think this article explains it a lot better than I probably can!

The recommended way to do this is using audiobooks or podcasts with transcripts, but the reason I started doing this is because I would watch YT videos about useful phrases for daily life or videos about my target grammar, but I'd forget the sentences almost immediately and then have to find the motivation to sit down and rewatch an entire video, sometimes multiple times. "If only there were a way I could listen to the target sentences constantly and just practice parroting them back!" I found myself thinking. "It'd be so much more efficient than looking them up every single time or having to rewatch a whole 20-minute video!"

And then I realised I could literally just use Audacity (free audio recording/editing software!) and record from my laptop speakers myself.

So, I've been going on Youtube, watching various grammar videos and then recording sentences I want to learn from those videos. I record at natural speed first, then at 0.5x playback and then again at 0.75x playback. I then edit it together with two seconds between each recording and a repeat at each speed (plus one final repeat at normal speed). So an audio looks like:

1) Normal speed 2 second break 2) 50% speed 2 second break 3) 75% speed 2 second break 4) Normal speed 2 second break 5) 50% speed 2 second break 6) 75% speed 2 second break 7) Normal speed

Sometimes for shorter sentences, I don't bother to slow the audio down, so I'll just have it repeat 5-6 times at normal speed.

Once I've recorded everything and edited it together, I put the mp3 on my phone. I have a few different playlists (each one around 10-15 minutes in length) - some for specific grammar, some for specific situations (eg shopping, izakaya) - and I usually just stick one on repeat while I'm walking somewhere or doing some kind of menial task that doesn't otherwise engage my brain (doing dishes, ironing, making materials for work etc). And then I do my best to mimic what I'm hearing just behind the speaker (or along with the speaker). Usually the first few times I listen to a track I just try to speak along with the slower versions, or maybe just mimic the specific target structure. As I hear it more and more, eventually I can speak along with the audio word for word and focus more on my intonation.

I've found it helpful so far because it helps me learn sentences while building the muscle memory of how to say certain words/grammar. I can much more easily recall a sentence I've heard on repeat/practiced saying a hundred times than one I've heard in a video once and written down in a notebook somewhere. And if I can recall a sentence, I can substitute words using correct grammar rather than trying to figure out how to say something from scratch (and hopefully choose the correct option on the JLPT when the time comes!)

Hope that answers your question! Feel free to send more 😊

[ayanominitrash]

Geto Suguru x reader // of all the days//

life is unfair, but Geto is thankfully a saint

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

thinking about how you're the 4th student of the second year in Jujutsu High - the batch with the strongest sorcerers of your generation

you have a huge crush on Geto Suguru but always have his best friend Gojo Satoru cock blocking you, or should I say pussy blocking you?

you can't help it, Geto is quiet, gentle and kind. his dark eyes shine into yours, making butterflies in your stomach go berserk

so, not a day goes by where you don't try to convince the annoying white-haired man to leave out a mission so you can partner up with Geto for once. it's always the two of them, while you have to get left behind with Shoko Ieiri, who isn't assigned to many missions as she's only one of the few sorcerers who can heal

"as if you're strong enough to take on one of our missions," Gojo would scoff at you every time you beg him. "Geto's mine. Or I could fuck you over and have him partner with Shoko instead."

You're red in the face in your anger, "Principal Yaga or the higher-ups would never take her out on missions too much, you know. Just this once!"

Gojo hums in thought, hand caressing his chin. then finally looks at you with a smirk, "No"

"fuck you with all my being" you glared at him before stomping away

"that's not a threat, considering how short you are!" he shouts at your retreating figure

on your way home from a mission with Shoko one day, you find the perfect bribe for Gojo to sit one mission out - it's a limited edition daifuku, his favorite dessert

"Principal Yaga, believe it or not, I'm not feeling all that great today. I think I got the bad btch disease - that said, I'll let Y/N take the next mission with Suguru, -bye!"

"he's all yours," The tall man says before biting into the tasty treat

Finally, you meet up with Your Crush Geto Suguru, who smiles at you before opening the car door open so you can go in first

Your Crush Geto Suguru who was kind enough to ask you if you're nervous about the mission, in which you joke to him that you'd be more nervous if you were on a mission with Gojo with how reckless he can be sometimes and likes to go solo - Geto chuckles at you, eyes disappearing in the process

Your Crush Geto Suguru who politley ushers you forward once the two of you reached into the buidling of said mission, a light push from his hand on the small of your back. Once the curtains are pulled down by the assistant that drove the two of you there, he speaks in a soft voice about the situation. You nod at his words, trying to not get distracted by the gloss of spit on his bottom lip

Your Crush Geto Suguru who lets you sit down first while he clears the first floor of the building. You feel an uneasy pain in you, but you don't mind it. Instead, you help yourself to watch how Geto's broad shoulders move as he exorcise the low grade curses, his brows pinch together in concentration.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who asks you in concern when you told him you can't exactly stand up, he looks down at you with those pretty dark eyes, it makes you weak in the knees. But that's not the reason why you told him you can't stand up from your seat. Of all the days, it just had to be the day that you're finally in the mission with your crush, only to have your period come in early.

Your Crush Geto Suguru whose eyes widen when you tell him of your little unfortunate incident. You probably think he'd be grossed out by you or turned off. Or probably annoyed because you're insinuating to let him handle the mission all by himself.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who only voices his concerns for your being - are you hurting? can you move? Is there anything that I can do to help? You heart can't help but flutter of how considerate he's being with you. You tell him that you can still go on the mission with him but your skirt is probably soaked from your backside area. Maybe if you're lucky, you can find some pads in the abandoned building - gross, but what are you to do?

Your Crush Geto Suguru who removes his jacket uniform and wraps it around your waist "It's just the two of us, but if this will help you feel less uncomfortable around me, please take it."

Your Crush Geto Suguru who only puts his hand on the small of your back again as he ushers you forward to the next floor, shutting down your protests about using his jacket as your cover, how you're afraid about the stains.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who does most of the work, exorcising curses along the way so you don't have to push yourself.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who bridal carries you out of the building after the mission because your cramps got worse. You'll never forget the feeling of his strong arms around you.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who asks the driver to stop at a convenience store on the ride back to the school, so he can buy you some much needed pads and sweets.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who gives you that sweet smile of his when you return his uniform jacket the next day, all washed and clean.

Your Crush Geto Suguru who asks you if you two can eat lunch together that same day.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

//

This is my first time writing - I think this is called a drabble? brrttt I was gushing while writing this Daddy Suguru PLEAASEEE

[strawburry01]

Enjoy the Silence

Summary: (college) Aaron and Y/N at a halloween party where someone gets a little drunk. Still a little conflicted angsty. Don't need to have read the other stuff leading up to this but it helps!

Word Count: 3k

AN: Guys, why do things keep happening to me? I sprained my ankle so bad running after this exchange student I met like, two nights ago, and he just laughed! SMH. Forgive me for how terribly this may read near the end- I'm just trying to get something out. I'll edit it later (maybe) (probably not) (oopsies!)

It had been about half a year of you and Aaron studying tirelessly in the library, but it wasn’t for nothing. Both of you were getting the highest scores on the exams in class and had, by the grace of god, made it onto the Dean’s list last year. It left both of you more determined than ever, but also more inseparable than ever. At this point you were both either at the library, class, or at each other’s place, much to the dismay of your roommates who would like some peace and quiet some nights. Luckily for them, this was one of the nights you were both out of the house, as it was Halloween. Well, the Friday before Halloween. Nobody really wanted to party on a Monday night.

Aaron and you had fought about matching costumes for a while because you refused to dress as Sandra from Grease because you thought she was such a pushover and gave up all her morals for Danny, even thought it would’ve made for a really good costume. He eventually gave up and just admitted he wanted to wear his leather jacket and didn’t care what you dressed as.

Well that is until you met him at his house in a matching leather jacket. He shut the door on your face before you could open your mouth.

“We are NOT showing up to a costume party MATCHING,” he shouted from the other side of the door.

“Aaron you said you wanted to match though!” you shouted back, trying to hide back your laughs.

“You know what I meant Y/N and it wasn’t this!”. 

“Oh come on you kill joy everyone is going to be so jealous of how cute we look!” you laughed as you shoved your fists in your pockets, thinking you looked damn good. You heard him shuffle around on the other side of the door before finally opening it with a dramatic sigh and eye roll.

“You kill me,” he sighed as he started down the porch, letting you catch up to him. You smiled as you stepped into pace besides him. You were heading to one of his friend’s party’s for the night. Aaron insisted it would be fun, but he’d brought it up enough you were getting a little suspicious. Aaron started talking about his roommates' failed cooking attempts as you lit a cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re smoking?” he asked, stopping his story and turning to you as you puffed out a cloud of smoke. You turned away trying to hide it from him.

“So what? You worried about me?” you hummed, trying to diffuse his anger as you ashed the cigarette end. He rolled his eyes and focused back onto the sidewalk.

“That’s bad for you y’know?” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I do know Aaron,” you responded in the same tone as you tapped his shoulder with your free hand. He always hated when you started smoking. It was a cycle you’d gotten yourself into at the beginning of this year starting every few weeks and then quitting whenever Aaron would start stealing and hiding your packs. You smushed your cigarette into the ground once you were finished right outside the house. Aaron had put on some sunglasses to add to his costume which you giggled at. 

“Stop it, you know I look good,” he said as he threw his arm around your shoulders lazily leaning onto you as you both stood in front of the door. You laughed more and patted his chest as you snaked an arm behind his waist to steady him. His friend whips open the door and the noise of the party booms onto the porch. 

“Aaron! Y/N!” he shouted, the scent of alcohol already emanating off of him, “you made it!”. Aaron hugged his friend and started talking as you nodded your hello and slipped into the thumping house, letting the two catch up. It was already packed somehow even though it had just begun, that’s what they’d get for inviting a bunch of nerds. There were several black cats of varying authenticity, a few Gene Simmon’s look-alikes, a smattering of half-assed Jedi, and a fair amount of suspect Spidermen and other superheros. You smiled peacefully to yourself, despite the chaos around you, taking in the moment and what all led to you even getting invited to such an event. You slipped a hand into the cooler to grab a beer and cracked it open to start sipping on it as you watched the crowd. You’d always been a bit of a wallflower, while Aaron was the chatty one. Sure enough, he was still chatting with his friend, just as energetic as he was before. Your old lab partner Jen spotted you at the party and danced her way through the crowed until she was by you.

“Ohmygod Y/N, so great to see you!” she shouted over the speaker. You stifle a smile seeing how out of it she was.

“Jen, how are you?” you asked, trying to be sincere, swishing your drink. She nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m so great Y/N. Who do you know here?!” she said back. 

“Uhm, I’m here with Aaron,” you admitted bashfully. Sure enough Jen responded with raised eyebrows and a shoulder nudge.

“You guys are still talking? That’s going gooood?” she said, leaning closer and waggling her eyebrows. You playfully scoffed and pushed her away.

“You know it’s not like that Jen, we’re just…friends,” you said, glancing behind  her at Aaron still gesticulating a story to his friend. She moved her head to block your view.

“Sure and is that why you guys are wearing matching costumes?” she accused. You rolled your eyes and sipped the beer.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” you said under your breath. 

“You’re blushing!” Jen giggled obnoxiously as she shook you by the shoulders, to which you swatted her away and tried to shush her even though he was across the room. She aww-ed at your shyness and eventually calmed down. “Okay okay, but still-” she said, “you two are cute together,”.

“Thanks,” you mutter under your breath, looking around the room for Aaron again only to see he had finally moved away from his friend. Where did he go? 

“Hello Jen,” he suddenly chirped, appearing besides you, double fisting two red Solo cups. “Ah cheers,” he said quickly clinking his cups to your beer. 

“Hello Aaron!” she smiles back with a toothy grin, “Ugh you two look so good,” she said looking at both of you. Aaron smiled and looked down at his own outfit before looking at you and nodding, confirming her compliment.

“Thank you Jen, you look good too,” he said back, eyes glancing over her and her fairy costume. 

“You’re too sweet Aaron,” she said, “Okay okay okay I’ll leave you two alone, say bye before you leave!!!” she said in an airy tone grabbing both of your forearms before wandering back into the crowd. Aaron silently took a sip of one of his drinks and smacked his lips before looking back down at you.

“She’s- something!” he remarked. You nodded and matched him with your own sip. 

“She’s nice, just a bit of a party animal,” you agreed, “like someone else I know” you chuckled, elbowing Aaron.

“Pfft as if, I just like talking to people. Unlike soooome,” he retorted, elbowing you back.

“Let me catch up to you then I’ll get social” you jokingly grumbled, taking another sip. He snorted.

The party continued and Aaron and you split again. Sure enough, you do warm up to chat with your classmates and friends as you keep another beer in hand. You feel a buzz starting as you laugh loudly at someone’s joke as you attempt to land a ping pong ball into a solo cup across the table. You miss and loudly shout ‘SHIT!’, only to quickly feel a body pressed against your back, a hand holding onto your hip.

“Let me try for a redemption shot,” Aaron laughed, reverberating in your ear as someone hands him a ping pong ball. He completely misses and you both burst out laughing, and you take the opportunity to lean back on his chest, only to have his grip tighten on your hip. “I didn’t say I was going to be good,” he defended himself as you watched the opposing team try to make their shots. You reach behind yourself and pat his cheek.

“Sure you are,” you tease back, feeling his warm cheek under your hand before you go to grab another fumbled ball. It’s crazy how bad hand eye coordination gets when you’re drunk. You weren’t complaining though. Having Aaron this close was…nice, but you would never really admit it. The game continues and you two end up losing, but just barely. Aaron happily finishes the drinks as you insist you can’t handle any more, mostly because you’ve seen how long it’d been sitting out. Aaron’s fraternity brother tendencies came out whenever he was trying to impress people with these games. 

You expect him to step away once the game is done, but instead he stays right where he is, moving his arms up they’re wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you close. He sets his head on your shoulder blade and sighs.

“You alright?” you ask, tilting your head to look at him. You felt him nod onto your shoulder.

“I’m doing just swell Y/N,” he says, knowing he doesn’t need to shout, which makes a chill run up your spine. He tightens his grip for a second before changing his mind, “can we go to the couch actually,” he mumbles to you. You obliged and started to weave your way through the partygoers back to the living room where you know there’s a few couches. Aaron doesn’t let go, despite stumbling a few times into your back. You throw some coats left on a couch onto the arms of it and sit down, Aaron finally releasing his hold. He flops down, laying his head on your lap, leaving his legs dangling off the end of the couch. He grumbles and groans as he throws his sunglasses off into the void of people dancing. “Y/N…I’m getting the spins,” he groans as he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Oh shit, Aaron’s actually drunk.

You can’t help but gently place a hand on his hair and run your fingers through it.

“Poor Aaron drank too much?” you asked in a sing songy voice.

“Don’t baby talk me,” he whined as he lowered his hands and kept his eyes firmly shut, “can’t you just make me feel better,”.

“What would make you feel better?” you ask, raising your eyebrows to yourself. His eyes flashed open and he opened his mouth to say something, but instead of words he shoots up and promptly throws up over the side of the couch onto the ground. Yeah, good thing you didn’t drink that shit. 

You make him lay down on the couch as you tie up your hair and start trying to clean up the mess. Aaron’s friend finds you trying and grabs your attention.

“Y/N, yeah? Don’t worry about it-” he said, not seeming stressed, “I got this if you just uh, promise to get him home,” he said, tilting his chin in the direction of the still groaning Aaron. You nodded dutifully, you would much rather take this deal. After a few minutes of convincing you’re able to coax Aaron to his feet, leading him out before he can throw up on the floor again.

He does throw up again in the lawn and you try to pat his back to make him feel better, although you’ve never really seen him get sick from drinking so you’re not sure if you’re helping or harming. The two of you are able to make it back to his house, in only twice the normal time due to his drunken ramblings requiring perfect stillness in the middle of the street. 

“Y/N, you know I love you right?” he says bluntly the moment you pull the key to his house out of his jacket pocket. You froze. You know he doesn’t mean it like that, unless he does. You can’t really trust him with how half-shut his eyes are right now.

“I uh, love you too Aaron,” you say, forcing a bit of a smile into the corner of your mouth as you open the door to the dark house. Dammit, he’s not shuffling back into his room without a tumble or waking up the whole house. “We’re getting you to bed okay?” you say to him, as you hold an arm around his waist to steady him.

“Can you spend the night? I love you,” he said through his mumbles as the two of you stepped into the house. He leans his head down so he’s just speaking into your hair. 

“Aaron I don’t know I-” you try to interject.

“But I love youuuu and you never spend the night,” he whines like a teenager as you kicked open the bottom of his door to try and avoid a clatter. You sigh as you navigate him to his bed and let him fall onto it.

“Take off your shoes ya drunk,” you say as you cross your arms and flick on the lights. He hisses at the bright lights, but does kick off his boots before trying to get under the blankets. He eventually opens his eyes again and looks at you.

“Please spend the night Y/N,” he says softly, opening the blankets, “I just want you here,”. You’d spent the night before with him, but usually just on the couch after falling asleep on his shoulder during a movie. Did he actually mean this? Or was he just that drunk? “Please?”.

You can’t say no to this guy’s face. You sighed  and kicked off your own shoes and hit the lights before crawling into the area under the blanket. You can hear Aaron trying to form a sentence but he just mumbles words as he pulls you closer by the small of your back. You give in and rest your head on his chest, hearing just how fast his heart is beating, glad it isn’t just your own. 

“Y/N?” he finally gets out, breaking the silence of just the two of your breaths. 

“Yes Aaron?”

“Don’t leave me,”.

“I won’t,”.

You feel him slowly rubbing your back before eventually falling into a loud snore. He’s lucky he was handsome, otherwise you’d be smothering him with a pillow. Eventually you’re able to fall asleep into the darkness, trying to not overthink things.

You wake up to sunlight hitting you directly in the eyes through the window across the room. You groaned and turned to try and hide your face, remembering at the same time you were in a bed that was not your own. You groaned as you realize Aaron isn’t in bed anymore with you. Shit. You sit up in the bed, rubbing your head groggily. As if on command, Aaron swings the door open with two cups of coffee. His face brightens as he sees you’re awake.

“Good morning Y/N,” he says, his morning voice making your stomach do a flip. Well, either that or the residual alcohol. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask him, as you gratefully take the cup. 

“Not the best, I can’t lie,” he admits as he sits at the foot of the bed. You wished he’d just come back under the covers though, “I don’t really remember coming back home,” he says as he takes a sip of the coffee.

“Do you remember any of last night?” you asked. He shrugs, still facing the door.

“I remember doing really bad at beer pong with you,” he offered, rubbing the back of his head, “was I embarrassing? Oh Christ what did I say-”.

“Nothing! You just threw up on the floor, and then I uh- took you home,” you nodded, agreeing to yourself on this story.

“Mmm,” he hummed, before silence took over the room again. He didn’t ask what you were doing in his bed. He didn’t admit that he did remember some of the drunken haze. It wasn’t lying that he didn’t remember the walk home- he really didn’t- but he did remember you unlocking the door. And he vaguely remembered admitting he loved you.

For now though, the silence was welcome. The two of you sipped your coffee. 

“We didn’t fuck right?” he asked, only to be met with a pillow to the cheek.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[sdr2lovemail]

Rating KNY characters on how well they can play rhythm games!: Upper Moon Edition!

This came to me in a vision and I must share!

Kokushibo 0/10

Kokushibo can kill. He can slay hordes of demon hunters without breaking a sweat. Put a tablet in front of him? He's done.

In battle, he's quick on his feet and a fast thinker. But something about the bright shapes flying across the screen got him pressing them three years after they pass, even with six eyes.

It's a challenge to get him to even play. Saying that human games are trivial to him and does not wish to partake. Will probably get a few seconds into the song before quitting.

"This is pointless. Goodbye."

Douma 9/10

Scarily good. After the initial "shock" of seeing a tablet, Douma is clearing songs with ease.

He's got a good sense of rhythm and can keep up with the notes. He prefers games with female casts as well. They're just nicer to look at in his words.

Scratches the screen of your tablet with those nails of his. Be cautious when using it after he's done with it, you might cut yourself on the glass.

That is if you can get it out of Douma's grasp. This screen is so interesting, you can't just take it away!

"Hey, I'm still using it... Come on, just one more song!"

Akaza 2/10

He can keep up well enough, but his sense of rhythm outside of fighting is awful. He's too focused on trying to hit the buttons that he can't keep up with the beat.

Akaza will get frustrated very quickly. He'll keep trying as he keeps getting mad. Saying he'll beat the next one. He's not stopping until he beats a song, or until your tablet is in pieces. Whichever comes first.

You can offer to put the game on an easier setting, but he wants to play on an even harder setting, just to prove he's better than a scrap of metal. It's a never ending cycle of frustration.

"No! I don't need it to be easier! You know what? Make it harder. I'll show you!"

Hantengu 0/10

(Might include clones in a different post)

Bad all around. No sense of rhythm and can't keep up with the notes. Hantengu gets angry to the point of tears, which makes it even harder for him to play. Didn't even want to try at first.

While he's quick in battle, he's still an old man from the Taisho Era. The bright, flashing graphics of the game overwhelm him and he just can't focus on one thing.

Another one to scratch the screen with his nails. He'd press down hard too, leaving pretty deep scratches.

Gets too frustrated and rage quits, not even finishing a song.

"I-I don't want to do this anymore!"

Nakime 9/10

Amazing sense of rhythm and can keep up with the notes like a seasoned player. Not a fan of most of the song choices. She's a fan of traditional sounds. Modern day pop, electronic, etc. is not for her.

It's a challenge to get her to play as well. She doesn't acknowledge your asking for a while. You really gotta pester her if you want her to play.

Nakime is skilled with her biwa even with her nails. She gets a bonus point for not scratching the life out of your tablet.

"Fine...I will try your music game."

Gyokko 5/10

Thinks he's above anything you'd have to offer, even if it was from modern times. You'll have to really butter him up for him to even think about playing.

With multiple hands comes quick reflexes and the abilities to do multiple things at once. He's able to keep up with the rhythm and notes with ease.

Gyokko is docked points because he'd just be bitching the whole time. Saying how ugly the art and graphics are or how he finds the music/vocals grating against his ears. Overall allergic to fun.

"How childish! Makes sense that someone like you could be so distracted with flashing colors."

Daki 3/10

She would actually be good at the game if she didn't throw a tantrum every time she lost her combo. She has a good eye and sense of rhythm, but gets too in her head about playing. Takes forever to pick a song.

Daki would throw your tablet across the room or slam it into the floor in a fit of rage, don't expect to get it back in one piece.

There's two reactions depending on how well you play. If she doesn't like you all that much, she blow up on you in an act of jealousy. If she does like you, she begging you to tell her how to get better.

"Wah! This is stupid! I clicked that note! I hate this!"

Gyutaro 0/10

Gyutaro doesn't even want to entertain the thought of him playing such a stupid game. He says that he has much better things to do. In the small chance you do get him to play, he sucks.

His lack of skills brings an onslaught of self deprecation. Groaning about he can't even play some dumb human game.

Doesn't scratch the screen too bad but he does scratch himself, leaving bloody stains all over the tablet.

"Nehhh, I can't even keep up. How pitiful..."

Kaigaku 2/10

Proudly boasts about how well he could play and how he could beat any score you could manage to get. Is promptly humbled the second the song starts.

Kaigaku would want to play on the hardest difficulty, but gets mad when he misses a note.

His stubbornness doesn't allow him to quit. He's going to keep playing until he can get a full combo. Don't tell him that all perfect combos exist, you'll never see him again.

"Stop trying to take it from me! I'm not done yet!"

[tsukimefuku]

to be loved is to be changed ❖ nanami kento

summary: after an unexpected talk with gojo, you begrudgingly went to work for jujutsu high. meeting new people and encountering a friend from the past has you wondering how much things might have changed (or not).

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader based off of an oc, soft/implied nanami x oc/reader, students being students, gojo being gojo, nostalgia, fluff, some life contemplation.

wc: 2.9K

notes, etc: i wrote this to the sound of nothing in my way (keane), and i'm editing it to the sound of akatsuki no kodou (unchain). this story came into my mind as i remembered that garfield plushie image that got very famous a while ago (to be loved is to be changed). finally, "majo" means witch in japanese.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

"Gojo said he has the situation under control," you repeated to yourself, nervously, as the train approached Tokyo. You could see the sunlight darting in between the city's skyline, casting streaks of light over you and the empty seat by your side, occupied solely by your tiny luggage.  "He has it under control."

You sighed, rubbing your own arm in an unsuccessful attempt of self-comforting, just before the train slowly stopped in its tracks. Clenching your fists in knuckle-white balls, you got up, holding your dark green beaten up travel suitcase and making your way out in between hurried people. 

Every step sent a wave of impact up your legs, and you were especially concerned with the fact that you probably forgot to breathe for a few seconds. 

"He's got it under control."

Right after you exited the Shibuya train station, you darted your eyes through the crowd, trying to find him. Your cellphone, already six years ancient, barely qualified as a communication device anymore. The screen, cracked by time and your own lackluster capacity to keep things unscathed, offered little to no support if you needed to text someone. He has the six eyes, you figured, he'll probably find me before I find him, anyway.

And you were completely right.

"It's been a long time!" You heard the unmistakable voice resonating behind you, a playful cadence that vibrated through the air. Turning around, you saw Gojo waving at you, and you waved back weakly — something uncharacteristic for you, always sardonic and well carried yourself. Thing is, you were just still terrified at what Jujutsu High might be once again plotting, and how it could involve you. "How was your trip? Wow, your hair really is big."

"Anxiously ridden, pretty boy. It's been a minute," you answered, stretching forcefully a half smile on your cheek.

Instead of the characteristic pout he'd have ten years ago when you called him pretty boy, his face was covered by a frivolous smile, to which the blindfold only served to enhance its mystery and intentions.

He had changed, and so had you.

He wasn't that boy that saved you anymore.

Neither were you the person he had saved. Not anymore, at least — thankfully.

"Don't worry, everything is taken care of. I've got the car here to take us back straight to Jujutsu High."

Ah, inside the belly of the beast, it seems. Just perfect.

***

As he presented your room where you'd be until you could find an appropriate apartment or flat for yourself, you wondered where all the people could've gone. You saw some students sparring by the track field, but apart from that, the place was uneasily peaceful. 

"It's kind of… Empty around here, isn't it?" You noted. 

"Oh, we have few sorcerers, which is why having you on board will be nice. You can aid Shoko and get some weight off her shoulders. Maybe she'll even ditch the eye bags!" He chirped, jokingly. You huffed from a smile, taking in slowly what it all meant. 

A decade later, after you sworn never to come to Jujutsu High, here you were, ready to work for them.

What a ploy.

"I'll let you get settled. Then, come outside, I'd like to introduce you to the students!"

"Me? To the students? Why?" You inquired, considerably confused.

"Because you will help me in teaching these kids. Maybe you can teach them RCT, because God knows Shoko couldn't even teach me, and I'm something of a genius. Hurry up!" He playfully chanted, waltzing out of the room before you could muster up an answer.

Changed, but not so much, it seems.

After you had splayed your things on your bed, separating all your cans and glass jars, all containing an assortment of different herbs and dried ingredients, you got up, heavy heart rumbling inside your chest, as you realized you'd be venturing around the lion's den for quite some time before you could find someplace else to live.

You quietly made your way outside, innocuous thumps hitting the hardwood floor below your sock covered feet, right before you reached outside and jammed them inside the already beaten up sneakers — that is, if they could even be called that anymore.

You approached the teens, and none of them paid much attention to you as you came silently towards them. There were five of them, and… A panda? What?

Gojo clapped twice, garnering everyone's attention. There were three boys, and two girls.

"Students, please, welcome your new teacher!"

"Hello! Itadori Yuuji!" The pink haired boy chirped, happily.

"Fushiguro Megumi, it's nice to meet you," the brooding one said, bowing politely.

"Kelp."

Say what now?

"That's Inumaki Toge, he's a cursed speech user. He speaks in rice ball ingredients due to his technique," Gojo clarified.

Oh, I see.

"Finally, a woman teacher that might actually teach us something!" One of the girls said. She seemed spunky with her short red hair. "I'm Kugisaki Nobara."

Finally, you looked at the last girl who sat by the stairs, holding onto a staff that had a blade on its tip. "I'm Maki."

You then looked at the panda, and kept staring at him. Everyone was silent for a moment, as you tried to grasp what exactly was going on. 

"I'm Panda," the panda answered.

You were left dumbfounded, but decided to not inquire further, considering it might be rude.

Who the hell knows.

"It's good to meet you, guys. Hope you can learn a thing or two from me. I've lived many things," you concluded, in a somewhat ominous fashion. Your attempt of a joke fell on deaf ears, and they all seemed a little confused, if not slightly taken aback. Yuuji tried a polite laugh, but Megumi elbowed him.

Gojo chuckled, grinning widely as he put his hands on his waist. "Never mind, students. She's like that. That wasn't even the worst thing she's said out of the blue."

He turned his blindfold covered-face towards you.

"You haven't changed at all," Gojo noted.

Except you had.

"Oh, come! There's more that I want to show you before I leave to take care of some things," he then exclaimed, long strides, instantly making his way out from the students without even waving them goodbye.

You followed suit, and accompanied him hurriedly. You were by no means small, but Gojo was enormous, and had what could be called "legs for days". Each step he took, required two steps from you to keep up.

"Hurry, woman!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" You answered, pacing quickly behind him.

You both walked across the track field, went up two flights of stairs, and stopped in front of a red wooden door that made way inside one of the multiple buildings inside the campus. Seemed huge for such a short-staffed personnel.

Gojo knocked on the door three times, and waited around five seconds before effectively barging in unceremoniously.

"Come!" He yelled at you, and you began to step inside.

"Gojo, I was finishing my report about today's mission with Yaga on the phone. You should learn to wait for someone to effectively let you inside the premises after knocking," you heard a so familiar voice say.

"Nanami?" You asked, walking towards the tall blonde man in front of you. You had seen him in Tokyo around four to five years ago, completely by accident, and forgot to get his number on that opportunity. At that time, he wasn't enrolled with jujutsu affairs anymore, and you remember chastising him for it.

Now, he had a pale beige suit on, wore a blue button shirt with a yellow splatter print tie, and had a particularly unique pair of glasses covering his eyes.

"It's you!"

His eyes widened slightly as he said your name.

You nodded. "Yeah. Myself, plus the long hair. It's nice to see you again."

A genuine smile covered your face.

He tipped his head softly, "it's nice to see you again, too. What has brought you here to Jujutsu High?"

You scoffed, looking at Gojo. He lifted his hands, saying, "well, they were up plotting against her, so I just pulled a few strings that basically required her to come here."

You sighed.

"Yeah. They were up to their classic shit, I guess."

Nanami sighed back.

"I see."

"So, about your work here," Gojo began, "given you have very little experience in effectively fighting in the field to exorcize curses, Nanami is being now appointed to shepherd you until you are acclimated!"

"Say what now?" You asked, at a loss for words. Isn't jujutsu sorcery a solo sport? Why the hell am I going to have a partner?

"And who has made that decision? Gojo, you should've informed me about this beforehand. I can't be caught off guard this way."

"What?! I wanted to make a surprise! You guys haven't seen each other in a decade!" He said in his defense.

"Actually, I ran into Nanami by accident around five years ago here at Tokyo, when he was a salaryman," you replied. "He was too good for that, so I gave him a hard time and told him to go back to being a jujutsu sorcerer."

"Huh?" Gojo asked. "Five years ago?"

"Yes" Nanami acquiesced.

"I bumped into him, we had a chat, I took my train, and well, here I am, I guess," you concluded, smiling.

Gojo chuckled, and put his hands in his pockets, realizing the timing.

"Are you sure you still want to complain about shepherding her?" He asked Nanami, with a hint of mischief in his voice.

Nanami sighed, yet again.

"I have no objections on that matter. I'd just like to have been informed beforehand."

"Oh, come on, Nanami. Gojo tried his best to make a surprise, he just disregarded the fact that you clearly hate surprises."

"Hey!" Gojo complained.

Nanami shook his head at Gojo's antics, but underneath his blank facade, you saw the all too familiar amusement he had all the times you picked fun at Gojo.

We haven't changed. Have we?

***

Weeks had passed, and you couldn't live another second like this. You just couldn't.

The long hair getting glued to the back of your neck, sweaty tangles that took eons to brush out, was simply becoming too much of a hassle.

You sat in the bathroom, on the toilet, shortly after your latest mission with Nanami, and grabbed the first pair of scissors you could find inside your own small bag of toiletry amenities — they were for cutting nails, at most, and fit pathetically small inside your palms.

Grunting, you got up and walked towards the mirror of the collective bathroom, ready to start chopping your hair away, because the mere thought that it would still be there in the following hour reveled your body with anticipated discomfort.

At that moment, both Nobara and Maki, two of the students you had been teaching closely these last few weeks, went inside the bathroom. They stopped in their tracks, looking at you, doubtfully, as you held a black lock of hair extended to the side of your head, flaunting the tiny scissors underneath it.

"Sensei, what are you doing?" Nobara asked, genuinely confused.

"I'm cutting my hair," you answered, ready to start trimming.

Maki and Nobara stared at you for a moment.

You sighed.

"Look, I don't know anything properly around here, leaving the campus is usually a pain in the ass for me because I still don't understand how this assistant shenanigans works, and I just need to cut this hair out before I go completely insane." You sighed. "And this manicure scissors are all I have. So I'm cutting my hair."

Nobara and Maki shared a brief look between them.

"Sensei, with all due respect," Maki began.

You looked at her from the reflex on the mirror.

"You definitely are not cutting your hair like that."

"Huh?" You mumbled.

"Look, I have better scissors with me. Let me get them and we can help you. I'm pretty familiar with it, I take care of my hair myself." Nobara offered, approaching you.

You pondered for a moment. "Okay. I really could use some help."

Around an hour had passed since the girls had run into you in the bathroom. They took you back to your room, properly put a towel around your neck, and Nobara chipped away at your rich thick black locks of hair as she and Maki complained about their peer's latest shenanigans. Apparently, Inumaki and Panda were given to stealing their jackets and skirts to run around the campus. You chuckled at the image of that, up until Nobara reminded you she had a sharp pair of scissors to your hair.

After you were finished, you looked into the tiny mirror you had on your makeshift dorm room, and saw the same face from ten years ago, with the same short black hair.

Was it the same, though?

***

You had been feeling specially sad for the past few days. After finishing another mission with Nanami, you both went back to campus, and you had offered him your classic Oka tea, which you both drank many times together in Odate, ten years prior.

The Oka tea, your specialty, the secret recipe of your family — your pride.

However, when you searched through your herbs, dried ingredients and spices you brought, you realized the dried orange was completely missing.

You knew, as well as anyone in your family, that the Oka tea could never miss any ingredient, especially the dried orange slices.

I'm so sorry, Nanami. I wanted to teach you to make some Oka tea today, but I just can't do it without the dried orange slices. It's just not Oka tea without it. You remembered saying.

You weren't usually that attached to recipesto such a personal degree, but being here, in Jujutsu High, elicited so many memories from your past that you felt homesick, and the only way you knew you could taste home back again would be with a warm cup of Oka tea.

Nanami wasn't annoyed at your upsetting at all, and pointed out that recipes really were meant to be followed in order to obtain the best outcome when cooking.

Right now, you were sitting at the tiny kitchen they had for the use of people that lived inside campus, and you felt heartbroken, missing your tea, as you gazed at all the other ingredients you had left on the counter since then. 

There was a knock on the door, and you told the person to come in. It was Nanami, and he carried a plastic bag with him.

"Hey, Nanami," you greeted, slightly disheartened. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

He put the bag over the counter and looked at you.

"I bought us some dried orange slices for you to make your tea."

"... What?" You looked inside the bag, and sure enough, there was a small plastic packaging with some dried orange slices inside it. "Nanami, thank you so much."

"It wasn't troublesome at all, there is a store that sells dried ingredients and similar types of products near where I live."

You smiled at him.

"Well, now I can show you the recipe, then."

He nodded.

"I hadn't anticipated you'd actually be missing any ingredient for this tea, or to not have it already prepared and at your disposal," the sorcerer huffed, amusement and nostalgia glimmering underneath his chiseled passiveness. "I remember you usually tossed into hot water some packets that you, for some reason, always kept on yourself, and it always tasted the same. It was an unexpectedly odd phenomenon," Nanami pointed out, referring to the time you both spent working together at Odate.

"Haven't you heard? I'm a majo."

You poked fun at your own past, when you were shunned, called and treated like a witch by the very people from your hometown.

The faintest hint of a smile covered his face.

After mixing up all the ingredients, including the dried orange slices Nanami had brought you, walking him step by step on how to make Oka tea, you served one cup for each.

The smell was familiar, and you could almost see the snow that engulfed the first two decades of your life falling again all around you.

Then, you took a sip, and you were completely taken aback. Nanami noticed it, and drank the tea too, looking slightly puzzled at his mug.

"It has a different taste" he noted, looking at you. "Was any other ingredient missing?"

You looked at him, then at the mug, then at him again. You were positively sure you followed the exact same recipe you had been making for the past 18 years. It could be the quality of the dried orange slices, but it was unlikely. This was just strange, overall.

Then, you pondered.

"It's not bad, it's just… different."

Indeed, the tea still had no need for added sugars or sweeteners, and had the same everlasting flowery and citrus smell, so characteristic to it. 

"Yes. It tastes very good." Nanami replied, taking another sip, contently. "This would go well with some croissants and jam."

You chuckled.

"Yeah, it would."

"So, what happened? Do you have any ideas?" He inquired.

You shrugged.

"I don't know. It just changed, I guess."

"Hm," he finally hummed, looking at you as you began brushing the nape of your hair with your fingers, smiling at yourself, gazing at the cup of tea.

To be loved is to be changed.

—

End notes:

I wrote this in about a 1-1:30h sitting, and I’m so happy at how it turned out.

If you liked it and could spare some time to leave a comment, I’d be very happy. 💜

[skittishlikefromthewar]

my favorite headcanon to ponder is that as soon as they enter the Champions League - and it becomes official that this level of cardiovascular training is going to become Jamie's new longterm normal - Roy immediately bans him from running on pavement (so that he'll still have cartilage in his knees by age 60, and because no trainer ever cared enough to do that for Roy and he's gonna do better by Jamie if it kills him).

However...

--they can't limit all his running to a treadmill or track either, because that's a GREAT way to get hurt when he's on the pitch. 

Cue a hilarious montage of Jamie biking to some park, folding the bike to carry over a shoulder while running through said park, hopping back on the bike once he reaches the road, biking until he reaches a grass/dirt track along the river, running until the dirt track runs out, biking again, etc.

Cut to a shot of Roy frowning studiously because This Isn't Working Out, before he turns to Jamie and dead-serious, he asks, "Can you run the pavement on your hands?"

And Jamie is 😭😭😭 on the inside but verbally he's just "uh....yeah! Yeah sure I mean yeah no don't think so but yeah sure yeah why not I'll give it a go?"

Cut to Jamie managing seven whole haphazard steps in a handstand before, "aiyeeee..." and a close-up of Roy cringing with his fists over his mouth. 

Cut to Roy frowning studiously again. This time Jamie's got a big abrasion on his cheek. Again, deadly serious-

"Could you cartwheel the asphalt bits?"

Cut to Jamie cartwheeling over and over and over like. well, like a wheel, making good speed...

in a very much NOT straight line, until he cartwheels right into a bush.

"Well." Roy's got his studious frown, Jamie's got his scraped cheek and leaves in his hair. "I think we're out of options."

And Jamie's face falls. "Coach no. Please I can figure it out. Just need to keep trying things don't I?"

But Roy's shaking his head. 

And Jamie just looks sadder and sadder, and he starts to look a little scared. "Coach really I can just run the pavement like I used to it's f-"

"Nope. I'm calling it."

We linger on Jamie's devastated face. 

Quick cut to Jamie's torso. He's running on the road. He reaches the park. He runs through the park and reaches pavement again. He runs the pavement until he reaches the dirt track by the river. He runs the dirt track until it ends, transitioning straight onto the road once again. Scene cuts to him panting at Richmond Green once he's all done. He slowly straightens up, turning to Roy (who it's revealed bicycled the whole way with him) with the angriest, most murderous glare we've ever seen cross Jamie's face.

Roy breaks into his first grin of the entire montage. 

We finally pan down to Jamie's feet

--clad in every runner's favorite pseudo-orthopedic clown shoes. They let you run on a beautiful, cartilage-preserving cloud (edit: ASSUMING you don't immediately let your stride get sloppy, which people often do! that's important, can't believe i didn't say it initially!) and not even Jamie can make them look slick. 

*This post dedicated to my own hoka-related humiliations. They're lovely at what they're designed for but oyyyye. tbf hoka does make slightly less gigantic, less hideous models (ones that visually limit themselves to the type of loud garishness that Jamie would actually probably adore). But also tbf, you KNOW Roy would insist on Jamie cycling through the dumbest, ugliest, most embarrassing, "it's yer fuckin knees, Tartt come on!" models he could find. 

(Bonus: Practically overnight, Jamie suddenly becomes an expert in every dirt, grass, and otherwise natural running trail in all of London because as long as there's no concrete or asphalt anywhere on his run, he can go back to his normal low drop shoes.) (Edit: which, to reiterate, is a much better choice for both your joints and feet, than running pavement in hokas!)

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

THEORY: SUSAN FOREMAN IS THE ONE WHO WAITS.

And also possibly Ruby's mother. 

And also Mrs Flood. Probably.

The Doctor promised her that he'd come back. And she never stopped waiting. She's been waiting for sixty years. 

THEORY, (it's very specific because it's inspired by “Wait For It” from Hamilton):

So Susan is left on Earth with David, whom she loves. Over the years, they become closer, even when sent to separate battlefields. The pain of being abandoned softens over time, and as she and David grow closer, eventually she allows herself to love him properly. He proposes, and they get married, and have children.

But over time, especially once she finds Ian and Barbara's diary - and possibly, subsequently, their graves - it starts to weigh on her. And, slowly, first her husband, her friends, her son Alex, and then her other children, her grandchildren, their children, start to die around her, and she's powerless to stop it.

And still the Doctor does not come back - she waits and waits for him, but he does not return. 

Until one day she receives summons from Gallifrey - a Time War, and they need her. She's extremely powerful, the only living descendant of the Timeless Child, (EDIT: in canon she had strong telepathic skills that even the Doctor was impressed by, and which almost got them all killed a few times) and one of the most important people they get on their side. Therefore, they also need a way of controlling her, which they don't yet have. During the Time War she spirals out of control - she repeatedly throws herself towards death and danger, only to find out that she cannot die once she's killed for the twelfth time. She starts experimenting with her power, testing her limits, seeing how powerful she can become. And when people ask who she is, she leaves a message for the Doctor - “tell him I'm still waiting for him to come back.” This leads to her being nicknamed "The One Who Waits".

Eventually, this madness manifests as her trying to attract the Doctor to her - creating mysteries, eventually creating fear and destruction amongst her enemies, terrorising the Pantheon - able to predict, via telepathy, every move that the Toymaker will make - in an attempt to lure him in, just so that she won't be alone anymore. (see: that one post about Sherlock post-Reichenbach where John is the murderer to lure Sherlock back to him).

The Time Lords realise that they need a way to control her, PRONTO. 

Now this bit in particular is a bit iffy:

Ruby might have been an orphan that Susan decided to look after, feeling responsible for the deaths of her parents

She may have been created like Jenny in an attempt to make more soldiers to fight, only it went wrong 

Maybe Susan fell in love, and as such has a baby.

Whatever the case, the Time Lords suddenly have their hostage. 

And they take Ruby. 

Doesn't really work. Susan's accustomed to committing war crimes at this point, therefore probably qualifies for President automatically - anyway, she storms the Capital and takes her baby back. But now she has the problem of how to protect her. So she takes Ruby to her own home - Earth. Uses a chameleon arch on herself, to make herself human, and watches over Ruby as Mrs Flood (that's a whole other theory that I'll post very soon)

Either this, OR

While Susan spirals out of control, the Time Lords, in retribution, dump Ruby on Earth, in 2004, just before we first meet the Doctor again (so near the end of the Time War probably is what I'm saying). The Doctor possibly has something to do with it. Susan, furious, burns through space and time in an attempt to find Ruby - which is why we keep seeing Susan Twist. She then - having regenerated - came up with the false identity of Mrs Flood upon finding Ruby living in London and settled down as her neighbour.

(EDIT: I would guess that Susan Twist is a red herring, created and fractured through time by the real Susan in order to find Ruby, but not only that - she's a mystery that the Doctor cannot resist, and he'll follow the trail, and finally "come back", like he promised.)

Whatever happens, Susan begins to blame the Doctor for hers and Ruby's situation, blaming him for taking everyone she loved from her - for abandoning them both on a planet where they would outlive everyone they love. 

There's the theory. Now, even in the Classic series, while Susan is often shown as the typical screaming girl stereotype, this is not the case - often, it's her who tips the balance of power within the TARDIS, she's often violent, quite ruthless, threatening, even, and seems to know more about hers and the Doctor's home, and why they left it, than the Doctor does. Whenever Gallifrey is described, it's Susan describing it - she reacts almost in horror when he says that they'll someday return there - and when Ping Cho asks where her home is, she replies evasively - “that's a very difficult question to answer, Ping Cho”. Usually, she's the one to explain things to others, a role that, when she leaves, the Doctor then takes on. 

I'm writing this out now because in the latest DWM there was an article on The Legend Of Ruby Sunday/Empire Of Death, with no less than SIX REFERENCES to Susan's era, directly using the phrase "unearthly children" to describe the Space Babies. The article also contained the phrase, "it started out as a mild curiosity in a churchyard -" (a play on a first doctor quote, "it started out as a mild curiosity in a junkyard") "- Now it's time to return". I take this as a reference to the line "One day, I shall come back" - and use it as further proof of Susan, who is waiting for him, ending up with the nickname The One Who Waits.

There's a lot more to this theory, including the Mrs Flood side of it, but there's the basics of it. Let me know what you think :-)