#they were like how much did you like limited availability items

[around-your-throat]

i check back into everskies once every 6 months and somehow the economy always manages to get worse

[dreaming-medium]

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

[danieyells]

Also like if you're cool with it can you tell me to build the cards and stuff? I'm still confused with it :'(

UH! I don't really know how to build cards either lmao. I just push the buttons when they get red blips U: BUT I WILL TRY AND EXPLAIN WHAT I CAN

i was actually writing this on mobile and then i accidentally closed tumblr when it was like 87% done so MAYBE THIS WILL BE WORSE THAN INITIALLY INTENDED I DON'T KNOW. Initially I was explaining like. A bunch of unnecessary stuff about where you get certain upgrade materials so I think this'll be better and marginally more concise because I feel like there's not actually that much to explain. It's very much just "make number go up".

So from what I've been told it's better to focus your efforts on a single SSR if you have one than trying to even things out, but since you're not only going into battle with your singular SSR I try and keep other units at a minimum of level 50 and a Level 40 warding card(preferably the one it gets a link bonus with!) with 50 Potency Grade. THIS MAY OR MAY NOT BE ADVISABLE but it's how I do things personally. And then I have my SSR(s) which I focus on--one SSR gets most everything and once I have to wait to limit break it, I start giving resources to the next one down(or the next SR down.)

Now since just about every stat relies on different items to boost it up(coins obviously notwithstanding but you can very easily gain more coins) you don't really have to ration anything--just focus on boosting your highest ranked unit.

Like I said I just hit the button when the red blip pops up, but you may have noticed that when it comes to equipment the game prioritizes higher levels to higher rankings. Which. . . .

not very helpful, as it turns out! Turns out higher ranked units(SSR-SR-R-A-B-C-D-E, from highest to lowest) are generally a little better even at slightly lower levels! Because some equipment doesn't boost attributes(multiple stats) at all!!!

Higher rank = higher attribute boost. Higher level = higher battle stat boost.

see how Alan's overall power is higher with the level 95 C perfume than the level 100 E perfume? The game automatically gave him the E. . .even though it was weaker and both were available. The game checks for rarity over their level, so you may want to manually choose cards based on their stats as opposed to choosing the auto-equip button!

Also of note, sometimes a fully awakened R is stronger than an unawakened SR of the same level. . .if you have to wait to limit break your SRs, check out how your Rs are doing! They can be pretty strong too! You can always take stronger equipment and gems and such away from them for the higher rarity unit when you're ready.

@tokyo-debunker-memes made a pretty good guide to gems here and you can refer to that for any of your gem questions since I think they did a good job explaining and summarizing things! (I will say, gems go past level 9, they just can only be purchased at a base level of 9.)

The best equipment(SSR, SR, and R) can be made at Mr. Mo's Goldmine using using gold, silver, and copper materials you get there. You only have a chance get gold if you do multiple pulls there over the course of a week(the milestone resets every 7 days or so. . .or every time there's a new gacha I've noticed), so I wouldn't think too hard about SSR equipment. That's for whales. It's literally designed so that you have to use gems to even get a chance at gold material to make SSR equipment. And you need so much of the stuff just to make one it's just not worth it monetarily unless you've got insane disposable income haha.

I would focus only on the level 100s of the Mr Mo equipment(the Red Queen set and the Lotus set. The Stardust set if you wanna whale real hard.) If you get lucky enough to get enough silver and copper material you can make them, and they're stronger than anything you'll find doing Investigations or that they'll find on campus after investigations--that I'm aware of, unless they start giving out SRs and SSRs at higher level investigations which I doubt.

R, SR, and SSR equipment can be trained and given gems, just like warding cards, and raising their Special Attributes will provide additional percentage boosts to the unit they're equipped to(Necklaces, Rings, and Earrings raise HP percentage; Perfumes raise Physical Attack and Physical Defense percentages; Brooches raise Special Attack and Special Defense percentages. Warding Cards raise Attack percentage.) Try and focus on raising the Special Attributes related to the unit's attack style(noted in the 'Skills' window on the unit page.) That is to say, raise the Special Attibutes for Perfumes for Physical attackers and Brooches for special attackers so that they'll have higher attack power and do more damage. Of course, both are also important for their defensive value, and HP is also very important!

R, SR, and SSR equipments also have 'badges' which detonate they're part of a set. The more of that set you have, along with a warding card with the same badge, the higher bonus(indicated in the upper left of the unit page) you get for the character it's equipped to! The only way to change a Warding Card's badge is by leveling it up so. . .don't worry too hard about it, because moonlight paint is a pain in the ass to get.

Guardian spirits similarly should be distributed based on the ideal stats that unit should have raised. I only use SSR guardian spirits and feed any lower ranking ones to them to raise their levels. If you get a guardian spirit of the same level with stars, it's better to use and level up that one! It gives a higher percentage boost!

Generally you legit just have to look at the numbers and percentages and choose whatever's higher overall I think. Higher percentages are usually better, I think, since those will scale up with any increasing stats' individual numbers. Not that equipment have percentages, but I mean in terms of figuring out what to upgrade in general. Again, it's very much 'make number go up' from what i can tell. I usually focus on level since it boosts all the unit's battle stats by a percentage, but since everything needs different materials to level up anyway it's fine to just use whatever you get wherever you can, or save up to be able to boost your strongest units.

I DUNNO IF THAT HELPED ANY. I CAN TRY AND EXPLAIN SOMETHING MORE SPECIFIC IF NEED BE?

[ladythot]

How about I make a Yandere request for you?

Give me a delusional Yandere Katsumi. The kind where he truly believes every interaction y/n makes with him is a declaration of their love for him? And he collects items they drop and makes a shrine

Ooo...this idea, very good 👁️👁️

Tw: unhealthy obsession, possessiveness, coercion, groping, master/pupil dynamic, long-looooong talk below

Yandere katsumi who would pursue you in martial arts with him, while quite literally, sickly obsessed with your physique. You wouldn't say much to his offer but the way he maneuvered you into joining him was enough to captivate your idea of winging something new. He's the scuttlebutt of being the goody teacher he is with many capabilities after all, many say that—but for you, you'd call quits on the hectic 'exercises' he would prepare for you at the end of the day.

The schedule he gave was a bit odd, you'll give him that. You'd come more later than the rest of his pupils and specifically entering between afternoon or evening where the place is all yours. No one, nobody, not a single bead of forehead sweat can be seen besides yours, just the two of you sparring and rehearsing in a neat room til you're sweating like a wet dog. He'd even offer you some tea or cold water which you didn't find anything short of just genuine care he's showing—but when he starts to make up more availability of time for you to relax unlike the strict teacher you heard the scuttlebutts of, this raises your dim of unresolved misconception about him.

You were aware of the special treatment he gives off but against all odds, have the students even heard of you? You were never introduced to any of his pupils, never once nor twice—not a single new face did you meet or talk to throughout the ordeal other than him. And just him. You shrug it off regardless—you would suppose all he wanted was to keep a good impression from you in prospect of his students embarrassing him infront of a newbie, but that is just an idea.

Katsumi finds your body anything to write home about. He simply found his reason from this to a sickening obsession. Prior to that, you were just someone he knew nothing of than the mere fact your presence was just something else entirely to him that elbowed him into curiosity.

What does it feel when a girl calls him master and to be the one ahead of her? To be the one pushing her limits in splits and stretches to the point of whining from sheer pain? How many more stretch marks can he give her from excessive practices?

The marks, the bruises, the whines, the sweat and tears are pieces of a spitting image of being claimed in bed. It was like his dupe image of you after being fucked. Your huffs of air when you're tired, your flushed cheeks from letting him guide and hold your body in different positions as you whine from the exertion, the beads of sweat that drips off of your face and neck, the patent effort you put into invigorating your limbs, has nothing more to prove that he wanted nothing else but to see the same scenery in bed.

This places him under an obsession no one takes good care of, he could only use the partial evidents of how your body feels like when he would help you lift a leg up to get as much as anything to fantasize about. He'll let you take his towel to wipe your sweat off, only for him to keep it in a drawer filled with small trinkets you left behind while you were too tired to remember anything you wore or brought. Everything that belonged to you in which you'd long forgotten are now a property of his to remember.

[sovereignjojoz]

Crown Prince Dio

Pairings: Prince!Dio x reader.

Summary: being dio’s favourite noble.

Warnings: dio. implied fem reader, slight power imbalance?

Notes - sorry for being gone so long been busy w school! Also I will defs expand on this concept further and make it a big darker in later posts!

Crown Prince Dio, a man of vivality, the sun of the vast empire he ruled over.

In typical Dio fashion, he attained the throne by usurping the previous monarch but despite being the sovereign, he wanted to attain to upmost power available, so till he was coronated the Joestar line were exiled till he was firmly set in his position.

Once coronated, like any monarch, the council had started pressuring him to find a spouse, stressing the important of ensuring the security of the Brando dynasty, however he found all those matters rather tedious…even opting to fall asleep in some of the council meetings, after all, who would dare to disturb the king?

Additionally, he didn’t like to be tethered to one person, shouldn’t everyone be graced with the pleasure to experience all that is prince Dio? Why would he limit himself like that.

So when his loyal advisor, vanilla ice suggested to allow high ranking nobles to stay within the palace (almost like consorts but not fully) and see if there was anyone who piqued his interest, he found himself surprisingly agreeing.

Initially, the Prince had never heard of you. You were low ranking nobility from within the kingdom, with a barely recognisable name, yet what piqued his interest in you was Jojo’s interest in you.

Or more so a large part of the kingdom’s infatuation with you, he had heard rumours circulating of ‘the fairest maiden’ in fact jojo himself even slipped up and said it in his presence.

So how could he not be intrigued.

The fact that the whole kingdom wanted your hand made him desire you solely for himself, he’d sent a letter out requesting your presence at the castle immediately.

It was not a betrothal, he had just been curious, he wanted you to stay with him for a while.

And upon arrival, you did. You didn’t even get your own chambers, your belongings were whisked away from you as you were made to stay in Prince Dio’s chambers, which was a feat no other noble boasted (although part of this was only due to the fact that he wanted to irk Jojo with this news knowing rumours would circulate).

Because you are of a much lower status than him, he orders you to call him Lord Dio, as it gives him a sense of gratification.

But he actually comes to notice that he enjoys your company and you begin to gain a reputation of being “the prince’s favourite noble.”

You even noticed how he treated you differently compared to the others within the palace, gifting you frequently and having outfits tailored to match his.

Or simply being allowed into areas which would normally be restricted and also being invited into his bed chambers the most.

And he was very touchy with you too, you had heard Lord Dio was quite fond of pda, you’d seen him entangled with many other nobles before but becoming the recipient was a whole different thing. He was generous with his kisses, perhaps too generous since he liked to litter them on a variety of different places on your body.

He also carried you in the vast corridor, no matter who was present.

Yet such favour was met with distaste from the other nobles, you found your personal items frequently going missing and was met with the occasional shove or trip every once in a while.

Yet his highness only fuelled these reactions further as he was quite possessive especially in front of the other nobles.

You vividly remember the time when all the seats in the banquet hall were taken up leaving you seatless and as you vacated the room, Lord Dio called you.

“Come here, you have a perfect good seat here.” He gestured to his lap and pulled you down onto it.

He even bit your shoulder, making you squeal. He loved biting but he also liked attention.

Oh dear, you could only but hope this didn’t end badly.

[abitlikelemon]

As we say goodbye to the 1900's, it's time to share how I dressed my sims during this decade, just as I did for the 1890's.

If you happen to be just joining in, I am playing through the decades challenge without using CC, for the most part. People sharing their CC decades experience, check out Ashubii, have really helped me style my sims. This post is to return that kindness back to the community.

To start: -I am using zero CC clothing, hair, accessories etc. -I do own all packs -I use some "body" cc (lashes, skin overlay, body blush) -Between the limitations of what is available in game and my basic knowledge of the decade, don't expect accuracy just inspiration -If you want to know what pack an item is from, please ask! I am very WCIF friendly

I want to start by echoing a statement I made in the post about the 1890's, most of these outfits could work for the 1890's and outfits I used from the 1890's could be used for this decade depending on how wealthy your family is. While the last gen grew up in something closer to poverty, Walter got rich-rich, so his family's outfits are a bit nicer, and each member of the family had multiple outfits in many categories.

Walter Pancakes, heir to the Pancake throne, feels like the right place to start. He really borrowed his style from his uncle and wanted to flaunt the higher status he was able to acquire through his education and hard work. He had multiples for almost every category, but I chose to highlight two everyday, athletic, party, formal, sleep, hot, and cold weather.

Ingrid Pancakes my love. I shouldn't have favorites but she's a favorite, also her genes helped make the most beautiful Pancake children so I'm very partial to her. She wore lots of lace, leaned into blue to compliment her eyes, and of course she had multiple outfits to choose from. Here I am showing off three everyday, formal, sleep, party, hot, and cold weather.

The twins! I had so much fun dressing them up. As they grew, I wanted to show off Ralph's more casual attitude, with one of his everyday outfits being a disheveled uniform, and Alf's more put together style, keeping his vest buttoned and a bit more formal of a look even in his everyday wear. Here I have three everyday, a formal, active, sleep, party, swim, hot, and cold weather option.

Nell's teen years, I imagine, she borrowed everything from her mother. All her fancy clothes, that no longer fit Ingrid, found a spot in Nell's wardrobe. The two of course would shop for new pieces to ensure she was very much in fashion, but the color pallet and silhouette would be borrowed heavily from mom. Here I have two everyday, a formal, athletic, sleep, party, swim, hot, and cold weather.

THIS! This was my favorite outfit category. Never in a million years would I have expected to enjoy dressing boys in the 1900's to be so much fun, but it was my favorite. I felt like I had limitless options, as seen by this cramped photo, though I will call out the shorts from Batuu were a game changer. Here I have three everyday, a formal, athletic, sleep, two party, swim, two hot weather, and two cold weather outfits.

Dressing the girls in the 1800s was a pain point for me. So, I am pleased with how I was able to dress Nell and her friends as children. I am honestly so sad she missed out on the outfit options that launched with Life & Death, so I am hoping for some girls to be born in the next generation and excited to revisit the older decades in my next playthrough. to see how much easier this time will be. Here I have an example of her everyday, formal, athletic, sleep, hot, and cold weather outfits,

Ralph and Alfred both got cute enough outfits as toddlers, but my favorite was dressing Nell. Partly because Nell is my favorite of the siblings (shhhh don't tell). The other part, because she's a girl and therefor more fun to dress. The kiddos are in everyday, formal, sleep, you get it.

I forgot to take screenshots of infants- If you saw a gameplay screenshot you got the full range of my outfit abilities, which is a white onesie for every category, so just imagine that here.

I do think the copy/past update that came out will help moving forward and the options from Life & Death are interesting, so I'll hold out hope that my feelings here may change. But forgive me for skipping the photos here.

As always, I hope this was fun and helpful to anyone who needs inspiration. I'm super open to questions or suggestions for future generations or my next go around!

[duchess-kyuupid]

Doors or Wheels? [TWST]

It's time for the TWST gang to answer one of life's most weirdest questions. Are there more doors or wheels in the world?

[Not even a fic, just some crack on how everyone would react if you asked them this question]

Riddle: "What a silly question. Of course there's more wheels. "

Trey: "Uhm... Wheels, probably? When you add in gears, it makes sense."

Cater: "Oh? Hmm... I think it's gotta be doors, right? Hold on, let me go ask my Magicam followers!"

Deuce + Ace: Do NOT get them started on this again. They were already arguing about this last week and they STILL haven't gotten over it.

Leona: "Did you really wake me up to ask that? Well, herbivore, why don't you go find out for yourself with that smart brain of yours? Go count them."

Jack: "Doors, probably? Like kitchen cabinet doors. And there's a lot of doors around campus too."

Ruggie: "If you give me 500,000 Thaumarks, I'll go find out for you."

Azul: "Neither doors nor wheels are used very often in the sea, and yet you expect me to know which are more common on land? ... You can leave the VIP room now." The next day he walks up to you in full confidence and says, "Doors."

Floyd: "Don't know. Don't care. Not in the mood. Now go away, shrimpy, before I squeeze you to death."

Jade: "Oh, please excuse his rudeness. Azul just rejected his idea to refurnish the Lounge with string lights. In any case, I believe the answer would be wheels."

Kalim: "Doors! No- wait, wheels! Oh, but what about- AH! I can't pick! There's so many of both! How can there be so many??"

Jamil: "Have you been drinking?"

Vil: "What sort of absolutely nonsensical question is that? Don't tell me you've been spending too much time around those Heartslabyul troublemakers, have you? You're better than that, little potato."

Epel: "Erhm... Why are you even asking that?"

Rook: He doesn't even answer the question. He instead goes into a long tangent about the beauty of figuring out the answer. He ends up writing an award-winning poem titled, 'The Real Wheel Before the Door' in which he lists every single item that contains either a wheel or a door in perfect rhyme (with some French mixed in).

Idia: "I don't know, ask Ortho. Now go away, I'm trying to grind for this limited-time gacha..."

Ortho: "Processing request... Counting all available doors and wheels within 300 meters.... Processing complete. There are approximately 3,247 of wheels and 2,489 doors on campus. With that in mind, I have computed that there are approximately 46.2% more wheels than doors in the world."

Malleus: "Child of man, are you asking me to go count them for you?" He thinks for a moment before nodding with a smile, "This must be one of those 'friend' activities that Lilia told me about. Of course I'll go count them. Hopefully I'll be back with an answer that will satisfy you, my dear friend." And he disappears. You feel bad that you asked him.

Lilia: "Oya? You wanna bet some money on it?" He says as if he hasn't already counted them before... Don't ask me why he did it, because I don't know either.

Silver: "There is an equal number of both. Probably."

Sebek: "WHAT AN OBNOXIOUS AND UTTERLY RIDICULOUS QUESTION. OBVIOUSLY, DOORS."

Grim: "I'd rather there be more tuna than either one."

Crowley: "My! You clearly have a bit too much time on your hands to be asking me such a strange question! Could you spare some of that precious time to do this thing for me- I mean us! For the benefit of the whole school, no- the WORLD! Thank you in advance, Prefect, I knew you were just as generous as I."

[floraltypes]

Show Me

paring - thomas shelby x fem!reader

summary - the shelby can’t help himself when making a business visit

warnings - mature audience only, read with caution! mentions of oral, hint of manipulation, inexperienced reader

In the early mornings of a new day, the sun has just begun its duty to rise while another is attending to his as well. With his cap tightly secured around his head, pockets filled with folded papers, and trousers neatly ironed he makes his way down the cobblestone path. 

A curt knock on the front of a numbered, wooden door brings the man back to reminisce of a time he had done a similar action for a very different reason. From the other side rustling and wandering around could be heard, and he could already picture the flowers beginning to bud around the home. 

“Mr. Shelby,” you gasp, hands fluttering to cover the feathery coverup as the air from the opened door rose the fabric. Your nightgown only goes right to your knees, leaving much of the skin to be now seen, you aren’t wearing stockings underneath and look completely up for devouring. “I wasn’t prepared.”

He can clearly tell and should refrain from letting those eyes wander but they can’t help but to look down. It’s a familiar nightgown, one he bought for you for your birthday after a curt mention of the clothing piece. Catching himself, he turns his head to look out upon the street.

“I came to chat, merely, about business with your father,” the kids are yelling around the streets, kicking some ball, while a dirty cat prances by with a specific hiss to the superior. 

“Oh!” you light up, hands now itching at the hair tied up in pieces of cloth from the attempt at a different curl. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear of what?” he glances back, eyes landing on your own doe-like ones. Your hands are playing with the ends of thread from the coverup, eyes searching anywhere but his own. It makes him realize how refreshing you are. 

“He was supposed to tell you before he left, well, to tell Polly. I did speak to Ada but she seemed preoccupied-”

“Tell me of what?” he cut you off, stepping inside and closing the door shut behind him. 

“That I was the one running the business. It was actually me, in secrecy.”

“You?” he looks down at the soft pout forming on your lightly tainted lips, twirls of hair coming loose, fidgety stance, and sweet pink of your dress mimicking the sweetness you possess. “You have been taking care of your father's plant business?” 

“I know much of nature,” you beam. “Please sit,” you gesture to him to an open seat in the nearby room, only two seats available. “I have tea ready.” 

You rush around the confined kitchen/dining room, pouring the steaming pot into a cup and gathering the limited sugar from the cupboard. Thomas sits gently in an open seat, legs crossed, and glances around the (somehow) nicer-looking kitchen. He never really noticed how much of an effect you had on the things you touched, including your father's business. 

“I read much, sir, especially when the men were away someone had to take over,” you explain, dropping a cube into his drink despite the lack of asking. “I now know much about,” you lean across the table, cupping your hand to his ear, “drugs,” you whispered. 

Thomas coughs, cheeks lighting up, “Who distributes them? You?” he takes another sip to try and cool the unexpectedness of your actions. A man of himself has had his fair accounts with women taking a liking to him, and their boldness, yet someone as you who has held such a place in his heart since childhood was the definition of unexpected. 

“No, father had a partner,” you easily tell him, pushing your dress down. It was always so simple for you to reveal secrets to a man you admire madly. “He picks up the items and sells them ‘imself. Kind fellow actually,” you add.

Thomas plants his feet firmly on the ground, now beginning to inch his chair over towards you. He moves it right beside your own, his knee touching your unclothed one. He picks through his pockets, a crumpled box filled with limited cigarettes. Propping open the box, his fingers picked their way toward a white roll, snugging it in between his pointer and middle finger. 

Your eyes were stuck on where your body was connected, feeling heated at the foreign touch of a man. He slowly looks you up and down, watching your fascination with his actions. “You have a light?” he whispers, words near your ear that you now feel as if those are burning as well. Looking back up your met with his stare, his eyes going back down to gesture to the cigarette between his fingers. 

“Mhm,” it comes out very quietly, hands fumbling towards the middle of the table where a matchbox lies. With a quick flick of the match a spark forms, you move the flame underneath the cigarette, watching the change in color at its end. He moves the stick to his mouth, breathing in largely before letting the smoke fall out. It isn’t surprising to him how your eyes are unable to glance away from his pink lips inhaling the substance.  

“Have you missed me?” Thomas questions, his hand moving to cup your cheeks. “You used to always complain when I went away when we were lads.”

“Of course.”

“Then won’t you show me?”

There is no movement on your part, pure shock at his words showing through the widening of your eyes. 

“Alright then,” he mumbles, pointer finger brushing back and forth against your cheek until his thumb prods at your bottom lip, “Why pretend innocence? You ‘ave done this once before.”

“I was nine, my eldest sister said I had to.”

“Did you not like it?”

You carefully take the cigarette from his grip, holding it tight and inhaling it in hopes to calm the bubbling nerves. Smoke falls past your lips and flows towards Thomas’s way. As he steals it back your hands stay motionless and he takes this opportunity to place his lips onto yours. 

It is a soft peck at first, the flavor of tea and smoke mixing with your own on your lips. His mouth opens as yours stayed close, hand still cupping your cheek before you open your lips for his tongue to dive in. The one hand holds the smoke away, focused on discovering your taste. He soon enough pulls away to watch you take a deep breath, eyes hooded, and body inching itself closer to his own. 

He flicks the ash into the small, empty sugar bowl, pressing it towards the bottom to stop the flame. With his now free hand, he moves to the hem of your nightgown, lifting the material and dragging his hand further up your thigh. What his other thumb once did to your cheek he now does to your inner thigh, finger dragging itself across the skin, that same skin heating his once cold hand. 

A small noise forms, where he was once staring down below moves back up towards your expression. Your hands travel underneath his coat, trailing themselves further toward his neck, and kiss him with eagerness. Soon enough your lips are opening themselves on their own, awaiting Tommy to take control once again. He deepens the kiss, that hand now resting on top of your underwear. 

You lift your butt slightly, scooting to feel his hand more. His finger points through the fabric slightly to allow you to feel the tip. “Tommy,” you moan during a break, grabbing onto his muscled arms tightly while he continues his movements below. 

His lips kiss down towards your neck, sucking on the open skin as your pussy keeps trying to move his finger deeper, yearning to feel more friction. You can feel the uplift of his lips on your skin and would imagine the gears turning in his head in regard to his effect on you yet your mind can only focus on one thing. He finds it endearing, exhilarating and entertaining all at once. 

“Do not get greedy,” he tuts, looking down at the mark forming on your skin. “This should be for me, show your gratitude.”

“Anything,” you hum, kissing his cheek where a fresh scar lay. He winces at the touch until the following kisses help him to relax even more in the rickety chair. “Anything for you, Tommy.”

He removes his hand from your pussy and totally removes himself from you. Your eyes are now fully open, looking at him, and a slight pout forms on your lips at the lack of contact. He takes your hand in his own, moving it down toward the top of his trousers. 

“Go ahead, show me,” he commands, your dainty fingers working to pop the button. Instead of continuing to pull them down, he takes charge once again, completing that for you. He guides your hand towards his crotch, placing it on the underwear covering it. “Feel it up, it's your first, ain't it?”

Your hand works, now clutching onto the bulge and letting your fingers be felt through the fabric. Your thumb rubs on the enclosed tip, trying to follow the length up to his waistline, slowly, inquisitive. His hands are now fumbling back with that same crinkled box, searching for another cigarette. Hesitantly you pull his undergarments down, watching as his cock springs to life, the tip hitting his stomach. You continue to feel the head, it's wet with precum and larger than you had imagined. 

“Just like a lolly now. Suck on it.”

He lifts his hand to push down on your bottom lip, opening your mouth. You lean further down, pushing the chair back, and getting onto your knees. You take the tip into your mouth, hollowing while trying to suck it like the sweet treat he told you to imagine it was. Your tongue moves around and eventually takes his cock out in order to kiss it up. 

The cigarette is now lit, placed between his lips as slit eyes peer down at you. He huffs at the smoke, admiring your fascination with his cock. You feel his balls hesitantly and begin to take his cock back into your mouth once again, trying to suck as he once guided before. 

Though it isn’t much, and he has experienced women who could at least take half, it is the fact that you are the one doing it. The only one who could calm the tremors he experienced during the night, the only one he could ever allow his softness to be seen by who wasn’t family. Some may say the Shelby became infatuated with you over the years, but those who would mutter such words knew the consequences they would weep. 

He thrust his hips, cock entering further into your mouth, tears forming in your eyes. Tommy knew he was almost at his point, quickly coming undone, and soon enough - with a grunt - you could feel an unknown liquid drip to the back of your throat. 

He pulled your face away, hands gripping onto your chin and trying to move you closer to his own face. Thomas stared at your fucked out gaze, brain hazy and hands searching for his own. He helped you get seated on the seat once again, liquid dripping onto your laced gown. 

“It’s a bit lonely here,” he looks around the silent home (besides your panting). “Come back to the house with me, see Ada, and we can continue to talk business there.”

“Yes, yes, Tommy,” you nodded, pieces of the cloth had fallen from your hair, allowing the strands to dangle. “I have to change.”

“Now, now,” he places the cigarette between your lips. “Take a drag sweet, I’ll go gather your dress.”

Though he didn’t mutter the words of fondness as many lovers would, he knew that he wanted you as his.

(peaky blinders masterlist)

[goatskickin]

Some time ago, @namelesslibertad​ asked me how one would add tights to an outfit. 

And truly, it is not difficult at all to do, so I’ve made a little tutorial!

First, we will need a mesh to work with. I am using Bloom’s quite ancient elder skirt, separated from this seasons outfit.

It’s a nice little mesh! However, if it were going to truly be a part of an Outerwear outfit, we should have some leg coverage, no?

Once you have your clothing item in question in Bodyshop, and you have opened it in your Projects folder, we need to pay attention to the images files we have in front of us.

1 and 2 we don’t need to look at. This mesh is separated into groups, and the very first group is the boots. It’s the boots only and not the legs, so we do not need to mess with it.

If you want to know more about mesh groups aka subsets, @whattheskell​‘s tutorial HERE is essential. 

3 and 4 are what we want to look at. They are the TEXTURE of the legs and also the ALPHA of the legs. I’ll be saying the word ‘alpha’ a lot here, so if you do not know what that means: as mentioned in my tutorial about retexturing clay hair, the ‘alpha’ texture indicates where the texture should exist.

White means, “yes, texture”

Black means “no texture exists here”

Grey is in-between. Grey is what we want to work with; it’s how you can make sheer and semi-sheer tights.

Now you might be saying, “How did you know that the image file with the skirt texture would also have the legs available, you know, the place where tights go?”.

Well, totally optional step; you can go ahead and export the UV map (with a program like UVMapper) to find this out. The lower half of the texture contains the legs. @digisims2​ explains this a little more right here. 

Please know that even TS3 and TS4 conversions, while being mapped very differently from TS2 meshes, will still have a base ‘body’ map in one of the images files. 

ALSO! When you open a clothing texture, you’re going to be limited to 1-4ish texture files to work with. So, you can just guess which one has the legs and undo undo if you are not correct. One of them has to have the legs texture! 

Moving on!

The skirt texture: that’s where the tights texture has to go.

If you are putting tights on an outfit, you can really just fill in with one color and it looks fine! Most tights are just one color. You can get fancy if you want.

Now for the alpha - you’re going to fill in 2 rectangles of white, grey or black here. The whiter, the more opaque. The blacker, the less opaque.

If you’re totally lost - grab a UV map. You can see pretty clearly what is legs and what is feet.

Clean it up, if you like! ‘

Fully remove the feet even, if you’re worried that the tights will end up somewhere they should not.

For the purposes of demonstration, let’s fill that all in with the brightest white you got.

See? Tights! But very dark, very floodfill tights.

If you were going for leggings and if you had a nice texture, that all white alpha would be great! But, we are talking about hose, here.

Also - we haven’t quite gotten all that we need covered. That white bit there is the sim’s skin. Not fashion.

Let’s try a bigger section of alpha and a light grey this time.

You may have to play around with the grey scale to get the right result.

Also, I’d highly recommend you test your project on skintones S1-S4 to make sure that the alpha you choose works for light and dark tones. It also helps to catch mistakes.

This is a little better! The full leg is covered, and they are more sheer.

You can go ahead and copy and save this UV map if you like, if you don’t want to mess around with SimPE or UVMapper or any of that jazz. Really does help if you’re lost about what goes where.

See?

Sinfully ugly texture though, haha.

Not grandma’s best look - but helpful for explaining.

Alright, let’s fill in that texture with something nice, a deep burgundy. 

Oh, lovely! A little sheer but not too much.

Hooray!

Let me know if you have any questions!

[hidden-clue]

Mystery of the Seven Keys navigation NITPICK

I've only gotten to the second day of the game, I'm not finished yet, I'm still forming theories of whats going on, but I have a nitpick over the navigation in the game. I've been overjoyed to find that classic point-and-click navigation would be available, and knew instantly it's what I'd be playing with. I love point and click! I've longed for it. So it's what I picked at the start of the game, and I started exploring.

Point and click movements are usually a little wonky, you have to know exactly where to click and how to get to the certain corner and where to turn to get to exits, so I wanted to take my time and really get to know every twist and turn of the navigation. So that for the rest of the game, I'd be able to quick-click trough the entire area, already knowing where to place my pointer, and it would be easy and satisfying to navigate trough. So with this as my end goal, I spent  two hours exploring the first environment, the cafe. I have clicked everywhere, found everything, I came to know exactly where I should place my cursor, and then completing the first conversation, I went on to explore the rest of the environments (I love the environments, I'm annoyed at them copy-pasting same items everywhere but I love Prague they created).

After getting stuck and frustrated with the game, I started watching Bailey playing it on stream, knowing it would make me laugh (it did, I cried laughing), and she was using modern controls. I realized watching her, how much quicker and easier it was, and that I could switch between the two, so I switched to see, and to my big surprise, suddenly I was able to see and access things that were not available in the classic mode! I could peer trough half-opened doors, I could stop in the cafe and read little plaques and writings that were impossible to access in the classic mode, at the castle, I could get close to and study exhibits that were inaccessible in classic mode. It made me a little mad! If I'm promised the option to play in the classic mode, then all information should be equally available to me, as to modern players.

By the time I arrived to Leo's office, things started to get weird. The navigation is now almost impossibly wonky, to the point where I have to stop and search in every screen where I could possibly move forward, and the angles I'm exposed to are odd, they're having me look at the ceiling, at the top corner of the room, it's like they didn't really care anymore, were sick and tired from making these snapshots for the classical player and just did it last minute, annoyed that it had to exist.

So in the end, I had to give up playing completely in classic. I'm still doing it for the most part, but whenever I enter a new environment and want to explore it, modern is the only way to effectively do it, classic is limited. I understand they were pressured to give us classic, because we wanted it, and then they did it after-the-fact, when the game was already created for the modern view, and then it became difficult to impossible to include all the details, all the information, all the views and vintage points for the classic navigation as well. But I wish there was a little warning, like, 'hey, you might miss a thing or two, for optimal and detailed experience you need modern navigation mode'. I would have appreciated that.

[gamergirljournalist]

Review: Gourdlets - The Best Game Tiktok Recommended to Me

RATING: 4.5/5 Stars Played on: AMD 5 5600X and RTX 3060 Ti 8GB

I'm on that side of TikTok where video game recommendations appear on my "For You" page. Out of all the titles that popped onto my screen, there was one game that caught my attention - Gourdlets. It's an indie island builder cozy title, developed by AuntyGames, who according to their TikTok, left their job to work on this game full-time. Full disclosure, I have been following Gourdlet's development since 2023 and let's see if it was worth the hype and the wait since I first saw it on my feed.

This entire game attempts to tick every single box in the "cozy game" checklist. From the pastel and soft pixel art design to cute music, and even the characters themselves, it's all there. When you start the game, players get to name their island and choose between three maps. From there, you will be introduced to the creatures of the games called "Gourdlets." They somewhat resemble the Pikmin creatures in the Pikmin franchise as they grow flowers above their heads. Each of these little critters has a name and you can easily find them using the ledger. You can even dress them up to your liking.

This game doesn't really have a goal. You build the cosy island of your dreams without worrying about how much everything costs. Also, there is no wait time, so all the buildings and items will arrive as you drop them onto the map. It's important to note that there is a limited amount of space you can play with, which is enough based on the available number of items. While there is no end goal, there are some achievements players can unlock on Steam, as well as special items that players can unlock as their island and Gourdlets continue to grow and develop.

The same can be said when it comes to decorating the interior of houses and buildings. You are given a selection of items to choose from and fill in these new homes and buildings based on your ideas. However, certain internal building structures make absolutely zero sense. For example, you'd think decorating a tent would be more thin with slanted walls or small tent-like space. Nope! It's the same interior as the small houses in the game. And don't get me started on the sewers. I thought they're just a floor decoration piece but they're thin homes for Gourdlets to live in. Teenage mutant ninja Gourdlets anyone?

While Gourdlets allow you to build your island to your heart's content, it does have some drawbacks. For example, if you were to say, put many of the same decorations in one area, you have to do it individually, not by group. This makes building forest areas a bit tedious due to the number of single-item placements. Also, there are not that many items to choose from, which is fine. But some furniture pieces, like the couches, look very similar to each other. Also, some items in question don't seem to work well with certain room ideas. Wish there were items like kitchen countertops, rather than using basic tables.

If there is one feature Gourdlets should be praised for, it's the idle window mode. As someone who does freelancing work at night, it does get lonely in the home office. So I enabled idle mode to see if would be a distraction and it wasn't. The game's window can take up a certain percentage based on your settings and the the music is soft enough that it isn't a hindrance. I have mine set at 20 percent and I'm able to watch trailers and promo videos without having to mute my game. It's a nice feature and something worth turning on the next time I begin my freelancing.

So with all that in mind, did the TikTok algorithm overlords recommend a great game? Yes, it did. Gourdlets is a game developed by a solo developer with big dreams. Yes, it does have the potential to do something more like add more content or items. But this is one person working on this title and it works. It's a place worth visiting, the creatures are cute, and it's a game with zero consequences. There are not that many games in the cozy space where you can build whatever you want without worrying about the cost or well-being of your visitors or residents. So it's great to see an indie title that fits the very definition of cozy.

Gourdlets is a game worth trying out. If TikTok can't convince you to give it a shot, perhaps this review would do the job. If you want to give this game a try, it's now available on Steam.

[thryth-gaming]

Vancian Casting

One of the key mechanics of D&D is Vancian spellcasting where the spellcasters have a certain number of "spell slots" that they can prepare in a given day. Magic Users (the precursors to wizards, warlocks, and sorcerers) would "memorize" spells and the Clerics (and later Paladins) would "pray" for spells. Later, druids and rangers would be added which would also pray for spells.

This was one of my biggest stumbling blocks for getting D&D magic because it didn't make sense to me that you just stopped knowing something because you used it once. And while I get the idea of becoming tired, the spell slot system was too rigid to represent how exhaustion works.

The Concept Broken Down

This is called Vancian magic because it is based on the Dying Earth novels by Jack Vance. None of which I've read, which probably contributes to my just not meshing well with Vancian casting.

In the series, magic was released by using magical words and the human mind could only hold a limited number of syllables in mind at a time and using them would wipe the knowledge from their mind. So the wizards would have to study their tomes everyday to regain their ability to perform magic. This mechanic was carried over to priests save that they would begin the day by asking their god for specific miracles. In both cases, the spellcaster needed to pick specific spells and couldn't change over to different ones if they decided that they didn't need a prepared spell after-all.

Raymond Feist, the novelist who created the Midkemia setting and wrote the Riftward novels, did some earlier work on D&D and refined this narrative into the idea that spells were long rituals but wizards had eventually built in a cutoff at the end where they could leave a spell unfinished save for a word or two. They would then have that spell basically just hanging on their word to release. Mechanically similar, though the narrative is different.

I have read some of that series and his approach to Vancian casting was the first one that made some sense. It accounted for why you "forgot" a spell. You didn't, you just expended the ritual and didn't have time to set it up again. And it explained why you had to prep spells ahead of time. Again there would be no time to do the ritual on the fly. However, it still didn't account for why the spell slots were rigidly structured on a level basis. And I still felt that surely you could do something with all that raw power even if you couldn't shape something intricate.

My Epiphany

What finally made the idea of magic slots work for me ... sort of ... is the video game Nioh 2. But even here there aren't slots, there's a "capacity" and each technique uses up a certain number of points of that capacity. But that's not the big "ohhh" moment for me here.

In Nioh 2, your Onmyou (and Ninjutsu) are physical tools and talismans which are consumed. So you would go to the nearest shrine and choose to "Ready Jutsu"

This would bring you to a menu show your capacity and what skills you've learned.

And then you could assign those pieces of gear to one of your eight hot-key slots. Resulting in me having a bunch of stuff I want available immediately and some items I use between fights so I can take my time about activating them and thus don't need to use one of my limited hot-buttons.

The main thing that made me go "That makes Vancian magic make so much more sense" even more than Feist's rituals with the cut-offs. Is that each of these tools is a consumable item and once you use it, you have to make another one.

The energy isn't something you have on tap where rituals are used to funnel it. It is something you take effort and time to create and then you expend it like a grenade, potion, or ammunition.

On top of this, Nioh 2 does have powers that you can use repeatedly over time as power builds up in the form of yokai powers and yokai shift. Both of which hinge on your nature as half-yokai and the yokai spirits that have allied with you. For these powers you have two pools of endurance that build up over time, one of which you can use piecemeal to summon your yokai powers and one of which you have to build up to a specific threshold in order to shift into a yokai form.

So they both have consumable one-use spells in the way D&D does in the form of Jutsu and inherent magical energy to fuel powers in the form of Anima (fueling yokai powers) and the Amrita Gauge (the threshold for changing into yokai form). But they are separated.

I'm going to set aside Anima and Amrita because they are basically "Sorcery that makes sense" and function by getting rid of spell slots.

The Jutsu is the method I'm focusing on here again because:

Each prepared "slot" represents a tool prepared using engineering, chemistty, mystical reagents, or appealing to spirits.

The stuff that makes the tools and talismans is external to the character.

The slots are not specifically numbered. As a note, point pools have been an alternative magic casting method since late 2nd edition.

This combination of creating a physical consumable and dropping the level-sorted slots was the thing that made Vancian casting make so much more sense. But then again... this wouldn't be Vancian casting, would it?

Side note, another facet of Nioh 2's "Jutsu" system is that leveling up the skill does not improve the damage that technique does. Fire Shot I, Fire Shot II, and Fire Shot III all base their damage on your Magic rating and other inherent bonuses.

What leveling up the skills does is increase their efficiency and increase the maximum number you can craft. For example

Fire Shot I: Prepare 1-6 fire shot talismans at 1 capacity each.

Fire Shot II: Prepare 1-8 fire shot talismans at 0.8 capacity each

Fire Shot III: Prepare 1-10 fire shot talismans at 0.7 capacity each.

This is largely just neat and not part of my epiphany on Nioh 2 and Vancian casting.

Now, you can't just change D&D to match that. It would be a completely different flavor of magic. But it is curious to see how it things would have developed if they had taken this track.

What If...

The big change here is that this mode of "magic" is more akin to being a D&D artificer than a D&D wizard. As you can also see, it would also have worked with some rogue abilities too with craftable thrown weapons, grenades, and medicines.

My suspicion is that if D&D had started with the assumption of wizards and clerics preparing relics and talismans between fights then it would be the sorcerer that was a late comer rather than the artificer. Though the artificer might not have been called such since it would be the base assumption.

I kind of suspect if the sorcerer had been introduced in that environment we would have heard something akin to the "no sci-fi in my fantasy" we get with artificers today but instead we'd be having "no mutant superheroes in my fantasy" with sorcerers.

[kaurwreck]

I don't think the Book in Bungou Stray Dogs is real, at least not insofar as there is a skill-created item that bends reality when alternative realities are written into its pages. Fyodor has convinced both the meta audience and the characters that the Book exists, just like he manipulated Ace into killing himself and for similar reasons. That being said, by claiming that such a thing exists, ensuring that there are "rules" to such a thing that obfuscate the most glaring limitations and contradictions likely to cultivate doubt, and leveraging the resources available to them, Fyodor and the Decay of Angels are able to influence others' actions and amplify their psychological and material impact, thus effectuating the reality they wanted.

(It's why visualization is an effective tool for accomplishing goals, by the way. Envisioning the reality you want for yourself vividly and emotionally stimulates your brain chemistry into experiencing and recording that reality as if were a memory or sensory perception, influencing your subconscious understanding of its attainability— which then lends you the motivation, confidence, and self-efficacy to make it so.)

It's not only Fyodor who rewrites reality by convincing others that it's possible. Natsume Sōseki rips out the pages of the third volume in the series that Odasaku is reading, informing him that there was an ending, but it was atrocious, so Odasaku should write his own. Odasaku was in a state of inertia, suffering his reality on belief it was immutable. His encounter with Natsume made him realize that the future he saw remained the same only if everything preceding it did too. Just because there was a certain outcome to his choices didn't mean he had to accept it— he could make different choices. While he did not get the outcome he wanted for himself, he nevertheless shaped his outcome with his choices. He couldn't change the choices of others, but he chose how he responded to them.

That's what he imparts on Dazai too. Perhaps much of his suffering isn't within his ability to change. But where he could choose wonder and goodness, he should.

It's a recurring theme for most of the characters since the uncertainty of existence and the subjective nature of reality framed much of their namesakes' works, but to name a few:

Yosano thought she couldn't live because her skill was too cruel. So Ranpo offered her a reality where her skill's exploitation wasn't inevitable, but a choice that was hers to make.

Ranpo thought he was alone and surrounded by monsters, rendering his world terrifying and colorless. Fukuzawa rewrote Ranpo's reality by reframing the predatory malice Ranpo perceived in others as clueless ignorance. He gave Ranpo means to channel and celebrate his perceived differences, but impressed on him that he and others had inherent value worth protecting. Because Ranpo believes him, he's surrounded by people instead of monsters. Further, the glasses Fukuzawa gave Ranpo were a cheap trinket, but because Ranpo confers on them his acquiescence to Fukuzawa's narrative, they facilitate Ranpo's remarkable powers of deduction.

N revealed to Chuuya that self-contradicting singularities can become stable in lifeforms if sealed by human will, which can be imparted on inorganic lifeforms as coded patterns since will is manifested so long as the lifeform believes itself capable of will. He needed Chuuya dead before Verlaine came for him but didn't want Arahabaki to die with him if it were possible instead to separate it from Chuuya and weaponize it by other means. Chuuya wasn't willing to donate his singularity to N's military research, so N attempted to bypass Chuuya's will by (i) convincing Chuuya that he wasn't human and (ii) torturing him into speaking a code phrase that N claimed would separate Chuuya from his singularity. It was important that Chuuya believed himself to be nonhuman because if he thought he was preprogrammed to accept the code phrase, he was more likely to cede his will to the code phrase on belief he wasn't capable of resisting. N also needed Chuuya to say the code phrase because if Chuuya chose to say it on the belief that saying it would end the torture by releasing Arahabaki, then he'd manifest the will to break the seal (even if subsconsciously). Chuuya wouldn't relinquish Arahabaki on his own, so N had to craft a reality where Chuuya didn't have a choice by convincing him of the same. Chuuya decided he did have a choice, so that was the reality that became realized.

If there is no objective, preordained reality, then reality becomes malleable and subject to revision. Not because of any preternatural superpower, but because people operate within the limits they perceive to exist. The Book doesn't need to exist to influence the characters; they think it exists, so they behave as though it does, functionally altering their realities around its existence.

But, for each situation I can recall that is attributed to the Decay of Angel's possession of the Page, there is another explanation that is more plausible and very much feasible based on the Decay of Angels' evidenced resources and modus operandi. They don't need the Page to orchestrate what they did, but convincing the Agency that they have the Page inflated their ability to inflict terror and amplified their influence over the variables molding the Agency's perception and behavior.

Anyway. If you give me any instance of the Book bending reality, I'll tell you why I disagree and what I think actually happened.*

*Don't cite to Beast. I haven't read Beast yet, so I won't speak to it.

[karmagotme]

I'm rather proud of this, even if it did take me about a month to complete.

Let me explain.

I'm normally a cross stitcher, but I'd been seeing a lot of embroidery tricks on Pinterest (chronic scroller) and have been wanting to try the tulip button stitch for quite some time. Unfortunately, I had no jackets or cardis appropriate enough to try it on, so I hit up the Rockmans website and got this fuzzy thing for $20 (marked down from $80, mind, so I'd call that a win). It eventually arrived and it came with buttons like this:

Blingy, no holes, and so heavy they were drooping off the cardi and making it a lop sided garment when worn unbuttoned.

In other words, perfect.

Before I could start lopping them off, I had to make sure I had replacement buttons. As I live in small town with barely any decent crafting supplies, I needed to wait for a day off work where I could travel the hour and a bit away to my closest Spotlight. The day finally came, I took in the spare/replacement button the cardi came with, hunted through the minimal button section (why do buttons not come in those long tubes with the sample button on the lid anymore? Sometimes I would like to buy more than one button? Or more than three??) and walked away with a packet of mixed white buttons.

Then my stupid brain hit.

When I finally had another day for me to work on my cardi, I opened the button packet and started rummaging. I pulled out the various buttons that had been the same size as the original buttons, lamented that the creamy ones with the slight flower petal design on them only numbered 3, and realised that in order to find enough of the right size buttons that were all the same type, I was going to have to sort them.

I ... may have a problem when it comes to sorting.

Sorting things takes me AGES. Not that I think I'm bad at it, I think I'm too GOOD at it. My usual sorting items of choice are books. You won't believe how much enjoyment I get at spending days sorting our library after every time we've had to move house. And just like with sorting books, buttons seem to have their own distinctions. Buttons with 2 holes. Buttons with 4. Buttons with writing. Buttons with SHEEN. SPECIFICALLY COLOURED SHEEN. THERE WERE SO MANY BUTTONS WITH GREEN SHEEN AND, LIKE, THREE WITH PINK?!

Anyway.

I believe the task of sorting them into pairs or more of identical buttons - with a small pile of Lonesome Larries to the side - followed by bagging up the piles, and followed THEN by glad wrapping the rest of them because I had limited amount of little baggies, took me a good couple of hours. In the end, I had a pile of 7 of these plain white buttons of the right size, so at least I have 2 spare if I ever lose any in the future.

And then I discovered just how difficult a French knot can be.

Mini videos on Pinterest generally don't explain how to do things in words. I'm a visual learner, I think, so I thought I'd be able to do this just by following the example. I struggled for a long time, @itchylimpet 's Ma even tried to help me to no avail, and after watching many videos and reading one article on how to do it, I finally managed to do it without making a horrible mess. I continued on, paused for dinner, and by the pitch of night I had finally finished.

So, there you have it. One project that resulted in barely much but took forever to do. I am proud that I eventually managed to get it and I am excited at trying out some other embroidery projects I have in mind. I know this is probably silly, considering it was just a button change, but I like this.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

A Cup of Tea and Paracetamol (Part 1/?)

Hi friends, I heard a hot scenario in the normal world and now I must make my characters miserable because of it. Elijah & Greyson are venturing out of the restaurant for this one! Not sure how many parts, and there’s limited sneezing in this first part (also this first part is kind of short but I have to leave my house so you get a cliffhanger lmao) but I promise more is coming. 

Enjoy!!

CW: male, colds, contagion

A Cup of Tea and Paracetamol

“You’re never going to believe what is in this email.”

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and took his best shot. “Is it a letter from the queen of England bestowing upon you the dukehood you always knew was your lifeblood?”

Elijah turned fully to face the chef with a look of bemusement. “The queen of England is dead, Grey.”

Greyson gasped in such mock horror that half his staff turned to see what was happening in the office. “The queen is DEAD? WHEN? HOW?”

Elijah rolled his eyes and pushed Greyson lightly, playfully. “You did get one thing right, though,” he said, expanding the email so Greyson could read it over his shoulder. “It’s the Epcot World Tour event in England,” he said as Greyson scanned the email. “They invited us to participate.”

Greyson took Elijah’s shoulders in his hands and shook him from behind. “What the fuuuuck man! That’s fuckin wild! I want to go! Can we go?”

Elijah held his hands out, palms up, as if to say ‘I don’t know’. “I mean,” he said, “I don’t think we can say no to something like this. We’re probably going to have to close the restaurant for the week that we’re there, but the publicity for doing this kind of thing… I mean, it’s unparalleled. We couldn’t pay for that kind of press.”

Greyson punched the air. “Oh, HELL yeah!” he said, smacking Elijah on the back excitedly. “We’re going to England, baby!”

***

The event was on a Saturday, which was stressing Elijah out so much that Greyson almost wanted to throw his hands up in the airport security line like a fed-up father and say ‘That’s it, turn around, we’re going home’. Almost.

“Lij,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as Elijah crunched the numbers on his phone for the millionth time. “It’s ONE weekend. We’re literally going to be gone not even five days. I need you to relax.”

“I’m relaxed, I’m just worried about -”

“If you’re worried about something, you’re not relaxed,” Greyson interrupted. “Look, dude, this is going to be so good for the restaurant. It’s going to bring so many people in. Five days closed isn’t going to take us down, okay? I promise.”

Elijah attempted a smile and put his phone back in his pocket. “Alright,” he said, sighing. They made their way through security in silence, and once they were through Elijah finally spoke again: “Where’s the bar in this joint? I need a drink.”

“It’s seven in the morning,” Greyson laughed, and Elijah shrugged.

“Airport rules,” he said, a statement that Greyson couldn’t find an argument for. They found a bar near their gate and flopped their things down before ordering two overpriced bloody mary’s.

“You’re sure the contact got all our ingredients?” Greyson asked as he sipped his drink. Elijah snorted.

“Now who’s the worrywart?”

Greyson flipped him off. “I think that’s a valid thing to be worried about. I mean, I have no idea what they even have available in England. Are there real grocery stores if we need to pick something up? Or is it more of a stand-on-the-side-of-the-road kind of deal? Or is it like back in the 1600s where every store only sells one item and all the stores close at  three pm?”

Elijah gave Greyson a look of incredulity as he sucked down his drink. “Grey,” he said. “It’s England. We’re traveling across the ocean, not across space and time. They’re going to have grocery stores.”

The bartender came by then and asked if they’d like another round, which Elijah responded to by shaking his head and handing her a credit card. “Thanks, boss,” Greyson said as Elijah signed the check, which he responded to by waving the chef off.

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said. “Let’s get to our plane.”

***

Elijah had been holding his breath as everyone boarded the plane, begging whatever god there may be that no one would be sitting in the seat next to him.

When they had booked the tickets, Elijah had assumed he and Greyson would sit in the same row, but it turned out that was a pipe dream.

“I’ll take the aisle,” they said at the same time when Elijah found them an empty row. Greyson had laughed and said, “Jinx.” Turned out neither of them could stand the thought of being trapped at the window for seven hours, so instead Elijah booked them across from each other and hoped he wasn’t trapped next to someone who smelled – or worse yet, talked to him the whole flight.

He really thought that he’d somehow beat the system when the last few people had trickled onto the plane and no one had sat in the middle seat yet. Even Greyson gave him an eyebrows-raised look of, ‘congrats, you won the airplane lottery’; that is, until the very last person stumbled onto the plane.

To say that the man who was barreling down the aisle and towards the seat next to Elijah looked terrible would’ve been a massive understatement.  He was a good enough looking man – in his 30s, probably around Elijah’s 35, and, also like Elijah, covered in tattoos from the neck down – but clearly he wasn’t...well.

“Excuse mbe – huhhITTZSCHUE!”

Oh, you had to be absolutely fucking joking, Elijah thought as he let the man past him and into the tiny seat next to him. The man sat down and tried to make himself as small and unobtrusive as was possible, but that seemed to be impossible, given his situation.

“Oh fuckigg hell – hehITSZHUE! ITSSHHHUE! Huhh...huh…”

This had to be a joke. He had to be getting punked. The flight hadn’t even taken off yet, and Elijah could already feel a stranger’s cold seeping into his pores, as if it had been specifically chosen for him. He looked over at Greyson, who was clearly biting his own cheek to keep from laughing. Elijah subtly flipped the chef off, and Greyson covered his mouth so as not to let the guffaw escape.

I’m sorry, Greyson mouthed when he had finally composed himself.

Fuck you, Elijah mouthed back, and Greyson once again collapsed into silent laughter. Behind him, Elijah felt the ill man tap his shoulder.

“Pardond mbe,” the man said, his English accent and his cold making him nearly impossible for Elijah to understand. “You wouldn’t happen to have a paracetamol ond you, would you?”

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said. “I don’t have anything.” What the fuck was paracetamol?

“That’s alright,” the man said, coughing lightly. “I’mb so sorry about...all this,” he gestured to his entire presence, and Elijah attempted a smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “And bless you, by the way.” “Much thangks, mbate – huhhITSZCHUE! HUHISHHUE!” The man folded himself in half to try and sneeze away from Elijah and their other seatmate – a woman so asleep Elijah thought she may be dead. The man in the middle coughed harshly into his lap, and Elijah winced.

It was going to be a very long flight.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

There's a handful of reasons I relate to Wylan so strongly, but one of them has to be the unique experience of being an illiterate adult.

A few years ago, right before the pandemic, I moved across the world to work in a country where I didn't speak the main language. None of the languages commonly spoken in my new home uses the Latin alphabet so attempting to read and pronounce any letters/words in an unfamiliar writing system has been difficult.

Just don't be ignorant, you might think. Learn the language! For the record, I did. Well, I started to, but then the pandemic hit. My language class stopped and strict quarantines limited opportunities to practice. Two years and two babies later the world opened back up. Work and my tiny dictators, I mean, toddlers have kept me too busy to throw myself into learning the language with the gusto I once had. But over the years I've learned enough to get by with basic pleasantries: hello, goodbye, thank you, yes, no. Numbers 1-10. And how to order food at a restaurant. "How are you?" "Good." Unfortunately, that’s the limited extent of my conversational abilities.

The alphabet still trips me up and I often feel like a kindergartner slowly stringing syllables together and incorrectly sounding out words. Plus, there's the bonus of pronouncing the words but still not knowing they actually mean.

So I relate to Wylan a little bit in having to navigate the world at a disadvantage, one he cannot fully understand. Luckily for Wylan he can speak even though he can’t read, which gives him more coping strategies than are available to me. But you don’t realize just how much is written, especially in the modern world, until you are unable to read it.

Being an illiterate adult is a humbling experience. I cannot emphasize that enough. Book Wylan is a teenager, but was thrown into the “real world” and left to fend for himself as if he were an adult. Show Wylan is an illiterate adult who was also more or less thrown into the wild world. And I’d like to imagine that he shares similar illiterate adult encounters and experiences with me.

There isn’t a moment that I forget that I can’t read the language around me. However, it’s very easy to tune out the writing. To be blind to it and not see signs or labels because my brain stops looking for them, unable to to understand them.

Getting lost. Knowing the name of the place, a building, an address, the street that I'm searching for, but not being able to locate it by sight even though it is right there.

Walking past shops and stores unable to read their name and wondering what’s inside. What do they sell? What business do they hold? There’s no way of knowing unless I go inside myself.

Shopping and buying items based on the image on the packaging. Trying to figure out if there’s any difference between two items. Occasionally guessing wrong, buying the wrong thing.

Need instructions? Written directions (like for cooking)? Lol, Guess I'm going to wing it and hope for the best.

Being unable to read a written menu and ordering something generic because the restaurant probably serves it.

Putting off chores that require using the skill I don't have.

Having to act overly polite to everyone (regardless of how I feel) because I am the inconvenience when everyone else is just living their normal life.

Being treated like a child because, in my inability to read, I have the skills of a child so people will treat me the same way they would a child. And worse, all the while still having to act so polite about it because again, I am the inconvenience, even though I am being spoken down to like a child.

Accidentally, unintentionally being rude because I can't follow the sign's directions.

Pretending that I can read (or speak). Sometimes nodding along and agreeing with without any context is easier than a admitting I don't have a clue what's happening.

And in the modern day... I rely heavily on my cell phone to translate the way Wylan would use speech to text features. And there are times when there's no cell service, the phone or app stop working correctly. The translations/transcriptions are imperfect and confusing. It's scary when those safety nets stop working.

So yeah, being an illiterate adult is quite the experience. It can be exhausting. I am incredibly lucky that in my case it's due to living in a multicultural world and that given the time and patience, I could became literate and fluent in another language. The entire experience gives quite the insight on the hurdles and experiences Wylan might face.