#usually i don't remember my dreams this clearly

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Wooin Yoo's analysis

After seeing tons of people misunderstanding his character and making him out to be worst person alive, I decided to take the matters in my hands and post an analysis. I'd be more than delighted if this will help to understand his character better because I'm also using this analysis to debunk some claims against Wooin Yoo.

Wooin Yoo appears to be playful and friendly person, at least that's how he portrays himself to strangers. He tends to hide his true intentions behind the mask he puts on. At first glance, he seems sincere but his words often carry the hint of mischief and mockery. He's skilled in provoking people - of course intentionally - he seems to kind of enjoy the reactions caused by his words and he's written to be shameless character, regularly acting a bit too casual. Whenever he, himself, is being provoked, he manages to remain calm, rational and controls his frustration very well, that is unless people pushes his buttons. We've seen him being quite aggressive and violent, he also gets frustrated when things don't go along with his plans. He also gets annoyed when he's being ignored -

For example, when he greeted Monster but got ignored, Wooin clearly got frustrated but let it go afterwards. He couldn't hide his dislike though.

Despite these questionable traits, Wooin seems pretty friendly and comfortable with his friends - Joker and Hyuk specifically. I mentioned how Wooin gets annoyed when things don't go along with his plans and sometimes even gets violent, but that's never the case when it comes to his friends. In the webtoon series, Joker and Hyuk don't listen to him quite often or follow his plans but he doesn't get violent with them. Frustrated? Yes. Violent or lashes out like he does with others? Definitely not. In fact, I'd say that Hyuk and Joker get free pass to frustrate him and be perfectly fine whatsoever. Same goes to ignoring. I think in 522(?) chapter, he talks about finals yet gets interrupted by Hyuk, who asks if anyone wants a drink, then Joker joins in - they basically ignored what Wooin was saying but guess what Wooin did? That's right, nothing. He just scratched his head and posed a question. Nothing else. I'm emphasizing this so much because I'm using this analysis as a way to prove some people wrong that have very bad view of Wooin to the point of misunderstanding him. Like I saw someone straight up saying that he'd be cold to his own friends too, which is wrong. Wooin hates being lonely or alone, hence why we see him hanging out with his friends often, it usually being Joker or/and Hyuk. He sure as hell is not going to treat his friends like piece of shits while constantly hanging out with them and deeply despising solitude.

How do I know that Wooin dislikes solitude? Well, lemme focus on specific interaction between Joker and Wooin, where Joker mentions how lonely the puppy must have felt and how lonely it'd be if Joker just left it. Wooin, for once, has different type of expression that we don't see of him often. Those words just stirred something in Wooin and he remembered how lonely he used to be in almost dark room with nothing but small, single window.

His backstory yet have to be revealed but I can analyse the entire picture right here. The room Wooin is in seems very simple, has nothing else other than chair, desk, shelves and books, one picture and one window, which is the only source of light in the room. Wooin is sitting in the middle, facing the window while open book is posed in front of him. But no, he's not looking at the book, he's not reading anymore. He's looking at the only source of light in his room that comes from outside, as if he's dreaming about something, going outside, having fun with his friends, being free. But no, rather he's feeling incredibly lonely and solitude is gnawing at his bones. This scene was supposed to show just how much he hates loneliness. Ironic, isn't it? He's always with someone and has lot of connections that you'd think he's never alone but who would have thought that a person like that has suffered from solitude before? And that he's trying to cope and kill that solitude by almost always being with his friends. It makes sense because most of the time we saw Wooin hanging out with his friends, they weren't really doing anything but keeping each other company. For example, in part 4 episode 86, Wooin is just on his phone while Joker eats an apple and they're not interacting until Sangho sends Wooin a message. There's more scenes like that, for example, Joker just sleeping in Wooin's car and nothing else. But still, the presence of someone is enough for Wooin.

"He doesn't really care about his friends tho" right, a man who gave up on being professional cyclist receiving professional training and his bright future for his friend, Hyuk, just to create the crew where Hyuk could freely ride just how he wanted without being judged, just so the two of them could ride together again, this man doesn't care about his friends, right? This man who apologized to Sangho after Joker messed up when he didn't have to be the one apologizing at all or when Joker angered Juhwan and Wooin tried to fix the issue Joker caused - again, he didn't have to - is a man who doesn't care about his friends. Right, a man who accepted Vinny as a friend and treats him so well in Sabbath, right? A man who covered for his friends when they messed up what Sangho requested them, right? Right. How uncaring of him.

Now let's talk about the recent glance at his backstory, where Wooin talks about how he gave up being acknowledged by anyone. Because he has tried many, many, many times but only kept getting labelled as "useless"

The unknown man speaks lowly of Wooin, this man is someone he wanted acknowledgement from but he never got it. The man seems rich, maybe the ceo of some company but he surely has lots of authority. So far, we can assume him to be Wooin's father, also to note the fact that this is happening in the house, Wooin's room. It seems Wooin wanted to be acknowledged so badly by this man but ended up being disappointment probably for quite lot times. The signs of Wooin being victim are visible in the chapter:

The room is messy, there's golf's stick, cigarettes on the ground - they're messy too, broken what seems to be a cup, broken phone and books scattered around in the corner. On top of it, Wooin is tied up and beaten up to the point of bleeding. Obviously he's victim when he ends up like this + locked up when he only ever wanted to make the man proud, for him to be acknowledged. Then Wooin proceeds to say how he gave up on being acknowledged by anyone ages ago.

There's a lot we don't know about him but we'll probably learn more soon enough.

[juicifrost]

had a dream about portal 3. there weren't portals in it so idk if it was really portal 3 but glados was there. she was my smartwatch (like the tech part of potatOS just on my wrist). i had a motorcycle. i was killing robots with a baseball bat. i remember not knowing if they were all robots.

[whumpitisthen]

Actually talking about dreams reminded me that i had a dream with Grim before he even had a name or was even a character of mine!! I can't believe i forgot about that the only reason i even know about it is bc i found some old text messages where i talked about it and it must have been such a defining moment i decided i must share it with someone at 03:40 am

Reporting from the future, according to past me: "the god of death visited me in my dream" and "he was very fun" and "he sang to me in latin". I also thought it was an omen but wasn't sure if it was a good or bad one. I also said "hes a trickster ofc hed love to visit you and scare you" (to friend i was messaging). Thats literally just Grim. Like all of this fits him except he looks a little different today; like his hair isn't pale blond its just white, and his eyes aren't dark but red, but i guess. They can be dark. At the same time. He visited me before he even existed and that's a little freaky tbh i hope he visits again soon

This does help answer a question thats been bothering me since the parley happened which is what language do him and his majesty speak? And auden for that matter. Bc ofc i write in English but other languages do exist still, and both grim and the lord speak most languages (so the interpreters weren't even rly needed with the humans) but that doesn't mean they just speak english bc i write in english bc that seems unfitting to me.. now ive decided they just speak latin in reality. Or some other form of lost language no one else speaks. That or if they are speaking to someone else, then they speak the language the person they are talking to speaks. Same with the Doctor actually, since it "talks" in people's thoughts, and whatever it says is interpreted in a way unique to each individual, so if its communicating with a Spanish speaking person for example then that person would hear its words in spanish bc thats what they understand and thats the filter their brain interprets things through. But it doesn't rly talk it just kinda beams its own thoughts into people, so it technically speaks all languages, but also doesn't speak any.

[nny11writes]

Had a dream where Catra got cask of amontillado'd while Adora was sick and couldn't transform by a group of people who wanted to start a war to get Puerto Rico into the USA and were clearly the villains. I think oil was involved??? I went from being Catra to the captain of the guard trying desperately to explain why USA coming here to take resources was bad, and exasperated by it all I ripped an american flag up and Adora was so inspired she pulled the bricks down by hand saving Catra.

I type this out because when I have a fic style dream sometimes I wake up and think it's a brilliant idea (rarely true but mostly asleep I think it is) so I record a quick voice memo with the plot so I can write it when I get up.

The plot for this was "catradora fuckin free puerto rico, fuck merica" and I think that's beautiful.

[thebestsetter]

Isagi loves your thighs. And even though he isn't the type of guy to answer "personality" when asked "Boobs, thighs or ass?", he doesn't want to outright say how attracted he feels to them, mainly because he doesn't want you to think he only cares about your body (even though you know he doesn't).

So, imagine how heavenly it felt the first time he got to sleep on your lap. He remembers it as if it happened yesterday.

He had come home after a tough day of practice, in which his coach seemed even more angry than usual and just determined to make the whole team's day a living hell. Everything in him was aching, from his back to his feet, and he could swear he had a fever or something, because his head was starting to throb too. All Isagi wanted to do was get home and lay down, even if it means sleeping without showering (which shows just how tired he was).

"Honey? You're home!" he heard you saying from the kitchen "Welcome home!"

He tried to answer your sweet voice welcoming him home. He really did. But his mouth just wouldn't answer his brain's commands. So, he was just standing, staring at you with his mouth wide open, looking like an idiot.

"Isagi? Are you feeling alright?"

He couldn't even register what he was doing, but the next thing he knew, he walked closer to you. His body was just moving on it's own, as if being as close to you as possible was as natural for him as breathing.

"Sweetie, you're starting to scare me. Do you need to go to the doctor? Did something happen today at practice?"

He couldn't resist the urge to hug you anymore, even though he was trying to restrain himself because he was still stinky from practice and he knew just how much you hated it when he hugged or kissed you without showering first. He couldn't explain it, but you looked so huggable at the moment! He took a step closer, hugging you tight and burying his face in the crook of your neck, innaling deeply and letting out a satisfied sigh. One of his hands was travelling your waist while the other was playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Yoichi!" you exclaimed, voice worried yet still not loud enough to make his head ache even more (he doesn't even think your voice will ever be capable of doing him any harm) "You're burning up! You have a fever! I can't believe it, I told you to take better care of yourself!"

Ah. So he was right. He had a fever. That's why training was so hard today.

"Hm" he muttered, still with his head in your neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment you both were having.

"Stay at the couch, I'll go grab some medicine at the bathroom."

"Noooo, don't leave me here" he said, clearly affected by his sickness. It looks like his mouth finally started to work again. "I don't want to be away from youuuu"

"Yoichi, my honey, you're clearly not thinking straight right now. But I won't go away! I'll be back in like 30 seconds. Sit on the couch and count, I swear it won't take long"

He sighed, but complied anyway, sitting at the couch and waiting (im)patiently.

You were right, because in almost no time you came back with pills and a cup of water. If there was a sport where the champion had to be the person who brought a glass of water and medicine to their sick boyfriend the fastest, you would win, Isagi thought (and that thought made him strangely proud).

"Here. Drink it up" he obeyed

"Everything hurts"

"I know it does, love. What you need right now is sleep. Come here" you said, patting your lap. If Yoichi was in his right mind, he would've blushed hard and maybe even denied at first, but he wasn't. He just wanted to rest, and he always dreamed about laying in your lap. So, he quickly grasped the opportunity.

And boy was it as good as he imagined it would be. Even better, actually. Your thighs were fluffier than any other pillows he had ever used before, and he felt like he could hibernate there. And as if it couldn't get any better, you started playing with his hair. He was in heaven. He couldn't even fell the pain anymore, and he was sure it wasn't just the medicine doings.

"I love your thighs" he admitted, a honesty he wouldn't have when he was healthy, which made you chuckle "And I love you too. Thank you." He kissed the inner part of your thigh to show you just how serious he was about it

"I love you too, Yoichi. Now, rest. We don't want the best striker of the world to be sick all week, do we?"

"If it means getting to lay on your lap everyday, I would be sick my whole life"

"You're silly"

"And you're the love of my life"

"Good night, Isagi"

"Good night, my love"

Masterlist

[writing-for-life]

The Endless Are Not Their Opposite--They Only Define It

I read quite often, on here and elsewhere, that the Endless are also their opposite (@tickldpnk8 and I were just talking about an interesting thread on Reddit), so I just decided to speed-complete this one and get it out of my drafts before it dies in there (so not as much in-depth as originally planned, but sometimes, you just need to run with it 🤣).

The Endless are not their opposite. They define it. It’s a (in my mind, and I’d love to hear what you think) massive difference. And they define their opposite by their absence. If they truly were their opposite, it would give very different meaning to canon, and if we were to do so, a lot of it wouldn't make sense in my view.

Dream is not also reality. He defines it. He is, and forever will be, unreality. It is his absence that defines reality. A dream that becomes real isn't a dream anymore--it's real. That’s the main reason why pulling the ship into reality in Overture weakens him. If he were reality, he could have just snapped his fingers and make it happen. If he were reality, a lot of his problems wouldn't be... well, problems. The fact he is (a) D/dream is pretty much why all his relationships are doomed to fail. Dreams don't last. Dreams are forever strange and can't be truly known.

Delirium is not also sanity/clarity. She defines it through her absence. And when she pulls herself together like in Brief Lives, it hurts her "muchly". It is immeasurable pain for her because it is what she is not and cannot be for any extended period of time without hurting herself.

Despair is not also hope. She defines it via her absence. As long as you hope, you don’t despair. If Despair were also hope, we would not have 6 issues of Overture very clearly showing us who and what H/hope is. If Despair were also hope, we wouldn't need a little girl called Hope reach out her hand and touch Dream—he would have a sister who could do it. But the only time Despair shows up for him, so to speak, is after he killed Orpheus—make of that what you will.

Death is not also life. She defines it. The fact that she is there at your beginning does not mean she is the one who gives you life. She is there so you will remember her, always (and especially when she takes your hand), hence you will cherish life. She does not directly give life to immortals either--they are immortal because of her absence, because she withholds her gift, like she does with Orpheus and Hob (the Eblis-situation has nothing to do with anything in my mind and is linked to a funeral rite, and we are clearly told it is not something she usually does [“it’s been so long”], or is remotely comfortable doing. It is just that she is the Endless that is most life-adjacent and hence the one who will have to do it. Just like Dream is the most reality-adjacent and hence the one who has to pull the ship).

Destruction is not also creation. He defines it. He is what gives us the blank slate, he is what makes creation possible, he is what starts the cycle and ends it, but he is not creation himself. Keeping on destroying makes creation impossible. There needs to be a pause, a break for creation to come to fruition—the absence of destruction. If he were also creation, he wouldn't create so badly (to the extent that it is canonically turned into a running gag), and being around him and seeking him out wouldn't be an issue. But it is.

Desire is not also hatred (I’m still not sure if hatred is really the opposite of desire, but I’ll run with it because that’s what Gaiman chose). They define it via their absence. You know how Dream doesn’t want Desire in his life anymore after one major spat (whether he had reason to or overreacted isn’t really the issue). And what feelings are often left in the absence of Desire? And what does Desire feel and gets themselves tangled up in because they are pushed away and are basically not acknowledged/desired by their own sibling despite constantly trying to show him they are important (desire is not just a sexual thing, people, get your mind out of the gutter 🤣)? Yeah, about that one… There is definitely a different type of enmeshment here which sometimes seems a bit plot-hole-y to me, but I think that might be down to the fact that Desire is the chosen antagonist (and even that, only to a degree until they aren’t). Even so, it still makes sense.

Destiny is not also freedom. He is the absence of it. All paths lead to the same end. Or a decision you make was the decision you were going to make all along, and what looks like a different ending was the ending that would have happened anyway. And even if you choose, the book will start to make that choice destiny again. Only Delirium knows what’s not in his book, and in this universe, the only true freedom is not bound by any rules, logic or sanity…

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

:¨ ·.· ¨: `·. ୨୧ Your relationship dynamic with your future romantic partner ᡣ𐭩 (boyfriend/girlfriend, future spouse, etc.) (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support. It means a lot!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll explore the relationship dynamic of you and your future romantic partner. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙

PILE 1 ᡣ𐭩

8 of Swords Rv, 3 of Pentacles, Knight of Wands (Knight of Pentacles)

Hello Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

You and your future romantic partner will free each other from any burdens, past wounds, and betrayals. I keep hearing the message 'teamwork makes the dream work,' which is confirmed by the repeated appearance of the 6 of Pentacles, the give-and-take card. This pile has a more calm energy compared to others, yet there is a hint of passion and an abundance of love, as indicated by the 2 of Cups. I see a lot of collaboration between you two, which will propel your relationship forward and allow you to learn valuable things from each other.(About that message, many of you (not all) that chose this pile are or were armys - BTS fans for those who don't know).

This energy is pretty similar to romantic sitcoms, a very lighthearted energy. I see you having fun with each other, making jokes and doing quirky things together. You'll find joy in the little things, such as organizing enjoyable activities together, whether it's at home or outside. I feel that one or both of you might have had bad experiences with past lovers, so finding comfort in each other's arms is important. You're free spirits with stable principles, and you both seek stability in your relationship with a touch of fun to ease your minds after a tiring work day.

Your dynamic is special, and there may be challenges and communication issues, but facing them head-on with determination is crucial for both of you. Patience and loyalty are also key themes in your love dynamic, with grounding elements confirmed by the dominant brown color in your spread. Brownish or reddish tones may also be significant for one or both of you, based on what I'm getting.

To summarize, your relationship is built on teamwork, give-and-take, stability, and fun. You'll find joy in the little things, such as creating fun moments together, and find comfort in each other's arms, despite any challenges that may arise. Patience and loyalty are essential, and your energy has a calm yet passionate feel to it.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi , I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

PILE 2 ᡣ𐭩

2 of Wands, 2 of Pentacles, Knight of Swords (King of Cups)

Hello Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Is this my staying in the comfort zone pile? We're going to say goodbye to it and fasten your seat belts, dear, because this won't be lasting much longer. Your future romantic partner will pull you out of that cozy comfort zone you've been in for who knows how long, and you're going to love it - it's what your soul truly needs, not a sedentary life and the 'I'm afraid to fail so I don't even try' mentality. Your mind is just trapping you into thinking you want that. Now, the love dynamic with your future romantic partner is mostly about adventure, trying new things, and learning because that's what your partner wants for you and for themselves. They have Gemini energy and will bring excitement and intellectual stimulation to your life. They'll be supportive and encouraging of your goals and aspirations, just like a cheerleader, and they'll provide a much-needed emotional balance and practicality to your relationship.

You might be the more timid and fearful one at first, but your soul craves a partner like that and, while it may feel uncomfortable initially, you'll soon realize how grateful you are to have found someone like them. They'll celebrate your achievements and goals with you, including the small ones, and they'll be very nurturing and compassionate towards your needs. The relationship will be balanced between your heart and their mind, and you'll both be devoted to each other.

22/222 may be significant and you may see it often, and ironically this is also pile 2 😁

In summary, the love dynamic between you and your future romantic partner will revolve around adventure, pushing your comfort zone, and finding a balance between excitement and practicality. Patience, support, and devotion will play major roles in your relationship. They'll be your biggest fan and help you overcome indecision, while you'll provide emotional support and stability.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi , I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

PILE 3 ᡣ𐭩

3 of Swords Rv, Ace of Cups, The Wheel (5 of Wands)

Hello Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Compared to the other pile's this is way longer and there is a sense of tension in this energy, but it's nothing that you and your future partner cannot work. To sum it up, the relationship dynamic with your future romantic partner will be karmic or have karmic elements which requires patience from both parties, many ups and downs at least at the beginning (like while adjusting to your new relationship together). The relationship dynamic is marked by alternating moments of gloom and joy, and it seems some past wounds haven't been healed yet. You may want to consider doing some shadow work. I get the feeling that some of you may be reconnecting with exes or entering into relationships with karmic partners before finding “the one.” However, this PAC is for the person you're inquiring about, regardless of whether they're a future bf/gf or spouse. Even if they're a karmic partner (for some of you), it's okay because not every karmic partner is necessarily a bad person. They might just be there to teach you lessons and help you realize what you truly want in a partner so you can move on to a healthier/better relationship. Your relationship dynamics with your future partner will be one of growth and expansion, deeply spiritual, and aimed at helping you grow mentally, spiritually, and even physically. You'll start to feel more confident and radiant, both within and without. The real beauty lies within, and embracing it will make you shine even more.

The relationship will be anything but boring. You'll find new ways to communicate and inspire each other, strengthening your bond. There will be moments of intense emotion, but also comfort and care for each other. It's possible they will even want to have children with you. However, consent is crucial. There's a youthful, child-like energy, but it's not negative - just refreshing. Everything about this relationship feels divinely guided, meant for a higher purpose that you'll discover together.

Some of you may feel confused about something, which could be a sign this is your pile. There's a mix of energies. However, your relationship will be for the stronger hearted - especially Scorpio babies, given the transformative energy. The number 10 may be significant, potentially signaling completion and even a twin flame dynamic. You'll mirror each other's qualities and flaws.

Whoever you're inquiring about will likely sweep you off your feet. Whether it's a positive or negative experience depends on your perspective and situations. Generally speaking, the relationship dynamic will have a positive outcome. For some, this could be your first relationship or your first serious relationship, so everything will be new and exciting. There may be some tension due to inexperience, but it's a normal part of growing and adjusting to this new relationship. In the end, you'll find fulfillment and growth together.

In summary, the relationship dynamic with your future romantic partner will have karmic and potentially transformative aspects, requiring patience from both parties. There may be alternating periods of gloom and joy, which might stem from unresolved past wounds. Some of you may reconnect with exes or get involved in karmic relationships before finding “the one.” Shadow work could be beneficial for everyone. The relationship will be rooted in growth and expansion, and there's a strong spiritual component that will help deepen your connection. This relationship serves a divine purpose that both of you will uncover together. Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi , I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

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ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

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Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[xilylilly]

✩How to shift via lucid dream.✩

I am sharing my personal research and experience on achieving lucidity and shifting.

Lucid dreaming is an easy and fun way to experience things under your control. While shifting is not something you can control once you've done it. you can script and specify what reality you go to, but your actions have true consequences. Whereas when you lucid dream, your actions do not have consequences.

Approach lucid dreaming as something fun and enjoyable. if you find it stressful, it will impede your journey or prevent it entirely. Not to say you can only do these things with no doubts.

(what do i do personally as someone who regularly lucid dreams on the daily basis?)

Reality checks are your best friend! i personally prefer to count my fingers because, in my dreams, i have more than five fingers. So when i reality-check throughout the day and see that i have five fingers, i know i am not dreaming. when i go to look down at my hands in my dreams, lucidity will be triggered. there are many ways to reality check and you don't have to follow exactly what i do. everyone's journey is different.

(reality checking)

simply looking around and observing your surroundings is a good way to begin lucidity. Something you might notice in your dreams is that your surroundings are out of place and wonky. Whereas when you're awake, you can tell things are as they should be. if you take time out of your day to stop and look around, making sure everything is in place, these actions will eventually subconsciously carry onto your dream world, enhancing the possibility to induce a lucid state.

(consistency)

consistency is key. despite it being a drag, it will go well for you in the long run. your subconsciousness doesnt have eyes, you have to train it.

(what do i do when lucid?)

I become aware of my surroundings. in other words, i am lucid. i go through my usual routine of checking my reality and fingers to remember my goals. I then proceed to increase my lucidity. how? By solving complex problems to ensure i am using good l am using good logic and that i am thinking clearly. i sit down and attempt to breathe in, no longer attempting to create a portal or go through a door as there is likely to be inconsistencies with that method. Don't try to create the world. Rather just go to it. feel your desired reality surroundings. How does it smell? what room are you in? what emotions are you feelings? just focus on the world that already exists.

[simmplerussiangirl]

The courting

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Sevika had never been courted, bought her a drink, given her flowers and candy, or insisted on socializing. And then she came into her life.

Word count:2.3k

a/n: I love Sevika with all my heart. God, I hope my future wife will be like her. Otherwise, I don't see the point of moving on with my life lol.

- Wow,” I said, running my hand across the table where a girl of unimaginable beauty was sitting. She was smoking a cigarette and doing something with her mechanical arm, apparently fixing it. - So beautiful and alone. And bored.

 I sat down on the chair opposite the girl. Smiling with all her 32 teeth, I examined her without shyness. Her cheekbones were the first thing that caught my eye, and it looked like you could cut yourself if you swiped them. Oh, and what that look was worth.... She was looking at me angrily from under her forehead with her deep dark brown eyes. Her bushy eyebrows were pulled down to the bridge of her nose.

- Get out of here,” she looked down at her hand again, painstakingly fixing some part of it.

 I laughed softly and leaned on my palm, watching her movements with rapt attention. A lock of short, dark hair fell over her eyes, and she jerked her head to remove it. Allowing me to see her powerful neck, its veins bulging.

- I wouldn't dream of it - I smiled again - What did you say your name was?

 The girl looked at me again unhappily, taking a cigarette in her healthy hand and taking a puff.

- 'I didn't say my name. Get out of here before I spoil your face.

- Oh, you like it rough,” I laughed, and leaned back in my chair, watching her look of surprise, then curved my lips in a squeamish way and returned to my hand. - Don't worry, I like that too. I won't leave you until you tell me your name, you must understand that.

The girl snorted contemptuously.

-Sevika- -she angrily tapped her mechanical arm, she was clearly having trouble with it.

-Wonderful, I'm Sophie,” I smiled captivatingly as she looked at me angrily.

 I got up from the table and walked over to her, leaning slightly toward her face. Sevika pulled her head back sharply, which made me giggle slightly.

- You didn't put the spring in, Sevika - I sweetly held out the girl's name tasting it and held out my palm to her with the piece from her hand - Here you go.

 I watched with amusement as bewilderment and then rage grew in her. But by the time she realized that I had deliberately snatched the piece from her to ask her name, I was gone.

 Luckily my instinct for self-preservation was there.

***

The next time we met was at the same bar about a week after the hand incident.

 As I walked into the bar, I saw her sitting back in the spot where I usually hung out. “That's a sign,” I thought as I squeezed my way to the bar through a layer of drunk people.

-Tommy darling, hello there-” I sent the bartender an air kiss, ”I have a life and death question for you.

 The bartender laughed softly and walked over to me. Having a man behind the bar was a plus. He's a drinking buddy, a friend, an informant.

-I'm listening. - He said in a humble voice, leaning toward me so he could hear me better.

-Remember what a girl named Sevika usually orders? - I made the most pleading eyes I could and folded my fingers crosswise.

-I remember. -What is it?

-Tommy, you're my savior! - I jumped up and down and clapped my hands together - Make it my usual and add Sevika's order to the bill.

 He smiled suspiciously, but didn't ask anything, just went off to make drinks, muttering something to himself and shaking his head.

 -He handed the drinks to me, but as soon as I reached for them, he pulled them back to him, forcing me to look at him. “But be warned, she might hit you, so don't get too excited.

- Don't worry, it'll be fine,” I put the money on the bar, took the drinks and went to the girl. - “I love you,” I whispered with just my lips to him.

-Darling, what a reunion.

 I happily walked over to the girl and placed the mug with her drink beside her and sat down on the chair across from her again.

- You again? - she frowned and looked at me unhappily.

- Me again. Did you miss me? - I took a sip from my glass and nodded toward her, “Help yourself.

- What if you poison me? No thanks,” she pushed away the drink I'd brought her.

- Hey, I bought it for you. Do you want me to sip it? - I pouted my lips and stared naively into her eyes.

- No.” She cut me off and got up from the table.

 I turned my head to see where she was going. Sevika was leaving the bar. I rolled my eyes and clucked my tongue as I sipped my drink again, staring unhappily at the mug I'd brought for her.

 I stared at the glass for about ten minutes, and finally, unable to stand it, I slammed my foot down on the table, and the drink fell to the floor, spilling over.

 This drinking scheme always worked, so why did this girl refuse? I sighed heavily and got up from the table, heading home. I wasn't in the mood anymore.

***

The next time we crossed paths was late at night. I was coming home from a bar when Sevika and some blue-haired girl came out of the fog to meet me.

- Sevika dear, what meeting? - I smiled drunkenly and saluted her with my hand - Going to the bar with your girlfriend?

- She's not my girlfriend - the girl with blue hair snorted and ran forward behind my back, seemingly not wanting to see anyone at all.

-I stretched out and looked into Sevika's eyes. - This is the third time we've seen each other, how many more times do we have to see each other before she'll finally talk to me?

 I heard a quiet laugh. And the girl walked over to me, towering over me. And I was a little surprised at her size, she was taller than me by almost a whole head.

- Are you trying to intimidate me with your body? - I laughed when I saw her surprised squint, “You're not succeeding. So far I've only gotten aroused

 Sevika stepped away from me abruptly, going behind my back. To which I laughed out loud.

- See you later, sweetheart.

***

The next seven meetings were insanely monotonous. I bought her alcohol, she sent me away and left. The only thing that made them different was that in the last few, she started taking the drinks with her and leaving not from the bar, but to the second floor, where Silko's office was.

 And I thought that was a green light and started running into the bar more often, leaving flowers and candy at Tommy's. I knew she was picking them up. I didn't know if she was keeping it all for herself or giving it to someone else.

***

One Friday night, I bought drinks for the two of us again and sat down at her table.

- I was more excited than usual this time, and I felt like I was close to getting Sevika to talk to me.

- I'm already having nightmares about you - she rubbed her face with her hands and looked at me.

- Oh, so you're dreaming about me, interesting,” I smiled softly at her, waiting for her to take her drink and go upstairs.

 But instead she took a sip of alcohol and leaned back in her chair.

- You're not even going to run away from me? - I smiled mischievously, tilting my head sideways to look at the girl.

- You can't run away from me, you're not going to eat until I talk to you. So I'm sitting here in front of you, ask me anything you want.

- Oh, so you think you'll fuck off if you talk to me? - I giggled and tossed my hair back,” What's your favorite color?

 I saw a shadow of incomprehension run across her face, as if I had asked something insanely weird.

-What?” her arched eyebrow and surprised look made me laugh, and I burst out laughing.

-What? -I asked something personal? My maroon.

-Black. Why would you ask that?

- Because I'm curious. I put my hands on the table. Did you like the flowers I gave you?

- I gave them to Jinx.” She averted her eyes and looked behind me.

- First of all, you're lying,” I smirked, running my finger along the rim of the glass, ”and second of all, who is Jinx, your girlfriend or your girlfriend's girlfriend?

- My headache,” she rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, trying to hide her nervousness.

- Well, you've already admitted you're lying to me. So how about some flowers?  I tried to pick ones you might like.

- Pretty ones, Sevika said, why did you bring them?

- I was trying to get you to like me. All girls like to receive flowers. There are women who don't like flowers in general, but in any case even they like to receive bouquets. It's an act of consideration, but for some reason you're trying to prove me wrong. Why?

-Listen, you're wasting your time, I'm not interested in you or your attention. - Sevika flared up, and with a sharp swing of her arms, threw her drink off the table.

-Are you sure?

-Sure.

-Strange, -I stood up from the table, picked up the mug and, putting it on the table in front of Sevika, leaned over to her face. - After all, when a person is not interesting - courtship is not accepted. And you accepted, and drinks, and bouquets, and sweets, and all sorts of trinkets. All right, I'll leave you alone, dearie. But I have to try one last time. Come here tomorrow at 7:00 if you still want to go out with me. I'll be waiting, Sevika.

 Wiggling my hips, I left the bar. I knew I'd done a bad thing by manipulating her. But without it, I'd be running around like a puppy for a couple more months.

***

At seven o'clock that night, I was sitting at her table like a bayonet. Impatiently glancing at the time, snapping my fingers and glaring at everyone who entered the bar. With each passing minute, I doubted more and more that she was coming. So when it was 7:15 on the clock, I got up from the table.

 Pulling up the skirt I'd put on for her. I couldn't believe that she really didn't care about me and was accepting my advances, just because she was bored. I felt sick to my stomach about her blowing me off, I guess I was just imagining things.

 I looked up and saw her on the stairs leading up to the second stairwell. It wasn't clear if she was going up or down, so I just stared at her, waiting for her to move on. A couple seconds later, I saw her heading up the stairs at a brisk pace. I smirked, grabbed my bag from the chair, and walked outside.

 I crouched down on the curb and pressed my lips together, watching the passersby. And as luck would have it, there were only couples on the street. I bent my legs at the knees, put my hands on them, and hid my head in them, wishing I could just vaporize. “How could I screw up so badly, and fall in love with a girl I've only had a normal conversation with once...”

 I felt a jacket being placed on my shoulders. I instantly boiled up, why the fuck am I being touched when I'm in such a fucked up mood. I felt like I was going to punch the bastard in the face if he didn't get off my back right away.

- What am I, a fucking hanger?! - I exclaimed, turning my head back sharply, rage on my face, anger inside me. But that was until I saw who was standing in front of me.

 Sevika. So beautiful. Wearing a beautiful, seemingly new black shirt with the first two buttons undone. Her hair was in a fresh bun for once, not sticking out in all directions, and she was holding a small bouquet of burgundy roses.

- I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you. - I stood up from the curb and fixed my skirt. - So does that mean you're okay to go out with me, or okay, but not with me? - I tilted my head to the side and adjusted her jacket.

 - I do. With you - she held out the bouquet to me and as I accepted it, I breathed in the scent of the flowers - You said you liked that you liked burgundy, so I... Um....

- Thank you, it's my pleasure - I interrupted her, seeing the girl's awkwardness - I was already thinking that you really aren't attracted to me.

- You're not good at thinking, Sophie dear, leave it to someone like me - the girl turned me away from the bar and put her hand on my back and gently nudged me to go.

-Wow, so I had to yell at you once to get you to start flirting with me? - I pouted my lips, turning my head toward her. -You could have told me that earlier.

- Yeah, like you said, I like it rough.

 I laughed, my laugh mingling with hers, husky and chesty. And I swear it's the best thing I've ever heard in my life.

[thevoidstaredback]

Barry knew something was wrong when he woke up that morning, but he couldn't place what. There was nothing wrong in the house, nor with his family. His team were as normal as they could be, and none of his rogues had gotten out, nor was anyone causing any trouble in Central City. Then, just as he'd gotten off work at the police station, an emergency meeting for the Justice League was called. Ugh, David's gonna be pissed that he has to call out!

The Watchtower, when he got there, was a mess. Heroes were obviously panicking, and there must be magic users on board because there were things flying every which way. The meeting room, however, was somehow worse.

"What the hell is going on?" The Flash demanded after ducking behind a chair.

"Constantine and Deadman are on a warpath!" Aquaman helpfully supplied from where he was hidden behind his own chair.

"I gathered that much," Flash shouted over the noise of a chair being shattered against the wall behind him.

Aquaman scowled at him. "The hell do you want me to say? I don't know what's got them so upset!

The door opened again, announcing Batman's presence. He cleared his throat and the room instantly fell silent. Things kept flying around, but they were much more lax than they had been. Cautiously, the gathered heroes emerged from their makeshift hiding places to sit in their chairs.

"What's this about, Constantine?" the Dark Knight asked once everyone was seated.

Instead of the Brit, the ghost beside him was the one to answer. "You idiots-" he growled, "-have really fucked up this time!" he shouted.

Flash idly noticed that only the heroes operating in America were present. Huh. He had a dream just like this last night!

"Slow down," Wonder Woman tried to placate, "What's going on?"

Now it was Constantine's turn to talk. "The US Government are more aware of magic then any of us-" He clearly meant the JLD. "-are comfortable with. The fact that they somehow hid it until now is baffling."

Since when is the US Gov. aware of anything? Flash quietly wondered.

Deadman, visible to everyone and slightly calmer than before, said, "It's been brought to my attention that your government as been targeting my people." He held up his hand and raised his voice to stop anyone from interrupting him before they could. "They've taken a child."

This time, both the ghost and the occultist allowed the noise to overtake the room. Superman was the one to put a stop to it by directly asking the two, "What do you mean they've taken a child?"

Zatanna, fashionably late, entered the room and clicked on the projector like this entrance had been practiced. If Flash didn't know any better, he would've thought she had practiced it. As the screen lit up, she took place beside her two teammates. "Phantom is a small time hero in a nowhere town in Illinois - at least, it usually sticks to Illinois - called Amity Park. We've been keeping tabs on the place, though Deadman here is the only one to have ever had repeated contact."

On the projector screen was the picture of a child near or in his mid-teens. He wore a black HAZMAT suit with white accents, white knee high boots, and white elbow gloves. His hair was white and his eyes the colour of cartoon radioactivity. He was snarling in the photo, obviously having been taken during a fight, if the ready stance was anything to go by.

When Zatanna moved to the next slide, it was an overshot of a place that was somewhere between being a town and a city. It was big enough that not everyone could possibly hope to know everyone, but small enough that everyone knew someone who knew someone. Based on the experience of several heroes, as well as several different statistics, it didn't look like the kind of place that would have a lot of police needed crime, let alone a dedicated hero.

"Several World Ending events were started and stopped here." Constantine continued, "Remember six months ago, when natural disasters erupted all over the planet? We tracked the epicenter to here. Same as four months ago when three quarters of the planet's population took an impromptu nap."

The slide was changed to show an empty field. "Two months ago," Deadman picked up, "The entire town and everyone in it disappeared off the face of this planet." Again, he waited out the uproar from the Justice League, continuing as though uninterrupted after they'd quieted down. "Three days later, it all reappeared," The picture was replaced by another overshot of the town, but there was a green tint to it. "A week later, I was called back to my home in the I̷͈̋̿̀̚n̶͙̙̲͇̤̪̅͋͘f̶̟̰̬̤̀̉̕i̵͕̫͖͔̟͝n̸̮͙̋̎̆̈́̂̈i̷̬̫̤̱̱̒͌͌t̷͉̪̐̂̿͝è̴̙̊ ̴̪̠͍̞͆̌̀R̵̻͙̺̯͌e̸̫͉̖̙̖͐͆͊͠ȧ̵̭̻̩̙͇̔͜l̴͔̝͒m̸͖̦̟̠̭̥̄̇͆̀s̶̢͉̳̪̦̹̑͠. That is where I offically met young Phantom."

"Why is it green?" Aquaman wondered.

"Were you keeping tabs on the place before or after this all happened?" Batman asked over him.

"Before," Zatanna answered, "An interdimensional rift opened up in the town eleven months and five days ago. A second one opened up in the same town ten months and two days ago."

"Why didn't we know about it?" Flash asked, nothing else joining the pure curiosity in his voice. "This kinda seems like something all of use should've been told about."

The magician shook her head. "Because this is our area of expertise, not yours. None of you could've done anything except make things worse if you knew."

The speedster nodded, accepting the answer easily. He didn't like working with magic. He didn't understand it, and it took way too long to actually start believing in the stuff, but he knew there was no way he'd be useful in situations that relied on magic. Best leave that to the professionals.

"I went to the town to scope things out and met Phantom," Constantine said, the slide changing to show another picture of the young hero. He was hiding in an alley, staring at his hands with something akin to fear in his eyes. "He let me take a look at the rift, explained a few things to me, and then we set up a means of contact, though he only ever talks to Deadman."

"Wait," Robin spoke up from where he was beside Batman, "I know that place!" Batman didn't show any reaction other than turning to look at his protege. Robin, for his part, glided smoothly past the look from his mentor. "Me and the rest of my team passed through there about three months ago. We met the town hero, but it wasn't Phantom."

"What do you mean?" Wonder Woman asked.

"The town's hero is called Red Huntress. She's helped out the Young Justice a few times in the past few months with some supernatural issues. She deals mostly with ghosts, though."

Deadman bristled, obviously not liking something that the boy had said.

"Oh?" Superman asked, "What did she tell you guys?"

"That Phantom's one of her rogues." Robin said, "Apparently, he causes a lot of property damage and doesn't stick around to help with relief efforts. She told us that he also kidnapped the mayor, and has attacked the local high school too many times to count."

"That's a load of shit," Constantine muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Phantom has only ever worked to protect his town. Red Huntress didn't show up until two months after he started his work!"

"We wait to act until we have more information," Batman, the paranoid bastard, ordered, "As soon as we know exactly who we can trust and what we're going into, we'll stick to recon."

Deadman slammed his hands on the table. "You're government took a child! This is not the time for recon! This is time to act!"

"Recon." Batman stood. "Robin, I want a report from you about your team's interactions with Red Huntress, as well as a report from herself. Constantine and Zatanna, I want a full report on everything you know about Amity Park and whatever's going on there. Dismissed." Then, he walked out of the room, Robin trailing closely after him.

"Um, Bat?" Fash stood, stopping Batman and Robin in the doorway, they both turned to face him, "Maybe we should hear them out? This sounds serious."

Batman stared at Flash for a moment longer before walking back into the room. He gestured for the three present members of the Justice League Dark to continue.

Deadman had a small look of relief flash over his face. "Your government's been sending ghost hunters to Amity Park for the better part of a year now. They were dead set on catching Phantom, and now they have. We don't know-" He cut himself off. After a few seconds, he disappeared completely. Constantine's and Zatanna's phones both went off. Nearly an entire minute after Deadman disappeared, the alarms in the Watchtower went off.

"Fuck," Flash swore.

Part 2 Part 4

[theysherobinbuckley]

a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

[inzaynety]

observation duty ⤫

➢ summary: you’ve taken an interest in some medical books he has laying around, and what better real-life, hands on specimen than your own man?

➢ content: zayne x fem!reader, 1215 words, shirtless zayne, slightly suggestive

➢ notes: imagine touching this mans serratus anterior 🤭; okay but it’s been a while since ive taken muscle physio and all i remember is that and like a few others so you’re getting my limited knowledge enjoy

Maybe you should’ve gotten into physiology sooner. It was pretty enjoyable, if you made it out to be.

It all started after a long afternoon nap. You wake up following a typical fever dream with a cold sweat and confusion. Adjusting to the initial disorientation, you look over at the digital clock, and only twenty minutes have passed. With how groggy you felt and the approaching sunset out the window, it sure didn’t feel like it. 

Swinging your legs over the bed, you walk into the hallway in hopes of finding your boyfriend. He mentioned leaving for the store for a couple of things before you knocked out, and he must have still been out while you called his name. You keep walking and decide to just wait in his office, stalking over to his desk and looking down at the contents. 

I’m mature, you think to yourself. Maybe you’re still processing the trauma of waking up.

The book Zayne has on the corner of his desk has a diagram of a man fully unclothed, and your eyes subconsciously zone in on one particular spot. You choke back a laugh before closing your eyes and composing yourself. 

You feel another laugh coming. I’m mature. 

It’s embarrassing to say that it took a good five seconds before another laugh bubbled up in your throat. Taking the defeat, you seat yourself and open the book to avoid seeing the drawing again and making no progress. The random page you find yourself on has a regular diagram you would see around his office and rooms of your routine physicals, pointing out the main muscles you were somewhat familiar with. 

You don’t realize that you’ve flipped through a good number of pages until the front door opens and his voice comes through the hallway. 

“I’m home.” He calls out, and you rush over to greet him. He’s carrying a few grocery bags, and while he’s typically against it, there’s your favorite takeout in his arms. “Sleep well?” He asks when you come into his view. Nodding, you help take the food from him, but your eyes don't meet him like they usually do. 

“I did,” you’re distracted, “welcome home.”

Zayne thinks there must be something on his shirt and goes to subconsciously rub at it with his now free hand, but you stop him in his tracks by holding onto his forearm. To your not-so surprise, it tenses at how intense your stare is. 

“My love, what are you looking at?” You let out a short breath and release him to place your takeout on the dining table, leaving him utterly bewildered by the door. Zayne’s used to your antics by now, though they never fail to surprise him. However, it’s not too long after he puts the small amount of groceries away that you take his arm again in your grasp, squeezing a little. “Darling–”

“You have such nice extensors.” You say it matter-of-factly, squeezing at the taut muscles. He’s not flexing or anything, so you take it upon yourself to move upward towards his bicep. “Flex.” He does.

Oh. Surely you’ve noticed it before, but the diagrams on those pages really make you appreciate the finer details.

After a few moments of silent squeezing, you meet his eyes with a sweet smile and pull him closer to your body. He wastes no time wrapping his arms around you, though his expression is still laced with questioning.

“Zayne?”

“Yes, my love?” He can’t say no to you, right?

“Can you take your shirt off?” He blinks. 

“Come again?” You don’t say anything and simply tug at the hem with both of your hands. There’s a look of determination on your face that intensifies when you lock eyes with him. 

Again, you never failed to surprise him, and clearly, the day would never come when you wouldn’t. Thus, for now, it seemed like he had no choice.

His skin is smooth underneath your fingertips, and the expanse of his back was much broader than you had anticipated. 

“Why are you surprised?” There’s a bit of playfulness in his tone: “You’ve seen this plenty of times before.”

“Shut up,” you pout, continuing with light pokes here and there and muttering under your breath of the different muscles you learned. He hums in his spot, hearing you name everything, and you think it’s all right as he doesn’t say anything to correct you. 

Trapezius, latissimus dorsi, rhomboid minor, rhomboid major—it was all so much clearer than you anticipated—you didn’t know if you should feel impressed or something a little more. Zayne really did do these diagrams justice.

After finishing off what you could remember, you tap his cheek, signaling for him to change his position for what remains of your studies. He complies, muscles rippling as he presses down into the couch to lift himself up to turn. Your eyes linger on his shoulders, trailing down his arms to where his hands grip the fabric. 

Ah. Nice.

“Are you almost finished?” Zayne questions you and easily accepts you into his lap when he settles down. 

“Mhm, just a few more.” Winking, you nip at the tip of his nose, and he can’t help but scrunch. How could a man like him be so cute? 

You continue on, staring at his abdomen, and you try your best to ignore the slight flinch he gives when your nail trails over the sensitive skin. He knows you’re doing it on purpose if that smirk on your face was anything to go by. 

And here was the part you were waiting for. Pectoralis major, pectoralis minor.

You spent a bit of time here, not knowing who it benefited more: you or him. And again, you keep going. 

It’s comfortable, straddling his lap as you trace over his lines of hard work. He watches quietly when you make it up his neck, sternocleidomastoid coming through your lips in a whisper, and his skin starts to create bumps. The sensation isn’t unwelcome, but he would much rather you pick up the pace because, while your focus is endearing; he really wants to kiss you. 

You trail to his face, still avoiding his eyes, and finally, finally, stop at his lips. 

“All done,” you muse, and you feel his arms twitch around your frame when you giggle. “How’d I do?” He lets out a huff, but a smile grazes his lips when he leans forward, getting that kiss he wanted for some time now. 

“Perfect.” There’s a sudden grip at your waist, and you’re flipped over, back to the couch, as he can’t wait any longer. 

Bonus:

You hum in satisfaction, bringing your arms around him as he settles himself comfortably on your chest. There’s a few breaths of silence as you trail a hand down from his tricep towards his wrist—but you stop just at his elbow. Zayne flinches against you when you lightly pinch and pull at the skin there. 

“Zayne?”

“Hm?”

“Is this a weenus?”

He doesn’t say anything, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but looking down, you see that he’s staring at you with the most scandalized look. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not. 

“A weenu—what? Where did you hear that from?”

“Rafa—“

“I think you should stop listening to him.”

©inzaynety 2024

[softringing]

The thing that's so off putting about Sampo is that he's willing to go really far to make others happy, even at the cost of becoming a punching bag. But at the same time, he's been warning us about himself purposely, masked fools and the dangers of becoming too selfish when it comes to elation.

It's obvious he wouldnt harm ordinary people in a serious way but at the same time, we don't know if he's actual hiding evil intentions.

Remember that sampo has dead snake imagery in his design, and usually, snake imagery isn't used on moral characters, it's used on evil, morally grey or manipulative characters.

It's telling you not to trust people who hide things easily behind a disguise but at the same time, Sampo has a "line he won't cross".

He's so paradoxical that it's actually hard to tell what his motive is. I feel like he might have split personalities because of his mask's influence or just him as a very odd and mysterious character.

I went though the trashcan lore (I feel stupid) BC in his event, after you sell items it gives you these random texts and one of them has "Diagonese's Utopia" achievement that you get from searching belebogian trashcans.

I posted this on twitter and my theory revolved around the fact that Sampo's mentality may not be the same as a normal human's.

I always felt that his odd behaviour of acting like a "fool" was genuis. Because the best way to fool someone is to make them believe that YOU ARE the fool. They won't doubt you because in their eyes you're less intelligent or less complex than them.

But when I dug deeper, I realised that Sampo actually ENJOYS being hated. This is where my search through the Belebog trashcans apply.

(some of these are out of order sorry 😔)

I initially thought Sampo was Tatalov, the Garbage King because of Sparkle's portrayal of him in the dream bubble. And as you can see in the above images where there's a story of a trashcan being stabbed by someone they raised (Tatalov/Garbage King), you can link it back to the fact that Sampo MAY have betrayed someone he once loved. "The moment of betrayal" also closely aligns with this!!

"Wind of change" "snake", these elements are all mentioned in the above story of Tatalov stabbing someone--> sampo's wind is element, he has snake imagery!! Should be straight enough to say HE IS TATALOV RIGHT?

Now listen closely, in the DREAM BUBBLE, Shentana (aka Natasha) talked about how Tatalov was once a great ruler who cared about equality and justice (sampo behaviour) but was blinded by "the thing beyond the sky" (stelleron). => Now it's making a reference to cocolia rather than SAMPO. Which DOES NOT ALIGN WITH SAMPO BEING TATALOV/GARBAGE KING and hence the "backstabbing " story gets muddled and confusing.

My theory was that Sampo killed the person that made him (Seppo Illmarinen) according to the Kalevala story, after he realised that no one truly LOVED him for who he is, but rather only his ability to bring wealth and fortune. Hence, he felt vengeful, and decided to kill Illmarinen as a revenge because of how others saw him as an object (maybe including Illmarinen too). But in that story, it's mentioned Tatalov said "you will collapse beside me" to the dying trashcan (Seppo).

That's when I went back and looked at "Garboski" (Koski) from Sparkle's dream bubble. Garboski mentions that Tatalov betrayed them, and sealed them for 10,000 years. Garboski also mentions that he will reward the people who found them with WEALTH (sampo's function in Kalevala) and then he decided to eventually give anyone who found them a painless death. You can clearly see over time that Garboski's mentality went lose. I tried to link Garboski's story of being sealed for 10k years to Tatalov's betrayal but it said 15 years since the dying trashcan hadn't seen their face. That's when everything got far too confusing for me to comprehend and link together but the only thing I was able to TAKE from these stories is that they are both about BETRAYAL.

The consumable above depicts a colorless rose. You can only see it's reds in the reflection on the dagger. Which led me to think-> Sampo's eidolon "the deeper the love the stronger the hate" might refer to the fact that he despises being loved by others because he had lost trust a long time ago from the events that happened to him, how he was betrayed by the people he thought loved him but turned out to be just to use him for their convenience and selfish desires.

Remember that red roses represent passionate love and that Firefly mentions Sampo looks like he'd been training to use daggers all his life. So the symbolism of that consumable might be that Sampo trusts people's hatred more than their love because when you hate something, the hatred is (mostly) sincere. Why would you pretend to hate something you love? Sampo ENJOYS this sincerity.

He hates love because you can always hide things behind it under selfish pretense. Why else would that consumable reflect a red rose 🌹 ONLY on the dagger and not the rest of it? Because as soon as Sampo was betrayed/betrayed someone, it became clear to him/them that their true emotions towards him are HATRED not love. And SAMPO LIKES THAT!! HE LIKES BEING THE FOOL, HE LIKES BEING DESPISED BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DECEIVE HIM AND HURT HIM WITH LOVE.

He uses roses to decorate his packages in the event, also his suitcase and he uses roses to attack in HI3.

He hates love because the more someone loves him the further he will doubt them.

And that's pretty MESSES UP! To have a mentality like this means he you must've gone through some messed up crap, just like how he mentions at the end of his event that he had a "Hot-blooded past". If you didn't know, "hot blooded" usually means feeling complex emotions all at once, like anger, love, hatred, doubt, pain.

The description of the consumable sounds so warm in the begging and suddenly shifts to a tense mood? Did you notice that? It's so paradoxical. So hot-blooded. And it says "that person" so speficially!!

I'm still not sure what to believe about sampo's past, but I'm sure that his idea of love is completely messed up. In HI3, as you fight him during his boss battle, there's a bar called "depth of love", which is UHH WHAT THE HECK?? IT TELLS YOUTHE MORE YOU HURT HIM THE MORE HE LOVES YOU.

In his beta lines that were removed Sampo says something along the lines "Sampo gives all the affection yet never receives anything in return *sigh* but I'm used to it anyway 😃👍"

Ummm?? OKK?? IM SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE HE IS SANE? HE IS MENTALLY STABLE AND UR TYPYCAL CONMAN? NO WAY IM NOT!!

I hope this theory makes sense. I just need everyone to know this man has some screws lose but I love him anyway!

[madamechrissy]

Lucid Dreams

Pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem Reader ( reader is a ghost)

Summary: You died a year ago, and now a really hot Nanami Kento moves in to the apartment you're tethered to. You love to fuck with him, shuffle his papers, knock over his things, but you also love to watch him sleep. One day, he ends up seeing you. And... yep, how do you move on to the next realm? Maybe by getting railed by Nanami!?

NSFW- smut, lovemaking, explicit sex

Word Count- 3.5k- This is just a cute little story I got a request for. (It's literally crack fluff smut) Happy ending don't worrryyy. Just fluffy silly cute shit.🤭

Nanami Kento stepped into his new apartment, it was all redone since you had lived there, what’s it been since you died, a year now? You looked at how handsome this man was, dressed in a suit impeccably, sliding the jacket off to reveal toned, perfect arms. You step closer, and suddenly he shivers, as if he could feel your energy, but there’s no way…

Your energy had been fading lately, perhaps the longer you have been dead the less you have, but something about his presence made it flicker once more. You’d had fun haunting the last couple that lived here, ugh but their love annoyed you, because it’s not like you got any love in the twenty five short years you had on this plane of existence.

You expected heaven or something? Or some other life… but no, you just lingered here, in your old apartment, which looked nothing like it did. You could get down almost out of the building, just enough to stare at the moonlight longingly, remembering what it was like to talk.

You don’t talk, no one would hear you anyway.

Well…

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You murmur as this blond sexy man rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing toned forearms.

Maybe you do speak?

You watch him every day, for a week, come home and do the same routine, over and over. He takes off his glasses, he sighs, he sets down his briefcase, he sighs, he goes to take off his jacket, he sighs. Yes this man sighs a lot, and pinches the bridge of his nose, exhausted from the long hours he clearly works.

You worked a lot too back in the day, overworked yourself to death, hoping for an early retirement, until someone hit you with a car

Yeah.

Maybe that’s why you can’t leave, you’re still so pissed, when you had to look down at your body, when you had to see your parents cry, before they left and never came back around. You couldn’t see them, no you were stuck here, and you don’t know why, endlessly lonely and bored. But… now?

Nanami Kento is here, and you enjoy his presence. You watched him from the shadows, your translucent form barely outlined against the wall. As the days turned into nights, you observed him with a fascination that flared up deep inside you, watched him as he slept, when his usually stern face would relax. You would always brush his hair back, but then one day you realize something.

His hair moved.

You touched him!? He opens his eyes, and you gasp, hovering over him, and the hazel eyes widen, but then he blinks, and you disappear. Nanami sits up, shirtless and chiseled within every inch of his life, fuck the man is absolutely beautiful, and he’s looking around the room.

“Hey, is … fuck I’m losing it. Is someone there?” You gasp, backing away from the bed then, as Nanami looks around, clearly sleepy and confused.

“Yeah.” You whisper, curious, and he bolts up, and then you see it, the bulge in his boxers, and you flush bright red… can ghosts blush!? Maybe? He was clearly huge, and apparently ghosts can get wet too.

Huh.

“Listen, I need my sleep. Please don’t annoy me.” You’re in shock, at how casual he is, and you laugh suddenly, apparently he notices because he glares. “Seriously, go… do ghost things and let me sleep.”

He’s back in bed, and if your heart still beat, it would thud.

You keep watching Nanami Kento, but now you mess with him, jumbling up his papers, just to enjoy the delight when he would yell at you. You would move his toaster just an inch, mix his spoons and forks, laughing maniacally as he would get so flustered, shifting them back. He is always so meticulous, that throwing him off becomes your new thrill.

On one evening, you watched as he flipped his light switch several times, each attempt to illuminate the living room met with flickering bulbs. You’re giggling as you keep fucking with the lights, clearly annoying this man, and you could feel bad, but he’s so cute when he’s annoyed.

“What now?” He mutters, and your laughter echoed softly in the corners of the room. Nanami’s head whipped around, eyes narrowed in irritation. “You are here again. Can you stop fucking around? Do you need to watch a movie?”

“You’re asking a ghost to watch a movie?” He whips his head again, as the storm outside rages, and the lightning illuminates the room, and suddenly his eyes are dead on you, wide in shock. Your eyes go wide right back. “Fuck… can you…”

“See you. Yep.” You fade away, frightened then, and he reaches for you in a few long steps, gripping your arms. You feel his touch, just like you had when you were alive, hot on your skin. “I’m touching you!?”

“I don’t know how you can even see me.” You whisper, and he just keeps holding you, this six foot something gorgeous man, and you don’t know how you look to him. “Am I ghost like?”

“No, you look like an… alive person. Is this offensive to you?”

You laugh softly. “No, I’m not offended. I know I’m dead. Just didn’t know how I look to you, to me I look the same.”

“You look beautiful.” You freeze, as does he, a blush on his high cheekbones, his lips pursed a bit. “I see you in my dreams. You give me those?”

“No, I wouldn’t know how! Um, you do?” He nods then, and you tentatively cup his face, feeling the stubble on his jaw. “Fuck if I was alive I’d have been simping so hard for you.”

“Simping? You talk odd.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“Not a ghost at least.” Your eyes widen, and he goes to apologize, but you just laugh then, breathless. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe this. Hello, Nanami Kento.”

“What happened to you?” He murmurs and you sigh, looking down, enjoying his touch far too much.

“I was hit by a car.”

His beautiful hazel eyes fill with concern, why can you even feel his warm breath, his body heat? How?

“I'm so sorry. Why are you…”

“A ghost?” He nods. “I don't know. I was a good person, just worked a lot like you. I didn't have anyone too close. I don't think I have unfinished business.”

“That's horrible. Are you stuck here?” You nod. “How often do you watch me. Hmm?”

You giggle at his question. “Not when you're naked. That's not very consensual is it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Your body is beautiful though from what I have seen.” Nanami blushes again, and it makes his cheekbones stand out even more. “Hey don't worry I'm not trying to date, I'm dead.”

He grimaces, he still hasn't let go of you. “Your humor is morbid.”

“Morbid? I'm dead. Duh.”

“Dear lord. Listen how can I help you move on?”

“Tired of me knocking your cups over?” You smirk and he glares down at you. Fuck he's hot.

“I'm very tired of it, yes. But also I'd like to help. What's something you wish you did before you died?” Nanami asks softly and you hum, touching his chest then, feeling the heart pumping blood in his veins, his hard muscles under your palm.

“Wish I worked less and relaxed more. Wish I had a life. Wish I had loved. Fuck my life was depressing…” you frown as you speak, and Nanami studies you seriously. His hands are sliding down your little shoulders, down your slender arms, making you tremble.

“I know how that feels. I could say the same. Well what do you-”

“Can I try something?” You whisper, cutting him off. He nods. You tiptoe, because no you can't float, that's so bullshit by the way, and you press your lips to his, feeling them hot on yours. You moan softly as little sparks float, making you feel alive. He is tense, unmoving. “There, a perfect kiss. Have I moved on?”

He shakes his head, and your breath catches when he yanks you to him by the waist, pressing you up against his hard body. “You're still here,” his voice is husky now. “I've had some interesting dreams.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

“Where you're on top of me in my sleep… where you're sucking my cock and I can't see you.” You blink rapidly, as his words fill you, and he's caressing your lower lip as he talks.

“Oh yeah?” Your hands trail down his perfect abdomen then, feeling it tremble. “Ghost head, huh?”

“In another dream I get you to manifest long enough to return the favor. And you dissappear once you cum all over my face.”

Now you are soaked.

Wait can you still fuck!?

“How rude of me not to ghost cuddle you afterwards.” You grin then and he moans softly, as you feel how hard he is against your tummy.

“How long until you disappear again?”

“I don't know, this is all so weird. Fuck I'll try though.” He snatches you up then, and your legs wrap around his narrow hips, then you're slammed into the wall, and somehow you don't just go through it, your physical form is there, as he holds you up. He kisses down your throat and you cry out, hands in his silky blond hair.

“Nanami!” You whine out, and he kisses down your chest, as you eagerly grind against him.

“Even better than the dream…” His words make you ache, yearn for more, to be real to not be dead. Fuck the life you could have had.

“Nanami I can't. I can't do this. It'll hurt too much having a taste.” He looks at you then, lips parted, big hands sliding your top right off your head. Huh, that comes off?

“Why shouldn't you. It's not fair what happened. How long have you been alone?”

You're crying, and yeah ghosts can cry, those tears are falling and disappearing as they do. “But what if I move on and can't see you again?”

Your eyes lock, as you realize what you're saying. “If it's your time, darling, it's your time. But for now, I'd love to fuck the reason I'm constantly hard. If I fuck you well enough, would you please stop shuffling my papers?” He pouts then, and you giggle, fuck you’re a ghost but you’re giggling, in his arms.

“I promise.” You brush his hair back, as you had so many nights, having watched him sleep, having watched him just existing so beautifully, and now? He could finally see you.

Your lips meet in another kiss, and then he’s sliding a hand to cup your breasts, nipple rising against his hard palm, fuck he’s just so warm, and alive… you errantly wonder if you feel weird to touch. What does a ghost feel like? But when he sinks two fingers up under your skirt (Yep you died in a skirt) and groans-

“Fuck you’re so hot.” You figure you feel pretty good. And fuck if he doesn’t make you wetter than you’d ever been alive, he makes you feel alive almost. But you’re still not tethered to the Earth, you’re only tethered to Nanami.

“Please…” You whisper, and he eagerly lays you on his bed. “Oh shit, I was scared I’d fall through!”

He chuckles. “You’re kinda bad at being a ghost you know.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, you aren’t very sneaky.” He slides your skirt off, kissing up your thighs, and you feel his hot breath where you’re soaked, making your hips rock up. “I saw you a lot of times but I wondered if I was hallucinating. I work too much.”

“You really do. Nanami promise me… you’ll… oh fuck!” He licks you then, right up your slit, groaning against your pussy.

“Promise what, Darling?” He murmurs, and you struggle to remember.

“Oh… promise you won’t- ah - work so much. It didn’t do me any good, Nanami… now I’m dead and-”

“You feel alive to me. You feel perfect.” You’re crying, your little glittery ghost tears, as his eyes, seductive and lidded stare up at you, and he grips your thighs. He laps you up and you fall apart, like nothing you’ve felt before, yanking on his usually perfect hair.

“Fuck, worth dying for a taste of this.” You whisper out, and then he’s got two fingers in you again, working spots you have no clue are there, his mouth sucking in your clit, and you shatter, cumming all over his handsome face.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, and you cum again as he scissors his fingers into you. “Should I say Good Ghost?”

“Both work, shit, shit you’re so good. I wish I’d had you around.”

“I wish I could have met you.” He murmurs, leaning above you then, and your thighs wrap around his hips, as your little hands run up and down his body. Somehow this feels perfect, this feels right. “This is insane, isn’t it? Are you just a dream?”

“No, Nanami… you’re the dream. Maybe there’s something good for me… mnh! Oh fuck.” He’s rubbing his tip along your folds, and you soak him. He’s so huge, and thick, bigger than you had alive, but there’s no pain, just ridiculous pleasure when he slides inside your entrance, his brows together, lips parted.

“Oh fuck… Darling.” You cry out then, gripping him so tight, so afraid how quickly this would end, as he’s kissing you, as he’s entering you, stroking faster and faster, the bed creaking and the headboard smacking the wall. “You feel so perfect. You’re just so, so beautiful.”

“Oh my god!” Was there a god for you? Maybe Nanami was it. As he works over you, as he tears you apart, until you’re spasming around him, sobbing against his neck, as he keeps making you cum, fucking you from one orgasm to the other. “Nanami… mnh.. Nanami!”

“Don’t even… what was… your name?” He whispers, grunting as he fucks into you, and you struggle to remember, what was it? Oh. You tell him, and then he whispers it in your ear, as his cock is steadily slamming into you, against your cervix, so deep you felt you two were one.

“Kento… call me… Kento…” He huffs, slowing now, your thighs are pressed up, and if you weren’t a ghost? You’d let this man get you pregnant.

That’s how good it is.

“Kento! Oh Kento… it’s so good I- ah!” He’s pressing your thighs against your breasts now, groaning as he fucks you so hard, until he slows, and his eyes catch yours in the night.

“Darling, can I-”

“Can’t get a ghost pregnant- ah- do it!” He’s moaning now, and he fills you with a few more pumps, before hot liquid shoots inside of you, and you cum right with it, clinging to him like he’s your life line, rubbing your hips up for more. He kisses you, so sweetly, over and over, and you fall into it, into his arms.

“I don’t want this to just be once. Don’t go.” He murmurs then, and you’re crying now, as he leans down, easing out and making a mess of your cum and his, and you feel yourself fading. “Darling, please.”

“I don’t wanna go either. I don’t.” He’s holding onto you, and you feel it, some odd pull, like you’re being split in a million directions. “I wish I could have known you, Nanami Kento. Please, don’t make my mistake. Just live, okay?”

You see his own eyes glittering with tears. “I feel like I should have known you… you look so familiar…”

“Maybe we’ll meet in another life?” He just sighs, holding you close, and you hum, eyes fluttering shut. Ghosts don’t sleep, right? Why were you… sleepy?

He’s caressing your cheek, and you hum happily. “There were more dreams. Maybe… stick around? We can try them all?”

You smirk a bit, looking up at this beautiful man, one you wish you could have known in your short life. You brush his tear aside, smiling. “You deserve more than a ghost, stuck in the apartment.”

Then you fade.

It was a beautiful time with…

******

You wake back up, in your body and you’re… alive!? You rush to the mirror, realizing you’re in your apartment. You check the phone, and it’s the next day, the day after you died. No fucking way…

You rush out, and bump right into him.

Nanami Kento!?

You look up at him, wide eyed, and he’s staring at you curiously, a little smile on his face, he looks not as tired as the Nanami you knew, is he the same, you wonder? You realize he’s stepping out of the apartment next to you, and your mind goes insane, have you been in a coma, was it a horrible dream?

“Hey there, I’m Nanami Kento, just moved in.” He holds out his hand, and you take it, trembling, and he frowns a bit. “Sorry, are you all right?”

“Uh… no. No I’m not. Do I look familiar to you?” You ask then, softly, and he nods just a bit, a blush decorating his cheeks. Yours joins as you remember vividly, his tongue on you, his cock inside you.

“Very familiar. Do you work at the same building as me maybe?” You shake your head, sighing, and you realize he has his briefcase. “You are familiar but I just can’t really place it.”

“Huh… sorry I’m being weird huh? Should I let you go?” Then you wonder, can you leave this apartment? “Actually. I gotta go somewhere to.”

“Well, come on then.” He tilts his head, pushing up his green framed glasses, and you touch your chest, feeling your heart beat steadily. Was this heaven, was this another dimension?

Then as you all are outside, a car zooms toward you, careening off the busy streets, and you remember, this is when you die.

“Fuck!” Nanami has thrown both of you out of the way, onto the sidewalk, and he’s on top of you, breathing heavily. His eyes go wide then, as do yours. “Oh my god… you were dead in my dream.”

“I dreamt of you… that I was dead… I…” You’re trembling, and he eases off you, helping you stand on shaky legs. “Was it some prophetic dream? Was I supposed to meet you? This is fucking weird. I’m not dead!?”

He chuckles then. “You’re so not dead. I remember it all. It’s like a fuzzy dream though isn’t it?”

“Oh my god. You saved me!” You’re sobbing, and he holds you close, and you feel it all crashing, everything together. You can’t explain shit, except you are supposed to be in this man’s arms. Your neighbor.

“Should we get you checked out? I knocked you on that concrete hard.” He brushes back your hair, inspecting it then. And you just giggle.

“Do you remember fucking me too?” He’s bright red, his nostrils flaring just so, and then he’s dragging you back into the building. “Hey!”

“Fuck work.” He slams you against the wall of the elevator, pressing one too many buttons, as he cups your face, sighing. “You told me not to work to death, I remember it all.”

“This is fucking crazy.” He nods, but he’s kissing you, and oh god it feels even better, as your own heart thuds against his.

“I won’t let you fade away again.” You hear the emotion in his voice, and your arms wrap around his neck. “You were a really annoying ghost.”

“I was good in bed though.” He moans, your tongues are entwining, teeth clinking as you messily kiss, and then you’re in your apartment, ripping each other's clothes off, in a maddening state.

Both of your phone alarms go off, and you laugh softly.

“I was gonna wait a year to relocate.” He murmurs, and your eyes fly open, as you realize what changed. “Something made me leave.”

“I’m so happy. Fuck… do you think ghost pussy is better by the way? I need your expert opinion.” He’s chuckling now, yanking at his cheetah tie, and you stop him, shaking your head. “Oh no, leave that on.”

So you died… but then you didn’t? And Nanami Kento saved you, and he already knows you, he knows where to touch and where to kiss. You all both don’t go to work that day, no, you are going to get some R n R. <3  Somehow, and some way you were supposed to always end up in his arms, it feels like heaven.

[scoutofmymind]

Mama scout mi Reina! Would you be open to writing an AU of Luigi? A little supernatural ish perhaps 👀

Saw You in a Dream — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: NSFW— MINORS DNI dream-kissing lol, yearning, some pining I suppose, reader is an uninspired artist, Luigi is a figment of her imagination.

Wc: 4,153

Notes: ONEIRIX™ is a dream enhancement supplement designed to intensify and prolong REM sleep experiences.

AN: I DO plan on continuing this if requests for it are abundant. I have many, many ideas for how this story could go, but I will tell you, it’s a lil…. Twisted hehe. Also, my darling anon, I know this isn’t really “supernatural” but in hopes of not writing 10k again and learning when to stop, I must note that more supernatural elements will be tied in if this is requested enough for a continuation. Love you xox

"What's wrong with old-fashioned, regular dreams?" You stare across the table at Bailey, who leans forward with an almost evangelical intensity, her blue eyes gleaming with the same fervor as when she pitched her start-up ideas or insisted everyone try CrossFit. "Is nothing sacred anymore? Do we have to optimize and upgrade every last human experience?"

"No," Bailey says, drumming her fingers against the table, her half-eaten omelette growing cold. She keeps shaking her head as if your resistance personally offends her. "These are revolutionary — they're going to change the way we think, bitch." The words come out with practiced casualness, like everything else about her these days.

She flicks a small pink baggie across the table, four obsidian-black pills rattling inside like tiny meteorites hurtling straight toward your earth.

"No." You slide the baggie back with a single finger, as if even touching it too long might leave a stain. "I don't need another vice."

"It's non-addictive." Bailey leans in, her voice dropping to that silky-smooth pitch she used to use selling timeshares in Miami. Despite her earlier promise that she wasn't working for them, you catch that familiar gleam in her eye — the one that surfaced with every pyramid scheme and side hustle she'd dragged you into. "I just need you to experience it. Just once."

The baggie sits between you like a dare, its pink sheen catching the diner's fluorescent lights, making the black pills inside gleam like wet ink.

"It could really inspire your art." She slides a journal across the table — black, unmarked, expensive-looking. "I've filled this thing with ideas already. It’s only been a week.”

She's found your weak spot now.

Those late-night calls, the wine-soaked confessions about your creative drought, the mounting pressure from your agent — it's all ammunition. "This could be your saving grace," she adds, and the words sink their hooks in deep. Your fingers twitch toward the baggie, career desperation beginning to outweigh your better judgment. “I’m dead serious.”

"Fine." You snatch the baggie and shove it deep into your purse, somewhere between old receipts and forgotten lipliner, secretly hoping it'll vanish into that void where hair ties and spare change go to die. "Give me the pamphlet. You clearly don't need it." You thrust out your hand, and Bailey practically glows as she slides over the sleek Oneirix packet, its metallic lettering catching the light like a sign you're choosing to ignore.

The pills had disappeared into your purse's black hole until Bailey's FaceTime lit up your phone the next afternoon. There she was, sleep mask pushed up like a crown, her face dewy with her latest hundred-dollar moisturizer. "So, did you try it?" Her grin was expectant, eager — the same look she'd worn pushing juice cleanses and crystal healing.

You glance at your desk, where half-finished canvases gather dust and untouched notebooks mock your creative drought.

Last night had been your usual routine; an hour-long shower where you'd solved all of life's problems and remembered none of them, three episodes of that show you're still trying to convince yourself you enjoy, and quality time with your artistic inadequacy.

"Not yet." You mumble around a spoonful of ice cream, your attention split between Bailey's glowing face and whatever's playing on Netflix — neither getting your full focus.

"Girl," she clicks her tongue, and you can hear the judgment dripping through your phone speaker. "Go get them — are you scared?" The question hangs there, pointed and precise, like she's daring you.

You hate how well she knows you, how easily she can press that particular button.

Being called scared has always been your kryptonite, ever since she first met you at that high school gallery opening where you'd been too anxious to mingle.

"No." Your face twists into a scowl at her accusation. "I just forgot." You hit pause, abandoning both your show and melting ice cream to dig through your purse.

You find the baggie too easily, the pamphlet's glossy surface catching the light as you unfold it, its clinical text stark against the dark background.

ONEIRIX

DREAM ENHANCEMENT SUPPLEMENT

FOR INTENSIFIED & PROLONGED REM SLEEP EXPERIENCES

The instructions read like any over-the-counter medication.

One tablet, 30 minutes before bed, standard warnings about machinery and other medications.

"Okay." The pamphlet lands on your counter, its unread warnings fanning out like discarded playing cards. "Will it make me tired, or do I already have to be—"

"Oh, it knocks your ass out." Bailey's voice drifts from your abandoned phone, tinny and distant. You wrestle with the baggie's seal, the plastic refusing to cooperate until it suddenly gives, spilling one glossy black pill into your palm. "It works a hell of a lot faster than thirty minutes, too," she adds through a yawn.

You swallow the pill, and before you can even contemplate moving from the kitchen to your bed, a heaviness seeps into your limbs like honey dripping down glass.

Bailey's already drifted off on FaceTime, her gentle snores creating a strange duet with your own as consciousness slips away once you make it to the couch faster than falling.

The transition is jarring — not the usual soft fade into nonsensical dreams, but a sharp snap into awareness. You know you're dreaming, the way you know your own name, the way you know the sky is blue. It's like someone's turned up the saturation on reality, made everything clearer and brighter than it has any right to be.

This isn't the usual dream-fog where your brain accepts that your childhood home has suddenly sprouted wings or that your teeth are falling out at a gallery show.

This is different.

This is aware.

You wiggle your toes in the grass — actual, individual blades tickling your feet, not the vague suggestion of grass that usually populates dreams. Your manicure catches the sunlight, that specific shade of dusty rose you picked last Tuesday, tiny chips and all.

The rings on your fingers still catch when you twist them, that familiar nervous habit following you even here. Everything about you is preserved with photograph precision, dropped into this impossible elsewhere.

"Jesus," escapes your lips, the word carried away by a breeze that feels too perfectly warm to be real. The butterflies dance overhead like confetti caught in reverse, their wings painted in colors that might not exist in the waking world. You watch one land on a nearby flower, and you can see every detail of its wings, every tiny pattern — the kind of detail your sleeping mind has never bothered with before. "This is fucking-"

“Hey.”

The voice cuts through your wonder, and you spin, heart somehow racing in this dream-that's-not-quite-a-dream.

He's there, solid as the ground beneath your feet — no dream-logic shimmer or fade around the edges. Tall, with shoulders that could carry atlas's burden, and features that seem carved rather than grown. His smile plays at the corners of his mouth like he knows a secret you don't, but it's not threatening. If anything, it pulls at something in your chest, a curiosity that feels dangerous in its intensity.

"Hey," you echo, the word coming out softer than intended. Your eyes sweep the meadow, searching for other dreamers or figures or whatever they might be called here. But it's just him, just you, just this perfect pocket of perpetual summer afternoon stretching out in all directions.

"S'just me." His hand extends between you like a bridge, and you notice how the sunlight catches on his knuckles, creating shadows you could count. No name follows, just that smile deepening into dimples.

"Your name?” You tilt your chin down, adopting the pose of someone who's seen too many crime documentaries to trust a nameless stranger, even in a dream. Your eyebrows arch high enough to feel the stretch — another impossible sensation that feels too real.

"Seems you haven't decided yet."

"I haven't decided?"

He shrugs, the gesture rippling across those shoulders like a wave, and something flickers in his expression - like a TV losing signal for just a moment. "Yeah." He blinks, and you can see him searching his own mind, coming up empty. "Haven't decided yet."

Your eyes travel his form like you're memorizing a sculpture. The elegant taper from broad shoulders to narrow waist, the careful strength in his forearms, the way he holds himself — somehow both completely at ease and coiled with potential energy. His eyes meet yours with that puppy-dog hopefulness that seems at odds with his imposing frame, that half-smile still playing on his lips.

"Lu—ee-" The sound stretches between you, and you can taste the wrongness of it. Your head tilts, and suddenly it clicks. "Luigi."

Luigi nods, a slow, knowing motion, and reaches behind him. The wallet arcs through the air, and when you catch it, the leather feels warm, like it's been sitting in summer sunshine. It falls open in your hands, and there it is — Luigi Mangione, printed in stark bureaucratic certainty. "I thought you'd say that."

The urge to gasp, to stumble back in shock, rises and falls like a wave. Reality — or whatever version of it this is — reasserts itself with the gentle persistence of tide coming in. Of course you knew his name. Of course you did. Just like you knew the exact shade of his eyes, the precise angle of his jaw, the way his right dimple is slightly deeper than his left.

There’s a reason he feels familiar.

You made him.

"Well, Luigi," The name feels like syrup on your tongue as you pivot, bare feet finding their path through grass as the sun drapes over your shoulders like a tailored shawl, warming without burning, perfect in that way only dreams can manage. "I'm sure you know who I am."

Luigi falls into step beside you, a flag leaf dancing between his lips as he walks.

His presence feels as natural as your shadow, a complement to your movement rather than an intrusion. "Of course," he says, and his voice carries the same gentle warmth as the sunlight, the same easy invitation as the wind that plays with your hair.

The grass gives way to reveal a pond that looks like liquid mercury in the sunlight. "I've been waiting awhile for you — seemed to have run out of ways to pass the time."

You stand at the water's edge, watching swans carve elegant paths across the surface, their reflections perfect mirrors in the still water, and in the distance, ducks conduct their quiet conversations. "Are you saying you're bored of everything here?"

"No," Luigi's fingers brush your sleeve, gentle but insistent, like a breeze that knows where it's going. As he steps forward, wildflowers burst into existence beneath his feet — first violets, then daisies, then flowers you've never seen before, in colors that shouldn't exist. "I'm saying it gets lonely doing the same thing everyday on your own."

Luigi continues forward, leaving his galaxy of flowers behind, but you find yourself frozen, watching the way the light catches his silhouette.

"How many times?" The question escapes before you can catch it. "How many times have I been here and left?"

He pauses mid-step, and for a moment, the whole dreamscape seems to hold its breath — the swans pause their gliding, the breeze stills, even the wildflowers stop their eager blooming. When he turns to face you, his smile carries a gentleness that makes your chest ache.

"It’s been so long, but — " he pauses, and somehow the words don't sound like an accusation. "Sometimes for seconds, sometimes for hours. Sometimes you remember me, sometimes you don't. But you always come back eventually. And I'm always here."

You swallow, “How long has it been?"

His laugh drifts through the air, light and melodic. "Long enough that I've watched these trees grow from saplings." His bare feet shift in the grass, toes curling against the earth. "Long enough that I've named every swan on this pond, then named their children, and then their children's children."

The wildflowers continue once again their blooming beneath his steps — first soft pinks, then deep purples, then blues that seem to glow from within. Each petal unfolds with deliberate precision, creating a trail that marks his path across the meadow.

You notice how he holds himself, the way his shoulders stay perfectly squared, his posture too fluid, too precise for someone who's supposed to be just a figment of your dreams. "So I looked different last time?" you wonder, trailing behind him again, catching the slight nod.

"We were both younger then." Luigi turns back to you and grins, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’ve really missed you."

His voice carries the warmth of old sunlight, that rare sincerity that can't be fabricated — something in his presence that felt secure, anchoring, his nature as gentle as summer rain.

But the look in his eyes betrayed what his smile tried to hide — he knew you didn't remember him, and that knowledge lived somewhere deep and wounded inside him.

You could see it now, in the careful way he held himself back, how his initial greeting carried just enough warmth to be kind but not enough to overwhelm. Your memory of him had been burning away like lit matches with each passing year, while he'd been trapped here, holding onto every detail of who you used to be.

Luigi lead you further into the meadow, another pond materializing somewhere further into the deep but Luigi seemed far too familiar with this terrain, and you trusted each turn, “Have I given you different names?”

He shakes his head with a laugh, soft and bittersweet, almost as if he couldn't imagine wearing any other name than your Luigi. "No." He scrunches his nose, a gesture so achingly familiar it feels like déjà vu. "One time I almost thought you were going to, but — nope. Always some variation of Luigi."

The questions dance at the edges of your consciousness like autumn leaves in a wind, but somehow the answers are already there, settled in your bones like old truths. Why he lets you choose, how he knows when recognition lights your eyes and when they stay dark with forgetting — it's all written in a language your mind has forgotten but your heart still speaks fluently.

"I saw you for a minute somewhere near the streams last winter." His voice softens, eyes distant as if watching memories drift past like leaves on water. "It was only for a split moment — but I knew it was you, even though you'd changed."

Your heart twists with a horrible dread, sharp and cold as winter frost, weighed down by the certainty that he'll slip through your fingers like morning mist the moment you wake. "How do I make myself remember?" The words fall soft as prayer between you both, your knees brushing as you sit beside him.

He turns to you with that gentle patience that speaks of having heard this same desperate question from your lips a hundred times before, in a hundred different dreams.

He draws your hand into his lap with practiced ease, his fingertips ghosting over yours like butterfly wings — a gesture so deeply ingrained it speaks of countless similar moments, his soul remembering the map of your hands better than your own mind does. It doesn't feel strange to fall back into these rhythms with Luigi; everything has felt as natural as breathing since you landed here, like slipping into a dance your feet never truly forgot. "I know parts of me remember you," you whisper into the space between heartbeats, watching his fingers trace invisible patterns across your skin. "I know you feel familiar.”

Luigi nods slowly, pressing your palm to his cheek with a gentle sigh that carries the weight of a thousand forgotten moments. "We never learned how to make you remember," he murmurs, his voice wrapped in forced lightness that can't quite mask the undertow of grief beneath. "Always a toss up."

You swing your feet from the mossy ledge where Luigi sits, the ancient stone cool beneath you both.

He leans back on his palms, wearing a smile that's equal parts joy and resignation — a man who's learned to find peace in fleeting moments.

There's something heartbreaking in how he's already accepted that this too will slip through the sieve of your memory, but still treasures your presence like water in a desert, grateful just to have you here at all.

"I'll remember this time." The words spill out like a vow, fragile as spun glass but burning with conviction. Even as you speak them, you know they might shatter come morning, but something feels different here — each detail crystalline and alive, from the whisper of wind in the leaves to the warmth of his shoulder against yours.

This doesn't feel like the usual gossamer threads of dreams; it feels like stepping through a door into somewhere achingly real.

"Mm." Luigi's shoulder brushes yours, a gentle pendulum of contact, and though his hum carries years of gentle disbelief, he can't suppress the smile that softens his features. "All that matters is that you're here now, I think."

You nod slowly, watching your legs paint pendulum shadows against the water below. "Is there anyone else here?" The whisper slips out conspiratorial and soft, your eyes scanning the peaceful landscape as if its emptiness might be deceiving.

"No." Luigi shrugs, tossing a stone into the pond where it breaks the surface in perfect ripples. "You thought up a couple weird little-“ he scrunches his nose, lost in the memory of your previous creations — specifically those tiny Trojan warriors you'd accidentally willed into existence, who'd turned the peaceful fields into their own private battlefield. "It's just never worked out." He turns to you with a glimmer of fond exasperation, pressing a knuckle into your thigh. "You've got a rather dangerous imagination."

You swallow the question rising in your throat, deciding some doors are better left closed — for the sake of whatever fragments of sanity you still possess.

If there are any left to guard.

"Dangerous," you echo in a whisper, fighting back a bubble of laughter that threatens to spill over. "Well, scratch that, then.”

"It's always been you and me here." Luigi nods slowly, his voice taking on that particular texture of someone guarding something precious. "Outsiders make me nervous."

From that careful admission, you piece together a history of well-intentioned mistakes — multiple attempts at populating this sanctuary that ended in ways that left shadows in Luigi's voice. Each failure seems etched in the spaces between his words, a collection of experiments gone wrong. "That's fair," you murmur, reaching for his hand with gentle curiosity. He surrenders it without hesitation, letting you trace the lines of his palm like a map of all your shared disasters.

There's something profoundly real in the way his skin warms yours, in the faint calluses and subtle creases — too detailed, too imperfect to be mere imagination, yet too perfect in its imperfection to be anything else.

"How is the gallery stuff going?" His question floats between you, and for a heartbeat, confusion sparks — how could he know about the gallery?

But the answer settles over you like dawn breaking.

Of course he knows.

He knows the way your hands shake before each opening, the doubt that pools in your stomach when you face a blank canvas, the elation of a perfect brushstroke. He knows your fears dressed in their Sunday best and your dreams in their rawest form.

You made him.

Crafted him from stardust and loneliness, shaped him from the clay of your subconscious until he became more real than reality itself — your most perfect creation, yet the one you can never quite remember come morning.

"I haven't been inspired in — god," you trail off, turning to truly see him, and the dormant artist in you awakens with a sudden, fierce hunger. The sunlight plays architect with his features, gilding each detail you'd unconsciously perfected; those midnight curls catching light like cut obsidian, the almost-symmetrical beauty marks dotting his cheeks like carefully placed stars, the classical slope of his nose that Renaissance masters would have wept to capture.

Your fingers twitch with phantom muscle memory, aching to translate him from this dream-reality to paper, to make permanent what feels so ethereal. "So long." The words fall soft and wondering, as if you've suddenly remembered how to speak a forgotten language — the language of creation, of beauty, of art itself.

Luigi hums softly, nuzzling your shoulder with a familiarity that sends your thoughts spiraling backward through time. "Well, let's get you inspired," he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck, and suddenly you're wrestling with questions you've been too afraid to examine.

The intimacy of the gesture opens a door to memories of your teenage self — those raw, lonely years when you were all sharp edges and desperate yearning, underwhelmed by fumbling high school romances and overwhelmed by feelings.

You created him then, in those twilight hours between childhood and adulthood. A friend first, undoubtedly — a sanctuary in human form when the real world felt too abrasive to bear.

But now, feeling the casual tenderness of his touch, you wonder about the blurred lines in your shared history. If perhaps you'd written more than friendship into his DNA during those hormone-soaked nights, those moments when loneliness wore your resistance thin.

You melt into his warmth, drawn by a gravity as familiar as breathing, like a desperate moth to a flame you've danced with a thousand times before. "How do we do that?" The question hangs deliberately innocent, though electricity already hums beneath your skin with anticipated answers.

Luigi's response is immediate and devastating — the warm, wet slide of his tongue painting a deliberate path up your neck. Time stretches as he savors you, the gesture somehow both predatory and reverent.

"Maybe we could jog your memory, too." His voice drops to that particular octave that makes your bones liquid, left hand claiming your chin while his right arm becomes a band of heat around your waist, orchestrating your body until you're straddling his lap. "I remember exactly the things you like the most," teeth graze your pulse point as his hands span your back, fingertips pressing into your spine like he's playing music only he knows the notes to, "and the things you hate."

"How do you know those things haven't changed, Lu?" Your fingers find sanctuary in his curls, each strand impossibly soft, and the breeze carries the essence of August - sun-warmed grass, distant thunderstorms, ripening fruit. The scent of endless summer, bottled in this perfect moment.

"I guess there's only one way to find out, don't you think?" The question unfolds like a flower between you as Luigi tilts his head back, studying you through heavy-lidded eyes.

His lips part, pink and promising, an unspoken dare wrapped in velvet invitation. And you — you who have always been more poet than pragmatist — surrender to the gravitational pull of him. You lean in like a sunset chasing the horizon, drawn to the heat of his mouth, the shared breath between you becoming sacred thing.

His tongue moves against yours with practiced poetry, his lips a tender geography you're rediscovering. Every nip of teeth is precisely timed, a choreography written in muscle memory and want. Just as his hands find the warm skin beneath your shirt, reality fractures — a void tears through the dream like ink spilled across a watercolor.

The darkness swallows everything, sudden and absolute.

You jolt awake with violence, heart thundering against your ribs. The familiar couch cushions press against your cheek, mundane and mocking. The real world crashes back into focus with brutal clarity; the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the wall clock, the morning light cutting through back scatter.

Each detail feels like a betrayal, a reminder that Luigi exists only in that liminal space between sleeping and waking, where longing takes shape and wears a face you crafted from starlight and need.

"No." The word escapes as a soft, desperate plea. Your hand reaches for the sketchbook and pen with the urgency of someone grasping at smoke, at fragments of a dream determined to dissolve.

And there he is — Luigi materializing before you like a miracle answering desperate prayers, your artist's eye already translating the divine geometry of his face onto paper before memory can steal him away.

You are the faithful at the altar, he the vision you're determined to make tangible.

The alarm screams again, reality's insistent hammer against your temple. "Fuck off!" you snarl, jabbing at the screen with unnecessary force, brows knitted with the particular fury reserved for things that dare interrupt worship.

The real world can wait.

Right now, there are curves of ink to capture, beauty marks to map, and the precise angle of summer sunlight in black curls to remember.

Hey, I think you were right about the pills

You text Bailey after lunch.

Holy shit

[adoregojo]

⋆｡𖦹°‧ late night talk ➝ nagi seishiro ✶

can't believe i never wrote for nagi.. content ➠ fluff, fluff and more fluff. kinda short.. :'3

"am i sloppy looking?"

nagi light voice called, you weren't sure if it was a dream because it was around 3am and a half and your vision was blurry from heavy sleep. you opened your eyes a little to be met with your boyfriend facing the ceiling instead of you looking down and in deep thoughts.

"sei..it's too late to have a night talk." your voice was raspy and clearly still drowsy.

"but i wanna know, am i unattractive looking?" your boyfriend asked with his usual plant voice. even when nagi wasn't that good with showing emotions yet you always told him his eyes were an open window and tells enough, he was a little frown that you almost didn't notice.

"and since when did the nagi seishiro care about looks?" you stated, at least trying to lighten up the mode.

"I don't, i care what you think." he explained.

you were taken off by his words that causes the sleep to flow away. you never thought that the day will come and nagi ask you a question like that, you didn't remember saying anything about his looks specifically about him being dreary looking, his eyes remained dry and drained, like something was eating him alive that it didn't allow him to close his eyes. you were never hesitant to tell him he looked handsome showering him with compliments. so whats that about?

he still refuses to meet you eyes, was he afraid to see the look at your face? or hear the words that will come out next? even someone that lacked emotions like nagi could be sorrowful sometimes.

"well, if you asked me." you moved your body closer to him until you felt your shoulder touching his, you cupped his ear and whispered gently. "i think you're the only one ever."

nagi finally turned to lock his eyes with yours, his resting eyes were now slightly wider and his mouth as well, "really?" he blurted when his ears felt heart hot.the sudden change almost made you laugh, he looked so elated like a puppy that just got his treat.

you two were close, almost nose touching each other's. the closeness never bothered you neither will it now, you nodded with smile that made his heart flutter. he felt warm again.

"even if a if i wore that ugly sweater you hate with passion?" he asked playfully.

"I'd still think you're the only guy ever." you admitted.

"even with that hideous cowboy hat?"

"yes sei, even with that hideous cowboy hat."

"wow, you must reallly love me." he said mischievously and you roll your eyes playfully. "shut up, and i also love you for what you have in here." you patted him on his left chest, pointing to his heart.

"....my chest?"

"your heart, dumbass!"

"ooohh." he shook his understandment. you couldn't help but chuckle a bit, seriously how is this guy considered a genius?

your laughter made his black and white world into something colourful, melting his iced heart and colouring his unoccupied soul. he never thought having someone to think of him more than a genius soccer player would make him feel this alive.

damn, he was absolute smitten wasn't he?

"did that satisfy you? can we go back to sleep now?" he turned to you now sluggish figure, barely able to keeo one eye opened.

"i wanna hold you." he said as you turned around giving him you back, he took your silence as an approval to warp his arms around stomach holding you as close as possible, his massive body taking over yours. it didn't hurt to give you a couple of kisses before sleeping, right?

"quite the kisses..i wanna sleep sei." you mumbled while his lips kept smashing against every inch of your face.

"just one more."

he didn't stop at one, or two, or three..

"i only have eyes for you too.." he doubted you heard that.

love nagi..have a great day everyone └(^o^)┘