#but it changes sometimes where it's like i change my vocabulary too??

[lima--beanz]

im odd because im me but im not me. like. i want to be not me but i know im me but even though im me i dont think i am me. i love pretending im fictional characters because it's so mecore.

[emphistic]

"Buttface"

Things Reader Should Acknowledge: I THINK IVE FINALLY GOTTEN THE HANG OF TUMBLR (hip hip hooray!), i plan on having yuuji being sukuna's baby brother, however, yuuji hasnt been born yet

Prologue: Ever since Sukuna moved in next door, you two have grown closer. Like, impossibly close. One might even call you two "friends;" albeit Sukuna would always shut that idea down. But one thing Sukuna wouldn't shut down? — is that he loves to see you smile. And he would do anything to hear your laugh, over and over again.

A/N: this is in the same universe as "I'm Lactose Intolerant", and while the ages of sukuna and reader dont really matter here, i wrote this with the idea of sukuna being 14 years old and reader is 13 years old (feel free to change that to whatever you desire), brownie points to whoever recognizes the movie that sukuna and reader are watching

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK (REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

"This movie is stupid."

"You think everything is stupid, Stupid." You quip back, flicking Sukuna's forehead.

"Touché." He scoffs, and crosses his arms over his chest before leaning further back into the couch. You put your legs on his lap.

You grin to yourself, wondering if he really didn't notice that you called him by the name "Stupid". Then you think, he's probably just in a good mood, and go back to watching the comedy playing on the screen.

"I mean, how can it take you so long to figure out that someone who looks exactly like you is actually your long lost twin sister?" Sukuna moves his hand around to somehow make his point seem more valid.

"Besides, isn't this supposed to be a comedy? Where's the humor in this? This isn't funny, at all," Sukuna drones on — until you decide that you've finally had enough.

"This isn't funny? Well . . . it's not like you're funny, either." You stick your tongue out at Sukuna, in a teasing manner — to which he does the same.

"That's just what you think. I bet you didn't even know that all your friends come to me during break just to listen to me talk. In fact, most of the time, I'm not even trying to joke around, I'm just that naturally funny," Sukuna wore a smug look on his face.

"Sure, 'Kuna. They're just laughing because you have such a funny face. Sometimes I even get you mixed up with a chihuahua, you know."

"Oh really?" Sukuna glares at you, and gets closer to your face.

You copy him, "Yes — really."

At this point, the tips of your guys' noses were just centimeters away from touching. You could practically feel his warm breath on your face.

Woah.

Now you could hear your own breathing quicken.

Since when were Sukuna's eyes so red?

Your cheeks felt warm.

Why are his eyes so, so—?

"Buttface." Sukuna interrupts the silence.

You get pulled back to reality. "What did you just call me!?"

"What, you deaf now? I called you 'buttface,' Dumbass."

"Seriously, someone needs to control your vocabulary."

"Pft, I don't need any controlling."

You laughed, "Sure, Sukuna. Sure."

The movie ended, and the credits rolled. Sukuna grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, before getting off the couch.

"Want something to drink?" He peered over his shoulder at you, raising a brow.

"Ah, sure. Lemonade."

"Too bad, I ain't getting it for you," Sukuna stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweats and walked off — to the kitchen, you assumed.

You grumbled, and threw a pillow at his back. It just bounced off, though, and you sighed.

He returned minutes later, with a glass of lemonade in his hand. Which was a clear sign he was trying to aggravate you, because he's expressed multiple times his strong detesting of the refreshing drink. (You completely disagree with him, by the way.)

"Dude, seriously?" You frowned.

"Totally serious. I mean, I couldn't resist. This glass of lemonade was just calling my name." He took a sip.

"It is so good."

Another sip.

"Shame you don't have a glass yourself."

And another sip.

You were practically ripping out your hair at this point. "C'mon, 'Kuna. If you won't get me a glass, can I just have a tiny sip of yours?" You entreated him with all your might.

Sukuna rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger, pretending to think about his decision. Finally, he said, "What's with that name you keep calling me? And — what's the magic word?"

You huffed, "Please?"

He gestured for you to go on.

You clasped your hands together in a desperate, beggar-like manner. "Pretty please, Sukuna? Just a teensy weensy sip? For poor ol' me."

"Hmm, let me think. How about . . . no."

You gawked at the pink haired boy.

"WHAT."

"You heard me."

"Aghhh!" You jumped on Sukuna, trying to grab the glass of lemonade yourself. If he wasn't going to share, you just had to take matters into your own hands — literally.

Your attempts were fruitless, however; Sukuna just kept on raising the glass higher and higher above his head, to the point you couldn't even reach his wrist. Damn him and his stupid growth spurt.

His hand starts to shake as you try to climb him like a tree. Next thing you know, your wish is answered. You got your lemonade. Except, not in the way you had hoped. The lemonade was everywhere. On your clothes, Sukuna's clothes, the couch, everywhere.

"Oh shit." This time, you didn't correct Sukuna's obscene language.

The room became so silent that you would be able to hear a pin drop.

"Sukuna!" You whisper-shout. (You had no idea why you were whispering.)

"Don't look at me, this was your fault!" His hand still held the now empty glass.

"Me? This was all you," you retorted, jabbing a finger into the older boy's chest.

"Sureee, Y/N. Let's just forget about the fact that you were practically climbing my body."

You blushed.

"You could've just gotten your own cup of lemonade, but no, you just had to spill mine."

You scoffed, "Well, you could've shared, but you didn't — because your shellfish."

Sukuna looked at you funny, "Do you mean 'selfish'?"

"Same thing, you know I make mistakes with pronunciation."

He shrugged. Then, a great idea popped into your head.

"Your mess," you exclaim, before pushing off of Sukuna and darting away, only to be pulled back by your hood.

"Hey!" You shout, falling back onto Sukuna's chest.

"This is your mess. You caused this, remember?"

You groaned, turned around, and tackled Sukuna. You guys ended up rolling off the couch altogether. Pillows were thrown, and the lemonade spread onto the carpet.

"Let go of my foot, you big oaf!" You yelled, shoving at Sukuna's face.

"Not until you admit this was all your fault." He continued to wrestle with you on the ground.

"In. your. dreams."

You guys continued to fight, which made the mess even bigger. It felt like hours had passed. Hours where you still didn't get even a sip of lemonade. Then, you heard the sound of keys, and next thing you know; your parents walked in.

Your heartbeat hammered in your chest.

Your mom and dad took one good look at the two of you on the floor, and your mom said, "Knock it off, you two. And clean up the couch. I don't want my living room smelling like lemonade for the rest of the year." They walked into the kitchen.

You turned back to look at Sukuna, just to find him already staring at you. You guys continued to stare at each other before bursting out into laughter. Tears were basically streaming down the both of your guys' faces at this point.

Your mom yelled from the kitchen, "Ah, young love these days. So different from us — right, honey?" Your dad responded with a loud chuckle.

Looking down, you realized the position you were in. Sukuna lying on his back beneath you, while you were sitting on top of him. The expression on your face immediately soured.

You and Sukuna pulled away from each other in record timing, both of your expressions clearly, visibly flustered.

[denaliwrites]

Tongue Tied

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Crowley has something he wants to confess to you.

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Crowley is baby.

Crowley was keeping something from you.

You weren't sure what, but you knew it had to be something big and bad based on how his behavior around you had changed recently.

You wondered if maybe you were dying and just didn't know it yet, but you knew that if Crowley wouldn't tell you, Aziraphale definitely would. Or he'd miracle it away. So then Crowley would no longer be acting weird.

So, it wasn't that.

You also wondered if maybe the world was on the verge of ending again. But Aziraphale would've told you about that too.

Whatever the reason, it bothered you that you couldn't figure it out.

You had half a mind to confront Crowley about it. Or. Well. You would've, if not for him approaching you first.

He caught your attention one day with that delightfully strange sound he made in the back of his throat. His utterance of your name was unnecessary, but you did appreciate it all the same as you turned from your task of putting books away to look at him.

"Yes, Crowley?" you asked unassumingly.

"Well -- it's -- the thing is -- y'see --"

"Crowley?"

Normally you didn't mind the stop-starting of his speech patterns, but right now it felt like you both might explode if he didn't spit it out -- whatever it was.

"The thing is," he repeated with an aggressive sniff. "Human stuff isn't really my forte, y'know?"

"I know. I appreciate the effort, though."

"The thing is," he said again. You wanted to yank that phrase out of his vocabulary. "I'm not good at the human stuff. I'm not. But --" He made that hgk sound again. "But, see -- well. That's the thing, isn't it? I'm not good at this stuff."

You were so lost.

"Crowley, what are you trying to say?"

He went on as if you hadn't said anything. "I'm not good at this stuff. The human stuff. So. It took me a while -- a long while, for me at least -- to really... get it?"

"Get what?"

"The human stuff."

You blinked at him blankly, seeing but barely processing as he took two long strides towards you and pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss.

"Oh, holy fuck," you gasped.

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry," Crowley said immediately, pulling away.

You quickly grabbed him by the wrist and reeled him back in. Easily, naturally even, his arms circled your hips and pulled you close, while your arms circled his neck and pulled him close.

You were still kissing when Aziraphale walked in sometime later.

"Oh, finally," he said tiredly, "you two will finally stop your endless pining."

Crowley shot him a look over your shoulder and Aziraphale scurried away. "Where were we?" the demon asked with a soft hum against your lips.

"Oh, you know damn well," you sighed contentedly before pulling him back to your lips.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

[waugh-bao]

Not sure if you would know, but thought it worth a try. What type of accent did Charlie have? I know in England accents seem to have more meaning than in America, in terms of class and not just being a signal of where you’re from. I’ve read that Mick changes his to seem like he’s not as posh and I’ve also read that people respect Charlie never changed his. But what is it? Just cockney? I don’t know, but I like it. Especially on words like water and daughter, like when he was talking about the IORR video and said he doesn’t like “me head under water”.

Accents in the UK, and especially England, are a huge cultural and class marker in a way they just really aren’t in the US. Like there is a general bias you’ll see in America of, for example, perceiving people with southern accents as less educated or intelligent vis a vis a more standard northeastern ones, but they don’t have as much regional and class variance and significance. There’s a really good NYT’s article on the subject from the early ‘90s that does a deep dive on it. One of the important things to keep in mind is that even the English accents which outsiders might be familiar with, like RP (Received Pronunciation) come in variations, between the very standard and crisp BBC newsreader of the ‘40s-90s type and the aristocratic variant that has a bunch of peculiarities in pronunciation and vocabulary (think King Charles and the tendency to pronounce a word like “power” as “pāh”). I lived in London for almost 4 years to do my undergrad degree and go back frequently, and of all the places I’ve been in the world it’s still far and away the one where people are the most likely to openly comment on your accent. I was lucky in that the comments were mostly positive, but it’s still a jarring experience when you first start living there.

Mick’s accent is 100% a put on. I hate to cite Bill as a credible source, but he has a point when he says that Mick’s accent is a fake, which is something people who have worked for him have also said. It’s a really exaggerated Cockney accent, which doesn’t match being from a pretty far London suburb (Dartford) or having grown up middle class. Considering his age and background he probably had elocution lessons as a kid to learn to speak RP, especially because people who are around him in private have said he speaks “The Queen’s English.” It’s an act to look like an ‘authentic’ rock star, which there is often associated with coming from a lower class, tough background. When in reality he went to university and is the child of a homemaker and a PE teacher. I think Keith’s accent is authentic, it’s just a very non-standard jumble of Cockney, RP, and American mid-Atlantic, because he’s lived in the US longer than he has in the UK at this point.

My (tentative) classification for Charlie would be Estuary English. It’s a cross between RP and Cockney that’s associated with the Thames and its estuary/the wide London region and surrounding suburbs and towns. Charlie definitely leaned heavier to the Cockney side, especially earlier in his life, but there’s a really interesting combination of the two dialects in his way of speaking. Like that quote you pointed out, he was never consistent in making the “my - me” switchover, where the “me” as possessive article is hugely characteristic of Cockney English. It’s the same thing with his “h”s, sometimes he dropped them and sometimes he didn’t (although RP can do that sometimes too, but not as often). He also tended to use more outmoded vocabulary from Cockney slang, with words like “bloke”, which was probably a reflection of the fact that he never really lived in London (other than keeping a flat in Kensington, which is a bastion of RP) after the mid-1960s and was holding onto the variety from his childhood and young adult years.

[donutz]

Hoppy Hopscotch x reader Valentine's Day special[6♡8]

Request(Wattpad, you know who u are), but not really one because I thought of this myself ^_^

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

What did they do in the morning on Valentines?

— She woke up at the normal time she was supposed to

— She wasn’t trying to worry too much about her gifts

— It’s not like they’re messed up or anything!

— … Right?

— She grabbed her gifts and rushed to a private area just to check over them

— I mean they don’t have to be perfect but she doesn’t want to make it seem like it’s lazy

— She let out a sigh, they were fine, hopefully, you would like them

What did they do for you?

— She hung around you a lot more

— It’s not like she doesn’t hang around you

— But she’s trying to be with you, while managing the gifts

— She somehow managed to make it obvious that she was worried about her gifts she’s going to give you

— Every hour she’d rush over to them, you asked her about it and she just brushed off the question

— “NO. I mean I’m not worried about them! They’re already amazing! Why would I worry about something amazing??”

— She overthinks

— Anywho, she was (trying to be) more cuddly, she isn’t too keen on physical touch

— You could tell she was trying and told her she doesn’t have to

— “THANK YOU. I was getting so stressed about it!!!”

What did they get you?

— The occasional bouquet of roses and heart shaped box of chocolates

— She isn’t good on gifts

What did you give them?

— A personally designed trampoline! It’s specifically for Hoppy, it’s green with lighting streaks

— She doesn’t really like flowers(it’s the smell), so you just got her chocolates

— Lighting streaks stickers!!

— A green and yellow bracelet, with her name on it

— She wears it all the time, and keeps it in a safe box

— She feels bad because she barely got you anything

— You told her it was fine because not every partner has to get theirs a ton of gifts

— That applies to the real life, don’t feel bad for not giving your partner a ton of stuff

Did they do anything special? (Extra hugs, kisses, changing their routine etc.)

— She did change up her routine

— By randomly running to her gifts to make sure they were okay

— Though she was a lot more eccentric, making the critters worry about her

— It’s how she gets when it comes to holidays where you give people gifts

— She was shaky giving you hugs

— You had to comfort her a lot, making sure she was (and feeling) okay

— You HAD to cuddle her when she was supposed to sleep or else she’d stay up

What activities did you both do?

— If activities mean cuddles, then yea, you two did a few activities

— You had to cuddle her and calm her down a lot, you could see the stress on her face about Valentine’s day

— Surprisingly, you were able to keep her chill

— She actually could forget about the gifts and be in the moment

— Sometimes she’d sleep on your shoulder

— You were very happy that she was peaceful, temporarily

Did they seem brighter today?

— Uhmm…. ^_^!

— She was… Trying.

Anything new about their appearance?

— Nope! She wanted to wear a suit, but thought it was too much

— After you gave each other the gifts, she gave you a small fashion show with her in the suit

— “It looks really good on you Hoppy. I love it ^_^”

— From now on, on Valentine’s Day she would wear her suit

How many times did they say I love you?

— She said it a lot, with a lot of stuttering

— Hoppy isn’t good with those types of words

— You can tell she got nervous every time

— Of course you said it back

Did they ask to be your Valentines, or did they ask if you could be their Valentines? There’s a difference!

— She asked CAN she be your Valentine’s, not even a will

— “Yes Hoppy, you WILL be my Valentine’s.” You smiled while saying that, teasing her on her vocabulary, but not in the mean way

— “Oh— Did I say can..?”

— “Yeah, it’s okay, Hops.”

— FYI, she loves that nickname you gave her

What did they do the night before Valentine's Day?

— Cuddle with you, she had to sneak out of your grasp to check up on her gifts

— You woke up, following her, but then when she was going back you rushed over to her bed

— Pretending you weren’t doing anything and just woke up

— Since all of the critters were awake, they nearly teased you about it, but when Hoppy walked in the room they didn’t

Were they shy asking to be your Valentines or when they asked if you could be their Valentines?

— A little shy, mainly anxious

— HOPING you’d say yes

Did they add anything extra to their areas(their little homes)? Or their activities?

— She doesn’t like decorating, unless it’s about something she ACTUALLY likes

— But after she received your gifts, she put it in a secret chest, it’s not decorating, but it’s just keeping them safe

What did they do when it was time to sleep?

— She also honk shoooed(Like Kickin)

Question♡ Were you excited for Valentine's Day? Or were you hoping the day would just pass by?

[ashdreams2023]

Could you do some headcanons about Loki taking care of her toddler like, what would they do, if he is a good father or even if he jealous, and maybe about her first steps too. If you feel uncomfortable its totally okay!! Have a great day <3

Loki and his toddler

This man will buy the whole baby store if somebody doesn’t stop him

Absolutely loves dressing her up in cute outfits and matching hats, he’s a sucker for matching hats

His daughter will have pierced ears and will buy her nice quality earrings because his baby deserves the best

You know how toddler follow their parents everywhere? Where Loki is the one doing the following, he just find her so fascinating

Never let’s her walk in public areas, especially side walks and such, those are nasty and he wants his baby to be safe and healthy

Speaking of healthy, he tries to give her many options in veggies, he sometimes even changes the taste using charms so she can eat something nutritious for once

He talks to her like an adult when she does something wrong, like his baby is spoiled but mature

This little girl will be an out spoken queen, her vocabulary will make an adult bow in shame

Doesn’t like it when she shows interest in boys, like no! Boys are no good and if they hurt her he will hurt them back

When she first took her first steps he bought her a gold anklet (based on true events, my grandma did that to me when I walked lol)

Dances with her and calls her his little princess

Will create the most beautiful Teairas for her to wear

Styles her hair using those old magazines with tutorials on them!

Disney movies every night before bed

He also reads with her a lot during the day, they sometimes act out their favorite scenes

Bought her those squeaky shoes when she started sprinting away from him when they in public

He smells like cheese puffs most days than not

[chiskz]

▶️ Changbin being in love with Chichi for 8 minutes straight [probably part1]

🎬🎬🎬

Changbin sits staring at his phone on the couch backstage during SKZ-TALKER. Han comes over with the camera and asks something when Chichi inadvertently enters the frame trying to improve the micro port. Changbin immediately gets up to help, but Chichi manages to fix it. Changbin slowly sits back down and Han laughs at him.

🎬🎬🎬

Another scene from SKZ-TALKER, behind the scenes of the famous photos posted by Changbin on Bubble, Chichi doodles on a piece of paper. She finally looks up at Changbin with the camera and blinks a few times.

"Are you recording?"

"I'm recording."

Chichi laughs, then hides behind a piece of paper.

"Why?"

"What are you drawing?"

"Something for STAY. I want to send it to them on Bubble later."

"Ah, okay, okay..."

"Where's Hyunjin? I'll ask him what it looks like."

"Why do you need Hyunjin, I can tell you that it looks so good."

Chichi laughs again, but this time hiding her face in sleeves, Changbin laughs too.

🎬🎬🎬

One of the "Your Friendly Neighbour, Chichi!" episodes.

"Changbin is very good at Korean. I know how it sounds, it should be obvious, he's Korean after all. But trust me, his vocabulary, his ability to make wordplay... He's on a whole other level. Just when I think learning Korean is finished for me, Changbin comes with a rough version of the song and shows it to me. I read it and sometimes I don't understand a word, as if he was creating a new language. But he explains what the phrase means, he is very patient and enriches my vocabulary. I love him, I love our moments together when he explains to me what he meant. He opens up to me and I want to listen and listen and listen to him endlessly."

🎬🎬🎬

One of the interviews, the Stray Kids are sitting on raised stools holding plastic pointers with a hand with the index finger outstretched.

Question: If you could be in a relationship with one of the members, who would you choose?

Changbin and Chichi do not look at each other, but they chose each other. Chichi hides her face behind sleeve and starts laughing, so Changbin has to explain his choice first.

"Well... Chichi is a really good and caring person. She takes care of all of us along with Chan and is a huge support."

MC: Why are you talking about "us"? Tell me why YOU chose her!

Changbin laughs, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"She always listens to me. Since she's with us, she's the first one who listens to my songs and what I have to say about them. She's like my safe place. I always come to her when I want to feel at home. Plus we have a lot in common interests, so it's always nice to talk to her. Also, she's so talented, I could watch her dance for hours."

Chichi finally looks at him, grunting softly.

"I chose Changbin because I also think we get along great. He's helped me a lot with Korean, he's really helping me all the time, to be honest. He's always interested in whether I ate or slept, he asks a lot about my life and tries to make it easier. It's really sweet... And of course, in addition to a good heart and great talent, he is also... handsome."

Chichi laughs and buries her face in Hyunjin's shoulder, the rest of them, including him, start laughing at her.

🎬🎬🎬

A scene from "Stray 9th", Chichi and Changbin are together at the gym doing his challenge. Chichi is working out on the treadmill, and Changbin is staring at her with buttery eyes, speechless.

🎬🎬🎬

Video recorded by a fan during one of the concerts. Changbin hugs Chichi from behind during "Scars"* as her eyes fill with tears.

🎬🎬🎬

One of the newer SKZ-TALKER episodes. Chichi records from the plane.

"Hey, hey." She adjusts her hair and mask. "I'm coming back from Japan. The rest stayed over, but I'm coming back to Korea, straight from the show. I haven't even changed my clothes yet... I have an exam tomorrow, so I have to go back." She showed her notebook and laughed a little, then glanced to the side for a moment. "But I'm not coming back all alone." She pans the camera and briefly shows Changbin sitting next to her, doing something on his phone. "Silly. He insisted on flying with me so I wouldn't be lonely. My precious..."

🎬🎬🎬

An episode of "Your Friendly Neighbor, Chichi!". Chichi reads the comments on her phone, then glances at the camera. "Hee? A ring? Oh!" She shows a ring on her other hand, with a small diamond on it. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I got it from Changbin when I passed the exam... It's beautiful." She reads the comments again with a dreamy smile, then puts her hand over her mouth and laughs, embarrassed for a moment. "No, no! Don't get this wrong, it's not an engagement ring! No, no, how can you think that!"

🎬🎬🎬

One of the encore stages after Stray Kids win in the music show with "Case 143". Changbin during his "Can I be your boyfriend?" line points at Chichi, who, embarrassed, runs to hide behind Hyunjin.

🎬🎬🎬

An episode of "All Night Duo's Night"**. Chan creates something on the computer and Chichi reads something on the phone, then smiles. Chan notices this.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"Changbin asks if I'm hungry."

"It's 3am, why isn't he sleeping? And why doesn't he ask me stuff like that?" Chan pretends to be offended, but Chichi blushes and hides behind the phone.

🎬🎬🎬

One of the Stray Kids group lives at the hotel. Chichi, Felix, Hyunjin and I.N read the comments. Hyunjin looks up from his phone.

"Who is whose roommate?"

"Mine is Changbin." Chan answered. "But he has never slept in my room with me yet!"

"Heee? What do you mean?" Han moved closer to him.

"He never came back to his room at night."

Chichi laughs under her breath, putting the phone aside for a moment on the bed.

"Because he was with me! I was studying for the exam and he was next to me working on the laptop."

"So he hasn't slept at all this time?!"

"We slept together!" Changbin called, and Han sighed dramatically and hit him on the knee, and Chichi hid her face in her hands.

"But not like this!"

____________________________

* "Scars" is a very important song for Chichi due to her self-harm issues in the past.

** "All Night Duo's Night" is an irregular live series of Chan and Chichi, who are known for not sleeping much - Chan is producing and Chichi is choreographing and studying for college. During some of these late-night get-togethers, they decide to do a short livestreams.

[best-non-english-word-torunament]

Why are languages similar to each other?

Let's talk about the way languages are connected to each other!

First, the obvious one...

Language families!

Languages with a common origin form a language family. Language evolves and changes over time, so populations speaking the same language in different places will over hundreds of years form different languages since they evolve in different ways. Now imagine one of those daughter languages splitting again and again... Soon there's a whole family of related but mutually unintelligible languages!

So, are all language families big? And how many are there?

We have two giants with over a thousand languages each: Atlantic-Congo languages and Austronesian languages. Some families have a couple hundred languages, like the famous prototypical examle Indo-European languages. Most families have lots fewer though, only a sixth of all 237 language families contain more than ten languages.

Some languages don't have any relatives and they're called isolates. At present, 184 languages count as isolates, among them Basque and Sandawe.

Some languages are unclassified, as there's too little data to draw conclusions. Family membership is based on comparing cognates, words that have the same origin and whose sound changes can be reconstructed back to the origin (like English 'two', Swedish 'två' and German 'zwei'). It's also common for close relatives to have similar grammar or other features. An example is that Austronesian languages often have fewer consonants.

Language contact!

Two languages meet. What happens? Loans, probably.

Languages borrow things from each other all the time. Words, sounds, grammatical structures and features (like prefixes or suffixes), changing the meaning of something, literally translating words and making up words in the style of another language are all things that happen. Fun loan word facts might be its own post as there's a lot to say about them, for now I only need to establish the fact that language contact probably leads to borrowing stuff and that you can borrow more than words.

Did you know that English didn't have the sound v until it borrowed too many French words with v? Before that, v wasn't recognised as its own sound, just a variant of f that happened sometimes. That's why knives are a thing. Knifes.

There are more levels of similarity due to contact! In areas where languages from different families or different branches from the same family meet and mingle for a long time, they might evolve to become more similar and share some features that might be uncommon globally or uncommon among closer relatives in other areas. These unrelated (or not very closely related) languages share some features, like certain scounds and grammar things. This is called a Sprachbund with a German word. It's possible to say 'linguistic area' or something like that, but it's not as well established and in my opinion sounds worse.

Certain features of a language can also be common in some areas, but not in others. One example is tone; it's very common in sub-saharan Africa and southeastern Asia, but only exists sporadically in other parts of the world. Why? Related languages tend to share features, but language contact definitely plays a role, as unrelated languages have tone. It's language contact!

The point is: Languages that have lots of contact might be similar because of that. Languages are usually influenced both by family origin and by the languages they come into contact with, which makes things interesting.

Onto the last thing I wanted to discuss:

Contact languages!

These arise when speakers of vastly different languages meet and have to communicate, but there isn't a lingua franca. There are two major reasons why this happens: either for commerce or because of slavery or other colonialistic practices.

Anyways, they're pretty interesting! The first kind of contact language that forms is called a pidgin. Its vocabulary is limited and the grammar is simple. There are no native speakers and you can only use it in a few domains (like being able to talk about commerce but not politics).

Now, imagine a community of people speaking this pidgin, made by improvising until something sticks. There are words and a little bit of grammar. Over time it will get a bit more complex, but still no native speakers. Then some of them form families and have children, who grow up speaking the pidgin.

And this is where the magic happens: children have an amazing ability to invent language by making generalisations and improvise until they can speak about anything. There are examples of children deprived of language coming up with entire languages if left alone (like the Deaf school in Nicaragua which tried to teach lip reading and not sign language, but the children came up with a sign language on their own that they started teaching instead). Children will fill in the gaps in the pidgin and give it a more complex structure.

After some time of this the pidgin turns into a creole. The line between them is blurry and unclear, but a creole is a fully realised language that you can speak about anything in, just like all other languages. It also has native speakers.

There's a common way pidgins and creoles are structured: usually one language is used as the base for words, but they're changed and reanalysed to mean something else. This language has often been the colonial power's language: there are a number of English and French based creoles for example.

The grammar on the other hand is usually taken from the other language(s). In the slavery cases, slaves were often taken from many different ethnic groups that might speak similar but mutually unintelligeble languages, or just very different languages, which means that those creoles draw on features from many languages. Of course, words can be based on any of the involved languages, but it's common that one makes up an overwhelming majority. The creoles are still unintelligible for speakers of the language it's based on.

This was all for now! Languages interact with each other in interesting ways and similarities can have many reasons.

[yesimwriting]

Hi! Can I have billy and stu (separate) with a gn!s/o that cries for 10-30 mins whenever they dont get something right?

A/n why is this lowkey so me

update: after the way i reacted to losing three points on an assignment today,, yeah, this is me 

also made some serious progress in part 8 of final girl!! might have to split my original idea for that chapter into chapter 8 and 9 bc i want to have something out for you guys 😭 fell a little behind with school starting and some personal stuff

----

Billy Loomis with a gn!s/o that cries whenever they don't get something right:

hm, i go a little back and forth on this bc when dealing with dating killers that have at most a limited amount of empathy capability, emotional, feely stuff is back and forth

But I feel like that's accurate, like one day, you could burst into tears and Billy would be 10/10 attentive physically because he doesn't have the right vocabulary,, and then the next he'd just sort of freeze up or get manipulative

Let's get into the good days though

If Billy knows something's going on that could lead to you crying, he'd take a preventative approach on a good day

Softly rubbing your back while you do whatever the thing that could make you cry is

Won't make you talk about the root of the problem, but will listen more than he lets on if you do want to

If you want to be distracted, he'll think of something else for the two of you to do together

In that vain, if you needed a minute, you'd get as far as the bathroom.

He doesn't like leaving you alone when he knows you're emotional, a part of it goes back to his abandonment issues with his mom.

He may not know a lot about feelings and isn't above the occasional manipulative ploy,, but he knows he doesn't ever want you to feel like that

A small part of him worries that if he does leave you like that you might either resent him or somehow start associating bad feelings with him and try to leave him

He also doesn't like feeling shut out, and likes feelings trusted

Speaking of feeling trusted, that feeling of vulnerability makes it easier for him to be understanding

Even when he doesn't get it or feels like something's dumb, he knows not to say that because he doesn't want you shutting him out

The fact that you're willing to cry in front of him kind of makes the medicine go down easy

Depending on what it is, might even encourage you to try again Now, onto the not so great days

It's rare that Billy's cruel (out loud, bc his lack of empathy thoughts aren't always the nicest) about you getting emotional, bc he doesn't want to feel like you're going to leave

But there are a few exceptions, the main one being if it involves something/someone that makes him feel jealous/territorial

Like if you're crying over a project that you're working on with some guy, his reaction to that will vary in levels of passive aggression

Or if you're crying because of some fight with friends he feels like you spend too much time with, he'll be even more aggressive/manipulative about it

"Only want me when your new friends are making you cry, huh?" type of thing

Will for sure use these moments to encourage a state of co-dependency, like reminding you how much you need him bc of who or what made you cry

Stu Macher with a gn!s/o that cries whenever they don't get something right:

Okay, so similar levels of versatility to Billy, just bc i see them both having trouble understanding emotions, and having even more trouble caring about other people’s feelings

Just bc you’re the exception to Stu not ever really taking into consideration other people’s feelings doesn’t mean he knows how to help

So his first instinct on days where he’s a little more patient/understanding is to try to change the subject

Sometimes it feels like he’s trying to redirect you like you’re a toddler with too much energy 😭

Like if you’re tearing up or crying over let’s say not understanding homework or getting a bad grade, Stu suddenly remembers this movie he’s been dying for you to see or randomly has a need to go out for ice cream or do anything that could make you stop thinking about something 

It’s normally nice, even when it doesn’t feel super helpful to you, because you know it’s his way of showing that he cares

He’ll also probably make fun of whatever/whoever is at the heart of the issue

The jokes have a range depending on how upset you are, if you’re feeling better he’ll probably be a little ruder/more open about his dislike

If you’re super upset, he’ll make fun of it in a more lighthearted way,, will probably also make the insulting parts of the joke more ridiculous so that you laugh

Definitely goes out of his way to try to make you laugh on his more understanding days

He’s also super touchy, will hold onto you in one way or another, usually won’t let go until way after you’ve calmed down

He says it’s just to be sure,, but you have a feeling he has some personal motivations

Now, on his less understanding days, Stu’s first instinct is to manipulate 

He sees how emotional you are as an opportunity to push you towards co-dependency,, so he’ll go out of his way to baby you

It’s generally nice,, he’s super attentive, but if you try to do anything for yourself while upset, he’ll be bothered

There is some intended manipulation there, but it’s also because he doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings, at least not without layers of innuendos and sarcastic quips to hide the actual feely stuff 

So all he has to show you that he does care, that you do matter even though he might not get why you’re upset, is his actions 

It’s a mix of what he’s picked up from media and the softer things he never had anyone do for him when he was a child 

So it does feel a little patronizing when he goes too far with it, especially because it’s rooted in things no one’s done for him so it’s not like he has a lot of experience/examples on how to do it “correctly”

It’d be a lot sweeter if you knew why he gets like that, but besides a few implied comments, I can’t see him directly admitting this 

Honestly, not always a “bad” thing,, it just has the ability to get a little volatile depending on how you’re feeling and how moody Stu is that day 

Also definitely tries to throw money at the problem, will offer to take you shopping as “his treat” while you’re emotional/crying bc that’s the only supportive model he’s seen 

[weebsinstash]

SO TRUE Im trying to enjoy my Miguel fanfics but most of them are so out of character I just can’t 😭😭

I dunno if I would exactly say out of character (partially because I don't want to imply I'm some characterization expert or whatever when I haven't published Jack shit) since I feel like, there can be different themes or emotions or vibes the story is going for that may call for some tweaking, or like certain fics focusing on specific parts of a characters personality, like "I just wanted to write him being angry and how he mighr respond whils under stress" which is valid, but like

One thing I will say that I immediately noticed when I started combing through Miguel fics is, a lot of people make him WAY too verbose and eloquent. Yeah he's a genius, yeah he gets very serious in scenes, but my god the vocabulary some people give him, the way some people have him structuring his sentences. He's not as overly detailed and formal as some people like to write. Like this is a man who says shit like "well, I guess you're just going to have to shut up and trust me" to people he's trying to rescue and, again, even when he's chasing down Miles, he's huffing, "UGH you're so FRUSTRATING", like idk if you consider it canon but his after credits scene in Into the spiderverse literally has him meeting Spiderman 1967 who, MAKES HIM SO MAD HE DOES LIKE LITTLE HOPPY HOPS, like. This man is a DWEEB. He has a temper and threw a trashcan at a teenager! Mf literally loses it and says "¡ay coño!" over a Spider Society wide broadcast, my man livestreamed himself saying "for fucks sake" across the entire community because they didn't immediately understand which specific Spiderman he was asking them to chase the moment he asked them to "stop spiderman" and not specifying any further until, "for fucks sake, MILES MORALES 😤 he's entering sector 4!!" and also when Miles is hiding on that dude's back he's just sprinting up "he's over- on your-- TURN AROUND!!" and waving his arms around

like, he's an emotional person! He's not some like anime supervillain, he's not some demon lord sounding "it is unfortunate that you decided to behave in this manner" dialogue ass-- like I mean, I know there's only so many clips circulating online so maybe people are just. Gleaming the wrong context? Like I've seen a few "all Miguel scenes" videos on YouTube and none of them ever really capture the full context of any of the scenes, there's cuts for copyright, some people cut different parts, some clips are higher quality, but like, it really is different when you see the full movie cause I feel like a lot of people are just focusing ONLY on the parts where he's being, you know, scary as fuck. Like don't think i didn't immediately notice "oh holy shit Miguel actually put CLAW MARKS in Miles' shoulder", this man was literally chasing and diving for this kid, they were bailing out windows, there was a cat, and a t Rex, and idk, maybe I'm looking too far into it but you don't have to make him Ultra Serious to make him intimidating and scary. There's gotta be a balance I guess? I see too much of him being lowkey an edge lord and not enough of him being Just A Real Stressed Out Dude. Idk. I just keep finding written dialogue for him a little cut and dry sometimes, there's only a few things I've read where it stood out to me (like in "no more dry bites" where he's just stopping midsentence to huff "why are you being so-- ok you know what, fine--" *immediately changes tactics lowkey like a tantrum*

Like have you seen some of the concept art of him, they were originally debating giving him glasses and a 5 o clock shadow and have him looking more dorky and casual, like, the man has personality, he has depth, I want the third movie to peel his layers like an onion, I just KNOW there's gonna be a good ending for everyone 😤

I'm just sitting here and thinking like, yeah he's serious but he speaks in a very human way? Like, one thing he says to Miles is something like "you can't save them all, kid. Believe me, I've tried, and the harder I tried, the worse things got" or something along those lines, too lazy to pull up the clip, but like. Idk. Maybe I'm just overanalyzing and maybe it's just people wanting to go for certain moods but i just feel like way too many fics have him acting way too, not even serious, just kind of edgy. He's a serious guy but he still doesn't talk like he's some emotionless robot. He's gonna cross his arms. He's gonna put his hands on his hips. He's gonna roll his eyes at you. He may just even rage quit the conversation "ok, you know what, I gave you enough chances--" and just bites you because this is the quickest easiest option and better to put you out now rather than drag this out and get both of you worked up because He Is So Fucking Tired Dude

[izukuwus]

thinking started feeling like burning - nishinoya yuu/reader

m.list - deleted smut scene - read on ao3

A/N: would you believe I wrote the majority of this BEFORE having a complete mental break and quitting my job without any sort of plan? this one is gonna have a smut spinoff oneshot sometime before the end of the month but no clear ETA yet due to school and job hunting. this boy needs more love and goddammit I may not be confident in my noya but I'M GONNA GIVE IT TO HIM

Summary: Nothing had changed since you left. Not him, a brilliant hurricane, and not you, a lost robot moving forward with no goals or dreams of your own. Opposites attract, after all.

Warnings: past minor character death, suggestive themes. reader is gender-neutral but for purposes of the deleted smut scene coming later is afab. reader basically has an anxiety disorder and it's implied they have not great parentage but no major detail is gone into.

Word count: ~8600

desolate

/dĕs′ə-lĭt, dĕz′-/

adjective

1. Devoid of inhabitants; deserted

2. Barren; lifeless

Yeah, maybe that was it. Desolate. In this hotel room—small, furnished but empty—you set aside your phone and its little dictionary definition of what’s wrong with you and the definition imprints itself on your brain all over again. Hardly the first time you’ve known the meaning of the word, but perhaps the first you’ve recognized it in your face.

In high school, you’d occupied your time with almost nothing but studying. There had been friends, one or two, and a blip towards the end in the form of a boyfriend, but you had potential and didn’t need to focus on things like going out to karaoke or making out with a guy when you had exams to study for.

You had so much potential.

You recall, dimly, having memorized the definition for desolate one day among all your vocabulary. More than that, reciting it for a hopeless light in your life who just didn’t get all this school stuff.

Your nose wrinkles at the memory. Best not get caught up in that spiral, yeah?

Against your better judgment, you flop onto the hotel room bed face-first and sigh. What the fuck are you even doing here? None of this was necessary. None of this was planned for.

There’s, of course, the simple textbook facts of the situation: you attended a work event, and halfway through, went to the bathroom and just stared at yourself in the mirror—much like the way you spent the past half an hour in a hotel bathroom—went home, got in your car, and drove to a hotel precariously close to your hometown. Sure, there’d been some kind of internal monologue going on, but you don’t remember any of it anymore. Nothing beyond what you’ve known for the past six years:

Something is fundamentally wrong with you.

“So, what, we get in our car and drive away and don’t show up to work and hope it all works out?”

The desolate room does not answer the desolate you.

~

Some species of sea turtle have been observed returning to the beach where they were born in order to nest, a phenomenon known as “natal homing”. There are many theories as to how they are able to return to their birthplace…

Like the sea turtle, you swim through endless water and find yourself, of all places, back in Miyagi, staring at a house you only vaguely remember and wondering if your instincts really led you here, or if you’re staring at a random stranger’s house you’ve never been to. Maybe there’s more than one family with his last name in the area.

It looks like all the others—a house in the countryside, standard and homely. You were here… what? Three times? Five?

Not even in the double digits—you know that much. You and Noya had spent more time together at school, or at your house. Your parents hadn’t wanted you to spend too much time alone with a guy at his house. In hindsight, you kind of get it. His grandfather hadn’t exactly been the type to make sure you two were being good kids, or whatever.

Still, you run your fingers over the nameplate, the kanji of Nishinoya’s last name, and try to figure out why this, of all places, is where you’ve drifted to.

“[name]?”

You startle, looking to the voice. Familiar, yet matured. Perhaps a bit lower. Perhaps carrying an emotion you don’t recognize. That, you know, must be him.

You note with a barely-stifled laugh that Noya has not changed his hair in the years since you’ve seen him. Still that stupid, adorable tuft of dyed blond hanging down in his face. Good.

Then, the feeling passes, and the panic sets in.

What the fuck are you doing at your ex-boyfriend’s house?

“Noya,” you breathe. You nod to him, stunned.

“Holy shit, that’s actually you!” He’s closed the distance in an instant, swept you off your feet in a hug that has you crying out in surprise. When he sets you down, you stumble, trying to catch your brain before it falls out your head. He studies you with bright, sharp eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Ah. “Uh, yeah. About that? I… I have no idea.”

He blinks slowly, and then he’s laughing. “That’s not like you at all! Come on, if you’ve got the time to sit down, I’m sure we’ve got something around here to feed you with.”

“Feed me…? Wait, I…”

But he’s already grabbed your wrist, pulled you across the forbidden threshold and right to the front door. Maybe you should have thought about literally anything before showing up at his house.

Too late for regrets, you guess. You’re in way too deep for him to let you slip away now.

~

In your mind, Nishinoya is steepling his hands together like a stern employer trying to figure out the best way to admonish a bad employee. The image doesn’t really suit him, and you do know that, but you still feel like cubicle fodder waiting to get chewed out.

In reality, he’s resting his chin in his hand, watching you carefully as you run your thumb over the glass of water he’s given you and try not to meet his eyes. (It had taken quite a bit of debating to keep him from actually feeding you. The water was a concession in a valiant fight.)

“So, you don’t know what you’re doing?”

A slow nod.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” The statement, repeated, does little to hide how astounded he is at the concept.

You sigh. It is easy and so, so heavy as the air escapes you. Maybe you can drown your errant thoughts in water until you understand just what, exactly, you’re trying to do here. You try, but no matter how much you drink, you still don’t have an answer. “Pretty much, yeah. I just sort of ended up here.”

He has an easy smile on his lips, sharp eyes taking you in. “After what?”

“What do you mean, after what?”

“I mean, it’s not like you to just run off and end up anywhere. You’re, you know, thoughtful and stuff! I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of you just doing something without at least three plans ready to go in case something went wrong.”

“I mean, there was you,” you admit with a laugh.

Shit. That was the wrong thing to say, but here you are, panicking and thinking you’ll make things even more awkward than you already feel, and there he is, smiling like he’s looking at…

What?

It isn’t until he’s leaning in further like he’s about to say something dirty that you realize your real mistake in that response.

“You didn’t think before you did me, huh?”

Your cheeks flare, and you hurriedly down the rest of the glass of water while you try to think of a suitable redirect. “You know what I meant!”

“Sure do! You meant—“

“Oh, hush.”

He laughs, and you fall into silence, trying to commit the sound of his laugh to memory.

That’s what sucks about this, oddly enough: you sit at his dining room table, holding a now-empty cup, and it’s just as easy as it always was. He tells you what he’s been up to: how he doesn’t play volleyball anymore (tragic—you loved watching him play) and he’s been traveling a lot (infuriating—you love to travel) and he’s dated once or twice since you last spoke, but nothing really lasting.

(heartbreaking.)

(you love—)

(you loved him when you left.)

“So,” he says, ever enthusiastic to redirect the conversation onto you, “what have you been up to?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve always been amazing. I bet you’ve been doing something awesome with that brain of yours. You wanted to write, right? How’s that going?”

Hah. Amazing. He’s only saying that because you were useful when you tutored him. “No, really. Nothing. Sales, I guess. Convincing people to give up money for a product I don’t believe in for a company I hate. I guess I’m up for a promotion soon. Really though, I think I’ve probably just been dead for the last… what, six years?”

You’d picked the number because it was when you graduated high school. That had made sense to you—college, too, had felt like nothing. No parties, no partners, just studying, exams, and keeping your body moving forward until you had a neat little degree in a field you didn’t care about. But when you spare a glance away from the window, where your attention has been glued in hopes of avoiding letting the awkwardness and pain of this whole situation actually hit you, it’s the first time since he ran into you that Noya isn’t smiling at you.

Oh yeah. And right before you graduated, you’d broken up with him.

“You broke up with me, you know,” he says after a long moment. “Are you saying you’ve been a ghost this whole time?”

And ouch. He’s right, and you hate that. It hadn’t been his fault you’d left. It’d been your insecurities, your inability to handle the weight of your parents’ disapproval, your unwillingness to fight for something that seemed so correct, your stunning realization that Noya would always shine too brightly for you to be the one standing beside him. He always thought you were amazing, but you were nothing compared to his whirlwind personality, his passion, his sense of life.

Maybe this would have been easier if you’d ever told him that.

“I don’t know what I’m saying. Probably just that high school was the last time I felt like a real person, and that ever since, I’ve just been going through the motions and slowly losing my mind and trying not to panic about the fact that not only do I not have any direction in life, I don’t even know how to enjoy it if I did.” Your words come out calm and metered. You try not to betray the worst of it.

For a moment, talking to him, you’d been able to forget the person you’ve been since graduation. You were always moving forward a step at a time, but at some point, you stopped being a hiker on your predetermined life path and just let yourself be a robot. Mechanical step after mechanical step. Just keep moving forward and you’ll get to where you’re going. When you get to where you’re going, you’ll take another stupid, empty step towards where you’re going now. Some successful career, some boring partner that your parents like, kids, wake up, go to sleep, another day, another day, another day doing exactly what you’re expected to do. Just keep following that bright, clear line. That bright, clear line to nowhere at all.

And then you stumbled. And now you’re here, again. Dizzy, sitting at the same table with the same guy.

At some point, you’d trailed off, staring at the table and searching for scars of a life well-used on its surface. You hear the shuffle of him standing over you, and look up to find him reaching out a hand to you. “Alright. Come on.”

“Come… on?”

He leans forward a bit more to take your hand and pull you up. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“Huh? Wait, but where?”

“Don’t know yet!”

He drags you out, and you stumble after him in mind and body.

“It’s one o’clock!”

“So we’ll scout places that look good while we get lunch. You don’t have anything to do, right?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Then we’re going!”

He pulls you right past the entryway, nearly has you out the front door before you can protest. “I’m not wearing shoes, Noya! You’re not wearing shoes!”

He only laughs, only pauses, only gives you a moment. “Get them on, then.”

“And do you even have your wallet?”

He blinks and pats his pockets. “Guess not! You’ve got until I’m back with my wallet to get your shoes on and decide to let this happen!”

Decide… to let this happen?

He disappears around the corner, deeper into the house, and at last you sigh, sitting to put your shoes on properly. You doubt he’ll be quick finding his wallet—if he’s anything like you remember (and so far, he’s exactly like you remember) then he has absolutely no idea where he put it last. If you didn’t think he’d absolutely drag you out the door once it was found, you’d kick your shoes back off and help him look.

After getting your shoes on, setting his out in ideal kicking-feet-into-without-stopping position, and five minutes of listening to him rustle about the house, you glance at a table in the entryway and smile at the sight of a plain black wallet in the dish. You inspect it, just in case it’s not his—there’s been no sign of Noya’s grandfather around, but almost nothing’s changed, so he probably still lives here. Better to check.

You open it, just to see that it’s got his ID in there and not someone else’s, and nearly slam it closed again immediately.

Yeah, it’s his missing wallet. ID and everything. And, in the little photo slot, a six-year-old photo of him in his volleyball jersey, million-volt smile on his face as you push him away with your own brilliant smile. He’d just won a game, and you’d been busy trying to get him, gross and sweaty, to stop getting all that gross and sweaty on you even as you laughed the entire time. Tanaka took the picture, you think—there’s a bit of thumb in the bottom right corner.

Noya keeps a photo of the two of you in his wallet. After six years without talking.

A noise bangs from somewhere else in the house, and you close the wallet and force down the warmth welling in your chest and rushing to your face. “All good?” you call out.

“I can’t find my stupid wallet!” he shouts back a moment later. He sounds a bit frustrated. “This isn’t going to work if I spend the whole day trying to—“

“Nishinoya,” you cut him off, half sing-song, “you left it by the door.”

No reply except the thudding of feet as he runs right up to you and plucks it from your hand. “There it is! I found it!”

“Oh, really? You found it?”

“Yep! Are your shoes on? We gotta go now!”

“Go where? You’re in an awful rush. Do you have plans or something?”

He kicks his shoes on and grabs your wrist again. “Nope! You’re gonna love it!”

~

Really a type of plankton, jellyfish possess extremely limited swimming abilities, if any at all, and rely on the currents to control their horizontal movements through the sea.

It occurs to you, as you make the trek to the bus stop, that you didn’t have to say yes to this. Well, really, it’s not like you said yes so much as didn’t say otherwise, and Noya, ever the trail-blazer, pulled you along for the ride. What’s even the difference in what you’re doing now and what you’ve been doing these past six years?

You barely make the bus. Nishinoya pays the fare for both of you, before you can protest, and when there’s only one open seat, he takes it.

“You’re such a gentleman,” you snort.

He responds by tugging you down into his lap. “I am!”

You’re stronger than you were in high school. Really, you are. You don’t collapse into emotions like embarrassment. You don’t let the sensation of being flustered consume you. You do not.

…you bury your face in your hands. “What are we doing right now?”

Always laughing. Always lighthearted. “What do you mean? We’re taking the bus someplace we can find some restaurants.”

“You know exactly what I mean!”

The bus passes over a bump, and he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. “You know, you’ve barely changed at all.”

“Neither have you,” you fire back. You meant it as an accusation, but the words come out tender. “You’re still a complete hurricane.”

He laughs, his own tenderness bleeding through. “And you’re still not letting yourself have anything you want.”

“When have I ever—“

“I think you know.” His other arm comes around your waist, holding you in a loose hug, chin resting against your arm.

You try not to stiffen at all the contact. This, too, is something you haven’t felt in ages—simple, casual touch. He had always been that way, resting a hand on your shoulder, your back, running fingers through the ends of your hair, like if he stopped touching you, you’d run away.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he is right.

“You didn’t answer me before. Are you still writing? I’ve been keeping an eye out for your name on the shelves, you know.”

You rest a hand on his arm, half considering pushing his arm off. The bus stops, but apparently not at a stop Noya is interested in dragging you off at—he steadies you as the bus jolts, and as a few passengers file off, you consider admitting the answer.

“Poetry these days, mostly. It’s not like I’d ever get published if I went for it, so I just scribble out a few half-assed lines and—“

“See, stop that. That’s half your problem right there, you know!”

“Another seat just opened up, you know,” you mumble. If you try to fight him on this, he’ll end up talking you into these grand ideas that you’ll never be able to accomplish, and by the end of the day he’ll probably have you in love with him all over again, even though you know it would never work, even though you know you’d never really be anything—as an employee, as a person, as his. “We don’t have to do this… couple-y thing.”

“I want to, though. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

…it is. It really is.

“…I still like to write, but I never have time anymore. It’s work, recovering from work, getting ready for work, waiting to come home from work so I can prep lunches and wash my clothes so I have something to eat and wear at work. I don’t have energy for anything except meetings, emails, and phone calls where no one means anything they say.”

“Damn. No wonder you seem so lost. Why don’t you quit?”

“And do what? It’s not like I have a dream job. I just want to get by and survive—“

“Why? You’re not happy. Don’t you want to do something more than survive?”

“I don’t even know what that would look like, Noya.”

He says everything so simply. Just quit. Just move on. Just move forward. He’s lucky, you think. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have parents planning out your entire life for you.

…okay, that was mean. Add that to the list of things that are wrong with you.

He sighs, shaking you gently in his hold. “It’s worse than I thought. Hey, [name], why’d you come here?”

“I told you already. I have no idea.”

“Alright. Adding it to the list. Today, you’re experiencing adventure for the first time in six years, and you’re gonna figure out what you were doing standing outside my house at noon on a Saturday. If I have my way, you’re also going to be quitting your job and starting a promising career as the greatest writer Japan’s ever seen, renowned the world over, but we can get to that some other time if you want!”

“Noya, I’m not—“ Your words die in your throat as his fingers slide between yours. You hadn’t realized your hand was sliding up his arm, but here he is, holding hands with you like it’s nothing.

God. How old are you, again?

~

Lunch ends up being crepes. Never mind the fact that crepes are not a meal, not even when Noya suggests buying two each—he proudly declares it lunch, and so lunch it must be. You’re lucky that he graciously allowed you to get a table, though he’d insisted on grabbing one outside even as the sky above has started to loom with rainclouds.

“And what’ll we do if it rains?” you retort drily as he sits across from you.

“We’ll figure it out,” he grins, sliding you a menu. “Dry off after we get rained on, not before.”

You snort. “How about we just try not to get rained on?”

“Then we would be sitting inside, and you wouldn’t get to look up at the clouds while we eat! You always liked the way the sky looked before it rained, right?”

A soft huff leaves you, a small smile unbidden. “You actually remember that? I think I said that to you, like, one time.”

He nods. “Only had to say it once! Besides, I caught you staring up at the sky in the rain more than once.”

“And yet, I had to repeat the same information for you so many times, only for you to still get it wrong on test day…”

“Hey! I was distracted!”

“You weren’t supposed to be,” you tease.

“What was I supposed to do? There was this gorgeous person sitting across from me telling me all these complicated things in a nice voice. I’m a simple man!”

Though your cheeks heat at the declaration, you can’t help but laugh. “Clearly.”

“Yeah. Clearly.” For just a moment, he’s soft, unbearably soft, and you fear looking at him. Quick, change the subject before you have to acknowledge whatever’s going on here!

“S-so!” Smooth! You’re doing great, sweetie! “Any idea what you’re going to get?”

He slaps a finger down on the menu without looking. “A… monte… monte…”

You sigh and peer over to look at the fanciful English he’s pointing to. “A Monte Cristo crepe?”

“Yeah!”

“Did you read the part where it’s got onions as a main ingredient? Don’t you hate onions?”

He wrinkles his nose, but stands firm. “I’m sure!”

You huff softly. “Alright. Far be it from me to stop you.”

“What about you? Make a pros and cons list for each menu item yet?” he teases.

“For your information, I don’t have to do that when ordering in restaurants. That’s for big decisions. But…” You sigh. “I haven’t eaten out in a while. It stresses me out.”

“Why?”

“So let’s say I pick something that looks good, and it sucks. I won’t eat it because it sucks, but then I feel like I’ve insulted the chef and wasted my time and money.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But at least you’ll know! When’s the last time you actually ate out like this?”

You bite your lip thoughtfully. When was it?

“I… think I did a celebration dinner with my parents when I graduated?”

“College?”

“No, high school. We didn’t celebrate when I graduated college.”

Once again, he’s staring at you in blank disbelief. “[name], that was six years ago.”

You flush. “Yeah, so?”

“That’s so sad. What have you been doing? I’m about to take you on a food tour just so you can catch up on all the restaurants you’ve been missing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Please, no. I can’t eat that much.”

“Then we’ll spread it out!”

“Noya…”

The waiter drops in at exactly the wrong time. Flustered, you stumble your way into lemonade for you, apple cider for him, and then, as he’s confidently mispronouncing “Monte Cristo” to the waiter, you panic and end up ordering some curry crepe, a concept which intrigues and horrifies you.

“How’d you even find this place? Seems weird for there to be some half-French, half-English upscale crepe restaurant out in Miyagi.”

“What do you mean, how did I find it? We found it together. I’ve never eaten here.”

Right. He’s completely winging everything. “Amazing.”

“Right?”

Drinks come, and you sigh into a masterful lemonade and try to think of things to say to fill the space between you and your ex. (You have to try not to forget that bit—that this isn’t natural, that this can’t lead anywhere. For your sake and his.) “So, how’s your grandfather been?”

The easy smile on Noya’s lips drops. “Oh. He died late last year. Age caught up to him, I guess.”

Oh. Fuck. “Noya, I’m so…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. Crazy bastard had a hell of a time of it. He’d hate for me to sit around feeling bad about it, anyway.”

He wouldn’t want you to pity him. Doesn’t want you to pity him. You know that. But…

Did Noya ever talk about any other family members when you knew him? You know he lived in that house with his grandfather. No siblings. Never mentioned any cousins. You know he didn’t grow up around his parents, either…

Has he been alone this whole time?

You reach across the table. Place a hand on his. “Maybe I’ll visit more often.”

In silence, the two of you sit and wait for your crepes.

~

The crepes come out, and with them, new points of conversation that carry you both to finishing—all the way until Noya manages to argue you into letting him pay. He pulls you along, a bit slower than before, a bit easier. You can’t help but let him take your hand and bring you wherever the wind is leading him, half-pitying him and half from the complete lack of will to fight him all day.

“I told you you weren’t gonna like what you ended up ordering.”

“You liked it though, right?”

Predictably, he’d taken one bite of the crepe and instantly realized his mistake. Far too much onions for his tastes. Your curry crepe had been… well…

Let’s just say that you weren’t especially upset when Noya asked you to swap.

“It was really good, if you like onions.”

“I know what I like! Onions aren’t it!”

It’s easy like this, and the day really is nice. There’s rain on the breeze and in the clouds, a pleasant scent and a comforting gloom over the day. You tease and joke back and forth, hand in hand like it’s natural, and it is. It’s easy, being around him. It was easy back then, too. So easy it scares you.

You’re just waiting for the bottom to fall out.

You’re waiting for the bottom to fall out, and it does—with a shriek and loud laughter, rain chases the both of you underneath a tree and within sight of the nearest bus stop, soaking you both through to the bone.

“See?” Noya says, grinning as he pulls you a little closer underneath the tree. “Now we can worry about getting dry.”

“You’re unbelievable,” said with a smile. “What is all this meant to prove again?”

“Well, why’d you come here?”

“Here? You dragged me out here.”

“Yeah, but why’d you come back to Miyagi? I’m just saying, my doorstep is not the first place I expected you to turn up on when the inevitable nervous breakdown hit.”

You fall silent, shiver in the rain. It’s peaceful. You try to focus on watching for a bus, anything except the question you were asked.

“[name].”

You glance at him, yelp a little to find how close the two of you have gotten. This close, in this kind of situation, it’d be only natural for you to lean in, for you to brush your lips against his.

God, have you even kissed anyone since you burned everything down?

You’re not doing this. You’re not falling into a hurricane like him again. You won’t be able to come back if you do that. (Especially with such a fucking cliché.)

You turn away. “You already asked me that. I told you before, I don’t know.”

He hums thoughtfully. Drapes his jacket over both of your heads in an attempt to keep you both from looking any more rained out than you already do.

“I’m just saying, if you want my opinion, you’re going to have to do a lot more adventuring and a lot less sales for a company you hate if you want to remember what ‘happy’ is supposed to feel like.”

“Not sure I ever knew what that was like to begin with.”

“Never?”

“When I was a kid, maybe.”

He tilts his head. “Not even when we dated? Is that why you broke up with me?” He sounds genuinely curious. Would it feel better, you wonder, if he sounded hurt?

You wince. “I didn’t mean… I just…” A sigh. “It’s more like, I was too afraid to let myself be happy when I was with you.” In the close proximity, you find it easier to let your head rest against him a little. “Please don’t misunderstand. I like you. I probably would have been really happy with you if there weren’t something fundamentally wrong with me as a person.” Shit. You definitely misspoke there.

“I don’t really know how to teach you to relax a little, but it’s gotta be easier now that you’re out of your parents’ house. Maybe you need to go somewhere completely new. Get a fresh outlook.”

You arch a brow his way. At least he’s not commenting on your slip of the tongue. “What are you suggesting, Nishinoya?”

“I’m leaving for Italy. Six weeks. That’s enough time for you to plan your little heart out, right?”

“Italy.”

He nods, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Italy.”

“And if I came back after six years to kill you or something?”

He barks a laugh, stark against the pouring rain. His eyes linger on you. The part of you that’s charitable to yourself thinks he might be mentally undressing the clothes sticking to your skin, though you know it’s more of a challenging look. “I’d like to see you try.”

~

One soaking wet bus ride back to Noya’s house doesn’t save you from this little adventure plan of his. Instead, you’re given a towel or two to dry off with and a change of clothes from his closet, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. The way he acts, everything is.

So now here you are, wearing a shirt far too large for you that you’ve wrestled into looking somewhat nice with Nishinoya’s jeans. It slides off your shoulder a bit no matter how many times you fix it. You admit, you do manage to pull it off, but the whirlwind of the day still has your head spinning with just how wrong this situation is.

You’re supposed to be at work right now. You should be in office clothes, sitting at a desk in a too-cold cubicle that you never got around to decorating, perfect and polished while you tap out yet another perfectly-balanced email, three-quarters professional, one-quarter gentle familiarity to lure your clients into a false sense of security. Not standing in your ex’s bathroom, tying one of his t-shirts at the waist, adjusting your hair to look closer to “decent” than “drowned rat”. This, this day, this situation, was never supposed to happen.

Is this whole day going to be a stumble? How long will it be until you catch yourself and get back to moving forward? When you do, will you still have a place at your desk?

Do you even want one?

A knock at the bathroom door. “If you give me your clothes, I’ll get them started drying,” his voice filters through the door.

All of these actions have been so easy. Your wet clothes, picked up from where they hung shower-side. Easy to wring them out a bit more to keep from making the floor worse. Easy to open the door. Easy to hand them to him.

Nothing had ever been particularly hard before him, but falling in love with him had been just like this: easy.

Maybe the first easy thing you ever remember.

~

So you go along with it. Another bus ride, this one less crowded than before. This time with umbrella in hand—just one, because of course Noya didn’t even think about it on the way out the door—and a determination to figure out what the hell you’re doing here to begin with.

Everything is as everything was, you think. Shops lining the street, one familiar sight in particular, one of two things you had never had the strength to deny yourself back in school. At the sight of the bookshop, you tug Nishinoya to a stop. You’re a little surprised when he actually does stop.

“Sorry, can we head in? I used to love this place back in school.” You nod to the bookshop. He smiles and lets you lead the way.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve done something selfish today,” he comments as you lead him in.

You refuse to meet that one with a reply.

The shop is exactly as you remember. High stacks of books, books, books everywhere. The scent of old books and a slight spice in the air, scents blending and mixing until, for just a moment, you’re in high school again, marveling at rare finds coming through the used books section and finding some new world to escape into.

You sigh into the scent and disappear into the stacks. Noya is kind enough to humor you as you pick through, find a title or two to take up to the register. If you really do come back to visit from time to time, you’ll have to make sure to stop in here when you do. The old woman at the register hasn’t aged a day. She smiles when she sees you the same way you’re smiling as you approach her.

“Is that little [name]?” she asks, though you both know she already knows the answer. “Why, I haven’t seen you around here in ages! You’ve grown so well!”

“It’s wonderful to see you again, ma’am.”

“Just as polite as you always were. Find everything you were looking for?”

She’s got a poster on the counter by the register. You steal a glance, then meet her eyes with a smile. “Sure did! I’m glad to see you guys are still here.”

Her smile turns bitter. “I’m not sure how much longer, I’m afraid.”

Ah. There’s the heartbreak, panic, fear. “What?”

“It can’t be helped. It’s getting difficult to watch this place in my age, and my Taka’s not been doing so well lately. The kids are all off worrying about their own lives now…”

Your chest twists at the thought. “Can’t you find help?”

“We’ve been looking, but…”

It cannot possibly be this easy.

There’s no way.

“But…”

Noya slides a few bills over the counter while you’re busy fighting a war in your head.

“Oh, and who’s this? You’ve got to introduce your boyfriend, dear.”

“Oh, he’s not—“

“It’s nice to meet you, Granny! I’m Nishinoya.”

Already, they’re spiraling off into some side conversation, too fast for you to make the obvious correction as the old lady makes your—Noya’s—change. She tucks a little bookmark into the front of the stack, and you slide your new books into your bag in resignation. It becomes his space as easily as it was yours, and somehow, it doesn’t feel wrong.

After you’ve left, you consider clearing the air, bringing up… whatever that was.

…it’s not worth the argument.

Another few shops, another few stops. Another few steps forward, another few hours, and yet again you’re sitting across from him, fretting over being underdressed at the restaurant you’ve both happened across and settled on.

“Are you sure we’re dressed alright?” you mutter.

“They let us in the door, didn’t they?”

…yeah, you don’t know what you expected him to say.

“Besides, you look great,” he adds. His eyes dance over you, over the bare skin on your shoulder where you’ve finally given up on pulling the neck of his shirt back up. “I think you wear that better than I ever have.”

You ignore him in favor of another menu, another decision to make that feels earth-shattering. At least you’re aware you’re being ridiculous when it comes to ordering. Really, what’s going to change if you get the fun-looking drink you might not like over the safe one? How bad would it really be if you didn’t like your meal that much?

Drinking too much. Discovering a new allergy. Food poisoning—

“You’re overthinking again,” he teases.

“I’m always overthinking,” you grumble.

“Maybe you need to take the edge off.”

He’s right, and you know that in theory. But in the practice and the day-to-day, you stare at the drinks menu and feel your chest constrict with that itch of anxiety all over again.

“You’ve just got to jump in before you can talk yourself out of it. Come on, [name], let me distract you a little.”

…you don’t think he’s trying to flirt, but your face feels hot all the same. And, well, shit, Noya is a great distraction. He’s a bit less keyed-up than he was back then, but he’s still endlessly charming, endlessly easy to get wrapped up in if you lower your guard even a moment.

“…fine. So what’s this you were saying earlier about Italy?”

His eyes light up. You rest your chin in your palm, glance over the menu again as he tells you about his dreams of traveling the world, how he wants to seek new thrills and see all these new things. You can see every potential disaster of the situation—for one, he has a house back home that someone’s going to need to care for while he’s away, and he doesn’t seem to have thought of that. For another, he’s got an inheritance and no passive income to work with. His grandfather’s leftover money may be substantial enough for this to work in the short term, but longer-term…

Well, one day, he’s going to run headfirst into a hole he can’t climb out of himself.

The thought scares you. Who’s going to be there for him when that happens?

The waiter stops by. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pick out something alcoholic and fruity and try not to preen under Noya’s delighted approval.

“I’ve never seen you drunk before. Looking forward to it,” he grins. This time, you’re sure he means it flirtatiously, given the wicked gleam in his eyes.

You reach across the table to bat at his arm. “Keep looking, then. I don’t plan on getting drunk tonight. Just buzzed enough to put up with you.”

“Well, that’s no fun. I wanted to know what you’re like when you finally let loose.”

“Excuse you, I can be plenty fun without getting drunk off my ass.”

“Then let’s see it.”

Drinks come out, food orders are placed. You get your margarita halfway down before the buzz starts really setting in, a pleasant warmth blossoming through you. At least now when Noya makes your face hot with some offhanded comment, you can blame it on something other than your own weak heart.

“You know, this is the most adventurous thing I’ve done since I dated you,” you admit once you’re both walking back to the bus stop. Fully sober you would never have this conversation. You recognize that, but there’s enough pleasant fuzz in your head that for once you do not give nearly enough of a fuck to stop yourself. The night is warm, maybe even romantic. “This whole… running around, stopping at random restaurants, getting drenched in the rain without an umbrella. All that.”

He’s got this soft look in his eyes as he regards you. “Really? I can’t say I’m surprised. You were always worrying about everything.”

You snort. “Someone had to.”

“We were kids, though. You probably could have left at least some of that worrying to your parents.”

“Believe it or not, they gave nearly all of that worry to me. On purpose, I think.” You sigh, lean against him just a touch. Your balance never was all that great sober. “I had to be perfect. You were that one little blip.”

“Hey, it felt perfect to me.”

“Did I make a mistake, do you think?”

He looks a little wounded at that. To your credit, he’s definitely misinterpreting. “Dating me?”

“No. Leaving you.”

He pauses, an awkward motion that has you both stumbling just a bit. He’d drank over dinner, too—you’re both buzzed, and the bubbly, floaty feeling ebbs out as you stare at each other. “Why do you say that?”

“I just… I thought about it a lot,” you mumble. “What it would have been like. If I’d just stayed, instead of letting the thought of my parents scare me into running away.”

He huffs a soft laugh and winds his arm around your shoulder. “I thought about it, too. Come on. You don’t need to make it back to the hotel alone; I’ve got a guest bedroom you can use tonight. That, and I’ve still got your clothes.”

Oh. Right.

You nod and let him walk you back to his home.

~

“Have you figured anything out yet?” he asks as he finds another oversized t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts for you to sleep in. “Gotten even a little closer to figuring out how to do something you actually feel like doing?”

“I had fun,” you mumble in reply. “I know that much, at least.”

“Good. That was mostly the point.” He hands the clothes over to you. They’re more neatly folded than you would have given him credit for.

“Mostly?”

“Well,” he grins, “I also wanted to spend the day with you. Didn’t figure you’d ever agree if I didn’t drag you out before you could think about it too hard.”

“It was nice,” you admit. “Thank you. For all of it. I… I still don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow, though.”

“Is it so bad listening to what you feel like doing every once in a while, though?”

“If I knew what I felt like doing, maybe.” You linger awkwardly in his doorway, bounce your shoulder rhythmically against the frame. “You’ve got your work cut out for you if you think one day is gonna get me that in tune with my brain.”

“That’s why I asked you to come to Italy with me.” He tilts his head, some question lingering unspoken. “Try it now, though. What does [name] feel like doing right now?”

He’s close to you. Too close. He’s close, and pretty, and magnetic, and—

“[name] feels like doing something stupid.”

His grin widens. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Nishinoya Yuu, and I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I am pretty damn stupid.”

—fuck it. You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He reciprocates in kind, an eager hand coming to settle on your waist like it’s been waiting to rest there all night. You kiss him hot, heavy, open-mouthed; let your hands slide from gripping his collar to locking loosely behind his neck. When you’re both out of breath, he pulls back and leans in to whisper into your neck:

“Why did you come here, [name]?”

It’s hard to think with his breath on your neck, his hands on your body leaving your skin on fire where he touches, but you are great at thinking and finally off the deep end enough to admit it.

“I wanted to remember what it was like to feel alive,” you breathe out into his ear. His lips brush your throat, and you let out a breathy whine. “You’re the only person who ever—who ever seemed to know how to do that.”

“Let me show you how to let go, then.”

There’s no illusions about what he means. Not this time, not with his lips dancing down your neck to your exposed shoulder. Not with his hips pressing into yours, not with his fingertips toying with the edge of his shirt you’re wearing, and not with his fingertips brushing the bare skin at your waist.

You nod and hope you won’t regret it.

~

If there’s regret to be had, you expect you’ll see it in the light of morning. As it is, Noya returns from the bathroom and collapses right onto you, a lithe arm pulling you into his chest.

“I’m glad you came back,” he mumbles into your hair. You’re both tired—it’s late, and that might have been the best workout you’ve gotten in a while.

“Because you missed me, or because you got to fuck me?” you tease, sliding a hand over his.

“I missed you,” he replies without missing a beat. “Not too late to come travel the world with me. Quit your job and feel peace for once in your life.”

“Peace? With you around? Not likely. Besides, I’m renting a place in Tokyo. I can’t meet rent if I quit my job.”

He laughs and pulls you in a little closer. “Then just Italy, and you can go back to the way you felt before you turned up on my doorstep looking more lost than I’ve ever seen anyone in my life.”

You sigh. “When you’re traveling the world, who’s gonna take care of your house? It doesn’t seem like you’re selling it, are you?”

“Italy, come home, we’ll break in the place, and then I’ll come home to you between trips while you work on writing an international bestseller.”

Your heart flutters at the thought. Admittedly… it’d solve a lot of the problems you have with his little “plan”.

“And how do you suppose I pay for being alive aside from not having rent?”

“Ask that old lady at the bookshop if you can help at the store.”

“Why do you have an answer for everything?”

“It’s okay if things fall into place once in a while, you know.”

You sigh into him. There’s too many unknowns. How is he going to keep paying for traveling? What if the book never works out? If there’s no space for you at the bookshop? If—

He nuzzles into your neck. “I’m waiting on an answer, baby…”

“It’s late, Noya. I’ll think about it.”

“Do me a favor and think yourself into something for once, instead of out of it. I might die if you leave again.”

He presses one last kiss into the back of your neck before you both draft off, sore and exhausted.

There’s one thing, at least, you can be sure of, at least for tonight: you’re glad you came here.

~

Epilogue

“You’re looking much better,” your coworker nods to you as you settle back into your desk. “Get some much-needed rest?”

You nod your reply. “I did, thanks. Sorry for disappearing so suddenly. That cold was killer. Think I slept about fourteen hours straight.”

She snorts. “Man, no wonder you weren’t answering your phone. Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She wanders off to her own desk. You take a long sip of your drink, stretch a bit, and get right to your stupid little emails.

You tap away, pausing between sentences to consider, to answer the phone, to sip your drink. Occasionally, to tab over to some other draft when you worry a passing coworker might see exactly what you’re writing. At one or two points, over to your web browser, either to the wikiHow article you’re referencing, or to one of the many other tabs: your online banking, to confirm that this isn’t going to completely kill you (it won’t—all work and no play gives Jack a hefty savings account), or to any number of other wonderful things on the Internet that you suddenly feel comfortable accessing with the letter you’re drafting in the background.

It takes an hour to settle. The letter is drafted, all the right people are copied. You’ve triple checked everything, gotten all your things already slid into your bag or in a box to carry out with you. Made sure everything you need to leave behind is in clear view on your desk. You’ve even prepped an auto-response on your email client so people know who to bother, if not you. It’d take three, maybe four clicks to blow up your life.

You can’t do it.

You reach for your cell and dial.

Noya, despite all that worries you about him, has always been an early riser. He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Distract me,” you order in lieu of a greeting.

You hear laughter, a slight shuffle. “From what?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just distract me.”

“Ah, you’re doing something you don’t want to talk yourself out of. I’m proud of you!” You hear the smile in his voice, close your eyes to try to visualize it. “Am I allowed to ask what you’re up to? Where you are?”

“No and no. If I tell you, I’ll back out by the time I finish saying it.”

“I get it. Hey, do you still have that mark on your neck from when I—“

Your cheeks burn, fingers dancing along the bruise in question. It had been a bitch to cover with makeup this morning. You’re still not convinced you did so successfully, but no one’s commented on it yet, at least. “No thanks to a certain someone. I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Hey, you said you felt like doing something stupid. Who was I to deny you?”

“Cheeky bastard.” You smile, lean back in your chair a little bit. Click ‘send’. “Oh god. I did it.”

“Am I allowed to ask what you did now?”

“I might throw up. Not sure yet. Hey, how do you feel about renting bikes?”

“Bikes?”

“In Italy. I was looking up, like, bucket lists and stuff, and there’s this road, the Appian way? You can rent bikes and bike it. Apparently, it’s pretty old, and there’s this café we could eat at, and—“

You hear the thunk of something falling in the background of the call. “You’re coming!?”

“Well, I just emailed my resignation letter to my boss and HR, and I can see him panicking in his office from here, so you better have meant it. Here in a minute or two, he’s probably going to call me in, or come yell at me at my desk—“

“When’s your resignation effective? Did you give a notice?”

“Effective as soon as he stops panicking.”

A bark of laughter sounds in your ear. “So if he comes to yell at you, just leave. You already quit, anyway. What’s he gonna do?”

“Good point. Leaving now.” You stand, scoop up your bag. “I have two months left on my lease. If you didn’t mean that thing about me housesitting while you’re off seeing the world, speak now before I call my landlord and let him know I’m canceling that, too.”

“All yours, but your rent is walking around without pants whenever I’m home.”

You roll your eyes. Pause to wave at your boss on your way out the door. If he shouts after you, you don’t hear it. You’ve got a trip to Italy to plan.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

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As always, thanks for reading! <3

[dedalvs]

Regarding the valar-Valyria question and patriarchy, I always thought that "valar" should be more properly translated as "people/humanity", as Daenerys in the book does believe Missandei's "valar morghulis" applies to her (vs the "we are not men" quip in the show) -- and that it was only translated as "men" in Common Tongue because Westeros is patriarchal. Your dārys/dāria answer the other day seemed to lean that way.

But I see that there are different words for people (issarori) and humanity (ābrar)? Are those words also adaptations of HV to describe Westerosi life? Or maybe valar used to be more gender-neutral and changed later?

The presence of one word doesn't necessarily change the definition of another word. When I'm coining words in High Valyrian, there are a number of checks I go through. For example, āeksion is "gold". That's the first word I created. There are a number of ways, both regular and somewhat irregular, that one noun can be turned into another of a different class. So, for example, āeksion is "gold", deverbative agents end in -io, so, somewhat irregularly, I created āeksio "master" (has to be irregular, since the two nouns have nearly the same declension pattern)—one associated with gold. I also check to see if there are any obvious derivations that can be made. So, for example, if āegion is "iron", then āegenka is "made of iron". Another check I make is to see if there's a paucal derivation that makes sense. Most of the time the paucal is simply a number (so qulbes is "chicken", and qulbin is "a few chickens"), but sometimes it can derive a new word (for example, sȳndor is "shadow", and sȳndrun is a few shadows gathered together, that is "shade"). Along with the paucal, the collective is also a potential for derivation. We already had vala and valar. So I created thew word for "woman" ābra. I thought if valar is something, ābrar is likely to be something, too. It has a number of meanings, among them human beings or humanity, in general. This is on par with riña being "girl" and riñar being "children". If you want to talk about any child in general, you use riña. You can do this with adults with ābra, as well, but it's more common with children. In referring to children, their age is remarkable; when referring to adults, generally, their age is not. If you look out at a busy market place, that's ābrar.

Importantly, nothing about ābra or ābrar and the way they're used has anything to do with vala or valar. Think about the words "hoodie" and "sweatshirt". They can technically refer to different things, but they don't have to—and if someone says to you, "Oh, can you grab my sweatshirt?", and you're like, "Where is it? I don't see one. Do I need to go to the closet?" because you're passive-aggressively thinking, "THAT'S A HOODIE, NOT A SWEATSHIRT!", then, well, aren't you just precious! But for most people, the existence of one word doesn't require the meaning of a previous word to change. It may change, but it need not. And, in fact, even if there is technically a difference between two words, that doesn't meant that everyone will acknowledge it. A bit of a different type of thing, but consider "We need less chairs in the dining room". Technically it should be "We need fewer chairs in the dining room", but especially in a casual environment, most English speakers will accept either with no difference in meaning between the two.

Anyway, when creating a language, it doesn't make a difference to me if a word for something already exists. Why not create another, if it makes sense? Maybe some people will use it and others won't. Maybe it will end up having a specialized usage. Maybe one will be regional, or one will be common for many years, and then the other becomes more common. I don't worry too much about it. It's nice to have a sizable vocabulary—a lot of paint on your pallet.

I hope that makes sense!

[swagcoolcat]

Different Superstore Characters and Their Autism

(These are all headcanons)

(some have canon support)

Dina

* Strong Points

* Math

* To the point of being able to do basic math in her head

* 198+535? Give her 5 seconds.

* Math always came easy to her

* Music

* Learned guitar very quickly

* Also can play piano

* She’s a very skilled singer despite never having lessons

* Speaking

* Dina is really good at keeping her voice and her words clear. She knows how to get her point across. Even when under stress, she usually doesn’t crack.

* Weak Points

* Social cues

* She’s not bothered by this, and she doesn’t care. It’s not her fault neurotypical bitches make things so complicated.

* Pop culture

* She does, however, know the most random niche information, and is appalled when others don’t also know the random trivia she knows.

* Takes everything so literally

* Her response to Jonah’s “soon we’re gonna have to pee in bottles” during Curbside Pickup comes to mind

* She’s also bad with common phrases

* “I don’t like you spreading lies about fish!”

* Doesn’t seem to recognize how dangerous some things are

* Or how fragile humans are

* Sense of direction

* This bothers her a ton because she feels like she SHOULD have a good sense of direction, but even though she’s lived in St Louis her whole life, she still needs a GPS to get the vast majority of places.

* Yums

* Sorting things, specifically by color

* Anything that isn’t sorted by color when she buys it is sorted by color no later than an hour after it’s purchased

* Eye contact

* She actually aggressively likes eye contact lol

* Socks

* Icks

* Physical affection

* She only sometimes tolerates it, depending on who it’s from

* She’s somewhat okay with being touched, but she doesn’t particularly enjoy it

* Changes in routine

* Includes things like having to buy a new Halloween costume, or having to get new pens (both canon instances)

* High pitched noises

* A lot of noises actually

* Masking

* Does not bother masking most times

* She does it so rarely that it’s very obvious when she is masking

* Stims

* Making noises vocally

* Jumping

* Waving her arms

* Twirling pens or knives in her fingers

* Special Interests (past and present)

* Birds

* Security

* Knives

* Music from the 1940s-1960s

* Coping Mechanisms

* Sex

* Hitting and breaking things

* Driving

* Yelling at people

* Other details

* Low empathy

* Strong sense of right and wrong

* Usually this is in a rule sense, but there are a few cases where her morals don’t align with rules, and she breaks them to stick with said morals.

* Biggest example in my opinion is her efforts to keep Mateo from getting detained

* Undiagnosed

* She’s the most likely to have a diagnosis, but probably still undiagnosed

* Blunt

* Cares a lot for animals

* Especially any type of bird

Jonah

* Strong Points

* Vocabulary

* He has a large vocabulary and prides himself on knowing a lot of words

* (He’s so annoying about it sometimes too- he’s just like me FOR REAL)

* This exercise is teaching me I’m more like Jonah than I thought lol

* You’d think with this he’d be able to get his point across well but you’d be wrong

* Vibe Check ??

* (Sorry I couldn’t think of a better way to put it)

* He just is really good about knowing when something is off

* Does he handle the situation well when something is off? Totally depends.

* Weak Points

* Bad at reading social cues

* In denial over his struggles with reading them, thinking he’s great at it, when in fact he’s exactly the opposite

* Implying he’s bad at reading social clues will offend him

* Auditory processing issues

* Tends to give too many details

* Specifically about pieces of media, he’ll share a bit too much. He’s not good at giving a quick synopsis.

* He’s just like me for real

* He’s so fucking impulsive

* HE CAME TO WORK IN RETAIL IN A COMPLETELY SEPARATE STATE ON A WHIM

* AND HE ONLY CAME THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE HE WANTED A SNACK LMAO

* Has some insomnia

* Very bad at staying on topic sometimes

* The way he’ll just randomly start talking about something else in the series? Canon. Canon.

* Speaking in general

* If he doesn’t think very carefully before he speaks, he will stutter. Even if he does think carefully, there’s a chance he’ll stutter anyway.

* He’s. Just. Like. Me. For. Real.

* Yums

* Loves physical affection

* To the point of pushing it, and not noticing when it’s too much

* He gives hugs a lot

* He and Amy are very much the loves affection x doesn’t like affection that much.

* He enjoys changes in his routine

* He would literally reorganize an entire house if given the opportunity, he loves change

* Unless it’s initiated by literally anyone else, but he likes to initiate changes often

* Socks

* Icks

* Loud noises

* RSD

* This isn’t necessarily an ick but he wants people to like him SO bad so I guess people not liking him is an ick

* Masking

* He cannot stop masking

* He doesn’t realize he’s masking, but he was raised to mask his entire life, so it’s just normal to him

* He is always exhausted because of this

* He always seems uncomfy when he’s not masking

* Stims

* Moving his hands or arms in any way

* Twirling pens

* Repeating words

* Tapping his fingers

* Pacing

* Special Interests (past and present)

* The Americans

* Politics

* Musical Theatre

* Constellations

* Horses

* Coping Mechanisms

* Comfort shows

* Talking about it

* Or yelling if he needs to

* Quiet alone time

* Cooking for others

* Other details

* Feels the need to prove himself constantly

* Out of the three, Jonah probably had the worst upbringing specifically in regards to his neurodiversity, with his parents showing very obvious favoritism to his older brothers, and with his brother, Josh, always bullying him because of his neurodiversity

* High empathy

* Strong sense of right and wrong

* Undiagnosed

* Also so in denial

* If anyone implies he might be neurodivergent he’ll be like “I couldn’t possibly be, not that there’s anything wrong, but like, couldn’t be me, actually”

* Not good at making friends

* He gets better at this over the course of the show

* He’s not good at this before the show because he never sticks with anything, so even though he knows more of who he is than he did in childhood (where he was more of an outcast) he doesn’t stick around long enough to make long lasting friends.

Eric

* Strong Points

* Details

* He’s very detail oriented and notices small things

* He’s good at recognizing when things are off center and it drives him crazy

* Weak Points

* Bad at reading social cues

* Literally the worst

* He knows this to an extent but he’s not aware of just how bad he is at it

* Especially bad at reading the tone of a social situation (whether it be serious, funny, sad, whatever)

* Generally more quiet and reserved

* With his ‘safe’ people he is literally the exact opposite

* Also this isn’t a weak point per se but this felt like the right place to put it

* Dissociates a lot

* Auditory Processing troubles

* He literally looks like he doesn’t know what’s going on sometimes and it’s always funny

* Yums

* Loves physical affection

* But he’s picky on who he’s affectionate with

* Likes to sit on the floor

* Socks

* Sorting things by color/organizing in general

* Mateo leaves Eric home alone. He comes back and the closet has been rearranged by color. This happens often.

* Mateo doesn’t mind this tbh because he likes stuff organized that way too.

* Sometimes when he’s at Amy’s and he’s playing with her kids, he’ll get distracted and sort their toys

* Icks

* Dislikes changes in routine

* Loud noises

* A lot of clothing textures

* Velvet is the worst of these

* Strong perfumey smells

* Masking

* He does mask

* However, he unmasks around his safe people (Mateo, Amy, etc)

* He doesn’t really have the proper terminology for it but he’s sort of aware when he needs to put up a nice face or where he can just be stoic

* He’s good with eye contact and doesn’t hate it

* Stims

* Biting/Chewing

* Clicking pens

* Anything he can busy his hands with actually

* Whistling

* Repeating words

* Rapidly blinking

* Pacing

* Special Interests (past and present)

* Plants

* Specifically succulents

* Trains

* This one is literally so self indulgent but I don’t care lmao

* Baking

* Giraffes

* Filmmaking

* (Because of a line where Mateo says he’s using Eric’s projector)

* He definitely still has a VCR player and a good amount of VHS tapes, and you can pry them from his cold dead fucking hands

* Weather

* He likes thunderstorms in particular

* This one is also self indulgent but I also just think it’d be kind of funny for Mateo to have severe storm anxiety and for Eric to be one of those bitches that would stand outside and watch the tornado if given the chance.

* Coping Mechanisms

* Rocking

* Hugging his giraffe stuffy

* Baking

* Sorting things

* Other details

* High empathy

* He Must be wearing jackets

* He can be without one, but he tends to have a shorter social battery when he’s not wearing one

* He doesn’t know why this is, he just is like “hm, I don’t really like being upset all the time in public places, guess I’ll just wear jackets all the time”

* Short sleeve jackets are okay, it literally just has to be an extra layer

* It’s an extra weight thing but he does not know this

* Undiagnosed

* Ron Sosa is also aggressively neurodivergent so their family is just like “ah, so the men in our family are just fucking weird, carry on then”

* Blunt

* Less so than Dina but it is definitely there

* Most of his close friends are people he’s known for a long time

* Basically saying he’s not great at making friends that he hasn’t known since he was in school

[clarafyer]

Omnomnom dehydrated apple chips are some of my favorite safe foods

Actually yk what I'll ramble about my sensory shit

So like I've loved spicy, bold flavours like hot cheetos, curry, buffalo wings, etc, and I'll never not accept them as a safe food.

Sometimes though my sensory needs just- change back and forth, like from "I will vomit if I eat avocado toast today" to "avocado toast is the only thing I will accept as breakfast today" which is I guess where audhd comes in. There are some foods that bypass all my shifting needs, like strawberries, dehydrated apples, hot cheetos, potato chips, and pasta (ESPECIALLY the bowties omg I love the bowtie pasta)

Aside from taste needs, sometimes I really REALLY need a tight hug, not because I'm having a rough day but just because my body really wants to be under pressure for like 4 seconds and then it's good, aND THEN IT SWITCHES TO "If my parents even just barely touch my hair I will die of the sudden itch and sometimes even pain"

Also florescent lights just kill me most of the time which is why I am very happy that most of my teachers don't have every light turned on in their classrooms

I need socks to walk anywhere around my house but I will have straight up insomnia if I wear them to sleep

I haven't ever gone fully non-verbal but when I talk I either have to repeat myself 4 times because of how quiet I'm mumbling, stutter too much to the point where I just restart my sentence after pausing, repeat a word when I didn't mean to (for example during a chapter review of Lord of the flies I said "Piggy and Piggy" instead of "Jack and Piggy" and I got laughed at D:) ORRRRR I NEED TO BE TOLD TO BE QUIETER BECAUSE I'M RAMBLING TOOFASTANDLOUDDD

I have two special interests: my OC lore, and Genshin Impact. My childhood special interest was- also my old OC lore (7 year old me had the amazing and magical story, ever so creatively named "the enchanted forest") that went on for like 4-5 years where I would always want to talk about it and think about it to sleep, aaaaaand My Little Pony (I'VE REWATCHED MLP AND NINJAGO BOTH LIKE AT LEAST 8 TIMES but I wouln't call Ninjago a special interest bc it was more of an on and off obsession-)

I do also have hyperfixations ofc and they usually last up to 2 months, pretty sure that lines up with the statistical average idk

Also sometimes I just need to- punch something with full force. I never get to though and Ik it'd feel great (I did throw a pillow like 5 times in a call with my friend when I was hyper though so like... I've been able to get that excitement out-)

I'm sometimes really slow or just straight up zone out mid-conversation which is frustrating on both ends

I have a wide and advanced vocabulary for my age but [read the prior paragraph on talking], I usually don't get to use it to it's full potential because of that issue .-.

(I just realized this whole rant about my stuff is gonna be perfect for if I can ever actually get diagnosed by someone yayyy)

Mom told me that as a 1-3 year old I never really played with my toys but just lined them up either by size or color (yk those like- tower thingies with the rings of differing sizes and colors? I always ordered them correctly just out of the need for it to look right)

When I was 5 this girl in Kindergarten had a sling on but it was a fancy bedazzled sling so I really wanted to feel the gems but she wouldn't let me and I got sad :(

I've always loved swings and those like- spider web climbing equipment, still do just because I like rocking around and being able to stretch and hang and maneuver around the differently angled bars/ropes on the spider web thing (SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THEY'RE ACTUALLY CALLED)

I also have this like- neck shaking and hand flapping tic/stim, sometimes it's uncontrollable sometimes it's a controllable urge, and when it's a tic it sometimes hurts or is just straight up excessive

Okay my mind is going blank now so buhbye this was super long if anyone read all of that- kudos to you, Idk why you would subject yourself to reading it all ok BYEEE

[starhvney]

any tips for us beginner writers? :3

honestly this sounds super cliche, but practice! i’ve improved in my writing skills just from a few weeks ago because i’ve been posting so much. writing is a skill kind of like art.

although that’s cliche, here’s a few resources i use to improve my writing:

☆ pinterest | i have a board full of character descriptions, prompts, word substitutions, world building tips for realism, etc. that i reference all. the. time. look up writing tips on pinterest and you’ll find millions of suggestions. i’ve scrolled for hours on there.

☆ plan | have a general idea of where you want the story to go, even if it’s for a short story. if you don’t know that you want your character to end up from point A to point B by the end of the story (because you don’t even know what point B is), then you’re writing can become drawn out and pointless.

☆ online dictionary/thesaurus | sometimes i end up reusing a word too many times, but still want to convey the same idea. look up that same word and find a synonym for it that works!

☆ grammarly | sometimes checking my own spelling is too time consuming and i don’t want to do it. gradually it’s useful for pointing out places with spell checks (but don’t always take its advice if it wants to shorten or reword a sentence, it’s not always right for creative writing)

☆ walk away | if you feel like you’re just not in the creative headspace and you’re getting frustrated, or you’re not sure of what you wrote is good, get up and do something else for a bit! once you’ve cleared your mind, come back to it and look at your work with fresh eyes to correct any mistakes or think of new ideas.

☆ listen to music, ambience, or even asmr | i do this a lot! i find a playlist of mine that fits the vibe of what i’m trying to write, and it helps me focus on the story. for instance, if i want to write a scary scene i listen to film soundtracks that are intense and eery, or listen to an ambience from a horror game. if i want to write something peaceful, i listen to soft music or a spring morning ambience. this really helps if you struggle to get in the writing zone like i do.

☆ shut off your left brain | sometimes when we write or draw, our focus and thoughts become too critical of our work, and we stunt ourselves or get frustrated and completely give up. you have to switch over into the creative side of your brain, and not care if you make mistakes as you write! you can edit it later, but just focus on getting the story and thought out of your head. i do this by daydreaming the situation first, and then writing it out while listening to music.

☆ study other artists! | similar to art, you need to study others works to develop your own style. look at the works of a fan fiction writer who’s really good, or a popular book that made it big. when do they break off their paragraphs? how do they change scenes? how do they form their sentences and describe the scenery and characters?

i’ll also say that i did grow up with an english teacher mom and much older sisters who also became teachers and had an extensive vocabulary, so writing came easier to me than others because of that. BUT! even still my writing was awful a couple of years ago. it took a lot of practice and trashing my old work to get to this point.

i’m not that great of a teacher myself, but i hope this advice helps! best of luck to anyone who wants to try writing, don’t be scared to start!!! i believe in you :)