#like if youre just like. i personally don’t believe or you have to experience it tourself then whatever but..

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C2)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[foundress0fnothing]

and kisses are a better fate than wisdom

Summary: Feyre drags her sisters to Medieval Times to ogle the hot king. Nesta drags Emerie and Gwyn to Medieval Times for support and hater solidarity. And maybe to ogle some hot knights.

Rated E, Chapter 1/6, ~2.9k words

For @nessianweek ♥️

This fic is brought to you by an ER visit and antibiotics! I had intended to have the Nessian section of this complete, but then life kicked my ass, and so all I have to offer you today is a beginning. The Nessian smut chapter will be my next update to the fic, and then I’ll write chapters for all the other pairs (eventually and as the horny mood strikes).

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

“What the fuck, Feyre?” 

Nesta started in horror at the seemingly endless train of middle schoolers who were being led past the ticket window. Three jostled Nesta’s bag as they scuttled past, and she glared after them. Not that it did any good—they just dissolved into shrieking giggles as they careened around the space, narrowly missing the suit of armor standing in the corner of the large atrium. “Please tell me you didn’t have me call out of work for this.”

“Of course she didn’t, Nesta,” Elain said, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Our dear sister would only text us “Need you at the mall, personal emergency, please come ASAP” if it was for something really, really serious.” She looked pointedly at Feyre. “Right, Feyre?”

Feyre at least had the decency to look a little guilty. “He’s just…so hot, guys,” she mumbled, blushing.

“Oh my god.” Rolling her eyes, Nesta turned away from her sister’s embarrassed face to take in the spectacle that was apparently going to consume the next two hours of her life if the sign above the ticket window could be believed:

Brace yourself for approximately two hours of heart-pounding excitement! You’ll see lance-shattering jousting, clashing swordsmanship, and thrilling hand-to-hand combat! Join us for an unforgettable experience!

When Feyre told Nesta and Elain to meet her by the fake castle façade, Nesta had assumed it was only because it was easily recognizable and about as far away from Feyre’s waitressing job at the Cheesecake Factory as it could be while still technically being part of the mall. 

She did not expect that Feyre actually wanted her to spend time—not to mention 60 fucking dollars—in this tacky monstrosity. 

And “tacky” was a generous description of the space around her. Between the suit of armor in the corner, the display cases lining the room stuffed with replicas of weapons and garishly colored flags, and the entire wall devoted to headshots of all the idiots who were involved in the whole farce, Nesta found very little here that made her want to linger any longer than she absolutely had to.

But—it had been so long since her littlest sister had shown interest in anyone since she broke up with that god-awful trust fund manager Tamlin, and that interest, combined with Feyre’s palpable youngest sibling energy, softened Nesta enough to stay. Begrudgingly.

“It could be fun!” Feyre tried, but she was looking at the picture of whoever the “so hot” cast member was who prompted this nonsense in the first place as she said it, so Nesta didn’t trust her judgment anymore. She refused to look at the cast pictures. What use did she have for role-playing nerds or gym bros who used the guise of a medieval joust to hit at each other like brutes? No thanks.

She sighed and pulled out her phone to text her best friends and coworkers Emerie and Gwyn to take their lunch break and come over.  “I’m not about to suffer through this alone.” Their law office was only a few blocks away, and Nesta only felt the tiniest bit guilty about condemning them to a few hours of campy spectacle. What were friends for if not to hate watch something with you as a favor to your little sister?

That made Feyre turn away from the cast picture wall as she gestured indignantly between herself and Elain. “We’re here!” 

“You don’t count anymore, Feyre.”

“Well, what about Elain?”

Nesta scoffed lightly. “She’ll probably end up liking it somehow, and then I’ll have no one to complain with.” Elain stuck her tongue out although she didn’t deny it, and Nesta hummed in satisfaction at being right. She hadn’t missed the way Elain had also been looking at the wall of cast members, lingering for a few moments on the head shot of one of the knights who bore a distinctive red ponytail.

Nesta looked back at her phone and saw messages of confused confirmation from Emerie and Gwyn agreeing to meet her there, and so she went back to the ticket window to buy seats for them. Maybe she’d expense them—company bonding and all that bullshit.

By the time she returned to the corner where her sisters were standing, Gwyn and Emerie had joined them, and Nesta shook her head, forestalling the question that she could see forming on her friends’ lips. “Don’t ask.”

Emerie snorted. “You think I’m not going to have questions after you text us in the middle of the work day demanding that we take off and come to Medieval Times? Be serious Nesta.”

“Maybe she’s finally lost it,” Gwyn shrugged. “The Hybern case cracked her.”

“That case drives me to drink, not to willfully agree to a two hour long lobotomy.”

Feyre glared. “Stop being such a spoilsport. We’re here to ogle hot guys. You should be on board.”

“Hmmm, $60 to watch grown men play dress up and cover anything interesting with armor. Sign me up.”

An announcement overhead began, urging audience members to find their seats before the beginning of the show.

Feyre grinned and flicked her braid over her shoulder. “Well, good thing you already bought a ticket then, Nesta.” And with that, she hooked her arm around Elain’s, turned, and flounced into the darkened hall that led to the arena.

“Walked right into that one, babe.”

“Shut up, Em.”

Emerie flashed a smile and started following Feyre down the hall. “Do you think there’ll only be hot guys? Because that’s really gonna put a damper on the next two hours for me.”

“From a place like this?” Nesta gestured around to the kitschy, rustic decor. “I doubt we’re going to find any brave, gender-role defying performances here. I think the best you can hope for is a hot tavern wench.”

“Desperate times, I suppose.” Emerie sighed dramatically. “Perfect people must endure so much in this life.”

Gwyn giggled from where she was walking behind them. “And what would you know about that, Em?”

Emerie flipped her off without turning around, and Gwyn added, “But who knows? Maybe this’ll be great! Maybe we’ll find true lo—”

“Stop—don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Nesta stopped walking and turned to face Gwyn. You’re only here to be a hater with me.”

“Nesta—”

“No—this is a Valkyrie law office pact. You have to hate this with me. Don’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a guy in a tin can.” She whirled back around to Emerie. “Or a wench in too-tight stays. We’re better than that.”

Her friends nodded silently, and Nesta chose to ignore the knowing looks they gave each other in favor of turning back around and marching toward the opening to the arena. It was a large, airy room with rising wooden stands that ringed a sandy, clear oval in the middle of the space. There were oversize flags and banners hanging from the ceiling designating four different sections that corresponded to the different knights, and a dias, where the king would oversee whatever nonsense was about to happen.

Feyre and Elain had already grabbed their seats along a wooden, almost picnic-style bench in the first row of what was apparently the Red Knight’s section. Wenches were circulating, taking drink orders, and Nesta made sure to order a glass of wine—a large glass of wine—before she sat down. Needs must. Gwyn and Emerie quickly followed suit, and it wasn’t long before the lights in the stands dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd.

There was a distant stamping sound, and then all of a sudden, four knights on horseback burst out of a door at the far end of the arena, galloping around the perimeter of the arena. The audience erupted into cheers at the sight of the knights, and Nesta felt her mouth go dry.

Holy. Shit. 

She felt Gywn lean over to whisper in her ear. “Are we still better than that, Nesta? Because…” She trailed off, but Nesta didn’t need her to finish her sentence.

Because Holy. Fucking. Shit.

All but one of the knights weren’t wearing their helmets yet, and each one was intensely, unfairly gorgeous. 

There was the red and yellow knight whose long red hair streamed out behind him as he circled the arena. He was tall and wickedly handsome, even with a rough scar bisecting the left side of his face. Small charms and beads woven into individual strands caught the overhead lights and made him look like he was glowing with some inner light. 

The next knight was his opposite in every way. Clothed in black with accents of a deep blue, he seemed to swallow the light as he rode a lap around the arena. He was imposing and muscled and almost unfairly beautiful for a man. Especially for a man wearing fake armor, Nesta reminded herself, shaking her head and closing her mouth from how it had gaped open slightly at his appearance.

The green knight rode in after him, his helmet still on, and Nesta idly wondered why he alone would still be wearing his helmet. Was he self-conscious? Or just not a cocksure, handsome asshole like the first two knights? Whatever the reason, he was clearly an excellent horseman. His seat was agile and easy, and the two of them together moved like they were caught in some dance with music only they could hear. 

But Nesta didn’t have time to linger on why this knight was still wearing his helmet, or how well he rode a horse, because any thoughts she had were quickly replaced by the sight of the red knight. He was almost like a brother to the blue knight, but almost impossibly larger. It was as if he was made entirely of muscle—Nesta could see as much even with his armor covering almost everything except his neck and head. His skin was a deep brown and his hair, long and black and wavy, had been gathered into a messy half ponytail. He was a warrior, that much was clear, and Nesta had no idea how someone who looked like that could possibly exist in today’s world. He looked like Arthur, or Gawain, or Lancelot—someone from myths created centuries ago. 

“Shit, shit, shit there he is!” Feyre yanked on Nesta’s arm to drag her attention away from the red knight and point out—not subtly, mind you—the reason they were all here in the first place. The king who presided over the arena and the tournament had just stepped onto a platform situated against one of the walls. He was tall and dark-haired, and the kind of attractive that had from money written all over him. Not that someone who was from money would want to work at a place like this. But still—something about the smug smile and the glint in his eyes as he surveyed “his kingdom” made Nesta shudder slightly. No thanks. 

She turned a skeptical eye toward Feyre. “Him? Out of all of them?” She asked, gesturing to the knights who were bringing their horses to a rest in front of the dias. “You’re going with him?”

“What?” Feyre turned to Nesta in shock. “Do you have eyes?”

“Do you?”

Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest, turning back to look at the king. “He’s clearly the hottest one here.”

“Okay, Feyre,” Nesta said, pursing her lips and deciding to let the argument drop. If he did it for her sister, then so be it. 

She turned back to the center of the arena to see that all of the knights had come to a stop in a line. The crowd was murmuring, pointing at the assembled men and occasionally whooping for their assigned knight. The red knight was looking over at their section, his eyes locked on Nesta. When he realized that she saw him, he winked and gave a small bow with his head. Nesta scowled, ignoring the spark of interest that flared to life somewhere in her chest. She would not let herself be flustered by a Medieval Times actor. She wouldn’t. 

The king raised a hand, and the crowd quieted. “My loyal subjects!” His voice, low and smooth, boomed over the gathered crowds. “I am his Royal Majesty, King Rhysand. Thank you for joining me here today to watch as the heroic knights of the kingdom fight for honor and for glory.” 

Nesta looked at Emerie and Gwyn and raised her eyebrows at his theatrics. Gwyn giggled, and the king’s gaze flashed over to where they were seated, roving over their group until his eyes landed on Feyre. His smile at the sight of her was sickeningly self-satisfied, and Nesta turned to see Feyre flush at his attention. 

“I am honored that so many handsome lords and fair maidens,” he continued, winking at Feyre, “decided to join me to welcome my court today. I don’t yet have a queen to join me in my revels, but perhaps I shall find her amongst your number today.” Nesta watched as Feyre, impossibly, flushed even deeper. She rolled her eyes.

“That is, unless you lose your heart to one of my knights.” Rhysand gestured toward the knights in front of him. “My friends! Introduce yourself to my honored guests!”

One by one, the knights stepped their horses forward, bowed to Rhysand, and called out their names. Sir Lucien. Sir Azriel. It was like they were characters out of some long-forgotten medieval tale, their names at once ancient and eternal. If those were actually their real names. Nesta doubted it. 

The green knight stepped his horse forward, and Nesta wondered if he would finally take off his helmet. He obliged Nesta’s request, and she realized, as a thick braid of lustrous blonde hair dropped on the knight’s shoulder and their face, all softness and full lips, came into view, that this knight was a woman. 

Emerie’s mouth was hanging slightly open at the sight. She leaned across Gwyn to whisper, “Nesta, I love you and I know I said I wouldn’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a wench in stays but,” she said, her eyes never leaving the armored woman, “for a wench in armor? I don’t know you.”

And then it was the red knight’s turn. He bowed slightly to acknowledge the king and said, with a small smirk, “Sir Cassian, your majesty.” 

His voice washed over Nesta, deep and husky and filled with laughter, and she hated that something in her shivered at the sound of it and the sheer power it carried. She wondered, idly if that power extended to other areas of his life.

“And there you have it, my subjects!” The king’s voice rang out again, breaking her out of her rapidly devolving reverie. “Please give a warm welcome to my loyal knights as we begin our tournament!”

The crowd burst into cheers, and the knights smiled and waved at their respective sections, which, in their turn, cheered even more loudly until the entire arena was awash in sound. 

The red knight—Sir Cassian—was looking toward where they were sitting in his section, and, at his wave, Nesta’s sisters and traitorous friends burst into renewed applause and cheers. She took a sip of her wine, pointedly not joining in.

He frowned slightly, and she raised an eyebrow in challenge, taking another drink while maintaining eye contact. He looked away, and she smiled vindictively before turning to berate Emerie and Gwyn for caving so easily.

But before she could say anything, she was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and a deep, murmured, “My lady.”

Nesta turned, and there he was at the edge of the arena, sitting astride his giant horse and looking directly at her. He was nearly at eye level with her, even from her seat in the raised stand, and she was struck by just how tall he was. His hands, as they held his horse’s reins, looked massive as well, and she wondered, just for a moment, how they would feel spanning across her waist, her breasts, her—

She shook her head and scowled at him. “Me? No, thank you.”

He only smirked at her refusal before continuing on. “While it used to be tradition that maidens would give tokens to their favored knights before a tournament, here in the arena, it is the knights who give tokens to their ladies,” he said, pulling a red silken handkerchief out of a pocket somewhere—did suits of armor have pockets?—and held it out to her.

Nesta crossed her arms, reminded herself that he was just a guy in a tin can, and scowled. “I’m not your lady.”

“And yet, I still have a token for you.” He kept his arm outstretched and met her gaze. “Only you.”

His eyes—distractingly smudged with eyeliner—were a lovely shade of hazel, and they sparked with warmth and mirth as he looked at her. From this close, she could see that he had earrings as well—small red studs in each lobe and tiny golden hoops along his cartilage. He looked charming and wicked and roguish, and Nesta found that she couldn’t tear her gaze away—that she didn’t want to.

And, well, she was only human. Who could blame her for being interested? 

But she wouldn’t cave that easily, so she said, instead,  “Not until you earn it.”

Something flared in his eyes at the challenge, and he said, easily and certainly, “As my lady commands.” He left the red handkerchief on the table in front of Nesta and went to prepare for the tournament.

As he rode away, Feyre turned to her with a shit-eating grin. “Having fun yet, Nesta?”

“Shut up, Feyre.”

[maletfwitch]

Can you maybe write a story where Nick Fury and Steve Rogers swap bodies?

Steve couldn’t believe what was happening Nick Fury stood there accusing him of Serious crimes such as stealing and sharing important documents. He tried to explain that he was being framed and set up but Nick wasn’t having it.

“Since you’re currently deemed untrustworthy I'm afraid you’ll have to be punished and won’t be able to perform your duties as Captain America,” Nick told Steve.

Security then helped escort them into a Lab where Tony Stark was present. Steve tried to ask what they were doing but got no answers. He was then instructed to go inside a pod connected to some machine. While Nick went into the other one. Suddenly there was a green flash in both pods.

Steve felt disoriented as he stepped out of the pod. he could only see out of one eye and looked down shocked to see his hands were now black. He also noticed his outfit was an exact replica of Nick’s. he immediately looked over to the other pod and saw his old body strutting out.

“Until further notice, I’ll be taking over your duties as Captain America. To do so I’ll be taking your body. While you’ll be in my body held in a special holding facility. Our team will help to rehabilitate you. We'll switch back once you’re considered trustworthy again," Nick explained in Steve’s body as he crossed his arms.

Steve was trying to process what he just said but was quickly grabbed by security and put in some high-tech handcuffs. “hey- stop that! Wait-“ Steve objected as the guards took him away in Nick’s body.

“Thanks for the help, Tony. It was a pretty smart idea to swap our bodies” Nick said

“You’re welcome it’s a real shame what happened to Steve or I guess Nick now. Also, I forgot to mention as a side effect of the body swap you both may experience some changes to sex drives”

“excuse me? why wasn’t this mentioned earlier?” Nick asked raising an eyebrow.

“don’t worry about it you might just be a little hornier than usual” Tony brushed off Nick’s concerns. as nick walked away in Steve’s body a devious smirk appeared on Tony’s face as everything was going to plan.

Steve was thrown into a holding cell that had just the essentials like a bed, sink, and toilet with no obvious way out. He noticed a mirror and began investigating his new body it felt so weird and foreign for him to see Nick’s reflection staring back at him. he suddenly began to feel really horny for no reason. He had no clue what was turning him on but he couldn’t resist it as he pulled down his pants, grabbed his new cock, and began masturbating. he felt so good and began orgasming and moaning almost instantly. Just as he was starting to cum a guard showed up.

“Look who’s being a bad boy. Luckily I got just the thing for you” the guard said as he approached holding a stark Industries Chasity cage.

Meanwhile, Nick appreciated his new body as he flexed his muscles in front of a mirror. Admiring his new pecs and arms. While he was initially weirded out by Tony’s plan to switch their bodies he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying Steve’s body. He felt pleasure begin to build in his crotch area. He was so distracted he didn’t even notice Tony walking up behind him until he felt the heat of Tony’s body press against his.

“enjoying yourself... Steve?” Tony said in a seductive whisper into Nick’s ear.

Nick began moaning lightly something about being in Steve’s body made him just so horny and filled him up with desires foreign to him.

“Tony, please... please...Fuck Me” Nick moaned out.

Tony smirked pleased with his results before the 2 would have intense sex. Steve’s ass made him the perfect bottom.

Loki’s plan went perfectly not only was he able to get both Nick Fury and Steve out of his way but he now had Captain America as his own personal slut who would go along with any of his plans if it meant getting his cock.

//////////////

Written as a sequel to this story.

I had this story on the back burner for a few months now i hope you guys enjoyed it and hope I can get more work out soon.

[hasello]

Hi, Hey wanted to talk about that other post about rise leo being a good leader, and my opinion I think that's a total lie. I barely finished the show and through all of it I haven't see him as a leader but as a total amateur. He isn't the leader in this version, only in the movie, not even there he did any good desicion, he only threw himself in the flames. I more of 2012 version, and you can totally compare him. 2012 leo learn from his mistakes and knows how to work with his team, he worries about his brothers; while the rise leo doesn't care if he puts them in danger, never works in team, and rather worries in having fun.

But all said, I want to hear more from you, your opinion, and to know who you think is best. I noticed that you have way more knowledge about the TMNT.

Stay hydrated ❤

Hi! Your opinion is totally valid, since everyone interprets things in their own way. I mostly disagree, tho.

First of all, like you said - Leo wasn’t the leader in the Rise show, nor was he the oldest. So of course it didn’t feel like it, that’s totally fair. ALTHOUGH: Once he did become the leader, I do agree he wasn’t the best at it… but then that’s kind of the whole point! It’s to show he’s not really ready and has A LOT to learn. Don’t know about you, but I love that idea. It brings depth to the whole „leader” plot. I think a lot of it is caused by the fact that he’s the only Leonardo who isn’t the oldest. The show lets him be more carefree and not really understand some morbid things, that oldest siblings keep in mind. Other Leos are the oldest and keep in mind the team’s safety, which sometimes makes them seen as „boring” by their siblings. Rise Leo is the complete opposite of „boring”. That’s Raph’s job in rise. On top of that other Leos were leaders for much longer and gathered experience. So I think comparing Rise Leo to other shows is a little unfair anyway, because their situations are way different.

Although apart from all that - Leo is VERY good at planning and his personality lets him be sneaky and manipulative, which also helps in a lot of circumstances. When the gang needs to get information, they send Leo. When they need some encouragement, Leo steps in. When they lost Raph in the sewers? Leo was the only one taking it seriously. When they got upset at losing the paper thieves? Leo did a nice speech, at least trying to keep the team in high spirits (which also showed how observant he is, as he knew what to say to each brother). When his brothers blindly believed Big Mama? He saved the day, knowing better from the start. (He was the only one being cautious, thinking of their safety).

You can see the little hints of potential in a lot of episodes. Personally I believe he’s a natural leader, he just needs to sort his priorities and learn about responsibility (which already happened in the movie, bro learned the hard way lmao).

I think that if the show didn’t end so soon, it would have been a lot more fleshed out and showed better. It’s pretty obvious it was their plan from the start to turn him into a leader at some point. Although like I said, opinions are just opinions.

You too stay hydrated! Take care, love 😚

[imavikingo]

I was thinking on when Steve lost Bucky for the 3rd time (1st when he was drafted, 2nd when he was told he was MIA, 3rd when he fell) he tried to get drunk to forget, right? If he did that then...

What did he do when he lost him for the 6th time? (4th when he escaped, 5th when Bucky was in cryo, 6th the snap)

I mean technically Bucky died twice, but Steve lost him six times already.

And of he tried to get blind drunk once of those times- did he self-harm in other ways too?

To dull the pain? He can't get drunk, he heals quickly, he can't die easily either, so what did he do?

He wouldn't want to die when he knows for a fact that Bucky is alive ofc, but I can't see him acting normally or without a little bit of reckless energy.

To dull the pain and disappoinment (he can't feel like that, that's Bucky's choice -Cryo-. But how it hurts him tho).

(unrelated to this line of thought but it is relevant to the idea regardless)

That's why I can't fathom the idea of Steve abandoning Bucky in endgame.

He lost him 6 six (6) times already and he just... Went away? To a woman he only kissed once? After all he did for him, the pain and loss?

Even if you don't ship them, you have to think that to be really ooc on Steve's part. Everything in his character arc in the MCU is related to Bucky (and loss). Yes he liked Peggy, but he didn't suffer nor mourn her the same way he mourned Bucky (She was alive, but had dementia and was also very old, and had her own life).

His feelings for Peggy were more a "what if" and lost possibilities than anything.

She was an idea, a fantasy (that's why Wanda used that when fighting with him, right?). Not something real.

He wanted to be with her, but he didn't really knew her or love her (at least I don't think so).

She was the first woman that saw him for him after all. Before everything. But that's it.

He liked her for that (and her strong personality too) but did he love her? He didn't try to get on dates after he was defrosted because he knew people would only see Captain America, not Steve Rogers. He needed to represent an ideal and knew no one would understand (the pain, loss) and have the patience to be with him. That’s why he also highlighted the shared life experience thing.

So she was comforting, reassuring in a toxic and unhealthy kind of way (memories and fantasy aren't healthy when used like that). But still a what if and lost opportunity. He had to let her go at one point. And he did(!) But they had to fuck it up…

I mean... it's the same thing when you're still hung up on an ex. You want to think of the possibilities, the what ifs, the "what could have been" But when you go back to them nothing is like you remembered, nothing is like you wanted and you are dissatisfied and disappointed.

(Because all of that was in your head, it wasn't real).

And besides, he knew she had a life of her own (a fulfilling one at that) so what, he was selfish enough to fuck that up too? Without helping HIM? Without saving HIM? Abandoning HIM? After just being brought to life? After grieving him for another five years? Bucky was his best friend, his companion, his best pal…

He wouldn't do that to him. He would die before hurting Bucky (as they already stablished for most of the fucking movies) He even was like “You don’t understand” when Peggy talked to him in the bars ruins.

I think in canon (not ooc/EG)Steve would entertain the idea, but would decide to just keep it as that: An idea, a fantasy. And move on like he already did before.

Also the idea that it was a Peggy from an alternative universe is flawed because he abandoned HIS Bucky, even if in the other universe he helped or whatever.

In HIS UNIVERSE he abandoned his best friend? Not believable. And the logic of “oh it didn’t change their timeline because it was another one” is also stupid.

They already fucked up with Steve fighting 2012!Steve and also telling him about Bucky (creating another universe more than likely). And they were supposed to be undetected. Not create new universes. Thats also why I’m so keen on the idea of Steve being in a prison or something. He already fucked up once, twice if you think he went to the past to stay.

How can he be free while fucking up the timelines? Yeah, nah.

Also… they implied Steve can’t age in a movie if I remember correctly…. How did he become old?

And the idea that he went to Peggy because “Tony told him to have a life outside of captain america” is fucked up. So what? He relates his Bucky’s existence with work? FUCK OFF. Endgame Steve is fucked up and the worst character assassination I’ve ever seen.

They were just too annoyed with the fans because we ship Stucky (even tho they used that to promote the movies in panels and stuff, hypocrites -​I remember clearly the producers? of the movie talk about gay characters and the actors talk about Stucky in those panels for then…be one of the russos in like 1 second and have that shit ass, fuck ass ending for Steve and Bucky. That shit was vile-).

im also annoyed with some people that now shit on Steve when umh… did you see the movies? The other movies? Not only Endgame? (Btw the only one that got a “good ending” was Tony because he died as a hero in front of everyone -even tho he didn’t want to help at first because he had a good life, the ONLY ONE OF THEM might I add-, everyone else got worse, is dead or they’re neglected and treated as haha funny character or haha funny moment)

Im all for ships and ideas and headcanons (even when I hate them with passion, you do you) but don’t try and use this character assassination as an excuse to shit on Steve. If you NEED to shit on a character for your ship to work, then you’re not doing a good job at it or your ship sucks. Idk what to tell you.

[theflannelwizard]

IN THIS HOUSE WE STAND FOR THE FLAG!! 🇺🇸🏳️‍⚧️

[transmechanicus]

How to remove the words seratonin, dopamine, and oxytocin from the minds of people who take psych advice from unlicensed tiktokers. Bonus points if it takes the tattoos they got of the molecules bc they’re scientifically illiterate and think a chemical structure adds legitimacy to their pseudoscience.

[the-abyssal-system]

Singlets stop talking about systems as if you’re an expert because you follow some on tumblr challenge (also warning the tags here are a huge rant so feel free to ignore that)

[moonsaurora]

yall know anyone can do the knocking method right..like are yall forgetting queen mary where they had a 30 minute knocking conversation? or literally any time there’s a random knock in a haunted place? like just cause cody was doing it alone awhile ago doesnt mean they’re faking

[juniestar]

Oh my god one last thing my ex took me to outside lands and when we tried to watch lana del rey he laid down on the grass and had a “panic attack” (this was after months of him talking about how he didn’t like her) so we went to see foo fighters after a bit and he was FINE

[alexiroflife]

jjk men calling you annoying...

"hi! ik u have a few reqs to do and ur going on vacation but i was reading some of ur works and saw u did a headcannon for calling jjk men annoying. i was thinking what if u did the opposite w the jjk men calling reader annoying? if u dont decide to do this thats okay! cant wait to eat up your other upcoming fics <3" -anon

some angst, jjk men being assholes (except for nanami)

satoru, suguru, kento, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo:

normally, satoru is the one that is considered to be annoying. every higher up, coworker, and student of his alike would agree that satoru’s personality is pestering on its own, for his behavior doesn’t align with the severity of the jujutsu world in the eyes of others.

satoru has never cared how others judged him, for he often takes to picking on others for the sake of getting a reaction. he enjoys lightening the mood of drab situations, therefore he’s tossing around inappropriate jokes during meetings, teasing utahime for the umpteenth time, or trying to force megumi into spending quality time with him while the sixteen year old does his best to pretend he doesn’t know him in public.

and with you, he’s far worse. satoru can not bear being away from you or your attention being focused into anything other than him for longer than two minutes, and he’s always making an excuse to abandon whatever he’s doing to be by your side. satoru is the very definition of clingy, and while everyone finds it annoying, you can not deny that you adore how the strongest glues himself to you as though he can not bear for the two of you to be parted.

those around him believe it’s impossible for someone as annoying as gojo to actually be annoyed by anything, but you know what pisses him off. you know that he can not stand the jujutsu higher ups and how they antagonize children who were given no choice but to live the lives they lead. he can not stand the way they order him around to carry out unfavorable tasks with no regard for his past experiences or the experiences of the students that he is meant to monitor. he can not stand the lectures, the judgmental tones, the expectation of respect when it is not given in return.

and he can not stand when he is forced to attend hearings or meetings with them, where he has to listen to them drone on and on about how irresponsible he is when satoru is the only one truly looking out for the good of all groups. they demand so much of him, yet treat him like trash in return. nothing peeves him off more.

he knows that you understand this about him as a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, but you have the tendency to be more tolerant of injustices than he is. what he means is that you know how to save face for the sake of your own sanity and pay the elders no mind whilst simultaneously making them think that you are in cooperation with them. you know how to feign manners and respect, which satoru does not bother to do.

consequently, when you tell him that the upcoming meeting that he has scheduled with the higher ups is one he should attend instead of skipping due to its level of importance, he can’t help but be irritated with you.

“i’m just saying, satoru,” you say into the speaker with your phone pressed to your ear. the blue eyed man is on his way to said meeting after you practically forced him to attend, and he’s not at all happy about it. “once you’re in there, you’ll be out in no time.”

“(y/n), somehow those pricks make a half an hour feel like two,” your boyfriend complained into the phone. you place your hand on your hip and look up to the ceiling.

“you’re being so pessimistic about it,” you sigh. “it’s gonna be worse the worse you talk about it.”

“no, it’s gonna be bad regardless because these higher ups don’t know up from down or left from right.”

you can tell he’s growing aggravated, which was the opposite effect you wanted this call to have. you lower your head and attempt to shift, to reassure him in a different way.

“it’s gonna be okay, toru,” you tell him. “you’re above these people anyway, no matter what the hierarchy at this school is-“

“if you really thought that, you wouldn’t have made me go.”

you frown. “you didn’t really have a choice with this one, you know that right? whether you like the assholes or not, the meeting itself is important. you need to be there.”

“i really wish you’d stop saying that,” he exhales, agitatedly.

“stop saying what?” you scrunch your face, hand falling from your hip. “that it’s your responsibility?”

“yeah, actually,” he snaps. “hell, you’re starting to sound just like everyone else.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you scoff. “satoru, i’m just trying to help you. sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal.”

“suck it up?” he repeats incredulously. “i suck it up every day of my life. everyone wants me to do something for them, but expects me not to have my own opinions in return and that shit doesn’t make any sense.”

“that’s not what i’m trying to say-“

“then what are you trying to say? to just go along with all the messed up shit the higher ups want me to do?”

“no.”

“then what?”

“to just attend a meeting for the sake of your job, satoru. my god, that’s all.”

he tchs, and you can imagine him rolling his eyes on the other line. “fine. whatever.”

“what’s with your attitude? i’m genuinely just trying to look out for you, like…?”

“you’re not helping, (y/n). you’re being annoying.”

his words sting, and you stand still in the hall to your classroom as you register satoru’s tone and accusation. there’s silence, and satoru knows that when you say nothing more, he’s crossed a line.

even so, he’s too heated currently to own up to it in this moment, so he lets the silence swallow you both as he walks.

“okay,” you mumble apathetically after a while. “bye, satoru.”

you hear him prepare to say something, but your thumb is already hiding the end call button.

throughout the next half and hour, you try your best to focus on teaching your lesson to the second years, but you find yourself struggling.

you understand satoru’s frustrations with the higher ups, but to take that frustration out on you is completely uncalled for.

and to call you annoying? for ensuring that he doesn’t further endanger his already shaky position with the the authorities over him? how ungrateful is that! how could he label you as a disturbance to him when all you’ve ever done was try to lighten his load?

you don’t understand it. and it hurts to know that one little thing in comparison to the plethora of clingy annoyances that satoru has the habit of displaying that you don’t even find aggravating is enough to send him over the edge.

you’re aggressively erasing your chalkboard at the end of your lesson when you hear the sound of air flushing and papers fluttering behind you. immediately, you feel satoru’s presence much to your displeasure.

“baby?” he calls you tentatively, though you already know full well that he is there in your vacant room. you don’t reply, continuing to swipe your eraser over the chalk. “baby, please don’t ignore me,” he sighs guiltily. “can i… can we just talk?”

“get out, satoru.”

you can physically feel Satoru’s mannerisms droop behind you, but you do not fall for it. he deserves your standoffishness, your unwillingness to engage.

“i just wanna talk, (y/n)… just five minutes?”

you clench your jaw, brows angling tensely as his earlier words run through your mind again and again. your pace picks up and your movements grow harsher.

before you know it, you feel the white haired man brushing behind you inches away, reaching a hand to your shoulder. “(y/n)?”

“stop!” you rip away, stepping back. satoru retracts his hand quickly, crystal eyes blown wide as he watches you. you slam your eraser down onto the ledge and hold your hands up. “just stop! you don’t get to be rude to me and then just come back around as if everything’s okay. what if I don’t want to talk to you?”

having removed his blindfold before coming here, you can see the pain and remorse circling in his gaze. “pretty, i didn’t mean to say what i said,” he starts again slowly. “i-i’m sorry, i was just overstimulated and angry- not even at you, and you were telling me to do something I didn’t want to do but had to do, then i…” he huffs. “i’m so sorry.”

you fold your arms and stare harshly at the board, brows twitching as satoru’s smooth, genuine apology flows through your ears.

when you still don’t say anything, satoru’s mouth tugs downward and his lashes fluttere prettily over his cheek. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk to me or see me right now. i was being shitty, and i didn’t mean it, baby. i just had to come and tell you that as soon as the meeting was over… and you were right. i needed to be there.”

you close your eyes. “why don’t you ever listen to me?”

satoru practically jumps when he hears you speak. “what did you say?”

“you never listen to me, toru,” you look at him desperately. “you always do what you want to do, and when i have to make you do something, you pout. is what i say really that unimportant to you?”

“no,” he rushes out, swooping in to stand before you so he can meet your eyes up close. “no, no, no. no, that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“i listen to you, baby. i do, i just struggle when you give me suggestions about work because we have completely different approaches. you play by the rules more and i do what i think is best even if it’s not what I’m told is best. which is okay. i’m not saying that either way is better than the other, it’s just that difference between us clashes sometimes.”

you hum.

“but that doesn’t mean i don’t listen, or don’t respect you, (y/n). i respect you more than anyone i know.”

“then you should act like it.”

“i know,” he pushed out his bottom lip, taking your forearms in his hands. “i know, i can be all over the place sometimes. i’m sorry pretty girl.”

you wish you could stay angry, but satoru’s touch almost instantly melts away the tension in your body. almost.

“please don’t call me annoying like that again,” you look over him. “seriously, that wasn’t nice.”

“never,” he swears. “i promise, never again. i don’t even know why it came out in the first time. please forgive me, baby, I’m sorry.”

you exhale, and before you can respond, satoru is ducking down and suffocating your face with a plethora of kisses from your forehead to cheeks and down to your jaw. murmurs of apologizes slip through as he attacks you, and you squeal as you try turn away.

“okay!” you shout, pushing at his chest. “i forgive you, get off!”

“i love youuu,” he lands a particularly long kiss to your nose. “so much. let me take you out tonight to apologize properly, pretty. will you let me?”

you stifle a smile, keeping your hands to your chest as you glare up at him when he pulls away with a grin. “fine.”

suguru geto:

suguru loves you dearly, truly he does, but he notices that the longer he is in a relationship with you, the more entitled you become. granted, he spoils the hell out of you because you’re his one and only, therefore he only feels it is appropriate to shower you with the unconditional love that he has for you.

you know that suguru rarely ever says no to you. hell, he doesn’t want to deny you of the things you ask of him because he should be the person that you always come to for anything. along with his girls, you’ve stolen his heart, and his love language is taking care of you - making you rotten.

so when suguru can not abide by what you demand, you pout and poke and prod and pester. in some ways, you remind him of how satoru used to behave in his company, so commanding of what you want from him in the most combative, brattiest way that it has him rubbing the space between his forehead with angled brows.

and the attitude on you is criminal. suguru knows he can not necessarily talk because his attitude is just as bad, but the moment suguru disagrees with you about something, you make it a point keep pressing the matter sassily.

there are a million things that suguru finds to be more of a pain to his peace than you, but he can not deny that when you get on his nerves, you truly tick him off.

suguru is known to have very little patience in general. he chalks it up to his occupation, having to deal with idiotic human beings all day to the point where it wears down his capacity for bullshit. he needs things to resolve themselves at his pace in order to feel as though he can go about his day, but when they don’t, it frustrates him to no end.

that is why when you fail to give it a rest after suguru has told you no four times now to getting lunch with you because he has business to take care of, he is beginning to lose his cool.

“(y/n),” suguru exhales your name in exasperation. he’s on his way out of the front door. “angel, you know i’m busy today. you’re usually a lot more understanding when it comes to my schedule, i don’t know where the disconnect is right now.”

you’re growing upset, for you’ve never enjoyed watching suguru leave, but for some reason you are feeling all the more sensitive to his departure today. the dark haired cult leader has been so busy lately that you and the girls have hardly been able to catch him for longer than five minutes when he’s home. you want to sit and talk with him, to at least have a quick thirty minute meal together, but he’s still refusing you, and you never fair well with being refused by geto.

“but suguru,” you curl your brows and gaze at him sadly. “I’m just asking for one day. that’s all, we don’t even need to be out long. i already have a place in mind that’s right around the corner from the group- i can even pick you up. you won’t have to worry about a thing. please, just this once?”

the hazel eyed man can not stand saying no to you, even more so when you look at him with such pleading in your eyes, but he’s told you a hundred times that he can’t do what you please today. as much as he’d love to go to lunch with you, there are no exceptions. he’s already pushing himself behind by trying to reason with you.

“the answer is no, (y/n),” he tells you with soft sternness. your frown deepens leading Suguru to walk over to you. he guides his hand to your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead in an attempt to make you feel better. “i’m sorry. i know things haven’t been the best lately with me being home, but i’m trying my best.”

you want to be more supportive, but you miss suguru. you do, and to feel like a second priority to a cult he doesn’t even like makes you upset.

you grumble incoherently under your breath and cross your arms. suguru feels your stature shift, and he pulls away to eye you. you avoid his gaze purposefully, and suguru instantly knows what’s going on with you.

“don’t start,” he advises as a warning. you don’t take well to the comment, the muscles in your face tightening as you go to ease away from suguru’s grasp. he doesn’t have time for this right now. “i mean it.”

“i’m not even doing anything,” you murmur, looking down as suguru examines you closely.

“you’re sulking.”

“okay, and maybe that’s because i don’t want my boyfriend to leave?” you snap.

“i know, (y/n). you’re acting like i want to leave too, but this is work.”

“and clearly work’s more important now,” you roll your eyes.

suguru shakes his head and pulls away with narrow eyes. “you’re being incredibly irritating right now.”

you freeze, geto’s words stabbing you through the chest like a stake to the heart. “what?” you repeat weakly, your grit having gone.

“you aren’t listening to me. it’s getting old and it’s irritating,” he says again, this time as he turns away and walks back to the door.

you stare at his back blankly. your heart hammers against your chest, and your face falls. normally when you behave a certain way that suguru doesn’t appreciate, he spends his time either circling back and trying to reach and understand or punishing you. but now, he’s just walking away with no intention of doing either. you expected more, and you hadn’t expected for him to outright call you annoying.

sure, you push a little too much sometimes, but annoying? all you want is him. is it annoying to desire such a simple thing?

“i’ll be home later, alright? we can talk about this when i get back,” he tells you, pulling the door open and allowing the sunlight to peer in. when you do not respond, he speaks again in annoyance. “alright?”

you still don’t answer, and this time he turns over his shoulder to see what is keeping you from giving him a verbal affirmation.

his face relaxes, however, when he says you standing silently with your hands at your sides. your gaze has turned to one of subtle embarrassment as you frown, mulling over suguru’s emotions in a less stubborn, more deflated manner.

despite suguru’s irritation with you, the moment he sees your discomfort, he’s flipping the switch in an instant.

slowly, he shuts the door again without a word. he figures it won’t hurt anyone to be another five minutes late, for he is the founder of the religious group after all. what he says goes, and he will not leave until this mild conflict with you is sorted out.

he walks over and takes your head in his hands, tilting your face up to reveal your big, shiny eyes. with another quiet sigh, he’s taking one hand and rubbing your shoulder as he holds your stare.

“i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he tells you gently, immediately knowing what is plaguing you. “i’m just frustrated.”

“…frustrated with me?” you ask slowly.

he presses his lips together. “yeah, angel. i am a little bit,” he confesses honestly. while this isn’t the response you wanted, geto knows it’s the response you need to hear… even if you struggle to accept it, your head nodding stiffly but your eyes telling a story of humiliation. and he hates it. he hates how unhappy you look, but no good has ever come from partners lying to one another about how they feel.

“but,” you start as suguru’s swipes a thumb over your brow lovingly. “suguru, all i wanted was to have lunch with you. is that such a crazy thing? you’re hardly around anymore.”

“i know, (y/n), and no it’s not, but you’re not respecting the fact that while i want to more than anything, i can’t. not today,” he says once more. “i do this for you and the girls too, you know. it’s not just for me. any money i make is yours, and if i need to work my ass off to provide for you and our future, i will. and it’s not fair for you to throw a fit when i can’t drop all of that when you ask me to.”

it’s a hard pill for you to swallow, but you know that suguru’s point is more than valid.

you inhale and exhale deeply, his touch swarming you tenderly despite how he feels. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. “im sorry for pushing. i just want you here. it gets hard sometimes, you know?”

“I know.”

he pulls your face in to kiss your cheek softly, your hand going to cradle his wrists.

“and i’m sorry if you’ve felt neglected in any way, and for calling you irritating. there was probably a better way for me to say that.”

“it’s okay,” you mumble as pulls away. “i probably was being annoying anyway...”

geto smiles softly. “you were,” he chuckles, and you gap at him.

“suguru,” you frown and he laughs again.

“sorry.” the hazel eyed man leans in to capture your lips in a soft kiss before you can pour any longer, eyes gleaming kindly when he draws back. he at least does not look aggravated any longer, his features much calmer than before. “how about a day out this weekend? you, me, and the girls.”

your eyes light up. “really? you’re sure?”

“yeah, angel,” he nods. “i miss you all too, you know. you’re all i think about when I’m dealing with those monkeys all day.”

“…can we maybe go to the farmer’s market?” you suggest. “i wanna get some stuff to make a big dinner for us, and the girls want to get some flowers.”

“absolutely we can. sounds great.”

“thank you,” you smile, wrapping your arms over his neck and tugging him down into a tight hug. suguru laughs gently, sliding his arms around you. “i hope you have a good day today. i won’t pester you about work anymore.”

“okay, baby,” he rubs your back. “I gotta go now, okay? i’ll try not to be out late. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

kento nanami:

despite kento’s remarkable talent in serving you as your partner, he is still a human being subject to human emotions. when he’s annoyed with you, he doesn’t make it your problem. he simply makes it known that he is beginning to be plagued by the feeling, and though it hurts your feelings, you understand and give him the space he needs.

kento does not get irritated with you often at all. you are a gift upon his stressful life, and it’s difficult for you to pose as a source of stress when the rest of his life is already so anxiety-inducing. you’re his everything, and even when he does get ever so slightly annoyed with you, it’s never at the same level as other factors - like gojo. you don’t even begin to compare.

the only time nanami finds himself growing upset because of you is when you choose not to listen to or communicate with him.

nanami works hard to put your needs before his own and he is more than happy to do so. he feels it is the only way things should be, for as long as you are happy and well cared for, he is content.

however, there are moments when he does so that can come off to you as a tad overbearing. he cares for your physical and mental wellbeing, so that also comes with constant check ins about whether you’re eating properly or how much sleep you’re getting. it’s sweet, his persistent doting, but you don’t always fair well with how often he’s interrogating you about your lifestyle when he literally witnesses every second of what you do as your fiancé.

and of course, when you react poorly by getting even the slightest hint of an attitude or portray your own annoyance in a poor manner, nanami, who always tries his best to find a solution to problems if you are bothered by something, is bothered himself when you do not cooperate.

nanami is incredibly patient with you, and he tries his best to practice patient with you when he internally feels you are being unreasonable.

so he resorts to silence as he ponders what to do next. you’re both sitting at the kitchen table as tension swirls about. your knee is frantically bouncing as you glare ahead. you don’t like when kento does something to bother you, for everything he does is so perfect you feel like you don’t have a right to be bothered, and you rarely ever are. and you may try to hide when you’re upset, but nanami sees you so clearly. he knows you like the back of his hand, therefore, there is no hiding.

and of course, nanami would never grow annoyed with what you feel… it’s how you communicate with him when you feel a certain way. you shut down and make it impossible for him to talk through it, and as someone who likes to work through things while they are occurring, it’s a bit of a pain when you go quiet and refuse to give him anything.

now, you both sit rather annoyed with one another, for that is likely the only instance nanami will feel some sort of irritation sparked by you. the blonde taps his finger against the table with his legs crossed, unsure of how to move forward. he’s tried calling your name, tried asking you what’s wrong, tried suggesting anything he can do to fix it, but you, afraid to even further speak truth into your emotions, reply with shrugs and mute shakes of your head.

it takes at least another few minutes for nanami to rise slowly, fixing the collar of his shirt and clearing his throat you look up and see by his rigid posture that he is not in the happiest of spirits, and when you finally notice, you realize that he had been silent along with you for quite some time now, his series of questions having ceased.

“i am going for a drive,” he announces formally. you blink up at him, your knee still bouncing. his chocolate eyes meet yours with a hefty sigh. “i won’t be longer than forty minutes.”

forty?!

“…okay,” is the very first word you have said in a while, and nanami nods curtly. though he appears indifferent, his shoulders are tense, his jaw is taut, and a dent creases the space between his brows. you can tell by these signs that he has grown to match your previous feelings. “where are you going?”

“to clear my head. i don’t believe anything productive will come from the both of us sitting here like this.”

you furrow your brows. “are you angry with me now?”

“no,” he gathers his keys. “i am not angry. only, admittedly, a bit perturbed,” he says without looking at you.

you know that nanami had annoyed you first, but to hear him tell you so is humbling nonetheless. what reason does he have to be annoyed? what did you do?

“um,” you stumble. “why…?”

the prospect of you now trying to interrogate him after he had spent so much time trying to get through to you, or at least a word out, does very little to ease the man.

he lifts a hand, guiding his palm out to ease the conversation before it can escalate. “(y/n), i’m not in any state to talk about this right now. give me a bit and i will be back.”

his eyes find yours to ensure that you see that earnest in his brow hues, and your shoulders slump, your knee stilling completely.

“is that alright?”

you nod slowly. “yes. that's alright.”

kento nods again, swiping up his jacket from the back of his chair before stepping out of the door, clicking it shut behind him.

you reel in his absence, sitting in the aftermath. maybe you reacted poorly… but you couldn’t help it. you don’t always enjoy being overwhelmed with a series of questions from your boyfriend as though he is your doctor or father. sometimes you just wish to be.

you know he only does so out of concern. you know he loves you, better than anyone has ever loved you, but your reaction had been involuntary.

the look on nanami’s face only proved that you should have handled the situation differently. you hate when he’s upset, but that way of thinking alone is unfair. he likely hates when you’re upset too, and you shut down when he was trying to help.

as guilt swarms you, you retreat to the living room where you mindlessly flip through the tv channels, your focus elsewhere.

kento ends up returning hardly twenty minutes later. you look in surprise to the door as he enters with takeout in his hands. he looks up, his face a bit more relaxed as he enters.

neither of you speak as he kicks his shoes off at the door and makes his way toward you. he sets the bags of food down on the coffee table before you and slowly sits down next to you, hands to his thighs.

“i got us dinner,” he says as you shuffle to make room for him. the aroma of your favorite thai food fills your senses and makes you become rather aware to your hunger, for you haven’t eaten in a while.

kento sits with his forearm resting on his knee, his body facing you. you look away, embarrassed to even speak to him, though you do whisper a ‘thank you’ that is only audible to nanami because he is seated right beside you.

he reaches a hand out to hold yours, his other sliding over top to caress the back of it. “honey,” he starts softly. “I don’t want this to go on longer than it should.”

“you’re back earlier than you said,” you mention, looking down at his hands over yours.

“i didn’t need to be gone long to want to sit down with you about this again.” you nod. “are you okay?” he asks you, and you nod again.

“yeah, are you?”

“i’m better,” he answers. “my intention was not to leave on a bad note so abruptly. i just needed a moment to myself.”

“no, i understand, ken. i don’t blame you for taking a step back.”

“are you okay with me telling you why i was upset?”

“of course i am.”

he gives a gentle smile before proceeding. “it seems that every time i try to work through something with you, you do not wish to cooperate. if you were to tell me that you need space before explaining, i would understand better and give you time, but you say nothing. you barely even look at me, and i try my best to give you the patience you deserve but you do not do the same for me.”

“it’s not that- I wasn’t trying to be impatient with you, it’s just that sometimes i don’t want to talk about things.”

“then I would prefer it if you’d say that instead of shutting me out, because then i’m left to pick up the pieces with nothing to go off of,” he pleads. “and it’s unhealthy for you to harbor everything that bothers you inside. you could get sick doing that, and it hinders our communication.”

you can tell he is about to give you another lecture, which is what led you here in the first place. you take in a deep breath and try to regulate yourself, glancing down. “yeah, i hear you,” you mutter. “i just get… i don’t know, it feels weird to tell you when something you’ve done bothers me.”

“why, sweetheart?”

“because you’re so good to me,” you frown. “you don’t deserve to hear that i’m upset with you for probably no reason.”

“look at me, honey.” you oblige, locking eyes with his once again shyly. “as good as i am to you and you are to me, getting angry or upset or irritated with one another is normal. it’s healthy. no relationship is free of trials, and if this is our worst problem, i’d confidently say that we are doing quite well.”

you listen to him carefully, taking in his words as you look over his face.

“now, will you tell me what it was i did to upset you earlier?”

“it’s so stupid, ken.”

“your feelings are not stupid. please. i need to know so i don’t repeat my mistakes.”

you huff and eventually give in. “well, sometimes... you do this thing… where you lecture me… and i appreciate you looking out for me all the time, but sometimes when you ask me a hundred things at once about stuff that I’m more than aware of as an adult, it makes me feel like you’re patronizing me.”

a stern look of realization crosses the blonde’s features. “i had no idea.”

“i mean… i never told you, so i was getting upset with you for something you weren’t even aware of,” you exhale. “i’m really sorry, kento. I struggle with communicating certain things, and i shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so irritated in the first place.”

“there’s no need for you to apologize,” he dismisses. “i apologize for making you feel as though I’ve been speaking down to you. i only check in so often because i care.”

“i know,” you lean in. “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“but i can see how it may be a bit overbearing,” he admits. “i’ll try to mind myself in the future.”

“oh, it’s okay, ken,” you lift your hand to his cheek, smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone. “you’re perfect, baby. i’m sorry if i made you feel otherwise.”

“i am far from perfection, my love,” he kisses your inner palm. “i make plenty of mistakes.”

“so do i, clearly,” you chuckle.

he smiles again, and this time it reaches his warm eyes. “yes, but the way i see it, you would not be perfect without them.”

choso kamo:

choso, bless his heart, has never found anything you do to be even remotely close to what he could find annoying. everything you do in his eyes is perfect, flawless, and he clings to you so much that he finds it impossible to think of your actions or words as something that poses as an aggravation to him.

what he finds irritating is when yuji will borrow his shirts without asking and fail to return them for days, or when he’s been assigned on a mission and it lasts far longer than he intended to be there, the task cutting into time he could be spending with you, or even when other people serve as a nuisance to you. you have never, ever been on the list of things that get on his nerves, and he doesn’t think you ever will be.

that’s why he feels such guilt when he starts to feel that familiar sense of annoyance bubbling in his chest when you keep asking him to let you know about his plans for the weekend.

you’ve asked him numerous times at this point, and he has given you the same answer: he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing with his brother or when he’ll be home, and that he’d let you know as soon as he figures it out. but you know that by the time he ‘figures it out’ it will be past the time you need to plan around his absence.

you’re an organized person, and you like to know in advance what is happening in your boyfriend’s life so that you can either prepare to spend some time with him or not waste the effort looking forward to doing so if he will be out late. this is especially a big deal to you because choso tends to get carried away when spending time with his little brother. the brunette loves his family so dearly, and you have always admired how fiercely he cares for those close to him, but his tendency to just go along with whatever yuji’s hyper mind thinks of on the spot without having the sense to think of how it will impact his brother’s girlfriend yet always gets to you.

you want choso to spend time with his brother, you do, but you just wish that he would have the decency of letting you in on what he plans to do on the days they are together more often.

therefore, it is friday and you continue to ask him to let you know what the plans are, and choso, still not completely understanding of what you want, is growing tired of the nagging.

“i already told you, love,” he reasons as best as he can with you, his voice dipping lower. “i don’t know how long we’ll be out. i promise you i’ll let you know.”

you’re moving about the kitchen while choso stands at the corner, eyes heavy as he watches you. he’s trying his hardest to mask his growing agitation, for he knows that you are very keen on picking up on his tells that reveal his emotions. when he’s aggravated, his brows angle ever so slightly and his lids weigh over bored vision, his lips curled in a frown.

you haven’t looked at him yet. your back is to him as your rummage through your fridge. “yeah, cho, you said that already, and you say that every time you go out,” you close the fridge door, carton of eggs in your hand for you to prepare lunch.

“and i always come back,” he says, shrugging slightly. “I don’t understand what the problem is… i’d never stay out all night without coming back.”

“it’s not about you coming back or not, it’s about when you come back,” you try to explain, placing the eggs on the counter to turn and reaching to grab a bowl. “i’ve definitely talked about this before, right? sometimes i stay up for you or want to hang out with you when you get back, but you never give me an estimated time when you’re with your brother so i can plan around it.”

choso exhales through his nose slowly, looking down. “the point is that if i knew, i’d tell you…”

you look up, catching the dipped pitch in his tone, and tilt your head to the side upon taking in his stature. he’s pouting.

you stop what your doing, pressing your hands to the ledge of the other side of the counter and leaning over with a suspicious look.

“are you alright?” you ask slowly.

choso meets your eye, a hint of a deer in in headlights look capturing him. “yes,” he says stiffly, quickly, and you are not convinced whatsoever.

“you sure? because your face says otherwise,” you nod toward him.

conflict is pretty foreign to the two of you within your relationship. neither of you ever want to upset the other, so in tiptoeing around certain issues, a lot of them are either brushed over and pent up. choso specifically things it’s damn near a sin to be upset with you, and you him, for he still does not understand certain inner workings of human connections.

he does not want to ruin what he has with you, and he does not comprehend why he is growing annoyed with someone he cherishes so much. he still loves you, but he can’t help this feeling. it burdens him with guilt, and he does not know how to respond once you catch him.

“is something bothering you?” you ask carefully. “are you upset because i keep asking about this weekend?”

choso doesn’t respond. he feels like it’s a trap, for he would never lie to you but to admit that he’s annoyed is an entirely different ball park that he is horrified to step into. he looks at you shamefully, face still tense but he’s trying hard to relax, to mask the way he truly feels.

you raise a brow. “…choso?”

“i’m fine,” he tells you. once again, he’s answering far too quickly.

“okay,” you exhale, shifting on your feet. choso watches you anxiously, keeping incredibly still as though moving will make the earth shatter. “I know you really well, cho. clearly the conversation is bothering you.” after another moment of silence from your boyfriend, you continue. “you can be honest with me, or else you’ll just be carrying this around with you all day.”

“…i don’t wanna upset you,” he eventually murmurs.

“I understand, but that’s not realistic,” you say with subtle sternness in your tone. “just like it’s not realistic to pretend like you aren’t upset right now when i can clearly tell you are. we both have rights to feeling whatever we feel, so just… come on, tell me what’s going on.”

with a pensive expression, choso slowly allows himself to give in. “it’s just that…” he begins hesitantly. “i’m not really sure what you want me to tell you anymore. about my plans.”

“i'm not asking anything out of the question, i just want you to plan more for my sake.”

“but i keep repeating myself when i tell you that yuji and i don’t plan… it’s a little…”

“it’s a little what?”

“just… kind of… annoying.”

you reel, staring at choso incredulously. you never thought you would have seen the day where your sweet significant other, horrified of touching you the wrong way, would call you annoying. admittedly, you’re a little wounded. you haven’t done anything wrong, and yet choso is aggravated by your desire to simply know what time he’s coming home. you’re not asking for too much. you hardly believe you’re asking for anything at all. you know that choso can be irrational, but never with you. never like this.

you nod to yourself slowly, pursing your lips. choso eyes you carefully, uncertain of how his own words have landed. you wanted him to be honest, and this is how he’s feeling. should he have just lied? should he have kept it to himself anyway?

suddenly, you resume what you are doing and turn away from choso wordlessly. the violet eyed man’s eyes widen as you go searching for a pan, and air of intensity about you.

“(y/n)?” he says your name cautiously after a while of you shuffling about. “you okay?”

“it’s cool,” you respond shortly, and choso shrinks.

he moves to round the counter to approach you slowly, but you do not slow yourself when you notice him moving into the kitchen beside you. “i don’t think it is…”

“choso, i know how you feel now and that’s that. i’ll leave it be.”

you sound mad. choso doesn’t like it at all, and he’s unsure of how to even speak to you this way. he doesn’t want to further ruin your mood, but he has to make sure you’re alright… that he didn’t cross some sort of line.

“i’m sorry,” he hastily apologizes. “I wasn’t trying to make things worse.”

“don’t apologize for what you feel,” you strictly say, moving to the other side of the kitchen the second choso gets close to you.

he stops, his traces of annoyance having completely washed away. “but you’re mad now.”

“i’m not mad, i just- i’m a little annoyed too now.”

he deflates. “oh,” he mumbles, hands falling to his sides. “then, what do what do now?”

you exhale, taking a moment to pause and turn to face choso from the other side of the space. “i wanna talk about why i’m irritated.”

“okay… and that won’t make it worse?”

“no, because i’ll at least be getting my point across.”

he nods dejectedly. “alright. why are you upset?”

“because you won’t take a second to put yourself in my shoes and understand that planning for my sake now that we live together will help ease my anxiety,” you explain, your hand moving about as you emphasize your stance. “i don’t care how long you and yuji are out. that’s not the point, and i know you don’t plan, but I’m asking you to at least start to, because i get tired of falling asleep waiting for you because i don’t know when you’re coming home. if i knew in advance, i wouldn’t have to stay up or get my hopes up about you coming back at a certain time. and then you tell me that i’m annoying you because i just want to be informed. like, that’s a little rude, choso. it’s basically like you saying you don’t care what i ask for.”

“i do care,” he cuts in passionately, brows knitted with a look of guilted sadness. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know it was like that for you.”

“because you never bothered to ask.”

“i’m sorry,” he says again. “i shouldn’t have called you annoying. that was mean. you just… told me to be honest, so i said what i was thinking.”

“that’s another thing, choso, we’re not perfect. we’re people and we react to things differently. this isn’t the last time we’ll be annoyed with each other.”

“i don’t like that,” he grumbles.

“we don’t have to like it, but that’s just how things are. it doesn’t mean we love each other any less, and we’re not always going to agree on why we’re annoyed with one another.”

“…are we fighting?”

you scoff a slight, tired laugh and shake your head. “no, we’re not fighting. we’re just talking.”

“okay,” he nods. “well, i’m sorry. i am. i’ll try to do better about planning for you. and you’re not annoying, (y/n). i love you.”

you soften. “i love you too, cho, just please be more mindful of how you react sometimes.”

“i will,” he mumbles. “…can i… i mean, is it wrong to ask you for a hug or do you need some time?”

“come over here,” you beckon him over. the brunette is quick to comply, stepping heavily over to you and burying his face in your neck. you wrap your arms around his frame as he holds you, murmuring numerous apologies to you over and over in your ear.

“maybe i’ll just stay home,” he suggests, mumbling into your skin.

“you don’t need to do that, cho, that’s not what i was asking of you.”

“i know, but i’d rather stay in with you anyway. or maybe we can make it a group thing if you want to come with.”

“i’ll see how i feel this weekend, but that’s sounds great, baby. thank you.”

toji fushiguro:

toji has a habit of getting caught up in his stress accumulated from the day. he’ll return home grumpily, muscles twitching and lips tight in a scowl. his back aches and his head hurts, and all he wants to do is crawl up into bed with you and snooze for the rest of the night.

of course, this isn’t always plausible. life presents its daily interferences that throw off his plans of laziness with the woman he loves, and sometimes, the woman he loves herself is the very thing standing in the way of his tranquility.

you don’t do so on purpose. while toji leads his life of chaos and crime, you busy yourself with your own less illegal tasks, and those tasks and your desires by the end of the day don’t always match his. and toji, despite how wholly he loves you, has the unintentional tendency to be selfish, for it’s how he’s lived his whole life before meeting you.

and that tendency especially shines through when his mind is clouded by exhaustion. if he wants you to lay still with him for the rest of the night, why can’t he? why the hell do you have to run out to the store instead? or finish up an assignment that takes an extra hour and a half to complete? or try to talk to him about your day when he just wants peace and quiet in your wordless physical presence?

it ticks him off, and he’s already moody enough before he comes home to realize that he is not going to get what his mind and heart have been set on for hours. he tries his best not to take things out on you when he is in a healthy, normal conscious state, but he can not help it at the worst of times. before he knows it, he’s snapping at you all because you wanted to show him an album of pictures you came across during your visit to your parents today.

“oh!” you gasp excitedly, leaning into toji’s shoulder as you lounge with him on the bed, your phone presenting itself to his face. you’re propped up with your back to the headboard while toji is laid flat against the pillow with a sour expression. “and this one is from halloween when i was eleven! holy shit, look at my braces! damn, they really threw off the whole costume. i still look cute though, don't i?"

toji doesn't know how you haven't noticed his lack of response as you swipe through photo after photo, your voice a blabber of nonsense in his ear as he closes his eyes in vexation. he can feel himself nearing his last straw as you shift your entire conversation enthusiastically, diving into some story about your family that is hardly related to the pictures you have been sharing.

the dark-haired man is so tired, so fed up with noise and the questions you ask him that you do not even wait for him to respond to before you're cutting in and rambling on again - not that toji even would have responded.

he just wants to sleep... you're still going on, and he wants to sleep.

"and then there was the time that i-"

you're interrupted by a loud groan and the run of toji's large hands down his face. you falter, lowering your phone and furrowing your brows at him slightly, your smile dwindling upon finally taking note of toji's body language.

silence stills the room while toji keeps his hands concealing his face and you simply watch him, stunned.

"uh..." you start pensively, confused. "...why did you just-"

"for the love of christ, girl, can you be quiet for one second?" he interjects once more with the tear of his hands away from his face and the strike of his weary, tense eyes into yours.

you jump. "what?" is all you can ask, awed by the way your boyfriend just spoke to you.

"i had a long day, (y/n). the fuck don't you understand about that?"

your face is scrunching in offense now, your body retracting and your energy transitioning into dejected anger. "toji, why the hell are you talking to me like that?"

"cause you've been workin' my last nerve since i got home," he grits out, tense hands swiping the air. you stare at him with wide eyes. "i'm fuckin' tired. i don't wanna come home to you talkin' my ear off about shit i don't care about. just let me sleep, alright?"

you clamp your mouth shut, a lump forming in your throat and a pit swirling in your chest as you take in toji's hurtful words. his face is hard as he awaits a response from you, and you can do nothing but look at him pathetically, completely torn apart by how swiftly he had made you feel as though you are a burden to him.

you had not meant to interfere with his rest time. you thought he was resting by sitting cozily in bed with you. you thought that he would enjoy seeing pictures of you from the past, hearing about old memories that you revive for the sake of his enjoyment. hell, you would have enjoyed it if the roles were reversed and toji was sharing his childhood memories with you after a long day (if of course, his childhood had been a bit more positive).

you understand that you may have misread the situation, but there was no need for toji to be so cruel to you about it. you hate when he gets like this, so rigid and ruthless with his tone and his words that it makes you feel as though he wants nothing to do with you.

you fight the urge to cry, your body tensing as you swallow hard. you tear your eyes from toji's face, the vision alone scarring you as his words seep in. the green-eyed man watches you shut off your phone swiftly and tuck it carelessly into your pocket with a scoff.

he quirks his brow in befuddlement now as you push yourself off the mattress and cooly whisk yourself around the furniture and to the bedroom door. he pushes himself up, for he didn't want you to leave. he just wanted silence.

"where're you goin'?" he asks as though you have no reason to storm off. you halt in the doorway, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare at him with glassy eyes.

"to give you your space," you hissed. "after all, i don't want to 'work your last nerve' any more than i already have."

toji can tell by the glossiness of your gaze and the tremble of your voice that he fucked up. he sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his hair. "i ain't mean it like that-" he tries to defend himself, but you have none of it.

"sure you did, toji. or else you wouldn't have said it," you growl. "it's fine. really. you can be an asshole all by yourself while i'm gone. maybe you'll be able to sleep now that your girlfriend is out of the way."

you leave with a slam to the door, the walls shaking in your wake, and toji stares at the wall harshly. the overwhelming silence now envelopes him, the silence that he had been longing for since you started talking, and now that he has it, it doesn't feel right.

he curses to himself, scratching the back of his head. he shouldn't have snapped at you. all you had been doing was sharing something close to your heart with him, and he completely blew you off. it wasn't as though you were the source of his stress - it was his job, yet he reacted in such a way to make it feel as though you were the problem.

fuck. toji knows he has issues with regulating his anger, but he continues to swear that he will work on leaving you out of it, and yet here he is again, mulling over the after-effects of dragging you into his acidity once more.

he's not even tired anymore. he tries to doze off, but all he can think about is your face and how he hurt you.

when he steps out of his room, he finds that you are nowhere to be found in his apartment. he tries calling you, but you don't pick up. he resorts to texting you, asking where you are. you read the messages, but refuse to answer, ensuring that he knows you're pissed off.

he shakes his head and goes to check your location instead, which he is grateful to find that you haven't shut off. he knows you too well. you want him to chase after you and apologize, to put forth the effort that you at times feel he would not extend for your sake.

toji finds you at a bar around the corner, your chin propped in your hand as you stare ahead over the counter emptily with an untouched drink before you. you're slumped in your seat with your phone tucked under your hand, appearing so sad before him, and toji feels his heart ache knowing that he's the reason you look like this.

"go away," you grumble when you see his bulky figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye, not even bothering to look his way. the fushiguro leans his forearm against the counter beside you with his other hand propped on his hip. he tilts his head down to try to catch a glimpse of your face, and you simply turn away stubbornly.

"c'mon doll," he attempts to coax. "don't be mad."

"don't fucking tell me not to be mad, you dick."

toji drops his head. bad start. "listen," he begins, unsure of how to proceed. he has never been good with finding words in these situations. "i shouldn't've said what i said."

you turn to scour at him. "no shit."

he wants to chuckle at how angry you are, for you start cursing up a storm the way toji does on a daily basis, and he finds it rather endearing how quick you are to violate him with your language when he gets on your bad side.

toji doesn't realize that the skin beneath his eyes is creasing a the corner of his lip is tugging upward, for you're gaping at him and smacking his chest rather aggressively. "you think this is funny?"

"no, (y/n), i don't think it's funny," he chuckles, and you fume. you go to slam a few bills onto the table before jumping up from your stool and storming away. toji panics, reaching out and snatching up your arm in his grasp. you're tugged back to him against your wishes, fiery (e/c) hues seething into him as though you seek to kill him with your gaze. "stop, i'm tryna talk to you for a second."

"clearly you think my feelings are a joke to you, toji."

"i don't think that, doll, you know that."

"do i?" you raise your brows. "i wasn't so sure when you talked to me like i was nothing but a nuisance to you."

you go to tug away, but toji holds you to him, looking into your eye intensely. "you ain't a nuisance."

"then why talk to me like that?" you frown. "i wasn't even doing anything to hurt you, i was just trying to share something with you."

"i know baby," he softens, hand coming to cup over your neck. you turn away, leading him to smooth his hand over the back of your head instead as you look off to the side bitterly. "it wasn't you, it was my day-"

"i don't care," you huff. "you can't blame the way you treat people on shitty days - especially the way you treat me! i'm the person in this world who loves you, toji. if you need me to reel in on something, then just say that respectfully, but don't you dare go yelling at me the way you just did. it hurts my feelings."

toji sighs, looking over your face and caressing your hair. "i know, doll, m'sorry," he mumbles. "shouldn't be taking my shit out on you. you ain't ever done a single thing bad to me."

"yeah, you prick," you bite, and toji lets himself smile. "and stop smiling," you push against his chest. "nothing's fucking funny."

"you're right. nothin's funny at all," he agrees. "m'just happy i got a girl who knows how to fight back when i'm bein' an asshole."

"oh, what the fuck ever," you roll your eyes. "you're lucky i don't chop your balls off and hang them on display in the living room."

"nah, i much prefer you gettin' mean with me." he moves to cup your neck again, and this time you allow him, a pretty pout still on your face. "i deserve it."

"you sure as hell do..."

he chuckles, smirk spreading. "c'mere, doll," he pulls you into him, securing his arms around your frame and pressing you to his chest. you ease into him reluctantly, glowering off to the side as your check squishes into his pectoral. you don't hug back, for toji's biceps crush over you and trap your arms within his embrace as he rocks you slowly. "what can i do to make up for it?"

"go jump off a bridge," you mutter, body relaxing into his warmth as his chest rumbles with laughter against you.

ryomen sukuna:

sukuna belittling you with his words has never been anything new to you. while you understand that you withhold a space of softness in his heart that is reserved for you and you only, at times his comfortability with insulting you can go a bit far.

and of course, you’re used to it. he calls you “brat” and “woman” as though you are a nuisance to him when in reality, you are the only person on this planet he has bestowed those names upon with his own definition of affection. he clicks his teeth and rolls his eyes at you when you talk about something that he wants you to believe is of little interest to him, when he is taking mental note of the things you enjoy talking about so that he can suffocate you with your desires long after you have presented a specific like to his attention. and of course, he tells you you are an aggravation to his soul every damn two seconds, as though loving you brings him stress after eons of having lived so freely and ruthlessly - though he still does, your presence does more to ease him into a state of mellowness than anything has prior to his commitment to you.

he very clearly welcomes the feeling and connection to you, but masks so by calling you annoying. all the time. so of course, when he does normally, you are completely desensitized to it.

unless you’re already irritated.

occasionally, there is only so much of sukuna you can handle. you love him to death, but the two of you butt heads so often due to your stubborn natures and unwillingness to allow the other to win that it tends to wear you down after a while. sukuna calls you disrespectful for even talking back, yet allows you to continue to do so as if he gets off on the way you get snippy with him.

it’s entertaining to the lord, after all. why would he spend his time doting on someone boring?

nevertheless, if you’ve had a long day and are in no mood to deal with sukuna’s rather wide range of complex reactions to even the smallest of things that you do, his habits tick you off - especially so when he calls you annoying for something that you feel is anything but.

so as you complain to sukuna about how he needs to be mindful of how many sheets he’s running through by staining them with blood when he carelessly returns to your shared bedroom from yet another colorful expedition, you're peeved by the way he stares at you so carelessly. you’ve been begging him forever to be more mindful of how he treats his belongings, especially now that you share the same things, but he always brushes your concerns aside by saying that he can just get more. but god forbid someone else were to stain his sheets, then he’d be out for blood.

his arms are crossed as he stands before you, eyes rolling over the ceiling as he makes his agitation rather evident. you’re a little thing in comparison to him, yammering on about the tenth set of sheets he has stained this month, but he wants to hear none of it. why is it such a big deal to you anyway? he has thousands of servants and limitless access to resources, so it shouldn’t matter to you whatsoever. besides, you’ve stained numerous sheets of his over the years with your arousal and he’s never complained. why does it all of a sudden hold importance to you what state his belongings are in now?

“would you quit your moaning, woman?” he snarls, overpowering voice speaking over you. his eyes are hard and slim as they stare over you, and you’re bubbling with rage the moment he cuts into what you’re saying. “it is not of relevance to me, so why is it of any relevance to you?”

“because it is, sukuna! why do you only hold value to the things you care about? we share a bed, obviously i’m affected by this too!” you argue.

“you are not a servant. servants concern themselves over such things.”

“oh, so now i’m beneath you for talking about this?”

sukuna groans. “i did not say that, brat.”

“yeah, but you insinuated it!” you retort. “i’m tired, sukuna, i wasn’t trying to make this a big thing.”

“yet you are attempting to by persisting so irritatingly.”

you throw your hands up, at your wit’s end. why does he never listen to you when there is something on your mind? why does he always push aside what you feel matters when he decides it doesn’t matter to him? why is he always so cold with you, so steely and headstrong as though he remains above you like you haven’t been by his side all this time?

you know how sukuna is, and yet him calling your opinions irritating riles you up in this moment. everything has to turn into an argument, and it weighs you down. nothing can ever run smoothly without sukuna taking offense or scoffing at the idea of you coming to him with something you feel should be fixed. you can’t win.

"seriously?" you plead. "i mean, really, i'm irritating because i don't want to sleep in blood every night?"

"christ, you don't sleep in blood. the sheets are changed before you come to rest!" he barks. "that is why i find this so annoying. you are complaining for nothing."

"you know what? you're annoying!" you point a finger to his broad chest. the king of curses lifts a brow, looking down at where your finger prods into him.

"i beg your pardon?" an amused, low chuckle ripples through him as though the sentiment is unheard of, which only pisses you off even more.

"you heard me. you're the fucking annoying one. you're always going on about how i shouldn't talk back, or how everything i feel doesn't make sense, or how the things i want don't matter because you don't want them! you act like you're so far above me, when i'm the only one sleeping in bed with you, sitting on your throne, supporting your psycho-ass ambitions - but i'm the irritating one, right? your girlfriend is such a pain in the ass, isn't she? for caring about your wellbeing and loving you when nobody else will?"

the salmon-haired king's eyes go dull as you shout at him, fury raging in your eyes as you continue to poke at him. you're playing with fire, but you don't care. you're fed up with the pretending, with the sly comments about your intelligence as a human being and the value of your interests.

"woman-"

"shut up! i'm not done."

oh. you've really lost it now, haven't you?

normally, sukuna would have made it a point to silence you and teach you a lesson by now, but for some reason, he's feeling generous. slightly intrigued by your outburst, he lets you go on with a domineering smirk.

"i don't care of you're the king of curses, or if you could kill me with the snap of your fingers, or if you've got thousands of people who bow down to you without a second thought like mindless sheep-"

"you are not those people."

"exactly!" you agree without thinking, and sukuna's smirk brightens. "i'm not! so stop- stop treating me like i am! stop talking to me like i'm unimportant and like i get on your nerves more than i do anything good for you! stop blowing me off because you don't know how to empathize! i'm your girlfriend. i care about you, and i also care about the state of your things which you always make a point to say are mine too- and fucking sue me if i'm tired of walking into your room after a long day to see blood stains from random ass civilians while your servants work to replace them in the next hour! what if i wanna lay down before then, huh? ever thought about that?

"god, i just wish you'd care! is that so hard for you to do, sukuna? to care about me and what i care about? i didn't wanna argue with you, but you make it so damn hard for me not to lose my mind! you never hear me talk about how much you drive me crazy, and you drive me crazy every damn day of the week!"

"is that so?" he pries, slyly.

"yes!"

"i implore you, tell me more about how i drive you crazy."

"have you not been listening to anything i've-?!" you freeze, reconnecting with the moment to look in sukuna's eye and see how he is enjoying listening to your rant. you stop, stepping back and lifting your finger from his chest. you breathe in and out deeply, worked up by your own emotion, and you finally take a second to realize what you have been doing. "you're mocking me," you conclude.

"i am doing no such thing."

you scoff. "whatever, sukuna. just forget it. sorry i'm so irritating to you."

you go to walk off, but sukuna is already wrapping a set of arms around you, tugging you back to his chest. you grit your teeth, peering up over your shoulder to look back and find the demon grinning down at you teasingly.

"you need to relax," he muses.

"don't fucking tell me to relax, sukuna, i'm already pissed off."

"mm. i can see that, and in feeling so you have forgotten who you are speaking to."

"see, this is what i'm talking about! i'm not your servant-"

"yes, yes, i know. it was hard not to catch what you were saying during your little tantrum."

"fuck you," you groan, moving to push away. sukuna tightens his grip, winding his arms securely over your stomach and pressing you to his chest. "sukuna," you whine.

"stop taking everything so personally," he ducks down to speak into your ear over your left shoulder. you jerk, turning your head in the direction of his voice. "you are fully aware that you are not the same as everybody else. if you were, you would not be so mouthy."

"yeah, well it's hard to tell what you think sometimes when you call me annoying all the damn time. if you want me to leave you alone, just say that and i can stop wasting my time."

"enoughhh," he hisses. "you must stop taking things so far."

"and you must stop being so mean," you mimic his speech.

sukuna snorts. "do not worry about the sheets. i will retreat elsewhere after massacres if it while cease your whining."

"oh, how lucky i am," you click your teeth.

"quite so," he turns in to press his lips to the space under your jaw. "if you were anyone else-"

"i'd be dead," you finish, involuntarily leaning into him though your face is still tense. "no one else should be in your bed anyway, you know."

"that is why no one ever will."

[byoldervine]

How To (Realistically) Make A Habit Of Writing

To clarify: Works with my autism. WORKS WITH MY AUTISM!!! I’ve been meeting my goals since I made them my New Year’s resolution! Anyway I’m so sick of all those ‘how to’ guides that don’t actually tell you what the process is they’re just like ‘just do it, but don’t burn yourself out, do what’s best for you!’ because you’re not telling me what I’m not supposed to be burning myself out over but okay, so I made my own. Hope this helps

1. Choose your fighter metric. What works better for you as a measurement of your progress; time spent writing or your word count? Personally I get very motivated and encouraged by seeing my word count go up and making a note of where it should be when I’m done, so I measure by that. At the same time, a lot of people are also very discouraged by their word count and it can negatively impact their motivation to write, and in that case you may be better off working from how much time you spend writing rather than where the word count is

2. Choose your starter Pokémon time frame. How often can you write before it starts to feel like a chore or a burden rather than something fun you look forward to? Many people believe that they have to write daily, but for some people this can do more harm than good. Maybe every two or three days? Weekly? Figure out what fits your schedule and go with it

3. Choose your funny third joke goal. Now that you’ve got your chosen time frame to complete your goal in, what’s a reasonable goal to aim to complete within that time frame based on the metric you chose? If your metric is your word count, how much can you reasonably and consistently write within your chosen time frame? If your metric is time spent writing, how much time can you reasonably and consistently spend writing within that time? Maybe 1000 words per week works, or maybe 10 minutes per day? The goal here is to find something that works for you and your own schedule without burning you out

4. Trial and error. Experiment with your new target and adapt it accordingly. Most people can’t consistently write 1667 words per day like you do in NaNoWriMo, so we want to avoid that and aim somewhere more reasonable. If you feel like it’s too much to do in such a short time frame, either give yourself less to do or more time to do it in. If you find yourself begrudgingly writing so often that it constantly feels more like a chore than something fun, maybe consider adapting things. And if you think that you gave yourself too much wiggle room and you could do more than this consistently, give yourself more of a challenge. Everything needs to suit you and your pace and needs

5. Run your own race. Don’t feel like you’re not accomplishing enough in comparison to others or not working fast enough to satisfy some arbitrary feeling of doubt. Everybody works at their own pace and slower work doesn’t mean worse work. You could be on one word per day and you’ll still see consistent results, which is still one word per day more than you could originally count on. All progress is progress, regardless of its speed

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[stonechild]

feeling trapped and feeling helpless completely debilitate me. i have to be delusional about things to survive i think. been thinking a lot about how i would never try to take my parents religious beliefs (any ones for the most part) away from them. i could logic and reason them to death and then what? they lose the anchor that’s been holding them to life no no like i could never do that to someone. it’s fucked up to be conscious in this universe. it’s a gift but it’s also a burden. whatever helps you sleep at night i’m not kidding.

[salemlunaa]

VOID STATE EXPLAINED: HOW TO GET THE LIFE YOU DREAM OF ᥫ᭡

A TELL-ALL GUIDE TO THE METHOD EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT

so in my asks i have alot of people going “sai, you always go on and on and on and on about the void and different problems people may have, but you never explain what it is and how to get there”And to be honest with you, most of my posts were meant to be that way because i knew of other blogs explaining the void and my blog was just meant to be follow up posts for those who already knew about the void. Although, now i feel more confident and equipped to explain the void in its entirety.

so strap in for this long ass post because this is a gonna be THE guide (if you can’t tell i’m very excited for this post)

i just wanna say that this post is an inspiration and a remix of all those that have inspired me

1. What is the void?

so as you can see yourself and life right now is you in the physical plane (the notorious 3D) you are experiencing the world as *your name* *your lastname*, and your experience is confined by the way that you initially came into the world, being y/n y/ln . The void, originally known as the “I AM” state is when you leave that experience behind, you leave the physical world behind and become nothing and everything at the exact same time. And doing so you can create and destroy absolutely anything in your experience = your reality which is why people call their destination after the void their “dr”=“desired reality”.

2. Why the void?

This method is seen as very effective and efficient once you know how to do it right because it’s a “method” in which your subconscious mind is in full control, which means you can do absolutely anything and that’s not some conspiracy or belief, it is a fact that when entering this subconscious-based meditation state that you can do absolutely anything, which is why i said that you have the power to create and destroy anything in the physical plane, altering your experience. You can change your genetics, your family and friends, your wealth, gender, where you live and much more. You can also redesign things, like a country for you to live in, your age, your s/o’s age, your memories and just your life in general. Just one trip to the void and all that you dream of is yours.

The void doesn’t have to be pitch black you can design it anyway you like, i see alot of people in my dms and asks, saying that the pitch black scares them, but your void can look anyway you want.

personally i’m not scared but i just wanted my void to look cute so i added pink stars to the pitch black

3. How do i get to the void?

There are many ways to get into the void, you can follow a guided many meditation, you can listen to subliminals or waves, you can simply affirm, you can visualise, or you can simply do none of these and go into the void with just the intent, KNOWING that it’s apart of you. You don’t need any method to tap into the void, all you need is yourself and the intent, knowing it’s apart of you and not some magical fairyland. You can enter at anytime of day, because you’re a god and don’t need to be confined to “time”. “Time” is a malleable concept and i’ll be dammed if you guys waste your days because you only believe that you can tap in at night.

4. Problems people have with the void

3 things: wavering, laziness and putting the void on a damn pedestal

a lot of you guys fail to enter the void simply because you try to enter. all the things i have said about the void make it almost impossible to believe, a golden ticket to your dream life with one trip to the void. And because of the fact that we have been conditioned to believe that we have to work for everything we have, this just seems to good to be true. and you see the void as some magical place when it’s YOU, the void is YOU, why do you think you affirm “I Am”? well it’s because the void is literally the state of you being everything but nothing, it is not a place it is a state, hence the void STATE, the “I Am” STATE. it’s a meditative state and that’s it.

When you enter the "I AM" state, why do you affirm phrases like "I am, I am pure consciousness, I am the void, I am unattached to any reality, I am faceless and formless"? It's because these affirmations align you with your divine essence, your true God Self. However, this practice is often short-lived. You enter this state briefly, and when you don't experience any immediate changes or wake up in the same shitty reality, you begin to doubt. You think, "Why hasn't it worked? I must be doing something wrong. I'll try again tonight." This is what wavering looks like. You declare yourself to be in the "I AM" state, but when it doesn’t immediately manifest, you believe it hasn't worked and attempt to re-enter it repeatedly. This endless cycle of trying can confuse your subconscious mind. Instead of truly embodying the state, you're constantly oscillating, creating inconsistency and doubt.

STOP TRYING AND START BEING, OR YOU WILL GET NOWHERE

the void is the easiest thing ever and it is owed to you, because it is you

you can literally enter right now and have every single thing you’ve ever wanted, with just a meditation state, the void isn’t the one with the power it’s you. The void is inside of you and it is lifeless, the only time it gains any power is when YOU step into the equation. As i once said, the void is your bitch not the other way around.

5. Unhealthy relationships

Although the void is one of the best methods i know, i would hate for anyone to accumulate an unhealthy, toxic relationship with the void. The void is as easy as breathing, i know, but it can be alot for some of us to wrap our heads around due to the way we have been conditioned to think (which hurts my heart more than you know). I see people spend months and years trying to get into the void going through an emotionally taxing experience with it. Although i tell people it doesn’t matter how much time you’ve “wasted” and not to let that discourage you because you could really enter now if you put your mind to it (no pun intended) , if you know that it has been eating you up trying for the void going around a constant cycle, please take a break or use other methods.

now with that i say go, go and redesign yourself, deconstruct yourself and create the new you, start from scratch and make your dream self, go to the void and get your dream life.

don’t try, just be 🌊💋

i really hope you loved this as much as i do, now go get your dream life -salem ᥫ᭡

[sweetmodel]

How I became a master shifter (+ why methods aren't working for you)

Hello! I’ve been seeing a lot of disinformation lately, and I’ve noticed that some people might need help, so I wanted to chime in. I can shift whenever I want, and I see a LOT of limiting beliefs—but I understand because I was once on the other side.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my personal experience with how I became a master shifter. You’ll want to read everything—it’s important.

I first shifted around March 2022. I would always use methods. I would affirm, tell myself I was detached from this reality, and so on. During my very first shift, I literally affirmed all night long (if this sounds familiar, it’s because I used to have another blog here, lol). You know, really complicated stuff. Then... things changed. I couldn’t shift anymore. I kept using the same methods, but they didn’t work!

That’s when I started questioning everything about shifting and consciousness. Why was it that I could be in another reality where things like magic exist, but then suddenly I couldn’t shift anymore? Why were the methods, like lucid dreaming or the void, seemingly more powerful than the act of switching realities itself? Why, when I shifted from my Desired Reality to my Current Reality, all I needed to do think of my CR to shift back—but it didn’t work the other way around?

None of it made sense! And I’m sure many others have asked themselves these same questions.

I came up with two theories:

This reality has something unique compared to the infinite other realities. To shift from here, you need something extra, like a method.

There’s something else at play, something unrelated to the realities themselves.

I dismissed the first option. There’s nothing inherently special about this reality. So why do we use methods here but not in our DRs?

Then, I thought back to how I used to shift... detaching from my body, affirming until I shifted. It all aligned with my subconscious beliefs. The method didn’t work because that’s how shifting works, but because it made sense to my subconscious. Of course I would shift if I did these things—because that’s what I believed shifting required.

Well... kind of. As I said, it made sense because it aligned with my beliefs. So when the method failed, I wasn’t letting myself shift.

Did you catch that? I didn’t let myself shift. Of course, it wasn’t the method. At what point do you actually shift? Is it when you affirm? Do you really think the universe is just waiting for you to say the right thing enough times before it switches you to your DR?

No. It’s you.

So, you have two choices:

Find a method that truly aligns with your beliefs, or

Change your subconscious beliefs.

Changing your beliefs might seem hard, but I’m going to explain why it’s not as difficult as it feels.

All your life, you’ve had certain beliefs, but those beliefs came from somewhere. You weren’t born thinking you need methods to shift—it’s something that developed over time. Which means it’s not set in stone. It can be changed.

I realized that every reality holds the same weight. There’s NOTHING you can do in this one—no intrusive thoughts or negative emotions—that can stop you. Why? Because those thoughts and emotions are products of this reality. Shifting is simply changing what you’re aware of. That’s literally it. Anything outside of that can’t stop you.

Yes, we’ve all seen those posts saying things like, "Oh, you’re not focused enough" or "You spend too much time on X, Y, Z" or even "You don’t go outside enough" (I legit read this on here—y'all are wildin’). Are you in your DR thinking "Oh, I thought about failing to shift, it means I won't :("? Of course you aren't! But nothing can stop you from shifting. Nothing can stop you from being aware that you are a master shifter.

So, how do you become aware of that?

I started affirming throughout the day. I would tell myself these things:

I’m pure consciousness. I create my reality, and everything around me is just what I choose to perceive.

I’m a master shifter. I don’t need methods. All I need to do is choose to shift, think of my DR, and it happens.

Nothing in the 3D can stop me from shifting, because I’m in the 4D and pure consciousness.

I told myself these things constantly, and I truly understood what I was affirming. What being pure consciousness and being a master shifter actually meant. I stopped using methods. I stopped acting like this reality was special compared to the ones I wanted to be in. And then... it happened.

I shifted. During the day. I simply thought of my DR, told myself, I want to shift, and there I was—in my DR. It happened because, as I said, my subconscious beliefs changed and then manifested in my reality. The same way they did when I believed I needed methods.

Naturally, I stopped using methods. I stopped trying to shift. I no longer thought, Okay, tonight I’m going to shift, and I'm going to use X method. Because that’s not how you think or act when you’re a master shifter. I let go—why would I bother using a method before sleeping when I could just stand up, think about my DR, and be there? Why would I bother doing a method before falling asleep when I knew I'm a master shifter?

I allowed myself to shift. It was me! When people ask, What method did you use? What did you do to shift?—do you really, truly believe it’s the method that makes you shift? Of course you do, because you live in a reality that seems logical, and you apply that logic to shifting. But shifting isn’t logical! It just happens! I have no idea why—it’s literally just magic to me—but that’s how it works.

So, you need to understand: You make it happen. That’s a good thing, right? It means you don’t need methods, and you don’t need to keep searching for “the key.”

Anyway, I hope this helps someone. (Also yes, before you tell me, I know this is basically Law Of Assumption. But I wanted to explain it in more of shifting terms)

(Also if someone wants to post this to another social you have my permission- especially reddit since I was active in that community but I deleted my acc lol)

Edit: Hey guys there are some additional notes in the comments that might be useful!