#the notetaking process

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

dogboy chosen/catboy augustus sounds literally like Christmas to my furry nintendogs stanning heart

Animalian traits are literally so fun to write, I'm having a ball in this bitch.

#i'm only jotting ideas for this while i finish my nearly 10k spommy wip that is destroying me mentally but even the notetaking process #is really fun when the main character's boyfriend is a kitty cat. like idc argue with a wall that's adorable #it's looking like it might be a long one so that'll be fun as well (long being relative- anywhere between 5 and 20k bc i have no chill) #ask answered #notthatalex #but yeah i'm having a grand old gay time

[pynkhues]

The way we needed you in the writer's room!! Phew the talent you have!!! 💓💓

Ah! Anon!! You're way too sweet, haha, thank you. GG is definitely a fun show to daydream about, but that's in no small part because of the amazing world and characters that the writers created. The show wasn't always perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I do think it was a pretty dynamic writer's room. But yes! I love getting to play in the fandom ;-)

#i've actually been notetaking for a writers room lately which has been a really amazing learning experience #they're interesting spaces #especially for someone like me who's written more in books and short stories and writes more or less alone until the editing process #SUCH a different way to write #welcome to my ama

[everyonesfavoritenotetaker]

Leeeeemon! Where are you? Broccoli's trying to look for you!

Well, the guy is certainly alive, that's a start- In fact, he's circled his way back to Marsh's, walking down an aisle of snacks. He's still looking quite nervous, but at least he hadn't wandered enough to lose his way back.

[[LONG POST AHEAD! put under a read under so it doesn't clog the TL :> I also have to split this post into two because of image restrictions mobile tumblr has, unfortunately. This is part 1!]]

[🍋] "Oh, No- No- I'm fine- They know I never go far, Why would they be looking for me?" Lemon chuckles nervously, continuing down the aisle.

[🍋]"I mean, it's not like I'd have much of anywhere to go anyways- They're wasting time, y'know-" He mumbles, as if he hasn't been missing for several months at this point.

He hasn't been in a building this packed for a while, just making a few stops at gas stations and the like to gather himself and pick up food. And he would be at a gas station right now, if Marsh's hadn't been closer. A step closer to the apartment complex, if it's better to look at it that way.

He stops to pick up a box on the shelf, closely examining it. 12 granola bars, on sale for 1 and a half bucks, the generic brand, not bad. It'll probably last him long enough to get back to the apartment complex, or until Apple and Broccoli track him down- Whichever comes first.

He brings it up to his face to get a better look at the box- Trying to find the flavor of the bars somewhere on it.

And after a moment of trying to find the flavor, he gives up.

Whatever they are, he'll certainly live.

He keeps it with him, continuing down the aisle.

He's mellowed out somewhat, bit he's still on edge- Just not as much as he was earlier, but when is he NOT nervous?

...Broccoli and Apple are quite literally in the aisle over, Apple having insisted that he was hungry and needed a snack. Broccoli begrudgingly tagged along.

They're idly chatting, but Broccoli is getting more and more stressed as time passes- In addition to being cold. Even if it arguably isn't right now. And a stressed and cold Broccoli isn't a nice one to deal with.

[🥦]"....Look, I know you're hungry, and you want to take you time shopping, but you've already picked something out. Can't you just check out so we could get going-? Not to rush you or anything, just- Yknow."

[🥦]"He could have been to Crescent City and back by now! Don't you find it a little weird that he hasn't come back?"

Broccoli just wants to find Lemon on his own accord, but Apple certainly has other plans.

[🍎]"I'm sure he's fine wherever he is, man. I mean, it's not like you called the cops like 7 times- Chill out before you bolt or something." Apple replies, having already been dragged around the state a few times. "It's not like I dont care about the guy, its just that you spend every waking hour looking. Isn't it getting exhausting?" At this point, they've looked all over the place, and he'd just like a moment to relax.

[🍎]"When's the last time you had something to eat, huh?"

It's a question that seems quite out of the blue, but it's a good one to ask nonetheless.

[🥦]"..."

Broccoli is silent for a few moments, seeming quite irritated, before speaking back up. You can essentially hear the tea kettle boiling.

[🥦]"....Chill out-?"

There's another short bout of tense silence before Broccoli speaks up again.

[🥦]"....Chill OUT-? Apple, if Lemon was fine, he would be back by now- Or at the very least FOUND-!" Broccoli rambles off. "For all we know, he could be hurt, or WORSE! This isn't something you just wait around and find out on-!" His voice is raised, but he's not outright shouting.

They sound quite irritated, sweeping Apple's initial questions and worry out of the way.

[🥦]"We can't just sit around and find out on stuff like this- He's gotta be somewhere out there!"

#CURSE YOU APP IMAGE LIMITATIONS!! #[[Lots of ooc notes down below!! holy hell.]] #[[I had artists block and writers block BACK TO BACK WAUGGHH]] #[[Followed by tumblr deleting the draft several times]] #[[might have bitten off more than i could chew with this one folks]] #[[never again will i attempt a post this long until im SURE the motivation will last for the entire duration of working on it.]] #[[“Bolting” in Broccolis case refers to a process that broccoli plants go through under extreme stress!]] #[[The plant basically goes nope! and then blooms prematurely before DYING]] #[[Wanted to clarify i didnt mean like bolting in the running away sense.]] #[[Applies to plenty of vegetables! Not just broccoli plants but this is more of a specific case.]] #shaking citrus [lemon] #sick tricks! [apple] #the notetaker talks! [broccoli]

[1000leaps]

#80 | Jerry Seinfeld's Recipe for Success: 40 Years of Note-taking

Jerry Seinfeld is arguably the most influential American comedian of his generation. In his book Is This Anything, Jerry wrote that he had “never met a stand-up who wasn’t funny at all.” When it comes to comedy, the biggest question is less on talent but on one’s tenacity to consistently experiment and learn from each experience. One of Jerry’s secrets was keeping all his notes in one place,…

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#Body of work #Box #Consistency #Creative Process #Creativity #Experimentation #Jerry Seinfeld #Legal pad #Notetaking

[starredwrites]

me: hi disability services at my university, i would like two (2) accomodations that would make my life much easier, please and thank you

disability services: best i can do is academic coaching and telling you you have the wrong disability for the accomodations you've requested

#apparently i have to go get the audio processing shit diagnosed in order to get captioning through disability services #i was told to just ask my professors! and to wait and see what my classes look like...MA'AM I HAVE THE SYLLABUS I KNOW WHAT'S COMING FOR ME #disability services person: i feel like most things have captions nowadays! #me (through gritted teeth): so i had a class that was half asynchronous lectures last semester and Wasn't Captioned At All #time to book an appointment with my psychiatrist. and Cry #me: could i get a perpetual extension on assignments bc my time management is ASS #disability services: have you considered starting the assignment sooner? #like bestie if i could 'just start the assignment earlier' i wouldn't BE in this meeting #there was also the very funny 'do you want a notetaker for classes? that's a really common accomodation for ur disability' when uh #i was a student notetaker last semester #i might give academic coaching a go. just to see if it's in any way helpful even though quite frankly i doubt it #vent #i hate the accomodations mindset of like. people would just ask for accomodations they don't need for funsies

[structuredsucc]

So... what exactly are executive functioning supports...?

Planners, checklists, and reminders are definitely executive function supports, but they aren't the only things that are available. ...so, I've made a list of some examples. A thread (🧵)

Executive functioning includes so much, so executive function supports can be SO MANY things. Executive functions include decision making, working memory, task initiation, planning, prioritizing, many forms of self-regulation, and more.

So let's talk in broad categories

Category 1: Decisionmaking

Avoiding a decision altogether,

Choosing randomly,

Reducing the number of options to decide between,

Always doing the same decision (such as having a uniform for yourself),

Outsourcing decisions,

Having outside structure/expectations

Category 2: Working memory

Keeping things visible,

Reminders,

Collaborators who gently remind you of things,

Writing it down (i.e., notebooks, post-its, to-do lists, etc.),

External structure such as lunch hours,

Understanding why and how working memory fails

Category 3: Information processing

Avoiding weak processing areas (eg. reading for dyslexics like me)

Have information in multiple forms,

Make information processing context relevant,

Reduce incoming information or competing demands

Category 4: Task Management

Body doubling,

Transition time,

To-do lists,

Breaking tasks down (including people to help with that),

External structure for identify the next step,

clear, explicit instructions,

Schedules, planners, itineraries.

Category 5: Organization

Mind maps,

Labels, 

Notetaking templates,

Physical organizers,

Organizing methods (Kondo, Only 4 Things, etc.),

House cleaners, professional organizer, etc.

Clear bins,

An ability to toggle visibility

Category 6: Cognitive Flexibility

Transition time,

Pre-change warnings,

External support for identifying and reminding the new direction,

Context-based exemplars of similar change,

Visual schedules,

Reminders of when structure will start again

I've listed a lot of things here, but there are just so, so, so many more options.

Executive function supports can be ways that we think or approach situations (internal) or structures imposed on us by others (external). They can be physical tools that we can touch and interact with (tangible) or completely abstract ideas or approaches (intangible)

The big takeaways are that executive function supports can be any tool, structure, or communication that supports any of our executive functions.

Executive functioning struggles are core to the ADHD and autistic experiences (and secondary to other ND conditions). This means executive functioning takes a lot of energy for ADHD and/or autistic people, and the more support we have the more energy we can use for other things

So, yeah, planners, checklists, and reminders are definitely executive function supports, but so is a highschool bell schedule, hobby-related groups, professional services, and colleagues (consensually) harassing you to remember to send that email.

There are a lot of options!

#adhd #executive function #executive functioning #coping #coping strategies #autism #task initiation #decision paralysis #actually autistic #neurodivergent #mental health #executive dysfunction

[fanaticsnail]

Three, Two, One: Part 1 of 3

Hello beautiful people! I have decided to turn this part one-shot into a two-part series - SPECIFICALLY because I wanted it to be happy and playful, but it is leaning into a super HARD angst and I didn't want to spoil the playful vibe 👌

Word Count: 3,928

Warnings: mentions of tobacco, nicotine and addiction.

Song accompaniment: Know You Girls, Honey, Boy Toy

Fic Request Prompt by: @terarria-sunflower. Masterlist Here.

“Three, two, one,” you glanced down at your rotund, egg-shaped ticking timer as it began to shake as soon as the final number fled softly from your lips. A small smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth as you gazed at the blonde chef as he placed the relinquished cigarette butt within his ashtray; closing the metal lid to keep the cinders away from tainting the blue ocean with its waste.

“Down to the last second,” you muttered again to yourself, shaking your head while opening your journal and jotting down a new number within the pages. You flipped the yellow ribbon back within the page and shut your book; the several ribbons swaying at the bottom of the journal as you wrapped it around in its bound leather strap to place back atop the table.

As ship’s chronicler, you were tasked with notetaking and scribing the comings and goings aboard the Going Merry; a task which you undertook with complete precision and gusto. You had everything down to a fine craft; from documenting strategic battle maneuvers, to how many engagements in combat Zoro completed before his blades needed repair, down to exactly when the ship would need to pull in to resupply the kitchen with fresh ingredients, and the vessel with fresh medical supplies.

Your attention was being currently drawn to cataloguing the kitchen, searching through the prior menus Sanji had completed to determine which items took priority to resupply. As the kitchen was the blonde chef’s domain, you were spending far more time with him currently than the other members of the crew. You adored how passionate he was about food, and reveled in his eagerness to offer flirtations with you. Originally, you paid his flirtations very little mind; drawing conclusions that his words and gestures was built into his character as his occupation moulded him.

However, as his flirtations became more bold with his subtle smirks and playful words directed towards you; you decided it would be amusing to return his gestures, primarily out of boredom in your travels. Immediately, you found entertainment with how flustered you could make him, how his eyes would twinkle widely and his chin would fall to the ground to have his face shrouded by his blonde hair to shield the rising blush from your view.

Gentle touches of his hands brushing against yours as you passed him your journal to look over your kitchen restock notes, leaning yourself towards him over the kitchen benchtop with a playful bite of your lip while you asked him a mundane question, sitting in silence as he lit a cigarette and gawked at you while you read over your notes; crossing your right leg over your left and absent mindedly brushing your toes against his outer thighs with a light smirk.

It was truly a joy to see him flustered. He knew all of the right words and actions to pose towards others in playful advance, but never quite knew how to process the same unbridled gestures when they were reflected back onto him.

As Sanji walked his away from the wooden frame of the Going Merry’s kitchen bay-window, he turned towards you and smiled his beautiful, cuspid smile as you. Your heart began to swell at his attention, prompting you to look up at him half-lidded and cock your head to the side.

“What are you doing in here, beautiful?” he asked, continuing his approach.

“Oh, just cataloguing in the log book while enjoying the view,” you taunted him back with your playfulness, shamelessly raking your eyes over his torso, down his legs and back up to meet his gaze; “the ocean outside the window is nice to look at, too.”

He paused his movement, a small flustered panic behind his eyes before his smile spread further to his face, “You like what you see, then?” He gestured his hand over his body and arched his eyebrow upwards in question. He was wearing his blue and white-striped shirt with his black tie clasped firmly around his neck; sleeves fastened down at his wrists, secured by black buttoned cuff-links.

Your smirk drew into a broad smile as he continued to step closer to you, you confirming: “yes, chef.”

He allowed a large laugh to escape his parted lips, shaking his head at your brazen sanction.

“You hungry?” he asked once his laughter teetered off.

“Barely,” you shrugged, rising to your feet from your place sitting above deck, “but if it means spending more time with you, I’ll accompany you here the kitchen and aid your preparation for-,” you paused, reopening your journal and skimming it’s pages before locating the correct passage; “-Luffy’s second afternoon tea before dinner?”

He again chuckled at you, beginning to roll up his sleeves by unbuttoning his cuffs; “alright then, come and help me. Keep me company.”

You smiled again at him before reaching down towards the table and retrieving your egg-shaped timer from atop the wooden surface and holding it firmly within your hands. Sanji furrowed his brows, looking at the timer in your hands; “what’s with the timer?”

“Oh,” you shrugged, patting him on the shoulder as you moved past him, “nothing that should concern you.” He cocked his head up at the comment, intrigued by your nonchalant comment. You placed the object back down beside your journal, fixed to remain in its non-ticking nor shaking state for the interim as you readied yourself to begin aiding Sanji with the formulation of the meals.

“Okay then, let’s get started,” he began after rinsing his hands thoroughly, turning to his work station and bringing out several ingredients to ready preparation for Luffy’s snack; a two course meal with several sweet and savoury elements that were not too difficult to execute. You began to lather your hands with soap to wash them before you made your way to aid Sanji with food preparation.

While your back was turned and your egg timer and journal were left unattended; Sanji felt he had no choice but to peruse through the pages, finding your latest entry with the yellow ribbon: the colour he knew represented his entries for your chronicler-duties. Your journal was by no means taboo nor out of bounds for any members of the crew, but as Sanji searched through the pages; he was secretly hoping to find some semblance of minor infatuation towards him.

You both flirted with each other incessantly and constantly aboard the ship, and while travelling from port to port. Sanji couldn’t help but to be wooed by your words and actions, hoping that what began as entertainment from boredom grew as much for you as it did for him; hopefully fanning the flames of a small crush on your crewman into potentially developing into a deeper relationship.

You placed an apron over your head and secured the strap around your waist to stop any food items from falling to your clothes accidentally as he watched you over his shoulder; before hunching back over to find anything of the romantic nature between the pages.

He skimmed over his routine, noting several lines of ingredients he neglected to inform you in need of resupply already added to the journal. He sighed, contented and relieved to see you were effortlessly able to pick up on his subtle substitutions he used to cover the need for the missing ones; grinning at the knowledge of how attuned you were to his actions and efforts as chef aboard the vessel. In his daily schedule, he noticed several small crosses flurrying throughout his comings and goings; numbers written next to each cross.

He furrowed his brows and continued skimming over the pages, passing now onto the green-ribbon section: Zoro’s routine, noting his schedule had no crosses nor numbers. He deepened his frown and looked to the orange, red and blue ribbons for Nami, Luffy and Usopp’s schedules and noticed no crosses on their schedules either. Was this the answer he was looking for? He needed to know, and he needed to know, now.

“Hey, love?” Sanji spoke up, alerting you of his attention. You creased your brows at him, noting he had opened your log-journal and was reading his pages; “what are all these marks?”

Wiping your hands on a hanging blue and white kitchen towel, you turned to approach him; leaning your elbow on his shoulder as he turned his body into you, keeping his sights held to the pages of his schedule. You tilted your head towards your notation and narrowed your eyes before turning away from the pages to look at the blonde chef to your side.

“Those are your cigarette breaks, Sanji,” you smiled at him, reaching up to move his blonde hair away from shielding his eyes from you, “I’ve timed them.”

You turned away from him towards the kitchen counter and began sorting through the stock and comprising them into an order of need: items that needed to be cooked and items that only required assembly.

Sanji turned his eyes back to the page and creased his brows at the notes, looking over and acknowledging truly how many times he sought out the nicotine hit within his day to day activities. Although he didn’t manage to secure what he was hoping for, he remained perplexed by the sheer number and time throughout the day he received his dose of nicotine; almost angry at himself for the total amount.

“I have that many?” he asked, rethreading the ribbon back into the pages and putting the journal back atop the counter next to the egg timer.

“That you do, chef,” you nodded, continuing to sort out the piles of ingredients and readying a knife to begin peeling. Sanji hummed, looking over at you as you began peeling fruit with the edge of your knife. He emptied his pockets, placing his tobacco pouch, ash tray and lighter next to your journal before equipping himself with an apron to join next to you.

You both continued to prepare Luffy’s second afternoon snack together, laughing at something one another said and flirtatiously advancing each other with nothing more than a gentle graze of a shoulder or a brush of a fingertip as you continued working with one another. Once you had completed the task, Sanji removed his apron and began reaching toward his tobacco pouch and ash tray. A sly and mischievous look fell over your features.

“Can I ask you a question, chef?” you asked in a slight hint of mischief in your tone, prompting him to halt his retrieval of the pouch for a moment. You removed your apron and hooked it over a brass kitchen rail.

“Anything for you, love,” he smirked at you, turning around to face you and scrunching up his nose playfully. You tilted your head, walking closer to him and gazing up into his eyes.

“What is it about cigarettes that have such a hold over you?” you asked him curiously, “obviously it is the nicotine addiction, but is there more to it than just that?”

Sanji broke his sights away from you and looked off to the ceiling in thought with a small hum.

“You know,” he began with a nod, turning his eyes back down to meet your gaze, “I hadn’t given it much thought until now, truthfully. Maybe the rush? Taking a moment to myself? Could just be the chemical endorphins or the adrenaline, really.”

You nodded and downturned your lips in thought with a shrug. Sanji smirked at you, half-lidding his eyes mischievously before asking; “Why? You got a theory?”

“Frankly, I think it’s primarily about the nicotine,” you nodded, a wince of a smile falling to your face, “you should really think about breaking the habit, it’ll shorten your life and ruin your palate in the long run.”

You flicked your index finger over his chin playfully, a flirtatious grin rising again to your lips; “gotta keep that talented tongue in peak shape for when we get to the All-Blue. Can’t have everything tasting like ash now, can we?”

A small pink hue rose to his cheeks as you allowed a small giggle to escape your lips. You turned away from him to collect your journal, revelling at how flustered you made the flirtatious chef.

“You make a fine point, beautiful,” he broke his face back into a smile, “how do you suggest I get my fix? Save my palate,” he added with a small chuckle.  

You halted your step and quirked your head to the side before turning back to face him again.

“Let’s look at natural remedies,” you pondered, looking upwards at the ceiling, a list forming in your mind; “for adrenaline, why not spar with Zoro? He’d likely appreciate the amount of practice he could get in.”

Sanji hummed, stepping his body closer to you, “doesn’t really serve the endorphin release now, does it, love?”

You giggled in response, again looking towards the chef in thought, “you could go for a quick dip in the ocean? Breath control and adrenaline with that one.”

“And strip off my clothes multiple times a day?” he shook his head with a large grin forming, “I hardly see that as a helpful alternative. Again, it misses the endorphin release and doesn’t meet the accessibility criteria.”

You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips in thought. He chuckled again, turning back to face the table to retrieve his tobacco pouch and lighter, beginning to assemble a cigarette; rolling the tobacco within wafer-thin paper and adding a thin filter port to the end of it. He leant against the table, hips aligning with the height as he reclined back into it. As he brought the filter end to his lips, a stroke of genius struck you. He rose his lighter towards his lips and made to cradle the flame to ignite the end, halting at your next words.

“Kiss me,” you uttered softly with your head swaying as you held a small shyness to your voice, a tone Sanji almost missed. His eyes widened, mouth falling slightly ajar as his cigarette clung to his bottom lip.

“What was that-?” he asked in an utterance slightly more elevated than your own. You looked up at him with a small playful grin as you took your bottom lip once again within your teeth to bite it.

“Breath control,” you said more confidently, beginning to step closer towards him, “adrenaline release,” you raked your eyes over his body before settling on holding his eyes firm to you, “endorphin rush? I’d say a simple kiss would meet the criteria.”

His breath hitched within his throat at the suggestion, prompting him to reach up and remove the cigarette from between his lips and place it on the table behind him.

“You’re saying I can kiss you-,” he confirmed with a small hint of both delight and apprehension, “-for as long as I want?”

You giggled, reaching past him to retrieve your egg timer, “I’ll allow you to kiss me for as long as you need to.”

Sanji quirked his head at your actions, widening his eyes at the egg timer in your hands before a small chuckle fell from his lips. You stepped within his personal proximity after searching his eyes for any apprehension to do so. Meeting none, you settled comfortably in the space between his legs as he remained reclined against the table.

“And judging from your routine: with your mornings, you take about two minutes per cigarette,” you nod your head, rolling the timer within your hands, “your afternoon ones are down to a solid three and a half to four,” he nodded, taking your wrists within his hands and looking down still at the timer, “your before dinner cigarette is about one and a half, because you’re desperate at that stage,” he snickered at your comment, you giggling again in tow.

“And my after dinner one?” he asked you in a breathy, almost frantic voice, “surely I take my time with that one-.”

“-The after dinner one, you usually take around three,” you cut him off with a small giggle, “but your before bed one,” you nudged your nose under his chin to bring his gaze up to meet you once more, “that’s where you take your time with a solid five,” you whispered suggestively close to his jaw.

A small whined-groan escaped from him as he began to chase your face to seek to capture your lips in a kiss, meeting only the tips of your fingers pressed against his lips in response. He furrowed his brows and flittered his eyes down towards your hand and back to gazing intensely into your eyes.

“Hold on, big boy,” you warned him, scrunching up your nose playfully, “I have to set the timer first, or it’s all for naught.”

He nudged your hand away with his chin and a small growl escaping his lips in displeasure at your apprehension. You chuckled at his eagerness, allowing your hand to fall onto his cheek in a gentle caress.

“Surely not for the first one,” he commented hoarsely, desperately as he began reaching down to take the timer from your hands; only to be met with your hands closing over the egg-timer and holding it firmer, “just a taste-.”

“-It’s part of the fun,” you smile at him, floating your gaze over his face; falling on his lips before rising up again to meet with his eyes, “otherwise it won’t work and you’ll be back to square one."

He hummed in response, almost in a low whine as he pressed his forehead against you and grazing his hands down your ribcage to settle against your hips; “and what do you get out of aiding me with my fix?”

“I get the knowledge,” you whisper against his jaw, grazing your lips along his skin slowly, “that I’m the one bringing the rush to you, Sanji. I’m the one making you feel good.”

“Set the timer,” he growled firmly, eyes darkening with his pupils blown out and intense with desire, “four minutes.”

“Oui, chef,” you whispered with a small giggle in anxious anticipation, pulling your lips away from his jaw and turning towards your egg timer; winding it to the appropriate duration.

“Okay Sanji, the time starts: n-,” your words are halted by his the soft but intense collision of Sanji’s lips overzealously engaging in entanglement against your own. You squealed slightly at the immediacy of his reaction, your eyes wide as you stared at his closed eyes as his brows creased in intensity with your cheeks held firmly within his hands.

You reached slowly behind him to place the timer down on the table and raked your hands over his back and slid your fingertips against his flesh and holding his hips firmly while closing your eyes. You shifted your lips against his, opening them to deepen the kiss and allow him to glide his tongue behind your entrance to dance with your tongue. You gasped as soon as the contact was made, feeling a sharp piece of metal beneath the muscle, attached firmly to his frenulum. A piercing? Sanji has a tongue piercing?

He smiled into the kiss, feeling your shock as you brushed your tongue with his. He retracted the muscle from your mouth and began to place rougher kisses, assaulting your lips while raking his fingers through your hair and cradle your head further against his own. He rotated his head to continue the deep and rough engagement, prompting a whimper-like moan to fall from your lips in response.

As he remained reclined against the table, you wavered in your mind how much more adrenaline you could spike into his bloodstream to elevate his heartbeat further. Deciding to not withhold your ministrations; you pulled yourself further against his hips and hooked your right leg over his left and guide his left hand from your hair to wrap around your thigh. A groan fell from his lips as he reclined against the table further, unbreaking the kiss from your lips as he eagerly began to support your weight against him with fervour.

He pulled his other hand from your hair as you laced your hands behind his neck to hold him further into yourself. Just as you tilted your head and made to rake your fingers into his hair while he reached down to grip the back of your other thigh to hoist you up against himself fully; the egg-timer began to rattle and shake, alerting you the duration of the kiss was to be drawn to a close.

The low groan released from Sanji’s lips followed by a whimper as you began to pull yourself away from him was as delicious as the meals he would readily present to you, filling you completely with his unbridled need being absolutely met by your body.

“Please-,” he cried his protestation and need for you softly as you made to break from his lips, “please I need more.”

You smiled while he chased you with his lips as you pulled away from him, unlacing your leg from circling his hip and pulled your arms around his shoulders. You pressed your hand to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid pace pummelling harshly at his breastbone, pushing him away with a gentle but firm touch.

“You can have more,” you cooed at him, looking down through your eyelashes to see his desperation on full display over his face; his breath unevenly falling from his mouth, “in an hour and twenty minutes, before dinner.”

“For how long, then?” He gasped, moving his hands from your hips to lace his fingertips within your own, “surely not just for one and a half minutes.”

You giggled at him, looking at the beautiful picture you had painted on the man of a canvas before you: his eyes blown out with lust and desire, his heart beating with the rapidity of an over-excited puppy anticipating its first treat, his lips bruised from the prior collision against your own.

“You are out of breath,” you nodded to him, gesturing to his lips with your chin, “you have a spike of adrenaline, gathered by how rapid your heart was beating just now,” you rubbed your thumb to circle over his own, “and hopefully the kiss gave you as much of a rush of endorphins as it did me,” you giggled with a nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

He nodded, looking down at the ground with a small smile tugging at his slightly swollen lips.

“Thank you for helping me with breaking my addiction, and,” he murmured, bringing your hands upwards to brush his lips against every digit; paying them all as much attention as the other with his lips, breaking only to utter; “for helping me restore my palate. I’m going to look forward to receiving my next hit from you.”

You felt a small rush of butterflies falling over your chest as he bore a wide grin against your knuckles.

“Okay, chef,” you said, releasing your hands from his and bringing your right hand up to caress his cheek, brushing your thumb over his lips to tenderly sooth them, “let’s go bring the captain his second afternoon tea.”

“Oui, mademoiselle,” he groaned, pressing a small and playful kiss against the pad of your thumb, prompting a small whimper to fall from your own lips this time; a smirk readily rising to his cheeks as he took the balled piercing from beneath his tongue and twirled it against his teeth absent mindedly.

Part 2

#one piece #opla #opla fic #x reader #one piece live action #sanji opla #black leg sanji #sanji fic #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji

[theblue6ook]

Shit Interview PT 5

Summary: The day Bruce Wayne is finally supposed to work in office... and he's late. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: I know I said this would be out early 3/6, but I lied… If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series :)

Y/N had woken up at 5 am on Monday morning. She did her hair and her makeup. She dressed a little nicer than she would any other day, with a new top and new shoes that she purchased with her new paycheck. John opened Dorthie’s Flowers early for her so she could stop in and get flowers for the office, just because. Of course, John knew what was going on. He gossiped with Alfred on their usual off day. She even had time to go to Batbuck’s and get a black coffee and a breakfast sandwich with bacon. Yes, she knew her employer's order. And after two weeks of agony, today was the day. The day Bruce Wayne was coming to the office.

Did she think he’d honestly care about any of her efforts? No. No, not even a little bit, but it made her feel better. Knowing she was putting in effort even if her boss wasn’t. So, she sat in the office doing her usually scheduled work, watching the clock tick by. Check-in with the social team. They’ve been begging to have Bruce Wayne in a promotional video: at 8 am. Work on approving Wayne Charitable Foundation fundraisers: 9:30 am. Look through suggested events: 11 a.m. It was 12:33 pm. Their first meeting started at 12:30 pm. Bruce Wayne was supposed to be here at 12 pm. Where the fuck is he? Who knows, but he’s not where he’s supposed to be. Y/N contemplated driving down to that manor, grabbing him by the legs, and throwing him in the back of her van. She thinks she could do it. She thinks she’s angry enough to do it. 

Just like in every other meeting, she was acting as a notetaker, and as she looked down at her notebook… she thought she might throw up. Mr.Collins may have been… especially an asshole last week, and she may have told him she knew for a fact Bruce Wayne would be here today. After two weeks of dealing with his comments and cruelty, she just can’t take the heat. So she sits in her corner, with her notebook on her knees hoping, praying he’ll forget all about it… He doesn’t.

“Miss.Y/L/N,” he sang at her, a shit-eating grin on his face, “I thought we were expecting Mr.Wayne today.”

He held his arms out as if to say, where is he? She tried to ignore him, leaning over toward her back and grabbing a pen out. Stepping in front of her, he used his foot to scoot the bag away from her. “I asked you a question, Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Personally, I thought it was more a statement,” Mr.Foxx tried to take some of the attention away from her. She looked over at him and smiled. She wanted to thank him, but unfortunately, she knew it wouldn’t deter Mr.Collins. He was determined to make her look stupid.

“The question was implied,” Mr.Collins spoke. 

“He’s just late,” she replied, bored, looking down at her notebook and trying to appear unfazed. “I spoke with him on Saturday, and he said he’d be coming around twelve.” He tried taking the notebook off her lap, but she held onto it, leaving them at a standstill. 

“You may look at me while I talk to you,” he spat at her. Y/N, don’t say a goddamn thing, she thought, nothing that comes out of your mouth will be helpful. The executives had all paused near their seats, watching the scene, waiting to intervene, but then the attention shifted.

“Please stop harassing my assistant, Nigel,” a voice had spoken smugly. The notebook slipped out of her hand, and a breath she didn’t know she was holding released. There, leaning cooly against the doorway, was Bruce Fucking Wayne in a suit that probably cost more than her life. Nigel backed off and looked absolutely aghast.

He took a minute to process the man standing in the doorway, straightened up and spoke, “Mr.Wayne, what a… surprise.”

“Well, you know Gotham traffic, it’s a nightmare.” The other executives chuckled, still standing. Y/N could tell no one was really sure what to do with themselves. Bruce looked at her confused, “Miss.Y/L/N, what are you doing in the corner?”

Grabbing her notebook on the way over, he slipped behind her cornered chair and wheeled it to the table with her in it. He sat between her and Mr.Foxx, and slowly, everyone relaxed and sat down, chattering quietly. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and whispered, “Why do I feel like you were late on purpose?”

He just grinned.

Bruce actually had every intention of being here on time, but the case had a breakthrough, and the case always comes first. Even despite Alfred's insistent honking in the driveway. After weeks, he had found where Bane had been putting his chemicals. He'd been stocking them in different warehouses around the city, spreading them out. So, it might be time to spend the week in the penthouse conveniently enough.

Speaking confidently and intelligently, Bruce Wayne started the meeting. To everyone’s surprise, including her own, he had actually done his homework on the energy program they were discussing. He spoke expertly on the topic as if he worked in the program. His being here would have even been enough, she thought. Y/N took notes on whether they were to keep the program or get rid of it, and Mr.Wayne even had her repeat the notes at the end. This might have been the smoothest meeting she had ever attended. 

As it came to an end, they decided to schedule another for tomorrow at 1 pm. Mr.Collins claimed it gave everyone time before making a final decision. As the executives were filtering out of the room, each one would shake Bruce Wayne’s hand. I hope to see you again, Bruce, such a pleasure. I’ll be looking for you in the office, Wayne. Glad to have you back. You look so much like your father. She took the opportunity to squeeze by them, leaving the room. Bruce noticed and excused himself to follow her out.

He caught up to her easily, “What’s our next order of business?”

“Well, this would typically be my lunch, so I’m going to heat up some soup and send out some emails,” she stepped onto the elevator, and he followed her. “Then, I need to type up the meeting notes and send them out, but I do have some files you need to look over, and then you’re on your way.”

“That’s it,” he said, eyebrow raised. “You told me I was a valuable part of the company. I have so much to do-”

“First of all,” she interrupted, pressing the top floor before the penthouse, “I never said you were valuable. I said this was a favor. Second of all, you insinuated you wanted an easy schedule, so that’s what you get.”

“Now, who’s interrupting,” he smirked, leaning against the elevator wall.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You could have left me at home.”

“Not a chance,” she smirked at him, leaning against the opposite wall. “The files should take you until three. There’s a coffee and a sandwich on your desk.” 

“It’s probably cold by now.”

“Well, I suspect you know how a microwave works.”

Thinking for a moment, he said, “What’s happening to the rest of the work I supposedly had?”

“I’m assisting you with it,” she smiled. “So far on my list of Bruce Wayne things today, I’ve met with the social team; they want to do a video with you, by the way. I’ve worked on some WCF fundraisers and events, which you should attend at least a few of-”

“You know there are teams for all of this stuff?”

“Did you not hear the parts that included you?” The elevator dinged, and she stepped out, exasperated. “Again, you are the face of your company. Your teams want your opinion. They want to include you.”

He was one step behind her once again, following her easily toward his office. “I’ve owned this company for a while and haven’t involved myself this much.”

She slowed to turn and look at him, annoyed, but he bumped into the back of her. Dipping his hands into her waist, he steadied her. She paused and then pulled back, defensive, “You wouldn’t even be here right now if I didn’t bust into your house.”

Turning around abruptly and heading into his office, she hoped he hadn't noticed her blushing. He did and he followed after her with a grin.

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky

#batfam #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batmom #bruce wayne #batboys x reader #slow burn

[ilyastudies]

I saw that you use a tablet, a desktop, and paper notes. How do you conciliate those notes?

Is there a mechanism of making primary notes on one resource and then passing those notes to other while reviewing them?

hi! thanks so much for asking! here are my favorite methods for sharing notes between devices :). i personally have apple devices so i can fairly easily airdrop and sync things between devices, but i also frequently work at the library desktop computers where i can't do that! so here's my tips and tricks for sharing notes between devices

for context: i've been mostly doing digital notetaking recently, but i also like to scan my paper notes as well!

i'm going to be dividing this post into 2 methods! (there will be some overlap). syncing already written notes and syncing notes (in progress) between devices

for already written notes:

the first step i would take is export your notes as a pdf or any other file type. if they're handwritten try going into your notes app (for ios) or downloading a pdf scanner app for your phone! if your notes are digital check the sharing options in your app to see if there's anything about "exporting".

personally, i like to use either discord or notion. i have created a discord server with only myself that i use just for sharing links/files/anything between devices! i like discord because there's apps for pc, mac, tablets, and phones; and even a web app! discord is really nice and fast, and you can make different channels (as pictured below) for organization. as long as your file size isn't too big, you should be fine.

my second app i like to use is notion! notion is such a beast in itself, but i like to use it to upload files and images and links! below are two ways i have used it: to upload pdfs/files, and to upload goodnotes (my notetaking app) links to the pages i'm writing on! similar to discord, notion has apps for all devices, but it also works great just by itself on the website (no app required)! it's really great to access it from all my devices.

another way you could share your notes on different devices is through the cloud! (yes, discord and notion are both through the cloud). google drive, microsoft onedrive, icloud storage, etc. are great tools that you can use to upload files and see on multiple devices. i personally like discord and notion more, just because they're already apps i frequently use, but if you can't get either one cloud-based storage platforms are also a great idea! they definitely have more security than discord or notion, because your files may be at risk of being deleted!

for the purposes of sharing notes to reference on another device when writing an essay, or something of similar vain, i really love discord and/or notion and they both work great!

for syncing notes in real time:

pretty similar to the last one, i would say notion or google docs (or microsoft word on the web i believe has similar functionality, or onenote, anything similar!)

if you want to be writing notes on one device and have them sync up quickly on another - i think any word processing software is the best bet for you.

both notion and google docs you can access them on any device, and/or on their websites too!

google docs is a lot more straightforward, but since notion is so powerful it provides a lot of flexibility for your notes! here's an (old) example of notes i've taken on notion. (i personally really like how easy it is to make columns!)

i hope this helped a little bit! please let me know if you have any more questions :)

also! notetaking is very much an individual thing, if something works for me and doesn't work for you - that's okay! we're all learning and just have to figure out what's best for ourselves.

#to: ilyastudies #from: silverfroot #thanks for the ask! #studying tips #studying #studying aesthetic #studyblr #study motivation #university #studyspo #study blog #study inspo #academia #chaotic academia #study aesthetic #study tips #advice #study advice #study methods #study resources #resource #text post #*

[snowshinobi]

*slams palms on table* Alhaitham is autistic.

Look at this idle animation where he conjures up three glittering light mirrors and studies them closely. Looks like he's using his vision as a healthy outlet for restless energy: a fidget. Alternatively, he's stimming.

More autistic Alhai interpretations:

constantly wearing noise cancelling headphones = he's sensitive to his environment

concise, straightforward communication style: "I'll be taking some time for myself now. Goodbye."

his scribe job involves handling document request forms, notetaking at meetings, and field research. he has an affinity for orderly processes and low tolerance for careless mistakes: "hmm, there have been many poorly written applications lately. I guess I'll just have to reject them all."

asking "how long will this require, exactly?" when added to the party = he wants to account for disruptions to his plans as quickly and accurately as possible

#Genshin Impact #Alhaitham #claiming Alhai for the neurodivergents #snowgames

[elderberries-and-honey]

hey idk if youve answered this but whats ur writing process like? im think of doing a story like decades challenge but ive never anything outside of gameplay really. also how far in advance do you plan is it like this gen or gens in the future? sorry for rambling

Hello! First, you don't ever have to apologize for rambling to me; I love a good ramble! And second, if you're wanting to do the decades challenge, I suggest going for it! It has really helped me find a medium to channel my love for writing and learn history along the way.

To answer your second question of how far in advance I plan, I do plan multiple generations at once. I have a basic outline from 1890 to the mid 1920's already planned out, and this includes Ozzy, Atticus and future children and most of the side characters as well like Beth, Millie and Valerie.

As for my process, it's a little more in-depth and I use a website called Milanote for note taking and tracking birthdays and Google Docs for a bigger spreadsheet and writing the story.

Sometimes I have the full scene already written out in advance, but most of the time, it will be few sentences to get the juices flowing or something I wrote down at a different time. I write small things all the time, like little pieces of dialogue, or a good prose that I don't want to forget.

I personally need to see what the scene will look like before I write it out. Mostly because if I write something, and then can't find a pose for it, I get frustrated. So I shoot the scene first, edit the photos, put them into a Tumblr draft, and then finish the writing with the photos there for me to look at. Lately, I've been taking a few photos and then the rest of the scene comes to me while I'm shooting, so I stop taking photos and write it down before I forget.

Anyway, once all the photos are taken and the first draft is finished, I copy and paste what I've just written into my Google Docs. From there, I let it do it's grammar / spell check thing (mostly because I have it set to British-English so I want to catch American spellings of things and change them for me), reread it and put it back into the draft on Tumblr.

After that, I read the scene outloud back to myself. This helps me catch any weird grammar errors that the computer missed, or any repetitive use of a word & then I replace them (I have an extension that looks for synonms for me). I also just feel reading it outloud back to yourself, helps you read it like it's a story vs you just like...saying what's happening, if that makes sense? Like if I'm finding myself bored just by saying it outloud, it will probably be boring to read.

I do this multiple times over before I decide I'm satisfied, and I usually do it one more time before I publish the post. After I like what I've written, I copy and paste that back into my Google Doc because I consider this "my hard copy".

There is also a lot more organization that goes into it than just this, so if you want to know how I organize things, I'd be happy to explain that as well. It's a lot of spreadsheets and notetaking, but you don't have to do that if you don't want to.

And, this is just what works for me, I can't stress that enough! Other people write the scene before they shoot, and that's perfectly fine too. My process has changed overtime and it's taken a bit of trial and error, but this is just what feels the most natural for me.

I hope this helps somewhat and isn't too overwhelming. You can always do more gameplay than writing if that's what works for you, or build a story with gameplay. So don't let this scare or intimidate you! Either way, good luck with your decades challenge!

#answered #idletrait

[vacantgodling]

part of me almost wants to post the research and notetaking process that i have going on for btaf because i'm fascinated by my own brain and (for once) its all in one doc as i'm trying to figure it out

#talking #s: btaf

[1000leaps]

#79 | Taylor Swift's Creative Secret

The singer-songwriter Taylor Swift has released five documentary films revealing her creative songwriting process. In many of them, she was frantically typing on her phone to capture ideas as soon as they came and store all her notes in a centralized place. She said, “I disappear into my phone because my phone is where I keep my notes, and my phone is where I’m editing.” When asked how she…

View On WordPress

#Capture ideas right away #Commonplace book #Creative Process #Iterate #Notetaking #Reuse materials from the past #Taylor Swift

[starry-nights-garden]

Intak ✧ Kiss

✧ P1Harmony Intak x gn!reader ✧ words: ~800  ✧ genre: fluff ✧ warnings: none

It’s rather silent in your home. Nobody’s here, except for you and Intak, who are sitting side by side at the kitchen table, books scattered all around the both of you. Scribbling sounds can be heard as you’re taking notes, and sometimes there’s the sound of one of you turning a page. You’re both studying for exams, and at first you asked each other all kinds of questions about the topics that are still somewhat unclear to you, but by now you’ve quieted down, each immersed in their own books and notetaking. It must’ve been about two hours since you began studying when you steal a glance at the clock up on the wall opposite you - you don’t remember your exact starting time though. What you do know, however, is the way your brain is demanding a break, as your capability to memorize is slowly giving up on you. You let out a sigh and force yourself to take notes until you reach the end of the page, and then you would let yourself take a breather for maybe 5 minutes. You can’t lose too much time after all, with several exams awaiting you just around the corner. 

From the way your boyfriend is starting to be unable to sit still, shifting his weight from one side to the other in his seat, or the way he keeps playing with the pen in his hand while he’s reading through the passages of his textbook, you can tell that he too could really use a break. And so, you set down your own pen and turn to look at him.

“Intak,” you call out his name while he’s in the middle of writing something down. He doesn’t lift his head, and instead just answers with a simple “hm?” In order to make him look at you, you call out again, “Hey!” 

“What is-” He finally looks up, but as soon as he does you lean in and press a short kiss onto his lips. When you pull back, he looks at you blankly for a few seconds, trying to process what just happened while you smile sheepishly at him. He blinks once, twice, many times, and you find it amusing how long it takes him to realize that you just kissed him.

“A-aren’t we supposed to be st-” he starts another attempt at talking to you, but once again you refuse to let the opportunity to shut him up with your lips slip away. And so, you lean back in and kiss him, waiting for a bit longer until you pull back this time. “Is this what we’re doing now?” he mutters, and you can tell that the confusion in his head has finally cleared up. 

“I thought we both need a break, so…” you argue, and he obviously doesn’t disagree with the way you decided to spend that break, as he reaches behind your neck to pull you in for another kiss. It’s him who sets the pace this time, and you let yourself fall into his rhythm easily. You like the way he suddenly seems so eager to kiss you, and how his lips won’t leave yours until you’re both out of breath, so you’re forced to break away from each other eventually.

“Seems like someone needed that break very badly,” you tease him, when your faces are still barely an inch apart so you’re sure he can feel your breath on his skin as you talk. When you find a hint of embarrassment in his pupils and a pout appears on his lips, you can’t help but chuckle in victory.

“You’re the one who started it…” he protests. He attempts to withdraw from you, and you can feel the touch of his hand slipping away from the back of your neck, but you’re not planning on just letting him sulk by himself. So instead, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and close the distance between the two of you to kiss him again, feeling him kissing you back as soon as you start moving your lips against his. 

“I think we can stay on break for a while longer,” you eventually whisper in between kisses. Instead of a verbal answer, he simply puts more passion behind the way he immediately connects his lips with yours again, before you feel him resting his hands on your hips to pull you closer. At this point you’re sure that both of you have already forgotten about the books scattered next to you on the table, as your minds are filled with nothing but the other’s sweet kisses.

#p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony drabbles #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony fluff #p1h x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1h drabbles #intak x reader #intak fluff #intak imagines #fluff

[joycrispy]

So I've mentioned before that I've had a lot of arts n' crafts small creative projects on the go (and a few not-so-small ones, but that's another post), and I just kinda felt like talking about 3 of them.

SO I WILL.

1. Bookbinding

This is more of an ongoing learning process than any one particular book I'm binding --but the process is going very well. Pictured here is the latest attempt, and my most ambitious attempt in that it was mostly me going, 'huh, I wonder if that would work' and dicking around until I got some sort of result.

(Example: I dyed that cover black. Did not know if it would work. It...kinda does? Further testing required.)

The final book is far from perfect, but I'm actually very happy with it. It's like a prototype of the kind of book I've been wanting to make all along, the whole reason I picked up bookbinding. Old fashioned tomes are the goal here.

More on that in a bit.

2. DnD Character Journals

At the moment I am in three different ongoing campaigns (including one I'd been playing in for two years before Covid happened, now picked back up again, and another which is a sequel to a previously completed campaign. Exciting stuff. The third is a character I usually reserve for one-shots, but she got a whole campaign this time. Good for her!), and I have completed journals for two out of my three characters.

(If you don't know what a character journal is: it's basically just a Character Sheet, but way more extra and ~Aesthetic. Sort of a functional gaming scrapbook. I also design mine to make the game as accessible as possible to my very ADHD brain. I highly recommend it, as a practice).

Pictured here is the main stat page for my monk, Wormwood, who just reached level 5.

Speaking of DnD...

3. Campaign Journal

So anyone who has played with me knows that I take EXTREMELY DETAILED NOTES, but this time around I'm taking the notes, immediately converting them into readable prose recountings (as opposed to fast n' easy notetaker's shorthand, which only makes sense to me), and then sharing them as an editable Google document with the group. They can add anything I missed, or flesh out details I skimmed over, add their character's POV of a scene, or whatever they like!

(This also has the neat side-effect of generating material for the DM's World Anvil, which is nice. He's free to pick and choose what he wants, or ask me to write an article for him, etc.)

This makes it very easy for the group to refresh their memories between sessions, but also, when the campaign is finished...there will be a very thorough record of it.

Last year I had the thought that, with the way I take my notes, I could easily print out a campaign journal and bind it as a physical book, and then have that as a memento/give it as a gift to the other players.

That's an exceptional amount of work to do AFTER the fact, but doing it one session at a time, as they happen...that's very doable.

I mean. People bind novel-length fanfiction for their own personal collections. There's no reason I shouldn't bind a novel-length campaign, lol.

And I can personalize each book to each player, as well! No, yeah, this is EXACTLY the kind of thing I love to contribute to a game. The group's excited, I'm excited, lots to look forward to, here.

I have other projects, including two large ones that are each going to take the better part of 2024, which slows all these little ones down...but I'm consistently whittling down the daily to-do list into something more manageable.

And work is nice right now because my main job atm is something I'm really, really good at...

(charity fundraising: my location is 1st in the district and 7th in the country for donations, and almost a third of those donations were made through me. I'm very, very good at this part of my job)

(I tend to be good at things I care about --ADHD, like I say-- and our partner charity benefits local queer and disabled kids who need shelter and support, so, YES, I CARE ABOUT THAT)

...so it makes the days pass quickly and peacefully. I get to come home in a good mood to all my little arts n' crafts. It's been very fun.

I'm glad I have time to be on tumblr again, though.

#about me #I can't remember if I have a bookbinding tag or not #I'll figure it out later #the moment I hit post on this I am turning around and throwing myself at one of the big projects for the next two days so wish me luck #Leah bookbinds

[prettywordsyouleft]

The King’s Sorcerer

Pairing: Lee Minho (Lee Know) x female reader

Genre: fluff / fantasy / magic

Warnings: none

Word count: 3392

A/N: Welcome to the first week of Frightful October. The theme is Spellbound, and when I thought of this sorcerer x shifter idea, I knew I had to write it with Minho. 

This story can be read alone, but it is interconnected with all the Frightful October stories linked below. 

The King’s Sorcerer | The Huntsman | Gatekeeper | The Secret Library | Stories Told on Hallow’s Eve

Deep in the back of a rather peculiar residence, a sorcerer could be heard sighing. It had been going on for so long now that one could assume that he had forgotten how to breathe properly; his unwavering focus and consistent scowling only added to the incessant huffing. If Minho the Mage lived with anyone else, perhaps he would have taken some liberties to show himself with expected composure.

After all, he was the greatest sorcerer in all of Casaria. One had a reputation to uphold, and being found hunched over his beloved spell book and a stack of scribbled formulas would definitely lower the everyday belief that he could merely bend the world to his will.

No, there was a great deal of work behind what he otherwise made look effortless.

And his latest task was proving quite the headache. He hadn’t moved from this stool in caldron’s knows long, and the accumulating pile of scrunched papers had started to form quite the indication that he and his workspace had all but become one. The violet feathered quill he held was no doubt fused to his fingers by now too, ink staining his skin after one too many flurries of notetaking and not waiting nearly long enough for the ink to dry.

“Drat!” he suddenly proclaimed, and the trinkets of his study grew wary from the sudden outburst. A series of words followed the first, more exasperated than the last until Minho was truly heaving. Tossing down the quill finally, he stretched his fingers, cracking his knuckles in the process.

This translocation spell still wasn’t coming together as smoothly as he hoped.

It wasn’t his first of these types of spells; Minho had created many in the past. As an almighty mage, such spells should be beneath him. Back when he was young and new to the world of magickal wizardry, he had cast so many of the blasted things that he had no doubt translocated every person in this kingdom at one point. Now, his skills were utilised by wealthier clients, and with his success, he had recently fulfilled the role of The King’s Sorcerer.

As esteemed a role as any, Minho had been excited to step into the robes of his past tutor to serve the young King Hyunjin. So far, the king hadn’t tasked him with anything out of the ordinary. A few illusionary spells and a restrengthening of the castle boundaries after yet another damsel had found herself incapable of withstanding her ruler’s handsome face and broke in to proclaim her endless love for him.

There was also the monthly enhancer cast to keep such a face looking as perfectly amiable as it did from dawn to dusk. Not that Minho would ever be caught admitting so. It was one of the lesser joys of his role of being the main sorcerer to such a powerful man.

“All good and well to cast alluring qualities to him when his actual persona is that of a snake!” Minho dramatically told the room, not aware of the spider that stopped her descent nearby. Instead, he groaned and finally took in his rumpled disposition and messy quarters. With a wave of his hand, he was able to clear the mess away – one upside to having magick run deeply within his veins. But no matter how his power pressed out the wrinkles in his shirt or strengthen the scent of his cologne, the glamour couldn’t remove the feeling of a day’s – or in this case a week’s – filth.

“A bath is needed,” he muttered, nodding once. “I’ll use a clarity potion. That’ll clear the cobwebs forming in my mind.”

Straightening his spine, he groaned and then proceeded to shuffle towards the upstairs bathroom.

Once clean and with a plate of food he conjured up from one of the kitchen’s extensive cooking spells, Minho returned to his study. He was barely over the threshold when he noticed the energy of another. Darting his focus about, he searched for a further sign of his intruder. No man or woman stood within the room, but that didn’t signal he was alone. Eying a stack of new trinkets with suspicion, he watched as they cowered and breathed out in relief when he finally moved on. Setting the plate down next to his spell book, he folded his arms across his chest and canted his head to the side.

He had found his intruder.

“Surely you didn’t enter my home like this, Y/N.” Resisting the urge to lift his hand above the spider now sitting over a fresh stack of parchment to frighten you, Minho shook his head with another groan. “Honestly! I have a front door, you know.”

“Yes, and I used it,” a silken voice pulsated in his mind, caressing gently.

“To crawl inside of? That door won’t allow even the smallest of bugs in. You’re not a tiny spider, you know,” he retorted and pursed his lips almost into a sneer. “Used the front door, indeed!”

The spider scuttled to the other edge of the desk before disappearing, and he blinked, finding you now perched on it in your mortal form. Minho gave you a pointed look to get down, but you ignored it. Much as you always did. “I knocked upon the door. Thrice, in fact.”

“If the master of the house doesn’t wish to answer his door, perhaps you should take that as a sign that he is otherwise occupied.”

You grinned and gave a small shrug. “There’s plenty of holes in this house of yours where a spider can squeeze in.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he answered curtly and sat back down on his stool. He’d only ever turned himself into something other than a human a handful of times, and not once had he considered donning eight legs of sin. Considering how little you wore; he assumed it would be laborious to morph into such a beast in his wizardry robes. Taking his attention away from the gauze-like lavender fabric that did little to hide your curves, he steepled his fingers together and lowered his head so he could rest his forehead upon them and look back at his book.

He startled immediately. “How dare you touch my book!”

“To be fair, all I did was land upon it,” you said defensively, jutting out your bottom lip for effect. “It’s not my fault that your little book is particular about who touches it.”

Grumbling incoherently as he summoned the page he had been working from to appear once more, Minho decided he would ignore you as best as he could. Of course, you would have a reason to come bother him. You always did.

He had chosen these woods long ago as a peaceful retreat outside of Casaria’s capital to build his home. A misshapen manor at best, but what it lacked on the outside in architectural grandeur, he had managed to magick all he needed on the inside. It was a bit backward thinking, building such a home from the inside out, yet it deterred many, if not all passer-bys from attempting to bother him. Anyone who needed his sorcery could contact him during his working hours at his office in town.

Of course, he wasn’t foolish to believe the forest was merely his home. Many lowerfae and magickal beings had also found solitude here. Including you. He wasn’t quite sure when you had arrived in the woods itself, just how he came to meet you. Minho’s eyes travelled to the floor of his study that was permanently charred from the overwhelming level of magick you had possessed that night. He supposed that if you didn’t blow another hole in his roof, entering as an Arachnida wasn’t all that bad.

“A translocation spell is needed by the King?” you asked, swinging your legs about in a repetitive and dizzying rhythm. Minho was grateful you had only the two instead of eight now, all things considering.

He grunted in response, attempting to figure out how to create something as large as required of him.

“What for?”

“Are you a sorceress, Y/N?”

You laughed heartily, placing a hand over your chest. “Heavens, no.”

“Then you need not know what it is for.”

“The creatures worry,” you admitted a moment later, peering curiously in his direction as he picked up the quill once more. “There’s whispers of the King wishing to connect the Faelands with our own.”

He didn’t answer, though Minho was surprised by how correct the rumours were. Who had been speaking of such hushed secrets? Only he and the King were ever present when discussing this task of his. Hyunjin was a pragmatic leader. He wouldn’t openly share his plans as easily as he did his delicious, swoon-worthy smiles.

“There would be trouble for us all if we moved the leylines, Minho.”

“Trouble comes with everything. You are, in fact, a grand example of that. My life hasn’t been quiet or trouble-free once since you appeared.”

Something of a wicked type of smile spread out your face, and Minho grew annoyed with how well he admired it out of the corner of his eye. You, unlike Hyunjin, needed no enhancement. “I’m flattered you consider such a lowly shifter as such a stain upon your life.”

He created a visual stain of blotted ink upon the parchment at your statement. Blinking, he recomposed himself and started to scribble down a new formula as it formed. Thankfully, you allowed him to focus as he did so, and he almost forgot your presence.

That was why he jolted so alarmingly when you squealed with glee out of nowhere. “Where did you find this?!”

You had since climbed down from your perch as desk décor and were now over by the box of newly purchased trinkets. You held one in your hands, and his breath hitched, cursing silently at himself for not hiding it before you could find it. You would jump to conclusions about his interest in you, and well, at this point in his task, he needed no further distractions.

Within another blink, your form shifted into what he was most familiar with. Your feline features felt at home upon this face, with large, furry ears much like the cats spoken of in the desert continent. He had asked if you had come from there once when he’d drank too much liquor and was most inebriated. The hazy memory flooded his senses, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, remembering the same hand reaching out to pet you fondly on the head like an actual cat. However, unlike the many tabbies and tomcats of Casaria, your coat was dark as midnight, surrounded by the most impressive hues of purple feathered wings he’d ever seen.

“It fits perfectly at the base of my wings!” You mentally projected your delight to him, and Minho sighed for what was no doubt the thousandth time this week.

“I never said it was for you.”

“What would you need of a shifter’s pouch for?” you wondered as you gracefully prowled over to the mirror in the far corner of the room. He watched as you posed this way and that, admiring the bag that had attached to your form with shifter’s magick he still didn’t quite understand. It was a perfect fit, and the detailed teal embroidery complimented you well. Your tail swung back and forth with pleasure.

“It was at the markets,” he relented, though answered with more nonchalance than the purchased gift felt to him. “I figured there was no use to it sitting there where you couldn’t purchase it.”

“I can enter the mortal town, sorcerer.”

“As a human? With coin to buy it with?” he countered, and you growled in warning, blinking back into your female form. Your eyes glistened with unspoken distaste, yet your hand held the pouch reverently instead of balling around it like the other had. Minho swallowed a lump down in his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“I never said thank you.”

“I don’t expect it, Y/N. Much as I never expect—”

You moved over the room with a swiftness he envied, and he stilled when your arms wrapped around his neck. Pressed against your warm body, Minho willed himself to remain breathing.

It would do nothing for your ego, or his, if he swooned like the damsels did over Hyunjin.

“I appreciate the gift. It is the most beautiful thing I now possess.”

“Er. Right,” he eventually coughed out, and your arms winded away from him, leaving him cold and aching in the departure. “I must get on with this spell, Y/N. The king expects it in four days’ time.”

“Is he really going to do it?” you whispered, and Minho resigned himself to answer with a nod. “Minho, that is madness! The Fae do not wish to be bothered by mortals anymore. Not to mention the Elven Queen—”

Minho spoke aloud the secret his King had told him when he ordered this task. “Hyunjin’s mother is Fae, though, perhaps some watered-down version. He got his beauty from her but no magickal ability. He hopes that translocating the permanent boundary between Casaria and Faerie will…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I must do it.”

“Why?” you implored and then rolled your eyes, seeming to come to an answer. “If your reputation is worth the suffering of so many, then you are more arrogant than I thought!”

“Casaria doesn’t allow marriage to magickal beings,” he murmured, and if you were anyone else, he knew you wouldn’t have heard him. But given your most commonly shifted form was that of a cat with such large ears, well, he knew your hearing to be superior.

“Marriage of…” You frowned, and his cheeks pinkened despite himself. “Who do you wish to marry that is not mortal?”

Minho stared at you, and you continued to flit about, listing off names of witches and other spellcasters you had mutually crossed paths with. He remained focused on you until you stopped, sucking in a deep breath when you finally caught his attention. “Oh. Oh.”

“Then you would legally have a home too,” he offered quietly, knowing the one thing you wished for most was something to call your own. A fancy pouch may be good and all, but to know you had a place that you didn’t have to break into as a spider, well, it was worth the current headache he had with this translocation spell.

“You would go to such efforts for me?” you asked, and he nodded in response. You laughed, somewhat breathlessly. “The almighty sorcerer of Casaria wants me as his bride.”

“Well, if you have any other suitors—”

“We don’t need to be married in order for us to live together, Minho.”

“I’m rather traditional in that aspect, and you know it,” he truthfully replied, watching as you slunk towards him with hips swinging from side to side as they did in your wildcat form. He grew mesmerised by the swing until a jolt of magick sparked out of his fingertips, grounding him and his arousal.

You chuckled and planted yourself in his lap, slinging arms around his shoulders. “Let’s find another way. Perhaps a portal in Casaria will appease your King.”

“I offered that. I’ve made plenty of those in the past to other magickal realms. Surprisingly, they’re much easier than a translocation spell.”

“And he said no?”

Minho nodded. “He wishes for Faerie and Casaria to form an alliance.”

“Then he should send in an ambassador to the Enchanted Forest to seek one out. Not force it upon them.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Tell me what you expect of me if I become your bride?”

“Well, nothing really.”

“Nothing?!” You sat upright. “The offer is to simply give me a home?”

“No, that’s not right either.” His thoughts had grown muddled. The tiring spellwork had mixed with your scent, your feel, and everything felt a little too confusing for him to navigate. He cleared his throat, holding onto his little remaining dignity. “I am a sorcerer. The greatest of these lands.”

“Hmmm. I don’t need your title, though.”

“You like my company. Surely, living with me wouldn’t be so bad.”

You inhaled deeply and lifted a thoughtful finger to your plush bottom lip. He was afraid if you spoke to him now, it wouldn’t make much sense.

Confound my weaknesses! Minho thought miserably to himself. He had never been distracted by anyone before. You, however, were quite the opponent to his sensibilities.

“Living with you wouldn’t be wonderful either. Your arrogance and need for space are prevalent. You have spells for everything, and there’s no need for cleaning when you simply can wave a flick of your hand, and it is done. What would I do with my time?”

“Well, what do you do with it currently? There is no need for that to change.”

“I mostly annoy you.”

Minho laughed. “Once again, I don’t see that changing.”

“I could bother you in other ways,” you tempted, hands palming his chest instantly. Minho bit down on his bottom lip until he cried out with annoyance. “Besides, we don’t need marriage to do that.”

He wasn’t a saint, and yet, he’d tried to keep you and him away from being horizontal together for as long as possible. You, however, the wicked creature that you were, seemed to possess other ideas.

“Marrying you is already proving to be quite the headache,” he stated, and you nuzzled his neck.

“You haven’t even asked me yet. Nor have I had any opportunity to speak my answer.”

He glared at you exasperatedly. “I’m certain with the way your body is reacting against mine right now—”

He was cut off by the press of your finger to his mouth. “I don’t wish for you to finish this spell. Legality or not, I don’t care to be wedded like a mortal. I’m not one, and you’re hardly a human in any case.”

He went to refute your statement, but given the magick that rolled through his body, he certainly couldn’t pass as any Jack or Joe.

“I accept to bond my magick with you, though.”

“Is that so.”

“Mhm.”

“And how would that bond withstand the testing period ahead of us?” Minho knew that if Hyunjin didn’t get his spell, he would investigate alternative options to connect Faerie and Casaria. Perhaps his reputation could take a hit. He knew of no other in this kingdom who could even work a translocation spell or create portals. Not even his closest adversary Seungmin the Sage could match his level of sorcery in both areas. He was rather good at telepathy, however.

“Perhaps if the King comes to no longer wish for your services, we could translocate ourselves?”

“I’ll have you know this house of mine isn’t up for such a task.”

“No,” you said, leaning in to kiss him. When you shifted back to continue talking, he had half a mind to follow along with you and push his mouth back up against yours. “But I do believe when I first met you that you proclaimed that if I destroyed your house, you could very easily rebuild it again.”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere is fine, so long as it’s with you.”

“And that the house continues to have holes big enough for spiders to fit through?” he conditioned, and you grinned, cupping his face in one of your hands.

“Oh, but I’m sure that if and when the time comes that I can call you more than just my sorcerer, I’ll also be able to say that the home we build together won’t keep me locked out of it. Not if our magicks are bonded.”

“I’m not so sure, my love. My magick has a way of trying to keep trouble at bay.”

You kissed him once more, and this time you succeeded in scrambling all his senses. Sparks shot from his fingertips, and he vaguely thought of whether there was a spell he could create to stop putting on such a light show whenever you touched him like this. You looked at him in smug satisfaction when you shifted back in his embrace once more. “I’m willing to keep testing your limits.”

_________________

Next: The Huntsman

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