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markrosewater · 1 year ago

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Elegance

Here’s my original article for Elegance.

This is a topic I’ve wanted to write about for a long time. Ironically, the words needed to explain the concept kept the column from being elegant. So I did what all artists do. I found a way to say a lot in a little space.

Enjoy,

Mark Rosewater

[NOTE: EACH OF THE ABOVE FIFTY WORDS IS HYPERLINKED. BELOW IS THE FIFTY HYPER LINKS. THE HEADERS SHOULDN’T BE ON THE LINKED PAGE. I’M JUST INCLUDING THEM SO YOU KNOW WHAT EACH LINK IS.]

ELEGANCE

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary has five definitions for elegance:

• refined grace or dignified propriety

• tasteful richness of design or ornamentation

• dignified, gracefulness or restrained beauty of style

• scientific precision, neatness and simplicity

• something that is elegant

The common elements appear to be dignity, simplicity, and taste.

THIS

Elegance requires thinking, but it also requires feeling. Elegant prose is judged by how it makes the reader feel. It needs to generate a sense of calm that puts the reader at ease. Everything in your writing should feel as if it was carefully positioned to create the proper effect.

Pound for pound, the writer’s greatest writing tool is the verb. Nouns add substance and adjectives add flourish, but it’s the verb that drives the sentence. Choose a strong, descriptive verb and the sentence has flair and purpose. Choose a weak one and the sentence lacks any sense of drama.

Here’s a little game to test an elegance relevant skill (based on an old game called Inklings). Randomly choose a noun. Try to convey that noun to the other players using the least number of letters possible. You’ll be surprised how much you can communicate in just a few letters.

TOPIC

One of the greatest stumbling blocks to elegance is the inability to choose a single focus. Elegance requires simplicity. Simplicity requires a single purpose of thought. This means that elegance starts before you write a single word. A good sculptor must know his image before he picks up his chisel.

I’VE

One of the common misconceptions of elegance is that it requires a writer to be fancy. Elegance though is more about familiarity than formality. You shouldn’t be afraid of friendlier language such as slang or contractions, assuming that such language adds an element of ease rather than one of laziness.

WANTED

An important element of elegance is a sense of passion. Brevity does not mean pulling away emotionally from words, but rather the opposite. When you find yourself limited to fewer words, you must pack each individual word with extra emotional punch. You are not reducing your message, simply your messenger.

A good tool in understanding elegance is studying poetry. Poetry is the most concise of all written art forms. It strives to maximize impact while minimizing expression. Each word carries the burden of evoking some essence of the poet’s message. If it cannot carry its own weight, it is excised.

WRITE

To be an elegant writer, you have to become a student of prose. You have to study the mechanics of language to understand how it can be shaped. Once you have learned how to transfer the feeling in your head into meaningful words, you are on the path to elegance.

ABOUT

Be careful not to fall in love with ambiguity. While intoxicating in its beauty, it is the enemy of elegance. Remember, the goal is not to make the reader struggle for comprehension. Rather it is to lead them to the obvious conclusion. Elegance should be used to illuminate, not confuse.

FOR

Elegant prose requires connecting with your reader. To do this, you have to understand who that reader is. Nothing should come before this task. It needs to be done before writing can begin. I like to compare this to planning a trip. Maps are useless until you know your destination.

Another major key to elegance is the understanding of the importance of the tiniest detail. Just as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a piece of prose is only as tight as its messiest detail. A good writer doesn’t stop at the nouns, verbs and adjectives.

LONG

Don’t confuse elegance with brevity. Elegant things are short not because they have to be but because the difficulty to craft an elegant piece of prose combined with the limitations of time forces writers to be brief. Elegant novels, for example, do exist, but they are few and far between.

TIME

To quote Roman orator (and letter writer) Marcus T. Cicero, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

Simplicity takes more time not less. Anyone can get a point across with ten thousand words. But a true artist can do it in ten (or possibly fifty).

IRONICALLY

Irony is a potent tool for commentary. Its genius lies in the fact that it comments not on what is, but rather on what isn’t. Like all good humor, irony makes you laugh. But like the best type of humor, it also makes you think. It’s both funny and funny.

THE

Elegance in writing is about more than words. Equally important is how the words are woven together. Tempo, pacing, rhythm – these are the tools that set the mood for the piece. Try reading aloud your text. The natural beat of language is more suited for the ear than the eye.

WORDS

To realize the power of words, you must first understand how they work. Art is expressive; words are connotative. That is, words draw their power from their ability to extract different ideas from different people. A circle is a circle, but the concept of “scary” varies from person to person.

NEEDED

Elegance is not the result of any one attribute. It is the combination of numerous factors coming together in harmony. This is why it’s such a hard skill to master. Most people can pat their head or rub their tummy. But put them together and it’s not quite so easy.

An elegant piece of prose needs to hit the reader at a gut level. Often they won’t know exactly why they like it, but they will recognize that something about the piece moves them. There are many types of writing where subtlety is lost. Elegant writing isn’t one of them.

EXPLAIN

There are many ways for you to explain an idea. The most elegant one though is not through definition but by example. By connecting your idea to one already known by the reader, you’re leaving the work of teaching to someone in the past. Education is hard. Comparison is easy.

THE

If writing is like building a house, the structure is like the foundation. Its design will dictate how the house is built. If it’s faulty, no amount of fancy brickwork will undo the damage. So take the time to ensure your structure is building the kind of prose you want.

CONCEPT

Never underestimate the power of a concept. An important part of elegance is condensing big ideas into little words. This is far from an easy task. It often takes a genius an entire lifetime to create a truly innovative concept. So take advantage of all their hard work and inspiration.

KEPT

A common barrier to elegance is the belief that only one way will work. Often a writer is unable to abandon a beloved piece of prose even when evidence demonstrates otherwise. If something doesn’t add to the larger sense of the piece, you have to learn to let it go.

THE

Readers notice things at a minute level far beyond their mind’s ability to interpret. This means that although they may not consciously notice many of your tiny details, they will do so unconsciously. Aesthetics teach us that it’s this unconscious structure that will determine whether or not it feels “right”.

COLUMN

All communicators, whether through speaking or print, need to find a voice. A voice provides familiarity and it teaches the listener or reader how to more quickly absorb the information. Elegance is all about the conservation of ideas. Having a pre-learned voice to guide you is a very valuable tool.

FROM

I’ve spent some time talking about understanding your reader. But there is one more person who is even more important to understand – yourself. Writing is about sharing your ideas with others. If you haven’t spent the time to figure out what you think, how can you possibly communicate it?

BEING

“A picture is worth a thousand words.”

Or so the saying goes. What the cliché forgets to mention is how many words a single word is worth. For example, take the word “being”. To capture the essence of what “being” represents is tens of thousands of words if not more.

ELEGANT

What is the value of being elegant? Why should you care? Elegance adds aesthetics. It evokes poetry. It grants beauty. Elegant prose draws the reader closer because it gives them something to not just learn but to admire. Good prose stimulates the head, but elegant prose resonates in the heart.

Who, what, where, when, how - all important questions. But for a writer they pale next to why. If you don’t understand the reasoning beneath the surface, the other details are irrelevant. The act of elegance is cementing the why. It’s taking the purpose and engraining it into the piece.

Elegance is a very personal thing. If something doesn’t resonate with you, there’s no way for it to resonate with your reader. Writing is an art, not a science. There is no rulebook for how things must be done. If your instincts are telling you that something isn’t working, listen.

DID

An important tool in your toolbox is time. Elegance cannot be rushed. Mental ruts only get deeper the harder you focus on them. Make sure to work time into your schedule so you are able to walk away from your writing. An hour next week is worth a day today.

WHAT

Don’t let attention to detail pull you away from having a larger sense of what you’re writing. Take this column as an example. While I spent a lot of time fine tuning each entry I never lost sight of the effect they created when all the entries were put together.

ALL

Elegance requires taking a holistic view of writing. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph is a piece in a larger puzzle. It’s not enough to understand the impact of a single element. You must understand how any two elements interact if you want to understand the potency of your text.

ARTISTS

Elegance and art are very intertwined. Both seek to achieve a similar goal: to illuminate and inspire with a conservation of expression. If you’re trying to be elegant, I think it helps to think of yourself as an artist. The instinct for the latter mirrors the needs of the former.

An important part of any writing is understanding the feeling you’re trying to evoke. And then realizing what mechanic tools you have available to evoke that feeling. Diction, verb tense, sentence length, alliteration, word flow, phonetic juxtaposition – each of these will control the mood and tone of your piece.

A writer’s life is the ultimate fodder. Don’t be ashamed to plumb your own experiences. You understand them deeper and more personally than anyone else. No painter would refuse to use his finest paints. And, as a bonus, by using your own experiences, you will become better educated about yourself.

FOUND

Don’t forget that the act of revealing is also an act of exploration. Don’t be afraid if you learn more than the reader you’re trying to educate. Writing is not an exact science. (Or even an exact art.) Often you will find that the road to salvation has a fork.

Your future is paved with your past. If you want to learn how to grow as a writer, you need to look back at what you’ve written. With time and a detached eye, your will find your mistakes become clearer. Remember that it’s failure, not success, that bests drives education.

WAY

The problem with looking for a single solution is that you’ll never find more than one. And the first one isn’t always the best. But if you’re open to the possibility that every problem has an infinite number of answers, you’ll have the freedom of choosing the solution you want.

Sentences are filled with freeloaders. Because writers seem to love overwriting. (I include myself in this camp.) Make sure to create time for the editor side of you to prune unnecessary words. If a word can be excised without any harm to the sentence, it has no right being there.

SAY

I’m spending my time today talking about elegance in prose, but most of what I’m saying is applicable in speech. The key difference is that prose has less defining attributes like appearance or tone. The key to elegant speech is making people focus on the words rather than everything else.

It’s ironic that something designed to be so simple can be so complex. But that, my faithful readers, is the joy (and mystery) of elegance. Like an onion, elegance has numerous layers that reveal themselves as you slowly peel them away. Oh yeah, and it can sometimes make you cry.

LOT

An interesting exercise is to look at each word you’re using and think about how much content is loaded in that word. Then explore what other words exist that fulfill the same role but with added content. Once you’ve found the word you can’t best, move onto the next word.

A good way to get better at understanding elegance is to look for it in every day life. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised where and how often you find it. Study each example carefully and try to see if you can put your finger on what makes it work.

Writing is a shared endeavor. No one owns the words. If someone uses a technique that works, there’s no shame in borrowing it. Like science, writing creates technology that’s brought back to the group to spur further advancements. Elegance is hard enough to accomplish without refusing to use the toolbox.

LITTLE

How big should a piece of text be if you want it to be elegant? The answer is as big as it needs to be – and not a word more. Just think of it as playing the game Jenga. Keep pulling words out of your prose until it collapses.

SPACE

One of the most important lessons in art is learning the value of negative space, the idea that the eyes are equally drawn to what isn’t there. Prose has a very similar quality. When writing pay careful attention to what you aren’t saying. Often it will speak the loudest volume.

ENJOY

For some reason people tend to equate dignity with seriousness. And as such they come to the false conclusion that elegance has no room for humor. Ironic as humor is one of the most elegant of styles. A good joke is no longer than is necessary to do its job.

MARK

As is always true when I head off the beaten path, I am curious to hear your feedback. What did you think of this article? Was it entertaining? Was it educational? Did you actually read all fifty links? And if not, why not?

Tell me. Inquiring mind wants to know.

ROSEWATER

I couldn’t end this week’s column without my trademark closing. I mean, how inelegant would that be?

Join me next week when I go from being a letter man to a Letterman.

Until then, may you learn to appreciate now just the “what” but the “how” and “why”.

Mark Rosewater

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elliespectacular · 1 year ago

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Do you still have that Jellicle name generator saved anywhere? Some friends and I used it for our OCs and it was an absolute blast!

The name I got was Callio the convivial cat, which is short for Calliope, who I played in Xanadu. She has a whole costume and everything now!

Even if you don't have it anymore, tysm for making it ;-;

Xanadu mention! Also I do still have it saved! This one is revised a little and I might make more changes later, but here it is in text form:

Jellicle Name Generator

This will give you a name that is relatively in-line with the naming conventions seen in Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot and later adapted into the musical Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber - and unlike those shitty "last name and your birth month" name generators, this one won't doxx you in the process.

Before we begin, a bit of terminology we'll be using: - Portmanteau: Turning multiple words into one word linked by a sound or letter. Compelling Television = Compellevision. Punk Squid = Squnk - Smoosh: Combine words by simply removing the space and (optionally) changing the word positions. Country Jester = countryjester - Prefix: Goes before the name, like Mr. or Captain - Suffix: Goes after the name, like Jr. or The Great - Cat-like term: Something associated with cats. Meow, Whisker, Bell, Claw, Scratch, etc.

FIRST: Roll a D20 to determine your base name

An uncommon person’s first name

First syllable of a common last name + a unit of measurement. Portmanteau 'em.

Short, dangerous noun + a non-dangerous profession. Smoosh 'em.

Two Latin words. Portmanteau 'em.

A simple present-tense verb + sophisticated person's first name. Smoosh 'em.

Cat-like term + sophisticated person's first name. Smoosh 'em.

Combine two short nouns, then add "-er" "-ie" or "-est" to the end.

Think of an actor you like. Shorten their first name to its shortest nickname.

A medical term spelled incorrectly.

A food you liked as a kid + a pretentious word. Smoosh 'em.

A figure of legend/myth. Remove one syllable and any spaces.

An older person's first name that isn't common today.

Last name of a historical figure + a silly word. Portmanteau 'em.

A kids' name with 2 or more syllables + that name again without the first syllable + an onomatopoeia. Portmanteau 'em if you can.

A silly word + the first name of a former coworker. Portmanteau 'em.

A kind of public event + a cat-like term. Smoosh 'em.

Something from ancient history. Shorten what you came up with into a single word.

Something you do when you're nervous. Take that verb and add "-er" to the end to make it a noun.

Silly word + hostile-sounding verb. Portmanteau 'em.

Two silly words with 2+ syllables each. Smoosh 'em.

SECOND: Roll another D20 for flavor

Before you roll, consider how your name sounds without any additional flavor. If it's fine on its own, feel free to leave it as-is. Otherwise, roll on!

Suffix - An upsettingly average last name

Suffix - Think of a hobby. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Prefix - A short adjective

Suffix - Think of an adjective. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Prefix - Choose Mr. Mrs. Ms. Mx. or something similar

Suffix - Think of a color. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Prefix - Any one-syllable word. Repeat the word a second time, adding or replacing the first consonant with that of your base name.

Suffix - Think of any non-proper noun. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Suffix - it's the word Cat

Suffix - it's the word Kitty

Suffix - it's the word Kitten

Prefix - Choose "Sir" "Madam" "Captain" or something similar

Prefix - Choose "Lord" "Lady" "Noble" or something similar

Prefix - His/Her/Their Majesty (or any pronoun you prefer)

Prefix - His/Her/Their Grace (or any pronoun you prefer)

Prefix - Mc

Prefix - Van

Prefix - Von

Prefix - De

Suffix - Any cat-like term

And you're done!*

*This is as much a creative exercise as it is a "generator" so feel free to mess with the formula and/or let your result inspire something more original. Add multiple layers of flavor if you want. The rules are not rigid. I recommend generating a few names and picking your favorite!

#jellicle #name generator #jellicle cats #cats musical #cats the musical #ask

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an-spideog · 11 months ago

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Tá vs Is

Something that a lot of learners struggle with in Irish is when to translate "is/am/are" as "tá" and when to use "is".

Tá is a form of the verb bí in the present tense so anything I say about it applies to all of its forms. Is is something called the "copula" and again what I say about it applies to its other forms.

So for example you would say "Tá mé go maith" for "I am good" but you would say "Is múinteoir mé" for "I am a teacher". This kind of gets across the most basic rule which is that you use is when you're linking together nouns or pronouns:

Is múinteoir é - He's a teacher

Is múinteoir maith é - He's a good teacher

Is múinteoir é an príomhoide - The principal is a teacher

Is mise an múinteoir - I am the teacher

Is é an múinteoir é - He is the teacher

You can probably see above that the syntax can be a little bit complex there, the words aren't always in the same order as english and the structure can change depending on things being definite ("the teacher") or indefinite ("a teacher"). But I won't go into the details of that in this post.

Whereas you can use tá for other things, but not for linking nouns or pronouns together.

Tá sé anseo - He is here (adverb)

Tá sé go maith - He is good (adverb, kind of adjective)

Tá sé ard - He is tall (adjective)

Tá sé ar an mbord - He is on the table (preposition)

Something to note is that you can use the copula 'is' to link nouns and adjectives and nouns/pronouns like you can with tá, but it's less common and is more used for emphasis these days.

Is mór an fear - The man is big

Is láidir na mná - The women are strong

Or in another but more common structure

Is mór an fear é - He is a big man

Is láidir an bhean í - She's a strong woman

Let me know if you have questions about any of this or if you want me to go more in depth with the structure of the copula since I do think it's quite a complex part of the language.

#gaeilge #irish language #gaelainn #learning irish #irish grammar #irish

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najia-cooks · 2 years ago

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[ID: A greenish-brown soup with an herb garnish in a bowl surrounded by a halved lemon, green cardamom pods, and bay leaves, followed by a close-up of the same soup. End ID]

شوربة الفريكة / Shorabat al-frika (Green wheat soup)

Frika (فَرِيكَة or فَرِيك; also transliterated "freekeh," "frikeh," or "farik"‎) is durum wheat harvested in the early spring, while the grain is green, unripe, and tender. Durum wheat, or semolina, is a different species of wheat than that which is ground to produce all-purpose flour (common wheat, or bread wheat); it is used to make couscous (كُسْكُس), bulghur (بلغور), and many types of pasta, and is widely consumed in North Africa, the Levant, and the Arabian peninsula. After harvest, unripe durum is sun-dried and then set ablaze in piles to burn off the straw and leave just the heads of wheat, resulting in a nutty, smoky flavor; the heads are then vigorously rubbed, traditionally by hand, to remove the bran. Frika is named after this last process; the word comes from the verb "فَرَكَ" "faraka," "to rub."

A staple in Palestine, shorabat al-frika (with diacritics, Levantine pronunciation: شُورَبَة الفْرِيكَة) is often eaten as an appetizer with the fast-breaking meal during Ramadan. It may contain nothing more than an onion, olive oil, frika, and water, but sometimes contains meat (usually chicken, but also beef or lamb), green chili peppers, and spices including cardamom, black pepper, bay leaves, turmeric, cumin, and seb'a baharat; some people today like to add chickpeas. Shorabat al-frika is often prepared with the chicken broth obtained by boiling chicken to make musakhkhan (مُسَخَّن), and served alongside it. It is a warming, filling, and earthy soup, with a complexity of flavor imparted by the frika itself: a fresh tartness due to the unripe grain, and a roasted aroma due to its harvesting process.

Shorabat al-frika is in keeping with a Palestinian food ethos of using simple, local ingredients to their fullest potential. Frika itself is sometimes thought to symbolize adaptability and resilience, as it was often eaten in times of scarcity when other crops were not yet ready to be harvested. Legend holds that it was discovered in a time of similar necessity: when villagers in the eastern Mediterannean tried to salvage a field of wheat that had been burned by ambushing soldiers, they found that the grain was still edible beneath the blackened chaff, having been saved from the fire by its moisture.

Frika, due to its centuries as a staple in Palestine, has also come to symbolize acceptance, Palestinian history, and connection to the land and community. In the Palestinian diaspora and amongst internally displaced people in Palestine, food is conceived of as a form of connection to homeland across distance; continuing to make Palestinian food, and remembering or using baladi ("native," "from my country") varieties of grains, produce, and herbs, is a link to the land and an expression of the hope to return.

By the same token, though, frika has come to represent Palestinian displacement and "cultural obliteration," per Rana Abdulla. One of the ways in which Israel rhetorically justifies its existence is by claiming sole ownership of an old, organically arising culture rooted in the land: the easiest way to do this is, of course, to rebrand what was already there. Food connects and combines language (in terminology and pronunciation), culture, history, climate, and land into one web of discourses, and is therefore a prime site for colonial myth-making and ideological nation-building. Thus a construction such as "Israeli freekeh" is, in fact, an intensely political one.

Nevertheless, frika continues its life as a symbol of connection, community, and resistance during adversity in Palestine. Nasser Abufarha, of the Palestine Fair Trade Association, noted in 2015 that more and more Palestinians across the West Bank were harvesting some of their wheat early to make frika, rather than relying on cheaper, imported rice. As of October 23 2023, and in defiance of an Israeli air raid which destroyed their kitchen in 2014, Jamil Abu Assi and his cousins were using frika, alongside lentils and rice, as staples in distributing food to thousands of refugees per day in Bani Suhaila, near Khan Younis. Others in the community donated ingredients or volunteered to distribute meals.

Support Palestinian resistance by contributing to Palestine Action's bail fund or to Palestine Legal's defence fund, or by attending court or making a sign to support the Elbit Eight.

Ingredients:

1 cup (170g) frika baladia (فريكة بلدية), Levantine frika

4 cups water, or vegetarian chicken stock from concentrate

1 large yellow onion, chopped

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 green chili pepper (فلفل أخضر حار), sliced (optional)

1/2 tsp ground black pepper (فلفل اسود)

5 cardamom pods (حب هال)

2 Mediterannean bay leaves (ورق غار)

250g chicken (or beef) substitute, torn or cubed (optional)

Salt, to taste

Parsley, to garnish

Halved lemon, to serve (optional)

I have kept the spices relatively simple, as most cooks do, to highlight the earthy end of the taste spectrum and to allow the flavor of the frika itself to come forward. Most people add at least cardamom and black pepper; many add bay leaves to this duo; turmeric is the next most common addition I have come across. I have seen a few people add cumin, coriander, or allspice.

Frika can be found in the grains section of your local halal grocery store (labelled "فريكة", “فريك" "freekeh" or "frikeh"). Look for something that specifies “roasted.”

You may also be able to find frika at a speciality or health foods grocery store, but it might not have been fire-roasted as it is in the Levant. If your frika doesn't smell toasty, try roasting it in a dry pan on medium-heat for a few minutes until fragrant.

Frika may be found whole, cracked, or fine (نَاعِمَة‎ / na'ima). You may use any kind for this soup; most people use cracked or fine frika, because of its shorter cooking time. You can pulse whole frika a few times in a food processor or spice mill, until coarsely ground, if you prefer a fine texture but can't find fine frika.

Instructions:

1. Heat olive oil in a large pot on medium. Add onion, a pinch of salt, cardamom pods, and bay leaves and fry, stirring occasionally, until the onion is golden brown.

2. Add the chili pepper and cook briefly until softened.

3. Add frika and black pepper and roast, stirring occasionally, for a few minutes until fragrant.

4. Add the water or stock and stir to combine. Bring to a fast simmer and cook, covered, about 50 minutes for whole frika and 20 minutes for ground, until fully cooked. Add additional water as necessary. The frika will still be chewy at the end of the cooking time.

5. Fry meat substitute of your choice in olive oil with salt, black pepper, and a optionally a pinch of Palestinian seven-spice, until browned. Add to soup and stir to combine. Taste the soup and add salt and more black pepper, if necessary.

6. Garnish with whole or chopped parsley and serve warm.

The meat is usually added to this soup just after the onions, and simmered along with the frika. You can do it this way if you like, but I have never found simmering to do the texture of meat substitutes any favors.

#Palestinian #Levantine #chicken #frika #freekeh #farik #cooking

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crk-kr-to-en · 1 month ago

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hello! i hope you're well!

do you have any tips/strategies/advice on learning korean? things that worked for you, things that didn't, etc.? specifically for listening and reading!

i just started learning it yesterday because i came across your blog and it motivated me to do so, i've been interested in the language for a few years but never got around to it, i figured now would be good since i'm into CRK and i'd like to be able to understand the original version of the game better!! (also i love shadow milk and i want to understand him better LOL)

Oh yes, I do have a couple of resources when it comes to writing and verb/grammar lists under the cut in my pinned post. I learned to read and write the Korean alphabet in the span of 9 hours. It's that easy.

For me, I've been learning Korean since February, but I'm still in the beginner stage. With CRK being my special interest, it gives me a lot of motivation, but I'm missing in consistency. I'm not exactly in a rush though, I like for it to be fun.

Now, here are some How To Learn Korean videos I've watched. First 2 is the things to do to learn Korean, and the 3rd video is about more apps and websites (some that can be found in my pinned.)

youtube

(Immediately clocked the this person is Filipino LOL.) (Also, learning Korean in Filipino?! Waow... <- I'm learning from this now)

2 more links talking about how to start thinking in Korean.

youtube

And more yapping! Lol.

The thing that motivates me are listening to Shamil and Pyuba lines over and over, which is significantly faster for me than listening to common phrases lmao. (The former being my special interest, but the latter is still important.) I'm also doing a reread on Homestuck translated in Korean. Familiarizing myself with words that relate to my special interest and so on.

(This is for intermediate level) And I'm not exactly a K drama watcher kind of person- (Fuuuck I just remembered about Hotel Del Luna I loved the first 2 eps so much.) but Koreans post the shit postiest animations in Youtube and how the characters speak so fast is what I consider a decent intermediate listening practice if you ever want to familiarize with really fast speaking to make the slow speaking pace easier.

#asks stuff

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bloomzone · 6 months ago

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how did you get into studying chinese?? also any tips for beginners?

How I Got Into Studying Chinese + A Beginner's Guide!

So, a lot of you have asked me about how I started studying Chinese and tips for beginners. I thought I’d share my story and a little guide for anyone wanting to dive into this (Piàoliang ! 漂亮 - beautiful ) language! +++ I will put a link of a PDF document and free webs that will help uuu at the end !

First things first, why Chinese? For me, it’s because I’ve always been drawn to the culture—everything from the festivals, history, and even Chinese dramas. But most importantly, my dream is to get into a good college in China! 🏫Just thinking about living there, speaking the language fluently, and experiencing everything firsthand keeps me motivated.

Starting Out:

When I first started, I was overwhelmed (it’s Chinese, after all!). But once I broke it into smaller steps, things became manageable and even fun! Here’s what helped me:

Step 1: Master the Basics

Learn Pinyin: Pinyin is the Romanized system for pronouncing Chinese words. It’s like the training wheels for speaking Chinese. Apps like HelloChinese, or Duolingo (for pinyin .. it HELP TRUST ME) !

Practice Tones Daily: Chinese is a tonal language, meaning the tone you use changes the meaning of the word. Start with the four basic tones and practice them with simple words like 妈 (mā - mom), 马 (mǎ - horse), or 吗 (ma - question particle). Don’t stress if it feels awkward at first—it gets easier!

Step 2: Build Vocabulary Slowly

Focus on high-frequency words like numbers, greetings, or common verbs. Think of words you’d use every day.

Try flashcards! Apps like Anki or Quizlet are amazing for memorizing characters and words.

Step 3: Start Learning Characters

Characters might seem scary at first, but they’re not impossible! I recommend starting with basic ones like 人 (rén, person) or 好 (hǎo, good).

Practice writing them—it helps you remember better. Plus, it’s oddly relaxing!

Step 4: Immerse Yourself

Watch Chinese shows or movies (C-dramas are SO good). Even if you don’t understand, you’ll start picking up tones and common phrases.

Listen to Chinese music or podcasts. [My playlist here!] while reading lyrics to learn new words.

Step 5: Practice Speaking

Speak out loud as much as possible, even if you’re just talking to yourself.

My Top Tips for Beginners:

1. Set small goals. Start with something achievable, like learning 5 words a day.

2. Be consistent. Even just 15 minutes a day is better than cramming once a week.

3. Get a notebook. Writing down characters and vocab feels more fun

4. Celebrate your wins. Did you recognize a word while watching a show? Did you finally pronounce something right? That’s progress!

5. Don’t compare yourself to others. Everyone learns at their own pace.

PDF DOCUMENTS + SITE WEB (FOR MANDARIN LEARNING)

document n¹ if the link didn't work write down on Google ( nihao textbook 1 pdf)

document n² if the link didn't work write down on Google ( Chinese text a pdf )

site num ¹

site num²

Why You Should Keep Going:

I know learning Chinese can feel overwhelming, but trust me, every step you take gets you closer to your goal. For me, imagining myself walking around a college campus in China, speaking fluently, and making friends there keeps me inspired. If you have a big dream like mine, hold onto it—it’ll carry you through the tough days!

Remember: 加油 (jiā yóu - "keep going"). You've got this!

@bloomzone ✒️

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accirax · 4 months ago

Text

Translating and Analyzing Project: Eden's Garden's Title Theme

Haven't personally seen anyone else do this yet, so I figured I'd share my curiosity stirred up by the just-released Main Title Theme Live Symphony Performance with the class.

As a note, I don't speak Latin at all, so I will be relying on Google (including Google Translate) to help me out. Therefore, it's possible that some segments-- especially longer sentences or phrases-- may be translated incorrectly. If you do speak Latin and notice something that's off, I'd love to know!

This post will contain spoilers for Chapter 1, so please don't read this if you aren't caught up. That being said, let's get started with my most enthralling "theory" to date: trying to reverse engineer teaching myself Latin.

Because multiple sets of lyrics are occasionally sung at the same time, it's possible that my screenshots will contain multiple phrases in them. I'll do my best to avoid having that happen as much as possible, but otherwise, the explanatory captions under the pictures should make it clear which section I'm talking about!

A simple search of "omnibus" returns that it means "to all," but "omnibus de omnibus" becomes "everything about everything." This online Latin-English dictionary clarifies that the noun "omnis" can mean "all people" or "all things/everything." The -ibus suffix could be indicative of the locative, dative, or ablative tense. Ohio State University explains that the locative conjugation indicates the place where something happens, the dative conjugation indicates the person to whom something happens, and the ablative tense is really complicated could either mean why something happened (its origin) or how something happened (the means by which it occurred).

From what I can tell, "dubitandum" seems much simpler. It's just the gerund form of the verb "dubitare," which means "to doubt." In English, a gerund is a word that ends in "-ing" but is used as a noun. "Writing" in the sentence "I like writing" is a gerund because writing is a thing (a noun) that I like. Although dubitandum is a viable conjugation for many verb tenses, it seems to appear most often in the accusative case, which refers to "the end destination."

Stringing it together, "omnibus de omnibus dubitandum" would probably mean something like "all people will eventually doubt everything", or, as Google Translate would put it, "to doubt everything about everything."

"De omnibus dubitandum" specifically is apparently a common phrase (attributed to Renee Descartes) that just means "doubt everything." According to the link I just pasted, it was also a favorite saying of Karl Marx. C-Cassidy...?

Next is both a low register and a high register singing "fiat voluntas tu." "Fiat" is the singular present tense of "to do," so basically just "do." "Voluntas" seems to pop up most frequently as a noun, meaning "will" or "intent." And "tua", much like the Spanish "tú," just means "your." Smashing those together results in "do your will," or as Google Translate more eloquently puts it, "your will be done." "Thy will be done," if you want to get really fancy.

Here comes a long one. In total, the full sentence reads, "liber scriptus proferetur, in quo totem continentur, unde mundus judicetur." Thankfully, I don't have to translate this one. My boy William Josiah Irons already did it for me!

Reason being, this line is taken directly from the medieval Latin poem Dies Irae, AKA Day of Wrath, by Thomas of Celano. (And no, I did not know this offhand, I had to look this up too). Irons' translation tries to keep the original rhyme and meter of the Latin version, so if you want to sing along, use this:

Lo, the book, exactly worded, Wherein all hath been recorded, Thence shall judgement be awarded.

However, if that version is a bit too fancy for you, Wikipedia has a more modern translation:

The written book will be brought forth, in which all is contained, from which the world shall be judged.

If you're like me and know nothing about religion, you might see "book" in a medieval Roman (AKA Catholic) song and immediately assume that they're talking about the Bible. However, if Wikipedia is to be believed, they're referencing a different piece of literature which, to be fair, is at least mentioned in the Bible...! The Book of Life in Christian faith is "God’s record of all those over the centuries who have trusted Christ as their Savior and have followed Him as Lord." Therefore, the "all that is contained" would refer to the names of all of the holy people who believe in Catholicism.

The world-judging bit refers to "Judgment Day" or "The Last Judgment." That term refers to belief that, someday, Jesus Christ will return to Earth, and at that point, God will judge everyone who's ever lived, saving the faithful people and damning the non-believers. There are varying beliefs on whether more people would be saved or more people would be damned, but considering the song is called "Day of Wrath," I have to imagine Mr. Celano wasn't that optimistic. This song is famously associated with Catholic funeral masses too, so that upbeat attitude really stuck.

I could barely even hear this part under the music, but the subtitles alerted me to the fact that the chorus chants "da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius" here! This is another one I don't have to translate, because it's a reference to something else B)

"Da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius" means "give me the facts, I will give you law," according to A Guide to Latin in International Law via Oxford Reference. The reason why it's written in Latin is because, apparently, this saying originates from the Roman court system.

Looking at the bottom row, the lower-pitched chanting says, "vulnerant omnia, ultima necat." This semi-common phrase typically translates to, "all hours wound, the last one kills," even if the "hour" ("horae") isn't included.

The top comment on this Reddit thread breaks it down the way I would if I inherently knew Latin:

Let's review the underlying grammar: Vulnerant=they wound omnia is ambiguous because it can be both the subject and the object of vulnerant. However, in this case, horae is understood to be the subject, so omnia must be the object. It means all things. If it were omnes, then it would also be ambiguous because omnes can also be both as well. [...] So Vulnerant omnia [horae]=all [hours] wound* or the hours wound all things. The second one isn't very pleasant. And Vulnerant omnes [horae]=all [hours] wound* or the hours wound [men/men and women]. Ultima necat=the last kills

The comment also elaborates that the "horae" is assumed because the phrase is often found on clocks or sundials in churches. Many different sources return this phrase (or slight variations on it) including hours in the meaning, so I'm inclined to believe that it's true.

The bottom line repeats the same phrase again after this, so I won't include it for a second time.

Our final line! In the middle row, we have "Opere et veritate, de omnibus dubitandum!" This one isn't a reference, but luckily it's still easy enough to figure out.

The second half of the sentence is something we've looked at before. As a recap, "de" means "of," "omnibus" means "of everything/everyone", and dubitandum means "doubting." So, the second half of the sentence will probably mean something like "doubting of everything."

"Opere," much like "opus" is a noun meaning "work," as in a work of art. "Et" means "and," and "veritate" means "truth." The handy-dandy Latin-Is-Simple.com conveniently puts this together as "in action and in truth."

Together, the sentence means something like "in action and in truth, have doubt of everything/everyone." Google Translate puts it as "by work and truth, we must doubt everything," but I like my translation better.

Therefore, altogether, here's a rough translation of the P:EG theme's lyrics:

All people will eventually doubt everything... Thy will be done... The Book of Life will be brought forth, in which the names of all the holy are contained, and then the world will be judged. Give me the facts, I will give you law! All hours wound, the last hour kills. In action and truth, doubt everything and everyone. All hours wound, the last hour kills!

So, let's swap out our translator hats for lyrical analysis hats, 'cause there's obviously a lot here to relate to P:EG and the concept of killing games as a whole.

The first two lines paired together are a prophecy, a threat and a promise combined. Basically, the choir is saying, "you think that people will eventually doubt everything? Well, here's your wish come true!" The line clearly connects to Damon and his core philosophy. As long as Damon continues to not want to trust anybody, then nobody will seem trustworthy. Furthermore, if Damon continues to not trust others, that means there will always be one person in the group who won't be trustful, so everyone being trustful is impossible.

Not that it's much of a surprise, but the kinda judgy tone of these first two lyrics definitely implies that Damon's attitude will be challenged (and likely corrected) at some point in the story. "Thy will" was a stylization, but the truth remains that the phrase referred to a singular entity. The lyrics place the focus on a single individual, and blames them for everything that follows by implying that the lack of trust is their fault. It's very reminiscent of the end of the Prologue, where the entire class blames Damon and Eva for ruining the vibes between them.

The Day of Wrath section continues the game's religious theming, invoking discussions of the end of all times. Although I doubt a literal Armageddon will happen in P:EG, I can certainly understand how the participants of the killing game would consider it the end of all things. Certainly, a lot of less-than-virtuous people will be dying here, especially if you're under the assumption that everyone who kills is morally bankrupt.

It's certainly an interesting implication that those in the killing game who are most virtuous might be the ones who are saved. Are they just extending that morality to how likely someone is to kill them? Like, people wouldn't kill you if they think you're cool? There is also the argument that students who are too curious or have something to hide are more likely to find themselves in deadly situations (a la Wolfgang), leaving the less bold students alive in the end. Still, that's not as much of a judgment on God's (Tozu's?) part.

Something in me wonders if this killing game might have been created as a challenge. I don't think that the motivations behind it would be to punish this group of students in particular-- we know semi-factually that some of their deepest, darkest secrets are hardly anything to sneeze at. Instead of being so targeted, the goal would be to have most of the students fail, while a select few succeed.

There's a definite possibility that Eden's Garden College-- and the titular Project: Eden's Garden-- is a ploy to weed out the "fake Ultimates" by proving who truly has what it takes to succeed in the cutthroat world of business by literally cutting people's throats. Becoming the "true face of talent" could mean literally erasing the other faces of those who weigh the title of Ultimate down; with so many Ultimates around, it's easy to not notice if one or two go missing.

If we're in a world where talent is valued above all else, the "virtue" that Tozu could be sparing them for could be talent itself. "Leadership, communication, and persuasion" are certainly skills that could help you survive a Class Trial (whether as a blackened or spotless). Depending how deep the corruption goes in this world, it's possible that the graduates of Eden's Garden Academy-- survivors of former killing games-- are simply willing to keep quiet about the Academy's dark secret if it means that they can claim all of the accolades for themselves. They fought for and earned it, after all.

If this is the direction the story takes, I can definitely see how making someone like Damon the protagonist would be the perfect choice. For him to spend all game talking about his superiority and belief in the talents of the Academy only to learn that all of the Ultimates he admired kept 14 nearly-as-talented skeletons in their closet would surely create an interesting internal conflict for the final Class Trial.

This is all just a theory, as there are plenty of other ways the Day of Wrath poem could relate to P:EG. However, I think it's a theory with a decent backing behind it.

"Give me the facts, I will give you law"-- I mean, that has to relate to Wolfgang, right? Even beyond the fact that it just says "law" in it, it's international law, perfect for an Ultimate Lawyer who wants to unite everyone. This line could definitely indicate how Wolfgang took Damon's facts (that some people in the Academy would be willing to kill) and turned them into ammunition for his own missive. If I were writing this analysis before Ch1 dropped, I would probably have speculated more about the future rivalry between Damon and Wolfgang. Instead, Damon and Wolfgang's "rivalry" is already over, with honestly not that much beef between them.

Given that Wolfgang is dead, it's also worth it to consider this outside of a Wolfgang context moving forward. This line could also relate to Damon's experiences in solving a Class Trial: after getting the facts of the case, Damon goes to the Class Trial Grounds and lays down the law.

"All hours wound, the last hour kills" is super interesting in the context of a killing game. My immediate connection was to the chapters, or in-universe Trials, of the killing game. All chapters of the game will wound Damon and the eventual other survivors, but it's the final chapter in which they're confronted with the true despairs of the world.

Another interpretation could work on a more chapter-by-chapter basis: every day in the killing game damages something, whether it's the killer's sanity or their business/reputation out in the real world, so it's in their "last hour" when they snap and need to get out. Especially with the ticking clock of the Traitor Perk out there for Eva at least and possibly future killers as well, time feels like a big factor.

In general, I would assume that (if the quote is found on clocks in churches) the phrase probably means something along the lines of "don't procrastinate," which could also be applied to the concept of Ultimates in general. They're always on that grindset.

And finally, "in action and truth, don't trust anything or anyone." This line is pretty unremarkable (being a pretty obvious repetition of Damon's mindset at the beginning of the game) other than in contrast with the beginning of the song. As I said, at the beginning of the song, the choir was almost reprimanding Damon with their "thy will be done." However, here, not trusting anything or anyone is spoken more like advice.

It could be that the choir was actually speaking more neutrally at the beginning, and that they're willing to accept the lack of trust because they always knew it would happen. Or, it could be that, by this point in the song, the lyrics have shifted to represent Damon's point of view instead of the universe's. If "I will give you law" did relate to Damon laying down the law, maybe that "I" pronoun is the point of the song at which the lyrics become Damon's thoughts?

Otherwise, maybe the choir is just meant to make Damon feel bad no matter what he does. Let's assume that, over the course of the game, Damon will come to trust certain individuals more. If true, then at the beginning of the game, the choir could be like "damn if you want to not trust people then it's kinda your fault what happens next dude," and closer to the end they could be like "oooooooh you wanna not trust people so bad remember Eva?" If the song is just meant to be an imposing feel-bad moment, then the emotions of the impartial choir could be unimportant.

And, well, that's the song! As is basically my brand, this post wound up way longer than I thought it would, back when I thought I was just going to Google Translate all the lyrics and be done with it. But, I hope that learning a bit about Latin was intriguing (assuming I did it correctly), and that the plotlines implied by the lyrics have given you a bit to chew on!

Still working on the overall Ch1 review/analysis, I just thought that writing this post would only take me, like, half an hour... Hopefully I'll see you back whenever that's done! Until then!

#project: eden's garden #p:eg #p:eg spoilers #fanganronpa #damon maitsu #wolfgang akire #can you tell i just finished reading the under.tale legends of localization book #that book slaps btw if you like this post and that game you should totally read it it's free online #i so hope i didn't fuck up the latin horribly but i think it all makes sense?#it helps my confidence that a good portion of the song was previously known saying lol #my theories

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heimeldat · 1 year ago

Text

I've spent an inordinate amount of time parsing the few examples we have of Old High Gallifreyan text, and here at last is the result of my labors!

The Old Gallifreyan alphabet:

The alternate forms of letters may be used interchangeably with their main forms; the differences are purely cosmetic, much like the difference between cursive and print-style writing.

Now for my analysis of the existing texts. It's rather long, so I've put it below the break!

EXAMPLES OF OLD HIGH GALLIFREYAN TEXT

ITEM ONE

Supposedly from “The Five Doctors,” though I can’t spot this writing anywhere. Translation given in episode.

ORA PSYERPA

O – honorific indicating uniqueness, may be rendered with the definite article “the”

R – combined with the definite honorific, a common abbreviation of Rassilon’s name

A – an alternate version of the possessive “ya,” used only when the possessive noun is already abbreviated

Psyerpa – a general term for harps and other large stringed instruments

Thus, the full text reads:

O-Rassilon-ya psyerpa

The Rassilon’s harp

ITEM TWO

From “The Colony in Space,” across the bottom of the Doctor’s mugshot. No translation given.

QU ETHOA TRIOUAX BRIA

Qu – This is not a complete word, merely a letter used in this case for alphanumerical file designation: note that it stands alone, separate from the main text.

Ethoa – exile

Triouax – an infinitive verb, “to persist” or “to remain in effect”

Bria – a conditional modifier used exclusively in bureaucratic contexts, implying the need for occasional update of information or policy.

This text is a record of the Doctor’s sentence, and may be rendered something like this: Exile: to remain in effect barring further review.

ITEM THREE

From “The Time of Angels.” Translation given.

JUSYMOU CAIDEU OXA OOYY MAISOM

Jusymou – An archaic greeting, roughly equivalent to “well met” or “hail.”

Caideu – self, soul, or “hearts” in a poetic sense

Oxa – prepositional suffix, “part of”

OOYY – a conceptual abbreviation that combines the two meanings of the solitary letter O (definite article + symbol of individuality) and the mathematical use of the letter Y (usually indicating a dimensional shift). Literally, this means something like the individual, shifted two dimensions. In practice, it refers to a Time Lord’s fifth dimensional aspect.

Maisom – name, designation, identification

Thus, a literal translation would read something like this: Greetings, soul-linked fifth-dimensional name!

Or as the Doctor paraphrases it: Hello, Sweetie.

ITEM FOUR

From “The Five Doctors.” Translation is given, though it’s not specified which face of the obelisk corresponds to which section of the text.

First Face:

RA NASA TO TANA EURIFSTAN OBLR ORE NATA

Ra – where

Nasa – sleep

To – in

Tana – lies, reclines, rests

Eurifstan – eternal, endless, timeless. Here it modifies the verb, so it should be rendered as an adverb.

Oblr – abbreviated form of obelar, tomb or grave

OR – the same abbreviation seen previously, “The One And Only Rassilon.”

E – an alternate version of the possessive “ya,” used only when the possessive noun is already abbreviated

Nata – a basic verb of being, is

This yields the following literal translation: Where sleep-in lies eternally, tomb Rassilon’s is.

Or as the Doctor translates it: This is the Tomb of Rassilon, where Rassilon lies in eternal sleep.

Second Face:

The text on the second face is never seen. The Doctor translates it as: Anyone who's got this far has passed many dangers and shown great courage and determination.

Third Face:

ULIREIF RAENATA TOAAN LAKI FSTA TORARO

Ulireif – to lose everything, to be utterly defeated

Raenata – an emphatic form of the being-verb nata, indicating that something really, truly, permanently is

Toa’an – to win everything, to be crowned victor

Laki – a compound conjunction combining la (so) with ki (and): “and so”

Fsta – an abbreviated form of festoa, a winner or leader

Toraro – future tense of torar, to fail or collapse

Thus: To lose all is truly to win all, and so the winner will fail.

Or as the Doctor puts it: To lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.

Fourth Face:

KIRA ATOUNA OR TA LIRI EUKI RAATO SUTE ANAAN FEIRLIO REUNT

Kira – takes

Atouna – ring

OR – the same abbreviation seen previously, “The One And Only Rassilon.”

Ta – from

Liri – hand

Euki – a compound conjunction combining eu (then, next, afterward) with ki (and): “and then”

Ra’ato – future tense of ra’at, to wear

Sute – reward, prize, payment

Ana’an – desired, sought-after

Feirlio – future tense of feiril, to get or acquire. Note that this is an irregular verb: the last two letters switch places when adding any tense ending.

Reunt – immortality, eternity

Literally: Takes ring Rassilon-from-hand and then will wear, reward-sought will have: immortality.

Or as the Doctor translates it: Whoever takes the ring from Rassilon's hand and puts it on shall get the reward he seeks: immortality.

#doctor who #gallifreyan language #conlang #old high gallifreyan #no I have no idea how many hours I spent figuring this out #yes I'm working on figuring out the modern alphabet too (the one Four uses when he writes his letter at the beginning of Deadly Assassin)

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emepe · 1 year ago

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: You and Eren can’t stay away from each other, completely oblivious to a jealous someone plotting to drive a wedge between you.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, dry humping, make out, stalking, misunderstandings.

— Notes: Welcome to chapter 8 <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

love is a verb, love is a feeling

The days have grown colder as the city is blanketed by the late November air. Crisp golden leaves are scattered over the streets, casting a warm touch to the otherwise cold patterns of gray. Common colds are nearing their rise with the shift in temperature but you've been lucky so far this year to not fall victim to any sniffles.

Normally, you'd count on a warm cup of tea and a thick blanket to keep you warm as the weather grows harsher. But neither compare to the comforting embrace of Eren's arms. The bed is much warmer when there's a second body lying next to you and the sweet beat of his heart is the perfect sound to fall asleep to as you get drunk off the scent of his citrus body wash and eucalyptus-scented fabric softener.

The sound of your alarm rings in the air first. You moan from under the sheets, unwilling to let go of the firm torso you're pressed against. Thankfully, Eren's hold only tightens as he angles his arm back to dismiss the sound.

It's turning into a bad habit, to linger in bed just a few more minutes each time you stay over at his place. But is it really so bad when it brings you so much peace? Besides, Eren seems fine with it, too. Every little detail of your life is delicately infused with traces of him now. The same eucalyptus fabric softener is now also part of your biweekly shopping list, and this is the third time you've sneakily used his body wash even though you've been good at refilling the travel-sized bottle you keep in your bag before leaving your apartment. But the truth is, you love having that scent follow you wherever you go. It makes your day better and frankly, it's nice to carry a little piece of him all the time.

The people at the office have noticed a shift in your energy, though they haven't dared to talk about it. The reserved girl they've grown used to being wary of — the one they'd rather keep their distance from because she's so cold and standoffish that it's borderline rude in their eyes — is now livelier, smiles more easily, and is surrounded by light as opposed to the gloomy shadows from before. It's not as though you've transformed into a natural extrovert — you still only talk to Armin, and you still keep to yourself for the most part — but the small changes in your behavior certainly stand out.

“Good morning, baby,” Eren's husky morning voice cuts through the rustling of the sheets as he adjusts himself to plant a kiss on your cheek.

You snuggle closer to him, his warmth all too precious to part with. Your hands grip his shirt tightly, signaling him that you're not ready to slip away.

As usual, he softly laughs as he squeezes your frame. It's always a struggle for you to let go to start your day. Eren would easily yield if you just ask him. Ditching work to spend an entire day with your body clinging to his is nothing short of tempting. Perhaps if he didn't have an in-person meeting to attend in a few hours, he would ask you to play hooky.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble into his chest.

“Make it ten and you've got a deal,” he murmurs.

A lazy grin takes over his features when you laugh into his chest.

He strokes your hair gently, knowing you're wide awake and the extra minutes are because you like staying in bed with him.

“You're making me lazy,” he teases, peering down at the crown of your head.

“You asked me over on a weeknight,” you retaliate. “You know I like sleeping in when I come over. You should've waited until tonight.”

“Right, I forgot you have no willpower. My apologies,” he jokes, quick to stop your playful punch he already knew was coming.

With a hand stroking your back, he dips down to kiss the crown of your head.

“By the way, you owe me a bottle of body wash,” he says, aggressively poking at your sides. “I know you've been stealing it.”

“You have no proof,” you mumble, squirming at every sudden contact from his fingertips.

“You smell like citrus!”

“How do you know I don't use citrus-scented soap?”

“Because you used to always smell like vanilla,” he murmurs, a nostalgic smile shaping his lips.

You finally lift your face from his chest to look up at him.

His smile grows when he meets your gaze.

“I like that smell.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and a second wave of warmth creeps up your neck at his attention to detail.

“Do you want me to go back to vanilla, then?”

He shrugs.

“I don't mind if you smell like me,” he smiles. “But I miss the vanilla sometimes, to be honest. Maybe we should just trade soaps.”

Your eyes crinkle in amusement and you snuggle back into his chest. The vibrations of his voice tingle against your cheek when he speaks again, in a quieter, more timid voice.

“With all this back and forth, why don't we just move in together?”

He chews on his bottom lip while he waits for your answer. Your face is still pressed against his chest, so he can't get an idea of what you're thinking.

It's barely been a month, but if the overnight stays so far are a taste of what living together would be like, he doesn't mind making such a bold step so soon.

“Which apartment would we keep?”

His features shift in surprise that you don't seem thrown by his proposal.

“I- I don't know,” he stutters. “I haven't thought that far.”

“Your place is bigger,” you murmur, scooting back just a bit from him but keeping your head low so he can't see the shy expression you're wearing. “My closet is too small, my clothes barely fit.”

“Or we could look for something new together,” he says.

The idea brings a smile to your face and a nervous flutter to your stomach.

“Isn't it a bad idea to live together so soon?” you tease, though it's a genuine question. You don't mind going at a faster pace for this, but every major decision could make or break your relationship and you'd much prefer the former.

You notice him shrugging from your peripheral vision.

“I think it's better to know early on.” He holds your chin between two fingers so he can pull your attention to him. “Why? Does it scare you?”

Slowly, you nod.

“A little.”

He hums as he contemplates your answer.

“Then, if it makes you feel better,” he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “We can talk about it again in a few months. How does that sound?”

A bit more relaxed now, you nod again.

“Come here,” he says leaning closer so he can kiss you, but you shoot up and climb out of bed, rushing to the bathroom while hearing him laugh behind you.

“You can't run away from me each time!” he yells amusedly.

Shaking his head, he gets out of bed and starts stripping the sheets. It's of his recent knowledge that you're not fond of the idea of kissing him before you've had a chance to brush your teeth. He always tells you he doesn't care but you're quick to refuse him each time.

When you get back, he's fluffing the pillows and fixing each one on the freshly made bed.

He walks over to you in mock annoyance over your morning antics.

Cheekily, you drape your arms around his neck and pull him closer, granting him at last with one minty fresh kiss on his lips.

“You realize I haven't brushed my teeth?” he asks, squeezing your sides teasingly.

You shrug.

“I don't mind.”

You turn on your heel, grabbing your clothes for the day from his closet, leaving him dumbfounded but chuckling over your absurd logic.

“I'll make us breakfast,” he says, slipping out of the room to give you some privacy, but not before pulling you in for one more kiss.

“I'll see you tonight.”

Eren's usual goodbye from the past three weeks never gets old, always stirring the butterflies in your stomach with the exciting promise of your weekend sleepovers.

You lean over the center console to kiss him goodbye.

“Get your tissues ready, Jaeger. I picked a good one this week.”

“Hold on, I thought it was my turn,” he whines. “Last week we stayed at your apartment and we watched that movie where the mom dies and comes back to life during the rainy season.”

You shake your head.

“That was two weeks ago. Last week was when we saw Ghost, remember?”

His eyebrows rise in realization at your reminder, his mouth forming an ah shape.

“Man, I could've sworn it was my turn,” he says, falling back into his seat.

“Don't be a sore loser, babe,” you tease, pulling him back to kiss him again. The contact effectively wipes the pout from his lips.

His hands cradle your face to deepen the kiss, desperate to make the most of your last seconds together before you part ways for the day.

“Ow,” you moan when his teeth pull at your bottom lip a bit too hard. “Easy. I'm delicate.”

He laughs airily.

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

He meets your lips again, this time using his tongue to suck on the injured spot, soothing the pulsing sensation left by his bite, the caress sending shivers down your spine and warming your face.

“I hate when you do that,” you mutter with unconvincing annoyance.

“No, you don't,” he retaliates, the cocky grin on his face growing wider at your flustered state. In the end, you prove him right when you start to giggle, covering your face with your hands.

“I'll see you tonight,” you murmur shyly as you push your door open. “Bye, Eren.”

“You sure you're not forgetting something?” he asks just as you're about to shut the door behind you.

You tilt your head in confusion.

“We already kissed,” you innocently say.

Shaking his head, he digs something out of his pocket, carefully tossing it in your direction. Your hands clasp around the object — your taser.

“You left it on the counter,” he sternly explains, then exchanges it for a softer tone. “Be careful, okay?”

Embarrassed but grateful to have him keeping you in check, you nod, quickly climbing back inside for a second last kiss of the morning.

“Bye,” you grin.

With another shake of his head, he laughs as he watches you leave.

“Have a good day!”

November 29, 2024

My angel, my angel, my angel.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I can't wait to see you.

My meeting just started a few minutes ago. I won't make it out in time. Armin's taking you home.

You blink down at the text message, a small pout already forming at the thought of the bump in your recent routine.

Though disappointed by not having Eren pick you up from work, you text him back wishing him good luck.

Are you still coming over later?

A smile takes over your worried features when he responds with ‘absolutely’ and a promise to see you tonight.

You slip your phone back into the pocket of your pants, glancing at the time as you do. There are roughly thirty minutes to go before you can head home and maybe even longer before Eren arrives at your apartment for your movie night. Hopefully, he won't be too tired.

As you wait for the minutes to tick by, you rack your brain for an image of your pantry. In your eagerness to accept Eren's invitation to stay at his place right after work, only stopping by your apartment so you could fetch a change of clothes, you forgot to check how you were doing on snacks. The last time you checked, there weren't many options.

You purse your lips as you make a mental note to stop by the store on the way home.

The remainder of your working hours fly by faster than you expect. Soon enough, Armin's already at your desk, leaning back with his hands in his pockets while you gather your things, making sure to keep your taser in the jacket pocket of your dominant hand.

“Sorry about this,” you meekly tell him as the elevator brings you down to the lobby.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

“I'm glad Eren called me. I would've been worried if you left by yourself.”

You smile in appreciation for his concern.

That's also something you're getting better at — accepting people's care.

The elevator dings and you both head out onto the street, leaving the revolving doors of the main entrance behind you.

“Do you mind if we stop by the store on the way? I have to pick up some things for tonight.”

“Oh?” Armin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you, to which you lightly smack his shoulder.

“I was talking about snacks,” you mutter. “Eren's coming over later.”

“Oh, right,” Armin clicks his tongue. “The famous sleepovers I'm never invited to.”

You laugh.

“You're welcome to stay if you don't mind watching us makeout.”

Armin's nose scrunches in disapproval, though a laugh slips past his lips.

“You are so different from the girl I met earlier this year.”

Your face warms at his comment. His tone isn't severe, so it's easy to tell he means it in a good way. You're further reassured when he turns to look at you with a smile as you take a seat on the bus bench.

“You seem happier these days,” he points out.

You curl your lips inwards — a habit you've stolen from Eren — in a futile attempt to keep from goofily grinning.

“I am.”

He nods, his smile growing wider at your bashful admission.

“I guess now would be a good time to confess I was playing Cupid the entire time.”

Shaking your head, you giggle.

“I kind of knew.”

“Wha– no way!”

“I mean, I wasn't sure until now but I thought it was a little weird when you kept talking about how I had to meet your best friend Eren,” you grin, poking his side teasingly. “And then when he showed up out of the blue at the coffee shop, and he told me you told him to go there.”

He groans, kicking at a pebble by his feet.

“And all the times you tried to get us alone… And when you wanted me to ride in the front seat when we went apple-picking. Then at the ba–”

“Okay! I get it, jeez,” he laughs. “But you have to give me some credit now that you're together.”

“If I must,” you heavily sigh, earning yourself a flick on the forehead.

The bus pulls up on the dot of its scheduled time.

The two of you settle in next to each other for the ride. A couple of stops before your usual one, you pull on the cord and you both step back onto the street.

“So how are things going?” Armin asks, aiding you in picking a basket from the stack by the store's entrance as you crane your neck in search of the snack aisle. Armin follows your lead a few aisles down.

“It's been great,” you gush, instantly falling into an enamored smile. “It never gets boring, you know? He's just so sweet and funny.”

You place a large tin of salted peanuts in the basket.

“Thank you, Armin.”

“I was kidding about the credit,” he chuckles. “It was ultimately your decision.”

“Yeah, but… you greased the wheels,” you reply with a shrug.

You skim through the choices for popcorn, ultimately picking up a box of butter and sea salt each.

“And it's not just that,” you continue as you walk to the next aisle for something sweet. “You were the first friend I ever made… and up until a few months ago, you were my only friend,” you laugh softly, trying to play it off as a joke, but a crack slips through your voice. “I don't mean to be cheesy, but you've changed my life for the better. I wouldn't have any of this if it wasn't for you. So, thank you, really.”

You regard Armin with glassy eyes that are overflowing with appreciation for the blond.

“Come on,” he softly says. “You owe yourself some credit, too. You've come a long way, anyone can see it.”

Your face warms at the compliment, but you dismiss him with a shrug as you turn your focus to the store's selection of fruit snacks.

A couple of packets are tossed into the basket.

“I thought we were just getting snacks,” Armin reminds you as he follows you to the back of the store where the hygiene aisle is.

“I just need to pick up some body wash,” you say.

Your eyes zero in on the brand Eren uses, and your hands quickly pick up the bottle labeled with a citrus scent. From a higher level, you grab a second bottle of your usual vanilla pick.

A short line at the register later, you both walk the rest of the way to your apartment building.

It's only a few blocks, so it doesn't take long, but by the time you near the brick building, dark clouds have started to form in the late evening sky.

“I've got it from here,” you tell Armin when you notice his intention to accompany you inside the building. “You should go, it looks like it's gonna rain.”

You point at the somber clouds looming over your heads.

Armin nods appreciatively at your concern and bids you goodbye before making a sprint for the nearest bus stop on the opposite side of the street.

You ride the elevator to your floor on your own, leaning back against the mirrored wall as you already feel yourself relaxing into the weekend mood.

Your shoes are peeled off and abandoned beside the door the moment you walk in, and the grocery bag is left on the kitchen counter.

You pull your phone from your pocket, immediately tapping on the first notification, a small smile etched on your face as your text conversation with Eren pops up on the screen.

Just gotta send some emails and I'll be on my way.

You tap a quick reply before dialing the number to Eren's favorite local pizza place. After confirming your order for a half-and-half special, you scurry to the bathroom for a quick shower.

The weekends are easily most people's favorite time. It's a pleasant break from the dull routine of working in an office, or doing manual labor, or serving strangers. For you, the weekends were an okay time. Not having to spend eight hours a day in the office was fine, and you were perfectly content spending your off days focusing on your hobbies, getting chores done, or laying around.

After Armin — and especially after Eren — that old routine seems rather unsatisfying now. You still appreciate the beauty of sitting down to read a new book, but doing the same while Eren is on the opposite end of the sofa playing a game or hearing him move around in the kitchen to fix the two of you a snack has the power to make you feel full.

Armin has teased you a couple of times since your start with Eren, implying you've stolen his best friend, but neither of you could be happier that his meddling resulted in such a good thing.

As you rinse off the stress of the day, you find yourself smiling at the memory of your first kiss with Eren. It feels like it's been ages since it happened, and every kiss, every touch, and every look since then has blessed you with years worth of good fortune.

You step out of the shower, choosing to change into a pair of sweats and a loose tee. A quick glance to your bedroom window lets you notice the faint pitter-patter of rain droplets falling. You check the time on your phone, dismissing the low battery percentage alert but relieved to find a text from Armin that reassures you he got home safe and dry. With a few minutes to spare before the pizza or Eren arrives, you venture into the kitchen to fix yourself a cup of tea.

Your routine is the same as ever — set the water on the stove, wait for the whistle, fetch a mug from the cupboards, the honey wand from its drawer, and a tea bag and honey from the pantry. When you get to the last step, you're disappointed to find that you've barely enough honey left to sweeten the cup you just made.

Eren and you have kept a steady tradition since you started sleeping over at each other's apartment to share a cup of tea before bed. With your low resources, that won't be possible tonight.

Without giving it much thought, you slip on a jacket and sneakers, and rush out the door, grabbing your umbrella on the way.

As the elevator travels down to the lobby, you click your tongue in spite of yourself. Had you been more attentive you would've picked up a new jar from the store earlier. You'll be lucky if you find your usual choice in the store at the corner of your street.

Once out the main door and down the front steps of the building, you open your black umbrella and start walking.

The rain always has an effect on traffic. It's as though everyone's common sense and driver's education grows as hazy as the weather. But Eren's lucky to escape before any real chaos kicks off.

He pulls into the parking lot of your building with ease. The initial pitter-patter of rain has crescendoed in a matter of seconds. With no umbrella or raincoat to guard himself from the rain, he resorts to using his jacket, holding it above his head while he rounds the building toward the main entrance even if plenty of raindrops still manage to land on him.

In his rush, he avoids a person walking down the street with a black umbrella, only to crash into a second figure a couple of steps later.

The man is wearing a black raincoat, hood over his head and his hands in his pockets until he bumps into Eren's body.

“I'm so sorry,” Eren half-yells over the rain, holding a hand before him in defense.

The young man lifts his face just enough to show an understanding smile in response, though his light brown eyes seem devoid of any emotion — but Eren crosses it off as a distortion from the night's weather.

“Don't worry about it,” the stranger grins. “Be careful.”

Eren continues up the steps of the brick building, relief washing over him once he's inside the lobby, where he pats down his clothes to rid himself of any excess water before heading to the elevator.

A cheerful tune whistles from his lips as he makes the journey to the third floor, a grin stretching across his features when the elevator finally dings.

His eager hands fish the spare key you gifted him last week from his jacket pocket and jiggle it around the lock until it clicks open.

He calls your name as he breathes in the familiar vanilla scent that wafts throughout the apartment from the freshly abandoned shower.

He peers behind the door when you don't respond right away.

“Babe, I'm here,” he tries again, searching in your room this time.

Still no answer.

He wanders around the apartment, confused but on high alert as he whips out his phone to call you.

“Hello?” your voice reaches his ear after the first ring.

The breath he was holding is promptly released as he leans against the armrest of the sofa.

“Where are you?”

He hears a series of rustles and clinks on your end.

“I'm at the store on the corner of the street. I came to get honey. Are you close?”

“I'm at your apartment. I almost freaked out when you weren't here.”

“Aww,” you coo. From your tone, he can easily tell you’re smiling. “You're so needy.”

He blushes.

“When it comes to you, yeah, obviously,” he murmurs shyly.

You giggle.

“I'll be there soon,” you say. “I'm in line to pay.”

On the other side of the line, your phone is pressed between your ear and shoulder while you fidget for some cash in your jacket pockets. A crumpled bill falls to the floor in the process, but you miss the chance to retrieve it before the man behind you bends down to pick it up first. He holds the bill between two fingers, offering it to you with a smile.

“Thank you,” you smile back at him as you take the bill.

The man's smile grows at your expression, his light brown eyes lighting up at the sight of your pearly teeth.

“Who was that?” Eren asks.

You explain the incident to him as you head out the store. A faint ring of the store's bell rings on Eren's side.

“Why? Are you jealous?” you tease, giggling when he scoffs through the phone.

A tap on your shoulder puts a halt in your step and you turn around to find the same man from the store behind you.

On the other end, Eren can hear the muffled male voice, as he assumes you've lowered the hand holding your phone.

His brow furrows as he tries to make out what is being said on your end, but just as your voice starts talking again, the call is cut off.

“Hello?” Eren calls into the phone, but there's no sound. He calls your name, only to receive no reply. When he looks down at the screen, the words ‘Call ended’ flash in red.

He blinks at the screen several times.

He's confused at first, but a compelling need to call you back overtakes him in a flash, and his thumbs frantically tap the call button next to your name. When the call is instantly forwarded and the automatic tone tells him the number he dialed is unavailable, there's a dreadful drop in his stomach.

He tries calling again — just to make sure, just in case — hopeful that it's a misunderstanding and the rain has you distracted and you managed to reject his call on accident.

“Come on. Pick up, pick up,” he softly chants as if his words have the power to make things true.

But the call still doesn't come through.

Without a second more to waste, he rushes to the door, swinging it open with determination, only to find you looking up at him in surprise, with your key in your hand, just seconds away from unlocking the door yourself.

His bottom lips quivers and his eyes stare back at you, wide and overflowing with relief.

You're pulled inside the apartment and wrapped in his arms in a second, his hold tight as he nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing in your vanilla scent in a desperate attempt to confirm you're real.

“Eren,” you murmur, taken aback by his behavior. “Baby, what's wrong?”

Your fingers weave through his hair as you try to comfort him from whatever unknown force has him so panicked.

He sniffles against your neck, and you sense droplets trailing down your collarbone.

You try to earn some room so you can analyze what's going on but his grip only tightens.

The jar of honey is pressed uncomfortably against your stomach, but you ignore the feeling until he decides to step back.

When he does, his expression is stern.

“Why didn't you pick up my calls?”

His voice is powerful — severe. It's not something you're used to. He's suddenly ten feet tall and you've shrunk to half your size.

Pulling your phone out of your jacket, you explain.

“My phone died, I would've called you back if I could,” you say, hoping the hypothetical is enough to soothe him.

He doesn't answer, only swallows thickly as he continues to pin you down with his gaze.

“It's okay,” you reassure him. “I'm okay, see?”

“It’s not.”

His brow is furrowed, jaw tense and his hands accentuate his words with sharp gestures.

“Do you realize how serious this is? You could've been in danger and I would've had no way of reaching you.”

“Eren, calm down, please. I just went to the store. I made it back, it's fine.”

You use the softest of your voices, focused on getting him to settle on the fact that you're safe now.

“Did you at least have your taser on you?”

You shrink in your spot. The guilt is evident on your face, and it only makes Eren drag his hands over his face in frustration.

He shakes his head, clearly bothered by your carelessness.

An uncomfortable sensation tingles at your nose as you feel an oncoming wave of tears.

After all he's done to keep you safe, and your forgetfulness could easily throw his efforts out the window. Your cheeks burn and your shoulders cave with the weight of disappointing him. And now he won't even look at you, his apparent anger too intense to focus on something other than the floor.

The least you could do is apologize.

“Eren,” you weakly call him, voice cracking and barely above a whisper.

It takes long enough for him to look at you that you doubt he even heard you. But when he finally meets your gaze, his hardened expression crumbles at the sight of your teary eyes and your defeated demeanor.

“I'm not mad,” he's quick to say, stepping forward to envelop your frame once more — still tight but with a more comforting intent behind it.

His warmth is all you need to fall down a well of stuttered sobs and regretful tears.

“I'm sorry,” you cry into his jacket.

The words rip him apart from the inside. He didn't mean to be harsh even if you deserved to be scolded, but now even he's overwhelmed by guilt for making you cry in apology.

It's a crappy situation for both of you.

“I forgot it again. I'm so sorry, Eren,” you sob. He cradles your face in his hands, nodding along as he carefully listens to your tearful explanation. “I wasn't gonna be too long. I just needed honey for your tea later, and you were on your way already, so I didn't think it would be a big deal if I just went to the corner store to get some. I'm so sorry, Eren. I really am.”

You release a shuddered breath as he wipes your face of your tears with his thumb. He proceeds to take the jar of honey from your trembling hands and set it aside.

“I'm not mad,” he repeats, hugging you to his chest as you ease up from your crying, soothed by his gentle tone and the caresses to your hair. “I'm sorry, too.”

I didn't mean to make you cry.

He holds your face in his hands.

“But you have to understand how scary it is for me to have our call cut off while you're out alone.”

You nod, blinking away the last of your tears that blur your vision.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Eren's heart shrinks at every apology.

“Stop apologizing,” he murmurs, voice laced with pain. “Just don't scare me like that again, please.”

You nod again, suddenly feeling too weak to use your voice.

A wave of relief washes over you when he leans closer to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth as a final step in reconciliation.

A knock on your door calls for your attention. Eren looks back at you in question.

“I ordered pizza from that place you like,” you innocently explain before you dig around your pockets for money.

Your considerate nature toward him squeezes further at his heart.

“I got it,” he says, tapping your arm lightly before answering the door and paying.

“I'm gonna wash my face,” you tell him, awkwardly slipping away to the bathroom to do so.

When you get back to the living room, the TV is set to play the last movie saved to your list, and he's sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa with a slice of pizza in his hands. When he catches your presence he nods down at the spot beside him, gesturing for you to join him.

The moment you sit down he welcomes you back with a kiss on your cheek and a second soft apology in your ear.

The movie ended up making you both spill another series of tears.

“I don't know why you keep picking these movies,” Eren sniffles as he dabs a tissue to his eyes before helping you clean your face, too.

“I like it when you cry,” you admit. “I like a sensitive man.”

He playfully pinches your cheek in retaliation, only to immediately kiss it after.

You curl up against him, resting your legs on his lap as your arms drape around his shoulders.

“I really am sorry about tonight. I wasn't trying to make you worry. And once I realized my phone died, I hurried over immediately.”

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you up so that you're sitting properly on his lap. He lifts your chin with his index finger, gently coaxing you to look at him.

“It's fine,” he murmurs. “Just promise me you'll be more careful. Next time just wait for me and we'll go together. Or call me up if you need me to get something on my way. I'd rather do it myself than have you walk out at night all alone.”

“You'd be alone, too,” you point out.

“I'm not as worried about myself,” he answers quietly, gently brushing his nose against yours before leaning in for a kiss.

He pecks you once, twice, before remembering something.

“Who was the guy?”

Your eyebrows upturn in confusion.

“I heard a guy talking to you after you left the store,” he explains.

You mouth an ‘oh’ in realization.

“I dropped my receipt and he was just giving it back.”

You fish the slip of paper from your sweats, holding it up between two fingers for his observation.

“See?”

He nods, taking the slip of paper from your hold and setting it aside on the floor.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the sensitive skin gently as his hands softly caress your hips, just above the waistline of your sweats.

“I worry about you, you know,” he murmurs against your sweet spot. “I can't be still if I'm not sure you're safe.”

You want to tell him that he doesn't have to worry so much, that this was an isolated experience and that there haven't been any new murders, but you know it'll just slip in one ear and fall out the other.

So you just hold him, stroking his hair in that lazy pace he likes so much.

He lifts his face from your neck, looking up at you in adoration. The glassy look in his jewel-toned eyes would be enough to make you fall to your knees — it's a good thing you're on his lap.

His mouth caresses yours tenderly, transferring his earlier relief when he found you standing right outside the door.

Your hand finds its place above his heart, capturing the increasingly erratic beats as you melt into each other.

Your tongue brushes against his, swallowing every moan, every relieved sigh, every whimper.

His fingers sneak under your shirt, timidly testing the waters with a searing touch before his hand fully glides against the bare skin of your waist, confident and itching for more.

Your breath hitches in your throat when his fingertips brush the underside of your breasts. For the sake of comfort, you've skipped out on wearing a bra, as you always do when you're close to your bedtime. So his accidental closeness doesn't come as a surprise.

Eren, on the other hand, is taken aback by the lack of undergarments, his fingers timidly backing down from the area, but still dangerously close as he continues to explore every corner of your mouth with his tongue.

His erection is pressed against your ass with every small motion, reminding you of how easily excitable he is each time you find yourselves in compromising positions.

A sinful whine escapes your lips when you feel him twitch underneath you.

He pulls back from the kiss the tiniest bit, flustered but with a cool enough head to check in on you.

You breathe into each other's mouths, hot and heavy.

“Do you wanna stop?” he murmurs, cheeks red and lips swollen as he exhales short breaths.

You bite down on your bottom lip, unsure if it's what you truly want.

With every heated encounter, it's getting harder to resist him. You know he's not purposely doing anything to tilt the scales in favor of finally having sex. In fact, he's been a perfect gentleman about your boundaries, always sure to keep himself in check and asking you to talk to him when things start escalating.

You admire him for it, but sometimes it bothers you to think he's holding back and you should loosen up for his sake.

“Do you?” you ask.

He takes a beat to respond. When he finally does, it leaves you speechless.

“No.”

The confidence in his answer is clear, leaving no room for doubt over how he feels.

You curl your lips inwards, slowly nodding as his answer courses through your brain.

A velvet kiss is placed on the corner of your mouth.

“But I promised,” he whispers reassuringly.

You swallow thickly as the air around you is dissipated of any tension and the pressure in your chest softens.

“I feel like I'm putting you through hell,” you sheepishly admit.

He shakes his head.

“I won't lie. I want to touch you like you can't even imagine,” he murmurs. “But I really don't mind waiting. Nothing will happen unless you say yes.”

The same confidence from his previous statement laces through this one. It blankets you with peace.

So with one final kiss to his cheek, you climb off his lap and help him up.

As usual, the tent in his pants yells for attention, but he's not blushing as profusely as the first time it happened.

“I should hop in the shower,” he says.

You nod.

“I'll clean up.”

A while later, you're both snuggled together underneath your covers, a mix of vanilla, citrus and eucalyptus wafting in the air.

Eren's hand is underneath your shirt for a change, tracing soothing stripes on the small of your back with his thumb, as you trace the curve of his bottom lip with yours.

“Has anyone told you you're pretty?” you ask him sincerely in a hushed voice.

An amused air blows through his nose, making you smile in the process.

“I don't think so,” he says. “Am I?”

You nod.

“You've got really pretty eyes, and long lashes, and perfect lips,” you whisper, tracing around every feature with your gaze. “I'm jealous.”

His eyes flutter closed when your fingertips graze near the area.

“More, please.”

You giggle, letting the pads of your fingers trail down to the bridge of his nose.

“I really like your freckles, too,” you say. “But they're kind of faded now.”

“Just wait til the summer, they'll be back,” he says, eyes open again.

You hum in response.

“Is there more?” he teases.

You laugh.

“Yeah.”

You push him back gently so that he lays flat on his back as you prop yourself on one elbow to hover over his face.

“Thank you for caring about me,” you murmur, eyes twinkling in the cool moonlight that filters through your bedroom curtains.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, a smile forming on his lips when you lean into his touch.

A sigh leaves his lips when you bend down to kiss him, tenderly moving your lips between his in sweet motions you hope accurately convey your fondness.

“I love you, Eren.”

The words knock the air out of his lungs. The world comes to a halt as your honest feelings float above his head.

Three little words. Three simple words that carry the weight of the whole universe.

Eren's stuck in place, unable to formulate a proper string of words, the sudden tingle in his chest keeping him from making sense of his surroundings as it echoes throughout his entire body.

Say something, he begs himself internally.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't possess the functions that allow him to.

It's frustrating.

But you're calm. You smile and kiss him again, before turning on your side to sleep.

When he finally regains control of himself, Eren wraps his arms tightly around your sleeping body, pulling you flush against his chest as three little words remain lodged in his throat.

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