#me writing the letter i two different ways in the same sentence-

[ej-artyarts]

Art dump!!!

Trade with @aradiarts

Trade with @/small and angry on twt

Gift for @/gowonnism on twt

Gift for @/Dumbass_Rabbet on twt

Gift for @pyonpyoncircus

[chromimis]

❝ HEAVEN IS BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS!❞

FEATURING : naoya z. , nanami k. , geto s. , gojo s.

ღ — SYNOPSIS : jjk men and how they go down on you.

ღ — TAGS : smut, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, size kink, hair pulling, face sitting, dacryphilla, overstimulation, wall s*x, usage of s*x toy’s & bounds (geto’s), impact play, barely any dirty talk cause their face is in your puss, cursing, all lowercase intended !

ღ — A/N : tagging @nantoji & @thebimbopalace hope you enjoy!!

☆ NAOYA ZEN’IN

“ what’a fucking whore.” naoya croaks out a cruel laugh, his sharp brown eyes zeroing out on your needy hole sucking three of his long fingers in. you feel a cold shiver run up your spine from his humiliating words and fingers.

it’s not very often that naoya takes his time and actually goes down on you— he prefers skipping straight to the fingering part so he can fuck you dizzy. but when he truly takes his time; he’ll focus on making you spell out what you really wanted him to do.

“ n-naoya! i… my clit, please!” you whine; even to your own ears you sound quite pathetic. the devilish man above you decides that he’ll finally pay your clit attention… by giving the bud harsh spanks. “ naoya— st…stop!”

the painful sticky contact catches you off guard completely before it quickly bursts into waves of pleasure. taken aback, you jerk your body away from him. the confusing pleasure-pain complex has you feeling lightheaded.

he stills your jerking body with the same hand sending your clit harsh jolts on your thigh. “ stop, huh? your mouth and your pussy are saying two different things, so make up your mind, dummy.”

the way how he easily dumbs you down with a simple sentence impossibly turns you on even more. you hazily feel your walls clench around his fingers, inviting him and holding his fingers in. your eyes travel down to his face; a slim eyebrow of his is raised and his lips is twisted into his usual arrogant smirk.

immediately, you recognize what’s written all on his face. ‘ explain what you want or we’ll be here like this all day.’ ignorant. the bastard knows what you want, he’s just dragging it out for his own entertainment.

you gulp down all discomfiture, and open your mouth. “ i… i want you to l-lick my clit and finger me, naoya.” still not satisfied. he drums his fingers against the inside of your thigh with the illusion of patience. “ pretty please, n-naoya?”

“ good girl. s’all you had to say.” he starts thrusting his fingers again, even faster than before. his head dips down to your clit to give it a spit filled kiss before lapping it up into his mouth entirely.

you loudly moan, back arching off the bed as he began to write love letters on the expanse of your twitching clit. “ yes, yesss! please don’t stop, naoya!” you shriek out, legs twitching and swaying wildly, only stopping when he delivers a resounding slap on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“ stay fuckin’ still or i can stop altogether.” you hear— feel him whisper harshly against your clit. although, something tells you he doesn’t want to stop. your slick arousal running down the palm of his hand to his forearm is the betrayal of his words, when he works his rhythm up to see your pussy push out that delightful clear fluid.

the pads of his fingers are working a balanced rhythm against your g-spot, and his spit-covered lips are sucking and nibbling lewdly on your clit. a tight but slightly uncomfortable pressure builds in your lower stomach.

“ mmph— m’gonna s-squirt, naoya!” your warning seems to fall on keen ears as he begins curling and thrusting his fingers even more, he hardens the tip of his tongue so it can deliver electrifying licks to the erect bud. “ fuh-fuck! feels s’good!”

your nimble fingers finds home in his bleached locks of hair. he nibbled on your clit abruptly, and that was your end. your body thrashes wildly as clear fluids squirts from your body, his name husky on your lips.

naoya, in all one’s glory, watches the salacious scene in front of him. and once your done coming down from your high, he delivers a few more spanks against your entire cunt. face and chin utterly drenched in your fluids.

there’s a pregnant pause in the room as naoya leans up to his full height. distantly, you feel three fingers tap against your cheek. condescendingly. “ you look so dumb… i want you to squirt f’me again, so get up.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

“ you ready up there, pretty lady?” nanami’s soothing voice calls out from underneath you. his big and warm hands slides up and down on the outside of your thighs in soothing motions; when you fail to give him a quick enough response, he squeezes your thighs firmly before giving a kiss on the inside of them. “ you’re thinking about it too much. i just want you to sit this pretty pussy on my face and make a mess on me, ok?”

his hot breath fans over your cunt while he softly pep talks you as one would do with a child, and your knees slightly wobble with excitement. “ o-okay, kento…” your soft voice stutters out. slowly, you finally sink your pussy on nanami’s warm and awaiting mouth— not missing the way how his pupils dilates with lust.

he holds you still on his face before he captures your wet lips in a drawn out kiss, giving it another and another, only flattening his tongue when your thigh twitches with silent anticipation. “ oh… oh fuck, kento.”

you coo softly, fingers threading themselves in his blond parted hair. your brows furrow along with your jaw dropping when he gives your clit a long suck, it feels as if he’s draining out every last drop of slickness that you push out with his tongue.

briefly, he departs from your wet cunt to spread your lips with his thumbs. “ oh god. you’re soaking for me, baby. and to think you were nervous…” he chuckles softly as he smushes your wet lips together. you whine, the feeling your orgasm slip further from you, and it’s absolute torture.

“ k-kento… please.” he gives you crooked smile for the last time before diving back into your pussy. you feel him bring a sweet kiss to your cunt, departing to admire the twitching bud, then slurping it back into his mouth.

the sensation builds back up once again, and you feel a wave of heat flush over your body completely. you fist his hair for balance before grinding desperately against his face to get that heavenly release you deserve. he groans into your cunt, swaying his tongue in skilled directions.

“ oh g-god, yes kentooo!” a trail of spit dribbles down the corner of your mouth, the grinding of your hips nothing short of animalistic. he gives your clit a few nibbles and your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, with your back arching and eyes rolling far in the back of your skull.

coming down, you pant heavily as if you ran a marathon, thighs burning with sweet heat. you expect nanami to give up and let go of your thighs, but when his tongue showed no sign of stopping his abuse, you forcefully lift your dripping pussy hovering over his face. “ hah, i… i think i’m done, k-kento.”

your words fall on deaf ears. nanami turns his head to the side to give your thigh a series of soft kisses, his hands travel north and south, up your spine and down to the swell of your ass. “ think you can give me another one, pretty lady?” he asks.

it’s rather a demand than a question as he forcefully brings you back down to smother his mouth in your sweet nectar, once again.

☆ GETO SUGURU

geto’s home is basically between your thighs. his hunger for your pussy and reactions is limitless.

“ ‘m putting it back on your clit. girl… i don’t care if it’s too much.” he supports his words by cruelly running the vibrating object on the inside of your thigh— downright grinning at your body spasming weakly in front of him. “ you feel her waving at me? telling me she wants more… yeah, you can take it.”

he ignores your gravelly protests; faintly following the path from your thigh to your clit with the vibrating toy. once he’s finally above his target, he presses the toy against your overly sensitive bud making your body jolt upward.

“ suguruuuu! aah— it huurts! s-stop,” your voice shrieks as hot tears burn your eyes. the bastard is so calculated and cruel, he made sure to bound you to the bed by hands and feet; mimicking a starfish position, so you couldn’t run away.

through all your trembling, suguru reaches down with his other hand, slowly slipping two calloused fingers in your sex and deviously curling them upwards. smiling to himself when he feels your walls trap down and squeeze him in. “ yer’ such’a mess for me. it’s so fuckin adorable.” he coos, the sound is mocking to your ears.

everything is too much. you swear you can feel suguru’s fingers and the vibrator in your throat from how well they’re tormenting your worn body. his fingers are curling and forcing, and the vibrator is a constant reminder that your clit is beyond it’s sensitive point. it’s all just too much. all you wish to do is push him away and get the rest your body screams for— oh wait…

“ suguru!” you dumbly pant out with mascara mixed tears runnning down the apple of your burning cheeks. expression twisted in the face of dragged out slut and his name a mantra on your tongue. suguru gradually builds his speed up while circling the pink vibrator on your erect bud. the lewdly sound of squelching and buzzing is equal like a birds call to his ears. “ ‘m gonna cuuummm!”

“ and here i thought you didn’t want this. tch, you know how i feel about liars, girl.” he tuts. it’s so irritating. but you can’t deny the floating feeling when he talks down at you in such a manner. “ cum for me baby. i know you can take it, heh, feels like your sucking the feeling out my fingers.” he leans down close to your ear and you can’t deny the shiver that rocks through your body.

“ r-ru… please stop. i can’t… i don’t know if i—” your voice cuts off as your legs shake for one last time tonight. the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps as suguru forces this mind shattering orgasm from your fatigued body.

your mouth opens in a silent cry, clear fluids gush from your body and coats his strong forearm, your body arches up, and you swear you can see stars decorate the ceiling above. there’s a pause in the man’s actions, drinking in your cries and whimpers before everything just stops.

suguru switches the vibrator off and throws it across an unknown place in the room. he drags his fingers out your overly drenched sex, beginning to trace them up your stomach— until he notices your body is still. too still.

“ baby, baby? fuck… i overdid it again.”

☆ GOJO SATORU

gojo loves eating you out, especially in different positions; missionary, doggystyle, six-nine, face sitting— he doesn’t care. all that matters is his face is being pressed entirely against your cunt and inhaling your enchanting scent.

your ass is currently sitting on his upper arms, legs extended and crossed tightly over his shoulders. his strong arms holds you up steady against the wall, while his face is entirely pressed and mapping out the spot in between your thighs with no breaks of air.

your practically using his arms as your own personal chair.

“ satoru, t-take a break. your jaw… is gonna lock up— haaa!” you try to plead with the tall man, but no. satoru— not caring about his health, flattens his tongue against your labia before moving up onto your clit, only to tweak at it.

all pleas die down on your tongue as your pushed back once again into that wave of euphoria. your hands fly to his head, your fingers burrow deep in the soft matter.

there must’ve been something in the air tonight, seeing how you’ve been pressed against this wall for two orgasms straight. the muscles in your thighs flex, drawing him closer. satoru hums against your sopping pussy, sending vibrations through your body that has your eyes fluttering and lips trembling.

it’s implausible how well gojo knows your body. every long drag, tongue flick, and outdrawn suck seems to hit you in the all right places possible. undoubtedly making your legs go from limp to tensing, and body aching for more.

but, the overstimulation is all too much. from the ridiculous position obviously highlighting his size kink, and how his tongue has given you mind shattering orgasms. honestly, you don’t know better than to push him away or pull him closer.

“ shit! oh fuuuuck, m’close, m’so close!” you curse out loud, the build up to your orgasm making you act ravenous. with your hands buried in his hair, you grind your pussy more on his mouth, and satoru chases the taste. “ satoru! y-yes, right there!”

you pant out while instinctively clamping your walls around his tongue shoving itself in. he’s more determined than ever, messily tongue fucking you while kneading your ass in his big hands. how he manages to hold you up by your ass only, it’s still a wonder.

the orgasm explodes out of you so suddenly. you close your eyes and throw your head back. your throat burns from the gasp you hold back before you replace it with a pornographic moan. thighs trapping and squeezing hard around gojo’s head while your body is full on trembling.

finally, he comes up from your pussy, chin drenched in your sweet orgasm and his saliva. “ messy girl.”

it’s a known fact that, gojo satoru is hotter when silent. face first in your pussy especially.

[melrodrigo]

friends? - cairo sweet

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summary: A new class leads to some heated feelings

Warnings: Finally wrote an enemies to lovers, they’re academic rivals ur honor, my writing, cairo being a meanie, quite an excessive use of italics

Word Count: 1k+

A/n: wanted to practice some, tell me what u think? do you want a part two?

“Cairo Sweet.” You read aloud, scrolling down your class list for the next year. Winnie —your best friend since childhood—laughs quietly at the sound.

“Funny name.” She mumbles when you quirk an eyebrow at her.

There was no reason to think ‘Sweet’ was a weird surname; however, Winnie, at the moment, was high out of her mind, so you let it go.

“Jacob Weinstein, Sophie Bell, Anthony Smith—god I don’t know any of these people!” You whisper, the slightest bit of anxiety creeping in.

Your first day is tomorrow, and you’ve sworn to yourself not to check who is in your specific class, wanting to try to spontaneously make new friends.

The keyword was try, because god you were bad at small talk.

Even in her mellowed state, Winnie could tell the nerves were settling in. She reaches out and draws you towards her, sitting so you’re facing each other, only a finger away from completely pressing into one another.

She swirls the lollipop in her mouth around, angling your head to look her in the eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine. Don’t sweat it, please? It makes me sad to see your pretty face in distress.” She spoke evenly, making you feel like you had steady ground to walk on, helping you come back to earth. You let out a deep breath, one you didn’t know you were holding.

“You’ve got to stop flirting with anyone and anything that moves.” You tell her, lightheartedly. She had helped taken the edge off, for now.

-

Bless her heart, Winnie’s reassurance lasted about until she left for her own home, leaving you alone with your thoughts in the big lonely house you had to call home.

It takes a book, or maybe two, for your eyelids to flutter shut, comforted by the smell of old paper and the feeling of coarse parchment.

Walking to school is no different. You listen half-heartedly to whatever Winnie decides to babble about this specific morning, your mind elsewhere.

As you near the doors of your next class, Winnie gives you a quick wink.

“Good luck soldier.” She says, smiling an almost teasing smile.

The minute you push open the doors you’re taken by surprise. It was fairly early, and though you expected no one would be there yet, there was a girl sitting smack dab in the middle of the class. Her head rested on her hands, staring blankly at the chalkboard in front of her.

You walk up silently to the desk behind her, far enough so you weren’t in the first few rows, but close enough that you wouldn’t be sitting with all the slackers in the back.

You slip out a book, kick your feet up to rest on the wooden table, and relaxed slightly. She seemed to pay no mind to you, and didn’t seem to want to pay any mind to you.

After a few pages in, you realize you’ve been reading the same sentence over and over again, not quite comprehending the letters that now looked like a random jumble.

There was a sinking feeling starting in your stomach, as if something were twisting and screaming for your attention.

Table or chair, wind or sun—you couldn’t quite figure out what it was that was bothering you.

Your eyes wandered from the page to your surroundings, trying to pinpoint what it was.

You must’ve been making quite some noise, because the girl in front of you turns around, an obvious distaste on her face. The moment you lock eyes you feel it.

Ah, I know what it is now.

It seems almost silly to say, but you could swear, she was the root of your problems.

There was an almost inimical aura about her, the way she acts—the flick of her eyes, the slight clench in her jaw, her rigid robotic posture—was enough for you to cower.

Of course, you had never even talked to the girl, but you could tell all at once, you weren’t going to be good friends.

“Could you stop moving so much? It’s distracting me.” She tells you, in a manner too rude to be a real request.

Her eyes narrow when you don’t answer. You had elected instead to stare at her freckles, ones that littered her face. Not counting your current feelings for her, you couldn’t deny it, she was beautiful.

However, the way she was acting now was more than enough for you to be sure she was not someone friend-worthy, and you ignored her remark.

In a quiet retaliation, you wait till she titled her head back that you scratch the rug beneath you with the heels of your feet.

It creates a faint screeching sound. When the mysterious girl turns back once again, this time with fury in her eyes, you avert your eyes and look around the room, whistling.

You could tell you were pushing her buttons, but oh boy if it wasn’t just the most fun. If it weren’t for the sound of the door opening you’re positive she would’ve gotten up and confronted you.

In walked a short, scruffy, middle-aged white man whom you concluded must have been the teacher.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be in yet. Students aren’t usually thrilled to learn my class.” He said, sounding pleased with himself to have two new focused students.

“I’m quite excited to see how it’s going to go, I’ve never learned with a favorite author of mine.” The girl spoke, this time with no venom in her voice.

The professor let out a strangled sort of squeak, obviously caught off guard.

Great. She’s also a suck-up.

“Well, i’ll be damned. I’ve never met someone that’s read my book— other than my wife. Although I’m not sure if she even read the whole thing.” He said, failing to hide the excitement and disbelief he was surely feeling.

“I thought it was amazing commentary on modern marriages and love through difficult times.” She said, the light from outside lighting her hair up a lighter shade of brown.

Blah, blah, blah. Someone save me.

As if hearing your prayers, another student entered the room, effectively cutting off that godforsaken conversation. More pupils start filling up the class, and even though you can tell the professor wants to keep talking to the brunette, he steps up to the small platform.

“Good morning class, my name is Mr. Miller, and I’ll be teaching you english literature.” He announces, voice full. You can tell he’d practiced this beforehand.

Your plan to make friends, to both your joy and dismay, get crushed almost immediately. There are no group activities or opportunities to even speak to the other people in the class, all attention directed to the front while Mr. Miller scrabbles on the chalkboard.

The brunette’s name, you learn, is Cairo. She manages to be the first person to raise her hand, to challenge Mr.Miller, to question almost every single thing on the board.

And even though that nagging feeling you felt when you first saw her is gone, you let yourself dissociate and simply stare at the girl. If the class was going to be boring, it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye candy, would it?

“Now, who can tell me exactly why Orwell chose to use these sets of words? What do they give to the overall tone of the book, umm-y/n?” Mr.Miller called, looking from his list of students.

You stir in your chair uncomfortably; you have not been listening to him. The air had turned very cold; your heart picking up its pace.

“I don’t know.” You mumble after a while of every face turned your way, impatience in their gaze. You shrink into your seat.

You hear a little scoff from ahead of you, coming from none other than Cairo Sweet.

You bite back an insult, and try to ignore the disappointed murmur that comes out of Mr.Miller.

Before you know it the hour is gone, and the sound of books stacking against one another breaks you out your daze.

Winnie’s waiting for you outside the door, quite creepily, you tell her as you walk together to your next class; a subject that you both have.

“So, how was it?” She nudges you lightly, smiling expectedly.

You flash her a tight lipped smile, then let it drop when you know she’d be able to see right through you.

You grip her arm and lean in closer, checking around you.

“There was this one girl, she was horrible!” You whisper, a new spark of energy flowing through you at the prospect of telling Winnie about it.

“She was the BIGGEST teachers pet, and she said something so rude to me before class, so like we were sitting and…” You continue to recount the story, trying your hardest to recreate Cairo’s glare.

When you get done, you turn to Winnie, waiting for her to join in on your gossiping.

“So am I going to witness an enemies to lovers type of thing right in front of me?” She sighs, exasperated.

You’re so shocked you don’t follow her into the class, stood rooted to the spot at the door.

“Wait, what?”

[popopretty]

[Translation] Asagiri Kafka's afterwords for The Day I Picked up Dazai novel

Normally, afterwords would be the last thing I read in a novel, but as there are not many changes to the published novel this time compared to the movie bonus version, I was able to skim through the text quickly and get to this. And to be honest, despite not being a writer myself, I was so moved by Asagiri's views about writing and his characters that he shared in the afterwords, that I had to sit down and translate it right away.

This is just my crappy translation, as usual, but I hope it gave you a short, interesting look into the author and the characters. And please do not forget to buy the novel if you have the chance.

The translation is under the cut, thank you!

It has been a while. This is Asagiri Kafka.

Have you been enjoying Bungou Stray Dogs?

This novel, “The Day I Picked up Dazai”, is a compilation of the first week’s bonus novel “The Day I Picked up Dazai – Side A” and the second week’s bonus novel “The Day I Picked up Dazai – Side B” for the screening of “Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST” movie (hereinafter referred to as “BEAST”).

Normally, it is difficult to publish a bonus like this, but since "BEAST” and “Fifteen” that were published earlier by BEANS Bunko were originally bonus novels too, "The Day I Picked up Dazai” was also published in the same way, thanks to the efforts of all parties involved in the Bungou Stray Dogs series.

It is the story of Dazai and Odasaku’s first meeting, where Dazai who wants to die, collapsed in front of Odasaku’s place, who is neither a mafioso nor a hit man.

Why are there two different stores, Side A and Sode B? Regarding this question, please read the novel and see for yourself. If you keep in mind that this is the bonus for the BEAST movie, I think you will be able to understand it better.

Let me reminisce a little bit here.

This story was actually suggested to me by Igarashi Takuya, Director of the Bungou Stray Dogs anime.

Shortly before BEAST movie premiered, I was struggling. It was because I was asked to write a bonus novel for movie-goers again. I said “again” because, as I mentioned earlier, BEAST itself was a bonus novel for the Bungou Stray Dogs DEAD APPLE movie. I remembered having a hard time writing it, because I let myself run wild and wrote a total of 190 pages instead of 50 pages as requested.

But I had learnt my lesson after the last rampage. I can’t just write whatever I want anymore. I have to wrap the story in a reasonable length, like a pro should do.

A proper, professional story.

Huh?

My pen stopped right there. I stopped, looked around, feeling lost.

What is a proper story?

The act of writing novel is quite different in character compared to other types of media such as writing manga, anime scripts, or game scenarios. You can say it is almost a different thing. Writing novels, rather than narrating an event, is more like putting the flow of emotions into specific sentences. You use the sequence of letters to create rhythms, create flows, and create emotions. If anything, it might be closer to composing a song than writing a story.

Therefore, you have to decide “what kind of emotion will be put in this novel” from the very beginning, or you can’t start writing. That is the only and absolute rule.

Now, however, that is where the condition of a “proper story” hung over me.

A proper novel, of a proper volume, with a proper content for a bonus.

In other words, a proper emotion.

I searched through the drawers inside my head. For a proper emotion that is waiting to be brought out.

There was nothing but emptiness there.

A professional story teller is one with the skill to move the readers’ emotions. When people find the chance to move their own emotions, they will happily be paying for it. Human-being is that kind of creature.

And writers are ones who create and sell those kinds of emotions: the fear, the excitement, the heart throb etc., those that make you think. It is that kind of job.

It is supposed to be that kind of job.

Yet I became unable to move forward.

A good story is a story that moves people. I know that. Then what kind of emotion I should put in the story to make it "proper"?

How do I find that emotion?

I mean, how did I even write novels until now?

I stood still. My legs stiffened, my knees froze, unable to take even a step forward.

I then tried to at least pretend that I was moving forward, by listening to music, by taking a walk around the neighborhood at night. But as good as the night breeze felt, I didn’t manage to reach a single story that I needed to write.

What if I stayed like this forever, what would I do?

I felt a chill plunging into my back.

Then I realized, that stories, or probably emotions too, are not things you can search for or come up with. You have no choice but to patiently wait for it to come your way. You have no choice but to humbly and earnestly sit and wait for the story’s visit.

I got that, but the "proper 50-page story” still refused to come.

It was not long before one week passed. Then two weeks.

I was doing other work, while keeping my heart’s door open, waiting for the story to come to me.

At that time, I had an online meeting with the anime staff. I casually asked Director Igarashi, “Do you have any story you want to see?”

The Director gave it a little thought then told me, "I want to see the story of Dazai and Oda’s encounter”.

At that very moment, the story rushed in through my door, like a bang. I could hear that sound very clearly.

Two stories. Odasaku, and the two Dazais. A story where they met, and a story where they couldn’t meet. A story of gain and a story of loss. If I can portray the gain and loss side by side, the amplitude of the heart will be doubled and rise up in front of us.

That was a momentary event. Rather than pushing my way forward, I felt as if something was pulling my hand. Before I noticed, I have already finished the stories.

I came to realize.

It is not the writer who searches for the story. It is the story that chooses its writer, and at some point it will come our way. A professional writer is no more than someone with the ability to catch that call.

Also, this is the most important thing: there is no such thing as a “proper emotion”. Because after all, the feelings of other people belong to them only. That is why there is no guarantee that a novel can move others “properly”. However, you can move your own emotions. You know what kind of novel can and how it will move you. If you do, you can write just that. That’s the only way. That is the truly professional attitude. That’s what I thought.

Well then.

It is a little bit off topic, but as we are talking about “stories that come our way”, let’s talk about Odasaku’s first-person narrative.

Odasaku is a special character. For me, he is exclusively a novel character, and I have never portrayed him in the manga.

He first appeared as the narrator in “Dazai Osamu and The Dark Era”, then “BEAST” and now this “The Day I Picked up Dazai”. All are novels. That’s why for me, Odasaku doesn’t live inside the pictures, he lives inside the first-person narrative passages.

He is an eccentric guy. Even if you prepare the place and tell him to speak, he won’t speak to you that easily. His way of thinking is rather unique, that if I write his narrative after writing other characters’ first-person narrative, I would stumble for sure. Odasaku doesn’t speak. He just sits there in silence, while I can do nothing but sitting in front of my blank manuscript paper, trying to talk to him, like “What’s up?”, “Here, here”. However, he is a guy who won’t speak when it is not necessary. Sometimes it goes days or even weeks without him saying a word. Why did such a character come to me...?

During such time, there is only one thing I can do. That is, of course, to stay with him, sit patiently, and simply wait.

Finally he will start speaking. In his unique rhythm, word by word. His words have the power to cut through the world from a certain angle. That special cross-section is full of things I have never seen before and it never fails to surprise me.

And then when he finishes telling his story, he will swiftly disappear. To a dark and quiet place somewhere – probably, I can only imagine, somewhere like a bar. He will sit there calmly and keep his own time to himself. After that, it will be hard to call him again. It is a backbreaking task to me, but in the end, that is the type of guy Odasaku is, and if I am allowed to sound self-conscious, that is Odasaku's charm.

This story was written in such a way. There is a chance that he will come back again. And when he does, I will patiently listen to his voice again.

This story was completed and published thanks to the help of many people: in the Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST movie’s Production Committee, the anime staff, Young Ace’s Editorial Department, BEANS Bunko’s Editorial Department, and the many people who were involved in the publication of the book. Thank you very much. It is all thanks to you that the book was published without any problem this time as well.

Well then, see you in the next story.

Asagiri Kafka.

[soracities]

oooh please tell us what writing rules are garbage I would love to hear more

it's not that they're garbage, which isn't what i said, just that they annoy me and even then what annoys me is not the "rules" themselves (because i do believe they can be useful depending on what you're writing) but when some of them are put out as the only way to write something as if storytelling is a one-size fits all approach, as if you can reduce the millenia-long history of literature into a fail-proof formula that will work for all writing across all cultures with no room for experimentation.

i think there are as many ways to tell a story as there are stories and how you tell something and the kind of language you use will vary depending on what language actually means to you as a writer. hemingway and faulkner both famously took digs at each other for their styles (even though i think there was a lot of admiration between them) but they are also two very different writers with two completely different approaches to language and how they use that language to say the things they want to say: neither is inherently better, or more right, than the other--their approaches were just right for them; if faulkner wanted to write using the "older, simpler, better" words hemingway loved, he would have. if james joyce wanted to depict dublin the way dickens depicted london, he would have done so. but they didn't.

someone once posted an excellent breakdown by jeff vandermeer of the different writing styles employed by different authors which i was silly enough not to save at the time, but in it he gives an overview of the structure of their sentences, and how complicated or "rich" the language is, without pitting one style against the other. and to be honest, i think writing advice that encourages you to examine and look at that relationship with language, and what it holds for you (and others) and why, is probably more helpful than blanket statements like "stay away from ambiguity" or "avoid long sentences" because neither of those actually mean anything--a sentence is a vessel but it's also a tool, like a hoghair brush or a palette knife; the value of its impact is not an essence that exists in and of itself, but entirely dependent on how you use it, otherwise all literature would just read the same way.

strict adherence to a particular form or structure within a language does not automatically make for better writing, especially not when so much literature actually consists of, and is built from, works and authors actively rebelling against those same traditional forms and structures (but which is also not to say that those forms and structures are inherently useless, either). you can say that long sentences "risk distraction" or are "ineffective" but then where does that leave someone like laszlo krasznahorkai, whose prose runs on like some kind of breathless, hypnotic incantantion for 20, 30 pages without a single full stop in sight? or a book like solar bones by mike mccormack which is made up of a single sentence going on for 200 pages? i'm not saying long sentences can't be boring or tedious, but in all honesty so can short sentences--so can any writing that follows the "rules" to the letter. if something is poorly written, the "rules" matter very little; if it's well written, they matter even less.

all that said, telling people to "avoid long sentences" is not inherently a bad thing because i think the core of it is wanting to ensure your writing remains clear, which is a fair point--but it's an issue, to me at least, when it turns into one of those dictums or pronouncements that actively narrows the potential range language can actually have. clarity is not always about length, or whether or not you cull all of your run-on lines--mihail sebastian drew a very nice distinction in one of his novels when he said "[is] there’s a single way of being clear? A notary can be clear, or a poet, but they don’t seem to me the same thing". a long sentence can be clear, but its clarity exists on different terms to a sentence that is five words long, because its relationship to its content is different. and at the end of the day, that relationship is really what it's about for me and it's distinct to each work and its author.

writers use the language and form they use that best allows them to say what they want to say. no one in their right mind is going to dismiss zadie smith for not writing like angela carter or angela carter for not writing like hemingway or hemingway for not writing like beckett or beckett for not writing like mallarmé. robert frost and sara teasdale were no more correct than the beatniks were. i love pared down, beautifully concise prose, but i also adore books that relish in language and all the various, multi-coloured layers of it, books that eschew (traditional) plot and books that question their own form and the reality of that form, and books that tell a story as straightforwardly as possible.

to be honest i think one of the most formative things i came across, years ago now, was this piece by gary provost, which really sums up the whole notion of "writing rules" for me:

this is not about do's or dont's. it even breaks the first writing rule i learnt in school ("never begin a sentence with 'And'"). but what it does is center an intimate understanding of language, where it can go and how it can get there, and what you want that to do. that's where it's at for me!

[iaeriy]

new years // joão fèlix x reader

summary; a unexpected new years you didnt see coming your way..

word count; 2.4k !!

warnings; the usual, spanish sentences & fluff! maybeee a small makeout!

a/n; i had accidentally published only one paragraph half way..but this was requested and i’m also writing this for a friend of mines who’s been wanting a joão fluff😣😣, ALSO. was thinking of making a part two to this, possibly a soft smut.. but that’s if i get the requests & motivation ofc! anywhoo! happy new years to everybody & enjoy! 🎀

“joão you’ve been looking through over and over and over again.. are you sure you don’t need my help?” you said standing against the closet entrance as he shook his head, “si si, i’ll be okay cariño..i just need to find something..” he said as you walked behind him, you stood there as you tapped on his back, “hm?” he said turning around, you blushed heavily at the height difference knowing your heels only give you a bit of a boost up and how he never fails to make you blush with a small “hm?” or when he says it for a longer time. you kissed his cheek as he smiled, “let me help, i’m almost done.” you said as he chuckled pecking your forehead, “cutie..” he said as you rolled your eyes, “come on, clean up your mess and i’ll roam through whatever you have..” you said as he nodded his head. you suddenly found him an outfit as you giggled, “found you something to wear, you’ll match the same color as me.” you said smiling as he smiled, “it’s not bad..” he said as you rolled your eyes, “you struggled like 30 minutes..” you said as he slapped your ass playfully, “shhh, at least i have you.” he said as you kissed his cheek again before walking out to the bathroom.

he walked out all ready as you were currently fixing the bow on your hair, he wrapped his arms around your waist as you flinched. “least tell me you were finished..” you said as he shook his head, he nuzzled his face against your neck. you leaned your head against his chest as he began pecking your skin, “joão..we have to get going..” you said whining as he pecked your cheek, before he opened the jewelry box. you saw a little white box with a gold bow on the top, “what is that..” you said as he looked at you, “something for you..” he said as you blushed, “you didn’t have to get me anything baby..” you said before he shook his head, “shhh, you’d love it regardless.” he said as you giggled before he opened it and he went behind you placing the necklace on you that had the letter “j” in gold. you blushed as you turned around wrapping your arms around his neck, “i love it a lot already, te amo..mucho..” you said as he kisses you, you kissed back giggling before he cupped your cheek trying to deepen the kiss. you pulled away smiling, “come on, let’s go now.. we’re going to be late and your mom will start to think we’re having sex..” you said as he laughed before you walked out the bathroom.

you walked out the room as you saw floki running around the living room finding what so ever, “you’re not going to wear a sweater?” he said as you shook your head, “i’ll be okay..hopefully..” you said as he shook his head chuckling, “okay..let’s go then.” he said holding your hand as you held his back, walking out the house as he locked it. it wasn’t as very cold in portugal..surprisingly and luckily. he opened the car door for you as you kissed his cheek getting in before he closed it and walked to the driver side sitting on his seat, before starting the car. he held your hand on his lap as you smiled, he looked down at your ring, an infinity ring. before acting shocked. “who gave you this ring..” he said as you giggled, “my boyfriend..” you said blushing as he chuckled, “who’s your boyfriend? he must seem so lucky and handsome.” he said as you smiled before rubbing his thigh in circles, “he’s actually right next to me being a baby.” you said as he frowned, “not a baby. i’m older than you..” he said pouting as you giggled holding his hand, it was somewhat colder in the car as you leaned your head against the seat. “sleepy..” you murmured as he looked over to you, “mmm take a nap amor..we’ll be there in about 30 minutes or..maybe an hour..” he said as you widened your eyes, “an hour!? is there traffic right now?” you said as he nodded his head, “just a bit we'll get there before she starts to worry, just rest and take a nap." he said as you smiled lazily before quickly falling asleep on the seat throughout the car drive.

he rubbed your thigh, as you were asleep. your hand was still holding his as he smiled, “you’re so cute when you’re asleep..” he said as you whined in your sleep, he chuckled before looking at your rings yet again, “wake up..” he said as you opened your eyes half a bit, “tired..” you said as he poked your thigh, “come on, we’ll sleep on the way back..” he said as you woke up, you looked at him giggling. “hi handsomee..” you said as he smiled, “my baby..” he said before he parked the car. he looked at you as you looked back, before he cupped your cheek. you closed your eyes as he caressed your skin before kissing you, you kissed back as you giggled before he pulled away, “let’s go, before somebody sees us..” he said as you kept giggling before he kissed your forehead before opening the door getting out the car as he walked to your side of the car, opening the door for you as you got out. you held his hand as you two walked to the house.

“forgot this was your childhood home..” you said as he chuckled, “mhmm..let’s hope my mom doesn’t pull out the baby photos.” he said as you giggled burrying your face into his bicep before you rang the doorbell, you played with his finger as a slight wave of nervousness hit you. he looked at you, “it’s okay..my brother is here and my family, not sure who else..it’s okay tho..” he said as you nodded your head still playing with his fingers before the door opened. “mi niña favorita, ven!” (my favorite girl, come here!) his mom said as she greeted you with a hug, you smiled as joão rolled his eyes playfully, “cada vez te miro, estás mas bonita.”(everytime i see you, you’re more prettier.) she said as your cheeks tinted pink, you smiled, “gracias..”(thank you..) you said as she rubbed your arm before joão held your waist, the small movement making you blush as you two walked inside, “joão ve trae a tú hermano.” (joão bring your brother.) his mom said as he went over around the house looking for him, you were by the tree just looking at the ordaments. one happening to be a ordament joão had made when he was just a kid.. according to what he’s told you. “joão hiso estó?” (joão did this one?) you said as she nodded, “si desde que estaba pequeño.” you smiled looking at the hand writing and the drawing he had made, you put it back befofe you sat down on the couch. “oh se me olvidé de decirte, joão también te deja una sorpresa hoy..todos no sabemos que es pero hugo sabe..” (oh i forgot to tell you, joão has a surprise for you today.. everybody doesnt know what it is but hugo knows..) she said as your eyes slightly widened, “oh, está bien entonces..” (oh it’s okay then..) you said smiling as joão walked in, “està en la cocina.” (he’s in the kitchen) he said as joão’s mom walked to the kitchen before smiling at you, you looked at joão. “que te dijo?” (what she tell you?) he said as you shook your head, “nothing..just about your ordament when you were a baby.” you said as he chuckled sitting next to you, putting his hand on your thigh as he kissed your cheek

after hours and hours of a few games and just chatting and much more.. you and joão were now in his childhood bedroom, you giggled as you saw the photo of him when he was a baby. “lookkk..you’re so cute here.” you said as he rolled his eyes, “pare de olhar para isso!” (stop looking at it!) he said as you giggled before putting it back in the top of his drawer, “oh look your baby pictures againnnn~” you said as he chuckled sitting down on the bed as you grabbed the book, you carried it and sat on the bed before opening it. “you were tiny too..” you said giggling as he shook his head, “and now am taller than you so hush.” he said as you smiled softly before roaming through the pages. “WAIT DONT LOOK AT THAT ONE.” he said as he flipped one page without you seeing it as you flipped it back, “no i want to see it!” you said as you tried to find it again, he shook his head. “no it’s the one were you bully me for it..” he said as you laughed, “the one were you’re standing there?” you said as he rolled his eyes, “yes. and be quiet.” he said as you blushed at his tone, sure he was joking around but.. “make me.” you said as he looked at you, you looked back as he grabbed the small little book from you before he held your shoulders.

“you’re actually going to-“ you said before he pushed you down on the bed, kissing you deeply as you kissed back cupping his cheeks. he continued kissing you as his hands were placed next to your head, towering over you as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closely as he slightly fell ontop of you, you giggled between the kiss as he smiled against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip. your breath hitched as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, you smacked his hand off as you heard footsteps, “s-someones coming..” you said trying to control your breathing before he nuzzled his face against your neck again, he bit your neck slightly as you giggled loudly before his brother stopd there, “gross, cant you two never suck each other off..” he said as you sat up joão looked at you then his brother, “what do you need-“ he said as you were blushing heavily, your dress already slightly showing off your cleavage for some reason. “mom says you need to be downstairs for something, it’s about to start in 8 minutes.” he said as joão nodded his head, before hugo walked out. you looked at joão, “you have lipstick all over your lips..” you said as he chuckled, “wonder why missy?” he said tilting his head as you giggled before he kissed you again, you blushed heavily before kissing back, his hand cupping your cheek, you moved his hand away.

“that’s enough mister..let’s go downstairs now before your mom knows what you’re up to.” you said before getting up fixing your dress as he chuckled, “already in duty aren’t youuu..” he said as you rolled your eyes, “come on!” you said as he laughed at your reaction, “okay okay..let’s go~” he said as you walked out before he followed you downstairs, you saw everybody gathering by the living room as you looked at joão, “is the lipstick smudge noticeable..” you whispered as he shook his head “nuh uh, you’re okay.” he said as you kissed his cheek, “vamos pa fuera que hay una sorpresa mas!” (let’s go outside there is one gift left!) his mom said as you swallowed nervously. joão wrapped his arms around your waist kissing your neck, “i’ll be back..just follow my mom since hugo needs me for something..” he said as you nodded your head, he left with hugo as you walked over to his mom. “y/n! ven vamos pa fuera!” (y/n! come let’s go outside!) she said as you smiled before you were walked outside.

the sun was officially gone and the moon was shining, the white little stars around the dark blue sky as you walked behind the house, which led to a pathio and the whole city. you saw a bunch of flowers, you really didnt know and you didn’t think it as much. a mix of pink, white and purple flowers on the side and in the bushes. you were slowly starting to shiver from the cold as you were so busy looking and in love with the flowers, “de quien son?” (whose are these?) you said before joão stood behind you, “yours..” he said as you blushed feeling his hands wrap your waist, “you’re kidding.. is this all for me?” you said as he nodded his head, “of course they are.. you deserve it mi amorcita..” he said pecking your cheek as you smiled. “these are really pretty.. joão..” you said turning around as your eyes slightly widened. joão kneeling down in one knee with a little box as you looked at him, “words cannot describe how much i love you and want you to be in my life forever after the past years of dating. even through our ups and downs you manage to make me the happiest boy on earth.. so..will you be my wife..” he said as you smiled at him, “yes! i’ll marry you!” you said as he placed the silver ring on you, the small little diamond sparkling as he stood up before you cupped his cheeks. “te amo..” you said before he smiled leaning his forehead against yours, “te amo mas..” he said before you kissed him yet again. “thank you for everything..” you said as he caressed your cheek, you giggled before he picked you up as you heard small “aww’s” and a bunch of clapping from his family, you smiled before he walked over to the hill, “one more little surprise..” he said as you looked at him before he put you down, “look up.. maybe you’ll see a few things you’ve always talked about..” he whispered as you smiled, “fireworks!!?” you said as he hummed in response, “the white ones you always love.” he said as you blushed before a firework was thrown in the sky, he wrapped his arms around your waist yet again before he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“i love you to the moon and back y/n..” he whispered as you blushed heavily, “i love you infinity and beyond.” you said as he kissed you one last time.

[schoenht]

↳ devotion of a contrarian

character: ace trappola

a/n: shout out to natsume who is starving for ace content so i am biting her head and feeding her <3 anyways @kunikame

warnings: fem!reader implications

When was the last time he could remember seeing her smile at him in an unadulterated manner? In a way that he did not have to wonder if there was a secret message behind such a movement? Perhaps it was when they were really little, blissfully unaware of what life was going to prepare for them.

"Catch me if you can!"

"Ace, if I do, you'll act like you weren't playing. I'm faster than you."

"Oh yeah? Prove it! Let's race right now!" The best way teachers could describe him was a precocious boy. The kids around him said he was popular and the fastest runner in their grade. But he didn't care what anyone else had to say: his eyes stayed on his princess.

The princess was not someone to mess with, not because you were scary, but due to the fact that you would not hesitate to make anyone eat dust for trying to challenge you, competitive as you were. Ace could only think about that gleam in your eye, the promise he made of proposing a legitimate challenge for you to conquer.

And conquer it you did, like always. Ace didn't know what went over him, but every time, when he played tag with others, he'd win. But with you, it was different. Unless it was a class sport and they were team captains on opposite ends; that was when they'd tear each other apart in what can only be described as two shooting stars, combined and falling together.

He loved teasing you, loved seeing how you rolled your eyes and walked away from him. However, the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips told him that you liked the challenge. He consistently kept teasing you, the two of you poking and prodding each other to annoy the other. In reality, it was like a subtle action, one in which the two of you were at a mutual understanding for at least a couple of moments.

It was never meant to stay as such, however. You were a princess. He was nobody. He was not a lord or a prince, not a duke or even someone from the High Court. He was a lowly commoner who had gotten mercy from the princess that did not know any better. And yet, even then, he'd always receive letters at night from weary-looking birds that flapped their wings inside his room, gave him his letter, and made a beeline for the exit to sleep.

Each letter was simple at the beginning, merely stating how your day went, what they were teaching at the royal academy, the occasional sarcastic remark about him that was merely an inside joke between the two of them. He always liked these jabs at him, it made him remember that the princess was not just his princess, you were his princess.

The years went by, your letters exchanged. The writing grew more mature based on the eloquent sentences, mixed with a bit of lighthearted taunting. He hadn't told you that he was planning to try out for one of the knights, particularly your own knight. At a certain age, all royals required a knight of their own to be around for a long time and he would be that knight.

He was dedicated to the craft but if anyone asked him about it, he would deny any allegations that it was due to the princess. He only worried a bit when he realized that technically speaking, he did not know you as well anymore. They had only been linked through letters. Was it enough? Would you still cherish him?

These worries just made him train harder until he was officially elected as your knight. It was the most glorious job he could have: protecting you in public, joking with you in private. He loved it. He loved the invigorating feeling of affability that came with the presence of his princess. His princess, the same one who hung the stars in his eyes.

In the present day, he was stuck, however. The slight yearning feeling when he saw her, smiling brightly at other nobles in a way that he would never be able to have. The princess, who only shows your true self to him, but still manages to leave him astounded with the beginning of a teasing taunt on his lips. The princess, who in the gloominess of the winter skies, shows him the beauty of your summer eyes.

Ace was perched by the entrance, his scarlet eyes a mirror for those who merely moved past him. He could not care less of those royals that left the premises, they were not important to him. But he watched as his princess waltzed in the halls. Your dance was something out of a dream, and yet, you just had to be paired up with nobles who danced as if they were going to collapse if they did not move with speed belonging to a maniac. He watched painfully as these people dragged you around and you had to hide how she really felt behind a mask.

It was torture to watch you dance and him not being the one to hold you close.

"You know, you shouldn't be staring so much. You're too obvious." His fellow guard, Deuce, was a model knight, never slacking off no matter who it was for. Ace only served you, no one else so what did it matter to try and protect the others?

"No one's going to notice. For all the other royals care, we're dead to them until they need us to protect them from some stupid assassin."

"Our duty--"

"Is our duty. Jeez, Juice, do you never get tired of repeating the same line over and over again? You're sounding like Riddle."

Deuce squinted at him, crossing his arms. "Our captain is right. If it wasn't for us following the rules, we wouldn't be in the position of protecting the princess."

With his chin in his hand, Ace's eyes wandered back to the princess and how you glided across the ballroom floor. There was something hidden behind those pretty eyes of yours, clearly disdain for your dance partner. He hesitated before he decided to do the dumbest thing he could have possibly done as your knight. He carefully moved over to you, asking for permission to dance with you. "May I?"

"Of course." You said, formally solely to keep up the act of peering eyes from those who were searching for gossip. Of course, what was better gossip than the princess dancing with her own knight?

"You truly suck at dancing." Ace grinned at you as he held one of your hands in his, the other gently on your waist. The waltz he led was one that the two of you fell into so easily. It was the very same one that he had taught you in the whispers of the dark, the silence of the night. The same waltz that encouraged the yearning of a kiss, yet detained by their roles.

Even now, you could not help yourself from making a remark. "Seems like the teacher doesn't know his own course. You taught me this, remember?"

"Ah yes, but unlike you, I can actually do it well. If my waltzing was a class, you would have failed."

"You wouldn't even pass the test to become a teacher."

Your friendly bickering was the norm and if it did not happen, that would usually mean something was wrong. Ace did not remember the last time he saw your tears; nevertheless, the dreaded event happened about a month after the ball. He had been ready to serve you that day, to joke around with you. But he had seen how you isolated yourself, how cold you were. The iciness of your tone could have frozen him and yet he only felt the warmth of his adoration for you.

"What's wrong?" He sat carefully next to you, a hand on your back. He knew your subtle signs of when you were upset, and today it was more obvious. "Don't lie to me. I know when you're lying."

You looked up at your ceiling, inhaling before speaking. "I have been betrothed to someone I do not know."

Ace could feel everything around him shatter. Was it the earth shaking or was it him? Perhaps the earth was preparing to swallow him whole. No, it was worse. He saw a glimmer of your tears on your cheeks as you quickly moved to hide. Your voice held so much pain and anguish that it tore him to shreds, wanting nothing more than to help, to contribute to the joy that you should be feeling. Without your smile, no matter how sunny it was outside, he would only feel the world's darkness. "When did you find out?"

"Yesterday night."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered, carefully moving beside you. His rambunctious demeanor slipped away, in place was the Ace who was always prepared to do whatever it took to see your happiness again.

You could feel your throat burn as you looked at him. "How was I supposed to say it? 'Oh, hey, Ace, by the way, I am getting married to a man I don't know and I have to choose my dress because the king says so, but hey, what's for lunch?'"

As if on cue, the king had ordered for him to go to his throne room, where he would receive a new mission. When he left you behind, his limbs went numb, unfeeling, like his own heart did. Strange. His symbol was that of a living heart that held up even through the worst times. So why was his own being crushed by a void he could never get out of?

His new mission, according to the king, was to protect your soon-to-be husband. Ace's face dropped. He would never be able to do that. His loyalty was to you, not to anyone else. To make matters worse, he would have to protect the man who stole you from him, the man who stole any possibility of him being with you.

But maybe not.

Ace knew it wasn't time for his rounds yet so he snuck into your room from the window. The rain pelted at his face, blinding him; however, he was led to you only through the notion of what he had in mind.

When you opened the window, you gasped. "Ace, what the hell are you doing? It's raining hard outside!"

He didn't waste any time grasping your hands. His were cold and so were yours. In the coldness bloomed a fervor that both individuals hid from each other. His words were rushed too. "Run away with me."

"What?!"

His voice was in his throat, but for the first time in forever, you could finally see the love he had hidden away. The love that he had for you was one you would never obtain in your arranged marriage. It was the same love that he had harbored for you since elementary school. "As a knight, I am to follow orders, no matter if I see fit or not. I am not going to protect a man who I will never respect. My loyalty is to you. It always has been."

"Ace, I--"

"No, listen to me for once. There is no me if you do not exist. Every single star in the universe could collapse, but you will always be the one that I will see. I do not care if I never see the sun, your eyes show me the sun, the moon, and the skies. Not a single flower will ever bloom if it does not have you amongst them. Princess...who am I, if I do not have you to love? I don't fear anything, except living the rest of my life without the feeling you give me. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. Please, run away with me."

His words were the most serious and desperate they ever were with you. How much he loved you all these years came rushing to you at once. You could never be separated from him, not now, not ever. There were so many sacrifices you'd make before you would be apart from him. No other options were good enough for you, because it would always be him. It was always Ace.

There was one choice to make and it was yours.

[emojiglyphics]

Emojis aren’t Hieroglyphs. But they could be. Because I have insomnia.

🌊📰🐍 1     🦉🥞📰⬇️   🦉     🎵🐶📰👕🕛     🐶🐰🐰😩

🌊💡🕛      🦉🚶       🥞📰🐶🐰🐶🤔  

🌊🦘😩        🦉📰🐶       🌊🐰😩

That’s the opening to Poe’s The Raven. It doesn’t represent the story, it says the words. Those are two different things, and I can prove it.

Two presidents ago, when a large segment of the population was still acting like emojis had just been invented, people used to call it “modern day hieroglyphics.”

And I got very “akshually” about it because part of why we’re able to read hieroglyphs is because it is a written language, but emojis, of themselves, are not.

Sure, you can “tell” a story with emojis, but you can’t read them the same way you read a sentence. Everybody who looks at them is going to say a slightly different explanation, whereas with a written language, everybody will say the same exact sentence when reading it aloud (in theory, there are valid exceptions).

It’s not that I’m afraid to put emojis on a pedestal, but rather that I think it diminishes the Egyptian language.

But anyway, it did get me thinking about how it might be possible to actually write English using emojis, treating them like Egyptian hieroglyphs.

Modern languages are generally written with characters that represent sounds, or characters that represent whole words at once. Even in written languages that use both (like Korean and Japanese) generally use separate sets of characters that are either phonetic or logographic.

But Egyptian was a little more free-form. The exact same character can be used to stand for a sound, a broad concept, or a narrow concept, and even a whole word by itself. And the phonetic ones might represent one consonant, or they might represent two, or three! And sometimes, if you have a double or a triple, you can tack a single at the end to remind the reader of what the extra sounds are. So you can’t even save space that way. Go figure. But then again you’re usually not worried about space because there are no vowels! I know that we’ve all been told that the Vulture is an A and the reed is an E, but this is not really the case. These letters are consonants for sounds that English does not have. So we make it kind of a fairy story that lets 1st graders write their name in “hieroglyphs”. It also makes it more convenient for Egyptologists to pronounce them.

But how on earth does this work? With each letter potentially representing so many different things, how do you read it? Well a typical Egyptian word will be constructed like this:

1. A group of glyphs acting as consonants, usually the shape of the glyph is a clue to the sound it makes

2. If needed, some extra single-sound glyphs to act as a reminder if the word happens to have any doubles or triples

3. A glyph which gives a general idea of what the word is probably about

So for instance, if you saw something like: “grp (food)” you’d be like, “guh... guh-ruh-puh, grup-- grape!” Of course, educated Egyptians wouldn’t have to sound words out like that because once you have spellings memorized, reading is basically reading.

So now we come back to The Raven. Let’s say we wanted to respell some words using emojis in a hieroglyph-like system. We want it to be consistent enough that readers can pick up new words, but no system is perfect, especially not for a language with as many trap-doors as English.

Let’s break down the first word in the Raven, “Once”, looking for consonants, concepts, but not vowels.

The first consonant is W. And it’s definitely a consonant and not just the “oo” sound. Don’t believe me? Try making the “w” sound without raising the back of your tongue. Now make a real “w” sound and leave your tongue in place while trying to say “too”. Doesn’t sound right. So now we scan through the available emojis, and we see 🌊 , the wave. Wave starts with a W sound. That can be our W emojiglyph.

The next sound is N. We see  📰 , the newspaper. Perfect.

The final sound is the non-voiced S. So we need to find an S emoji. Some of you may be wondering why we’re not looking for a C, and the answer is because we don’t really care how the word is spelled in English. That’s just the 1st grade swap again. We care about the sounds in the word. And the sound at the end of “once” is S.

We find  🐍. The snake. Love it. The word snake starts with an S sound, and snakes hiss. Very easy to remember.

So now we have 🌊 📰 🐍. But it’s missing something. We just have W-N-S. That could also spell “wince” or “whence” (in most accents). We need to add a determinative, a conceptual glyph to let people know what the word is about and narrow it down. In this case it’s easy because the concept is the number 1.

🌊 📰 🐍 1 

Boom!

Next word: Upon

Little bit of a tricky point here: If we are super strict about the rules, we will have a word which is spelled P-N. That’s just too vague for my tastes. Let’s bend the rules and give ourselves a clue that the word begins with a vowel.

And what rhymes with vowel? 🦉Owl. BOOM. For the moment, the owl is only for indicating vowels at the beginning of the word. I don’t want to deviate from how hieroglyphs work too much. But even just an initial-vowel indicator hugely improves readability. .

Going through the process again, vowel-P-N (downward)

🦉🥞📰⬇️

🌊 📰 🐍 1 🦉🥞📰⬇️ 

Once upon

BOOOOM.

Something else that the rest of my spelling has in common with egyptian: exceptions. Not all the words above have a determinative at the end. Sometimes the spelling alone seems clear enough.

One final thing I want to make clear; for something like this to work in the real world, it would need to be made consistent. Right now, it feels kind of like a sandbox for creating puzzles, but a written language should not, by design, be puzzling. A language is a contract we enter into. You and I agree that Apple means Apple and sounds like Apple and is spelled Apple. Although there’s no shortage of exceptions, that’s what languages are usually trying to be. So although there’s no reason to necessarily pick the Yarn over the Yin Yang for Y, or the Newspaper over the Nib for N, it’s something that a formal system would want to lock down.

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Letter Pt. 2

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! reader

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Homophobia

Summary: Ellie and Y/N are in two very different social groups at school. One day when Y/N's crush is cruelly exposed in front of the whole school, Y/N is brutally shot down. Finally, four years later the two run into each other again.

(I changed it to four years so reader could go to college)

High School AU

Next part will probably be the last part. I'll probably upload it tmr.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

*****

Ever since the assembly my life turned into hell. Ellie dropped me as a tutor and I was placed with some random guy who constantly reminded me of what happened. Kids snickered in the halls. Certain teachers would shoot me looks of disapproval. Kids I've never talked to stuffed church pamphlets into my locker or invited me to church.

It went on for the last few months of my senior year. Whenever any major event took place, Vivian was sure to point me out in the bleachers and remind everyone what happened.

It got to the point where I stopped going to assembly's

At least I had Dina and Jesse. They stood by me through it all. I don't know what would've happened without them.

Whenever I saw Ellie in the halls I dodged her. If I didn't, she'd clearly talk about me to her friends who'd snicker and agree.

That stupid fucking letter made my life hell.

-----Five Years Later-----

My car beeps as I lock it. I glance up at the familiar bright sign before quickly making my way into the supermarket.

Things have changed.

With one look around I can already tell they remodeled the place. I have no idea where any of the shit Dina sent me to get is.

I guess that's what I get for staying away so long. I honestly didn't plan on coming back but I miss Dina and Jesse. I fell horrible staying away all these years.

The store is mostly empty. I mean, who the fuck wants to be out at 11 o'clock at night.

I look around for one of the workers. There has to be someone here.

A small laugh catches my attention.

A long strip of smoke floats up into the air. As I walk closer to the register I start to notice a smell: weed.

" Um, hey. Can you help me? " I ask, peeking over the side of the register.

A head jumps up in surprise, bumping against the top of the checkout stand. " Fuck. " They mutter in surprise, rubbing their would with the hand not holding the joint.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. "

The woman shakes her head, shoving her phone into her back pocket. She snuffs the joint out. " It's fine. " She reassures me, not looking up. " Just don't call my boss, yeah? Fuck, I can't get another write up. Fucking Kaylee with have my ass. " She mutters.

I smile at her disheveled appearance. She obviously wasn't planning on anyone coming in. " Chill, I'm not a rat. I don't care what you do. I just need some help finding some stuff. It's been a while since I've been here. " I hand her the list.

I glance over her hunched form. She nods. Her hair is messily pulled back into a half up bun. A light green vest covers some band tee.

I glance down at the the register.

My heart stops.

" Ellie? "

The womans' head snaps up in confusion. The confusion soon spreads to surprise. " Y-Y/N? Fuck, is that you? " Her poster straightens and her grip on my list becomes visibly tighter.

Ellie's face looks much more tired then in high school. She looks much more mature.

My emotions hit me like a brick wall. Every angry and sad feeling I went through senior year comes tumbling back. Every mocking sentence and rude word hits me like a ton of bricks. It feels like I'm going through it again.

At the same time seeing her activates the old crush I had. While my heart feels like it's being torn to shreds, my stomach does summer saults.

My jaw tightens and I reach for the paper. " I don't need your help. " I mutter. I'll be damned if I let her into my life again. Even if it's just for a few minutes. " I'll go to another store. "

Ellie steps back, holding my paper away. With a head shake, she responds. " What other store? It's fucking Jackson. We're the only store here. "

She's right. We both know it.

" Then...then I'll just get it myself. Give me my fucking list. " I hold out my hand.

" Can we please talk. " Ellie's brows are furrowed. " I- "

I roll my eyes. " I have no interest in talking to you, Williams. " I snap. " Fine, I'll fucking find everything without it. " I begin walking away.

" Fine! " Ellie's voice trails after me. " Look, you don't have to talk to me. "

Fuck, what the hell did I put on that list? Why the hell did I give it to her? Fuck fuck fuck.

I think I'm supposed to get mayo? Wait no. Why the fuck would I need Mayo?

" All you have to do is listen. Please, Y/N. I know I don't fucking deserve it after what I put you through-what I did, but please. Just give me a few minutes of your time. " Ellie begs.

I turn to the girl. She doesn't look like the confident girl I knew years ago. She looks...regretful?

I sigh. " Fine. You have three minutes. "

A small smile of relief flashes across Ellie's features. " Fuck, thank you. "

I nod stiffly, crossing my arms across my body.

" I was a fucking asshole in high school. " Ellie swallows. " I let my friends dictate the way I acted. All I wanted was to be popular. During Freshman year, I got bullied so I started playing a bunch of sports. I befriended a bunch of jocks and eventually a bunch of other assholes who hung around them. I became one of them. I was so fucking scared of losing my place in the group. " Ellie blushes slightly. She glances up at the ceiling, obviously not proud of what she's telling me.

" Anyways, I did a bunch of fucked up shit to stay with them. What I did to you was by far the fucking worst. " Her green eyes meet mine. " And I'm so fucking sorry. I really am. The day of the assembly Vivian came into the room and took your letter out of your sketch book. She didn't tell me what was in it. I knew it was fucked up whatever she was planning, but I didn't think it'd be that bad. I thought she'd just...I don't know...Show a not so great picture you drew off to the school-which is still a dick move-but I didn't know what she was planning. " Ellie nervously wrings her wrist.

" I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I was so cruel to you. So fucking mean. " Ellie looks up at me. " I knew what I was doing was wrong and I still did it. I could've said something to help but I-I didn't. I was a fucking coward and I'm so sorry. I think about it all the time. What if I was you? What if it had been me? What if I had been outed in front of the school? What if people treated me the way they had treated you? What if I treated me the way I treated you? I was so scared people would find out I'm gay. I wasn't ready for people to know. I guess...I guess I thought that if the attention was on you, I could continue sneaking around without people finding out. I can't hide forever though, Y/N. And these past few years I've realized just how bad you had it. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I understand if you can't. Honestly, if I were you, I fucking wouldn't. " Ellie's face is red from embarrassment and shame.

She was scared. She was scared of what people would think if they knew she was gay.

" I was scared, Ellie. I was so fucking scared. I didn't want anyone to know either. I never planned on giving you that note. It was a stupid crush. Even though I was scared, I never would've done that shit to you. I never would've talked shit about you in front of my friends or mocked you in public or at games. " I'm so torn. I don't know how I feel.

Ellie nods, closing her eyes. " Fuck, I'm sorry. "

" I don't hate you Ellie. "

" You don't? " Ellie's voice is surprised.

I shake my head. " No. I just don't know if I can trust you. You hurt me so much. "

Ellie thinks for a moment. " Maybe there's a way I can make it up to you. "

I cock my head to the side, slightly skeptical. " How? "

" How long are you in Jackson? " Ellie leans against a shelf.

" About a week, why? " I'm supposed to be hanging out with Dina and Jesse all week.

" Perfect. Give me five days. I promise, I'll fix what I fucked up. If I can't, you never have to talk to me or see me again. I swear to god I will never talk to you again if you want. Just give me a week. " Ellie's gaze is unmoving, much more confident then moments ago.

Should I trust her? What if she does something? Well she did just bare her fucking soul to me.

With a sigh I reply. " Fine. I'll give you a week. "

Tag list: Idk if I missed anyone. Sorry if I did. Lmk if I did or if u want to be tagged in the next part.

@octavias-next-meat-bite @ximtiredx

[zombie-bait]

The Death of a Vampire

Lestat as a protagonist just works so incredibly well and a very significant aspect of that is him being Anne Rice's self-insert. Lived experience can be critical when it comes to writing a good story and many memorable novels will feature elements of that. Anne is built different, though. Lestat (book 2 onwards) is basically Anne's journal for dealing with her grievances and trauma, which, on its own, is a very questionable method of writing. More often than not, it causes him to be characterized inconsistently between books because Anne's own opinions have changed. But it also makes him so real.

You follow his struggles with religion, you see him yearn for forgiveness from a god that has seemingly abandoned him a long time ago and you feel it. The passage I will never get over is in the early chapters of The Vampire Lestat, when Lestat has a breakdown over his mother's (and frankly his own) mortality. He struggles and he cries and he can't get out of bed because there's nothing he can do. Eventually he starts to live again, forces himself to.

But.

"I wandered into the church and on my knees I leaned against the wall and I looked at the ancient statues and I felt the same gratitude looking at the finely carved fingers and the noses and the ears and the expressions on their faces and the deep folds in their garments, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. At least we had these beautiful things, I said. Such goodness. But nothing natural seemed beautiful to me now! The very sight of a great tree standing alone in a field could make me tremble and cry out. Fill the orchard with music. And let me tell you a little secret. It never did pass, really."

I think about those last two sentences a lot. I think about them even more since Anne Rice passed away.

Every page of Interview is spent talking about death and yet (imo) it's only in TVL that you really feel it. Louis in book 1 welcomes death quite readily because, besides his toxic boyfriend and their traumatized daughter, he doesn't have much to live for. He's basically given up by the time Lestat appears. The greatest torture, to Louis, is the knowledge that he can live forever on the suffering of others.

But Lestat is the complete opposite. He wants to listen to music, to explore Paris, to perform on any stage that will take him, to embrace the man he loves and to send his ailing mother letters of his accomplishments. Death matters most to those who are desperate to live and god is he desperate. He's haunted by his mother's sickness, by the wolves on the mountain that threaten to end his life before he's even lived it, the witches place that reeks of meaningless suffering. And in a way, the dark gift provides opportunity to escape that. But it is still death. It takes away Nicki in a very literal way and takes away his mother in a more personal one. Magnus, like death, chose Lestat arbitrarily. He sees the cellar of blonde corpses and knows that he was only one of dozens to meet an untimely death with no explanation.

Lestat also really wants you to know that he is, truly, a good person. He must be. He swears to only hunt criminals and then goes back on that two pages later. He reshapes stories to present himself as the noble protagonist and the audience has no choice but to believe him. He wants, desperately, to be loved for all that he is, man and monster. He wants to be the hero.

He's this awful, fascinating, very human man so clearly born out of the internal struggle to find meaning and love in a cruel, unpredictable world we all tend to share. He's made up of incredibly basic and powerful human desires hidden behind a mask of bravado and I can't recalling seeing another protagonist like him.

(Quick mention: This isn't some kind of "wow Anne Rice is an incredible author who can do no wrong" piece. She's written a lot of fucked up and bad shit that cannot be easily brushed over. But I don't think I'll ever get over reading TVL for the first time. To read someone bare their soul in such a way creates a truly unique experience. A lot of characters in a lot of pieces of media face death, but it's rare to see a character face mortality in such a personal way.)

(Also odds are I've written similar posts to this before but shhhhh these sad gay vampires are all I have)

[minhosbitterriver]

Hi green! Since you've left me some lovely requests, I thought I'd leave you one! I'm in love with the friends to love trope, so if you could do something like that with Felix, I'd eat it up. I'm thinking of something like the reader (gn please) has a really hard day and decides to go to Felix, but then it starts raining, so when Felix opens the door, reader is soaking wet and distressed. You can do anything from there! Again, I love your writing, so anything you come up with will be undoubtedly amazing. Hope you're doing well! <3

everything is you.

other works by green.

pairing: felix x gender neutral reader

content warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of parental abandonment years prior, mentions of recent death of a parent, smoking weed, daddy issues

rating: 13+

summary: through every single hardship you'd ever endured, felix always waited for you, ready to bring you into the safety of his embrace. so when you're stuck amidst the complicated emotions following your father's recent passing, the first and only person you sought for comfort was your best friend.

Echoes of the youth you’d spent in this house haunted the eerie hallways of this vacant home. Every inch of this familiar place has remained the same, though you certainly haven’t. Sitting on the front porch floor, a joint you’d just rolled burning between your fingers as you watch the rain pour outside, a vacant expression on your face as you decided on what to do. The initial plan was to walk towards your best friend’s house, which was a short walk away but the sky seemed to have other plans. And so you remained there, stuck sitting beside a box full of letters addressed to you, but that had never been sent – all written by your father. 

Too many times you had driven past him on your way to visit your best friend, making the point to keep your eyes on the road in case your father sat out front like he sometimes tended to do. The two of you had never been on good terms, especially since your mother left when you were a teenager to chase another man who’d made empty promises to her, and your father didn’t know the first thing about caring about another human being. It wasn’t a surprise to anybody when you left without a word the very minute you were old enough to do so and never returned. And yet, here you were, years since you’d gone – a box of letters he’d written to you though never sent, and you knew you didn’t have the nerve to open them alone. 

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips, pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans for what was possibly the millionth time only to be met by the same symbol of no signal available for you to message Felix, the aforementioned best friend – the boy you’ve known since you could barely form a sentence due to living so close to each other. He was the kind of guy who would smile a little bit wider whenever his eyes landed on you, the one to allow you to lash out when you were angry despite how sensitive he was because he wanted you to feel better, the one to remember your birthday and plan something intimate and special even if nobody else bothered, the one to pay attention to the little things you would mention in passing and always remember – he was very much in love with you, had been for a very long time and you were well aware. But he never mentioned it directly, and you decided that you wouldn’t bring it up either because you knew that the reality of this lifetime is that you were made to destroy and hurt while he was made to heal and rebuild and you couldn’t risk having him be the next victim.

In moments like these, while alone with your thoughts that slowed down from the flower you smoked that still seemed to suffocate you all the same, you wished things were different. If only you were a stable human being, good enough for him to safely lay his head on your shoulder the way a lover would do, someone who’s sane and loving and all things good – all of which you were not – then perhaps he would be sitting beside you already, encouraging you to open the first letter while being ready to kiss your forehead at the first sign of distress. It’s selfish, and you knew, but as the screen of your useless phone remained blank you couldn’t help but wish his name would pop up. 

Your mind swirled with thoughts that made it harder to breathe with each passing second. The box of letters beside you. No signal. Felix’s smile. Childhood home. Your mother leaving. Your father’s cold demeanor. Yourself.

Not willing to wait for the rain to end, but also not wanting to dwell in here any longer, you grunted as you put out your joint and walked inside. A plastic sheet that covered one of the cushioned chairs in the living room was the only thing you took before making a b-line back outside. You lazily throw the sheet over the box, struggling only slightly to lift it before leaving the shelter from the rain, instantly drenched as the it offered no mercy. Barely able to keep your eyes open, you followed the same path you’ve walked a thousand times throughout your life, the pull of your best friend’s comfort and warmth being the true source of your rush as your pace quickened.

The neighborhood was the same, with the same married couples still residing in them – though most of their children were gone, already having moved on in their adult lives as their parents awaited for the next holiday to see them again. Everywhere you looked, a memory tied you to Felix as though his entire, beautiful being had been burned into your consciousness forever. Perhaps he had been, not that you would complain about it one bit if that were the case.

Felix’s childhood home came into view at last, and you all but sprinted clumsily with the box in your hands as your mind, body and heart yearned for his strong arms around you. Your heart was pumping blood through your veins harshly by the time you’d made it to his front door, dropping the box at your feet before banging on his wooden door. The air was having a hard time reaching your lungs and you realized that you were crying now that the rain was not hammering onto your skin – flashbacks of a similar scene played in your head, your teenage self distressed after you’d read your mother’s goodbye letter and your grief engulfed you and sent you down a spiral while the scene of your father sitting on the dinner table reading his newspaper and sipping coffee as you screamed at him to see you and your broken heart left at the departure of your mother. Your fists shaking as you gave up, falling onto your knees in despair just as the door swung open. 

A wide-eyed Felix stood before you, shocked to see you in such a state and so late at night. It only took him half a second to react as he practically threw himself onto the ground and pulled you into the safety of his embrace despite how drenched you were. A sob you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back escaped your lips, and the gravity of the fact that you were officially alone dawned on you. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t describe and all you could truly focus on was the fresh scent of his blueberry shampoo and vanilla soap on him as you briefly realized you must’ve caught him getting out of the shower. 

“Hey, hey,” Felix attempted to pull away slightly to speak to you but you tighten your hold on his torso, not quite ready to let go yet. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.”

You said nothing, silently cursing yourself for being so weak – crying over a man who had never even smiled in your direction. 

“Felix, darling, what was all that noise?”

The sound of Felix’s mother’s sleepy voice caused you to jerk away from him, cheeks heating up in shame. You were on your feet in a second, bowing deeply to the kind woman who’d supported you through all of your hardships. 

“I– I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking when I came here, making all that noise. I just–”

“Nonsense,�� Mrs. Lee waved you off with a concerned smile. “I’ve been telling you for years that you’re welcomed here at any time of day. Come in, darling, you’ll catch a cold. Come!”

Felix moved out of the way so that you could enter his home, pushing you away when you tried to grab a hold of the box you’d carried through the rain so that he could take care of it himself. You knew that you must’ve looked deranged, but there was no hint of judgment in their eyes as they watched you take your shoes off at the entrance. Mrs. Lee guided you into the living room by the shoulders despite the fact that you knew your way through the house like the back of your hand. The tenderness of such a simple touch made your sight blurry with tears that you refused to release this time. 

“Darling, go take a warm shower and Felix will bring you a fresh towel and some spare clothes for you to change into, deal?” Mrs. Lee raised her brows as she waited for your response, you merely nodded. “Good, have you eaten?”

“N– No.”

“I’ll heat up some leftovers from tonight’s dinner, then.”

With that, she rushed over to the kitchen. You remained in the same spot though, letting the rain drip onto the floor as your body trembled from the chill the weather outside had instilled into you. Felix gently dropped the box on the couch, paying no mind to the wet plastic sheet that was still covering its contents. 

“Y/N,” Felix said, voice low and warm. “You told me you were coming tomorrow in the afternoon. Why are you here?”

“I lied,” you sighed defeatedly. “I just didn’t want you to worry too much and I thought that I could– I thought that I would be able to go in there myself. And I really was fine, really…until I found that stupid box.”

He glanced back at the box behind him, sighing. Felix didn’t say anything, choosing instead to lead you towards the second floor and into the bathroom he typically shared with his sisters, closing the door behind you. 

While standing under the scalding hot water in the shower by yourself, you couldn’t help but scold yourself at the lack of impulse control. You could have knocked like a normal person, instead you simply decided that you would bang on his door as though your life was in danger which in turn startled everyone in the house and probably the neighbors as well. The thing that had you so upset was not something that couldn’t wait until tomorrow, it wasn’t urgent at all. It was just a dumb box filled with letters that you’d never received while your father had been alive. So dramatic, you chided. 

Just when you were about to shut the water off, you heard the bathroom door open quietly while you assumed Felix gathered your wet clothing and replaced them with fresh ones along with a towel. Once the door closed again, you drew the curtains back to be proved right. You dressed quickly, not bothering to brush your hair as you made your way back down and into the kitchen only to find that Mrs. Lee was no longer there, instead you found Felix looking for chopsticks for you to use while you ate. 

“I told my mom to head to bed,” Felix informed you without looking up, placing the chopsticks on a napkin beside your warm plate. “What’s in the box?”

Your feet felt heavy with each step you took closer to your meal – to him. You leaned your lower back against the counter, gingerly taking the plate into your hands. “My father wrote me letters. A whole lot of them. But he never sent them.” 

Felix’s eyes remained on you, taking his place right beside you, leaving only a hair’s distance in between. In order to not get distracted by this silly fact, you shoved your first bite into your mouth even though you didn’t feel particularly hungry. He didn’t seem to notice, only waiting patiently like he always did. 

“The house hasn’t changed a single bit since I left,” you swallowed, voice thick. “I could tell exactly where he spent the majority of his time– the same spot at the head of the dinner table where he left stacks upon stacks of newspapers he never did bother to throw out, the reclining chair right in front of the TV where his weight had left its mark over the years, and his room that was a complete mess of clothes and books and papers and everything he ever used was thrown onto the ground.”

Another bite. Felix still said nothing. 

“My room was left intact,” you continued. “It almost felt like time had stopped when I left, and the clock only continued when I walked in again. It was clean– my father kept his own room in chaos but cleaned my room. Not a speck of dust anywhere, and I checked.” 

A third bite and then you set the practically full plate back onto the counter, you didn’t have the appetite to finish it. Felix wordlessly cleaned the area and left your plate in the fridge. 

“I think the only thing that changed there was that all the family photos were taken down.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as your breath becomes slightly shaky. “Not even put away, he just– took them and smashed them on the floor and left everything there. I can’t help but wonder just how long ago that was, and how many times he turned a blind eye to the broken glass as he stepped over them.

And then I went down to the basement, and everything was pretty much the same except for this stupid box. All of the letters with my name and address written on the envelope and I just– I lost it. I don’t know what to think anymore, of him…of anything.”

Felix’s arms suddenly wrapped around you tightly, surprising you for a second before you returned the gesture. Your heart was beating erratically in your chest despite this not being the first time he’d hugged you, but this one felt like it did when you were a teenager. It was strong, yet gentle; protective, yet freeing. Although it’d only been a few weeks since you’d seen him, you missed him deeply. You had left town, and he remained here with his family and his happy childhood memories – though you visited often and he did as well, but still; you missed him deeply. 

“I think that your father loved you in his own twisted way,” Felix murmured in your ear at last, arms tightening around you. “He was hurting, too. And you still didn’t deserve any of the things he did and didn’t do to you, because you were hurting and you were the child. But I think he loved you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, hands shaking as you gripped Felix’s blue hoodie. 

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ☀️

The rain had stopped after a while, so you and Felix took advantage of that and sat on the roof right outside his bedroom window like you’d done a thousand times before. Overlooking the neighborhood in the dead of night as you lighted up the freshly rolled joint between your lips, inhaling the comforting flower before exhaling its smoke. The weight on your shoulders and mind was lifted as your anxiety dulled and your body relaxed. You passed the joint to Felix, who mimicked your actions. 

Your tears had long since dried, and the box had been left in the living room as you decided not to look at them tonight. Instead, you focused on the serene atmosphere that surrounded you and Felix like a warm hug. He passed the joint back to you, though you didn’t immediately bring it up to your lips again, letting it burn slightly between your thumb and index finger. Your eyes slowly found their way to Felix’s that had already been on you, analyzing you in the same way he had always done. You couldn’t tell if the glitter in his eyes were a reflection of the stars in the sky, or if they were truly his though they looked enchanting anyway. His smile widened when he noticed you meet his intense gaze and your heart burned at the sight, thinking back to your train of thought back on the front porch of your childhood home right before you’d come here. 

After all of these years, all of the tears, grief, arguments, and lashing out – he remained beside you, eyes on you as if you’d placed the sun in the sky yourself. You would never understand how he could stay by you when everyone else had left, there was nothing special about you other than your cutting tongue and vengeful heart. Though you couldn’t help but soften at the sight of him and his optimistic way of seeing the world. He was far too good, too pure for you or anyone else. And yet he sat there, subtly inching closer to you though you had still noticed. 

Lee Felix was in love with you, and had been for a long time. You were well aware, and had been for a long time. Though he never mentioned it directly and you decided that ignoring this would protect both you and him; but after all of this time, perhaps you’d maybe fallen in love with him too. It would be impossible not to let your own smile widen at the sight of his brown eyes watching you with so much genuine gentleness, to not feel your heart quicken every time he touched you, to not think of him when your bed was empty and cold, to not wish with every aching cell in your body that you were not as damaged as you were so that maybe, just maybe you would have a chance of deserving such a rare soul. 

Despite knowing all of this, you allowed him to move closer to you as the joint became smaller and smaller with each pass between the two of you. Eventually, your arms and legs were touching, and you could practically feel Felix’s erratic heartbeat. 

“What are you thinking about?” You surprised yourself by asking him, pointedly staring at the streetlamp directly in front of Felix’s house. His breath hitched slightly, though he didn’t say anything for a few moments. 

“I don’t know,” he eventually mumbled with a half-shrug. “Everything, I guess.”

“What is everything, Felix?”

His eyes met yours, wide with curiosity as he attempted to read you. Your own veins were pulsing with adrenaline from your boldness, though somehow you weren’t as mad about it as you thought you would be.

“I– I’m not sure.”

“I don’t believe you. What is everything?”

This was everything against what you’d done since you noticed his feelings for you, this was not keeping a safe distance. But you couldn’t help it, it was as though your heart had finally gained control over your brain and was pushing you to confront your own feelings for the first time in years. Because the truth is, your heart did burn for him in a way you couldn’t explain; it fluttered and skipped a beat a thousand times whenever he was around and it had been for as long as you could think back. You didn’t deserve him, but he thought the world of you – so maybe that was worth something. 

“Everything is–” Felix’s eyes searched yours, his breathing picking up slightly. “Everything is you.”

If your heart either exploded or simply stopped beating, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least. His words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the smile that snuck onto your face. 

“Good.” You stated, putting out what little was left of your shared joint on the roof before moving to straddle him, and you might as well have pushed him off and onto the ground before with the way the wind seemed to have been knocked out of him. His eyes were so wide, so surprised yet so excited. “To me, everything is you, too.”

His eyes scanned yours for a moment before he released an incredulous, airy chuckle. He didn’t get the chance to say anything, however, as your lips met his for the first time and the world melted away.

word count: 3.3k ☀️ posted: 12 • 05 • 2023

💬 a note from green;

Thank you so much for the request! I truly, truly enjoyed writing this for you. I just sat here and the words just kept flowing and flowing and I just couldn't stop, so I hope you enjoy it! (Side note though: I'm sorry if this a bit darker for your taste, I read it back and was like 'yikes, didn't mean to start off like that'.)

Anyway! I appreciate your compliments, always. Your feedback is something I genuinely look forward to every time I post, and so I'm happy that we're mutuals out here supporting each other because honestly – you're a magnificent writer as well, so I can promise that every time I think of something new for you, I'll grab my phone and tell you all about it no matter where I am!

Again, I hope you enjoyed this and thank you!

🪲 TAGLIST !

# @grandpafelixx

[rosetta-j-stone]

Buckle up guys, gals and non-binary pals, it's BoJere Tour Bus Renuion time <3

"...Bojan was tentatively asking me if I would join him on the tour bus" - Kris arches an eyebrow as he reads this part of the latest interview with Jere on his phone screen.

Tentatively? Seriously? Since when has Bojan done ANYTHING tentatively? Bojan is about as tentative as a- as a puppy. Which is why Kris has to watch him and "Nine Lives" Jure like a hawk.

Not for the first time, Kris is glad he doesn't have pets.

Turtles might be OK, he supposes.

Nace seems to think so.

Anyway, he's clearly going to have to talk to Bojan about this.

****

"Hey, Bojan, remind me: what are the rules of this tour?"

Bojan rolls his eyes. Like Kris doesn't know. Like Kris didn't write them. Like Kris didn't give him two copies (just in case). He shrugs.

"Let's see...what happens on the tour bus stays on the tour bus?"

Kris chucks a pillow at him. He ducks.

"That is the exact opposite of Rule 5 and you know it"

Ugh, he's in one of those moods. Bojan briefly considers throwing the pillow back, but decides against it.

"Rule 5? What were the other 4?" He grins. "Wait, don't tell me. They're all the same rule, just with different names."

Kris refuses to take this bait, unfortunately.

"Rule 5 is - as you very well know - No Sex On The Tour Bus"

How is he capitalising every letter of that stupid rule just saying it, Bojan wonders.

"Right, and why are you bringing up that rule with me? Shouldn't you be reminding...ooh, I don't know...your fellow guitarists of that one?"

Kris folds his arms and Bojan knows he shouldn't push it but he can't help himself.

"Or does it not apply if both parties are band members? Kinda discriminatory Krisko. Does this mean I have to start sleeping with Jure again?" He grins, gives Kris a suggestive look. "Or-"

Kris gives him a don't-even-think-about-it look in response - spoilsport - and thrusts his phone at him.

Ooh, it's an interview with Jere...

Ah.

OK, Jere has obviously said something.

Yep. Kris has highlighted it. Of course he has.

He reads the offending sentence, rereads it, laughs, looks up.

"Oh come on Kris, this is just Jerč-Jere messing around. He probably said it because he knew it would get attention. Although" he feels obliged to point out, because joke or no joke this slander will not stand: "it was actually HIM asking ME if he could-"

Kris sighs the deep sigh of the terminally exasperated.

"Look, I don't care who asked who, your boyfriend-"

"-NOT my boyfriend actually but do carry on"

Kris doesn't even bat an eyelid.

"Whatever he is, he's NOT coming on the bus. In EITHER sense. There's barely enough room for the five of us as it is"

He gestures to the admittedly cramped living quarters they've somehow got used to sharing. Bojan can see his point, even if he is making it in the most insufferable way possible. He sighs.

"FINE. No Sex On The Tour Bus"

Kris looks at him.

"Promise?"

He's such a Boy Scout sometimes. Bojan can't resist saluting as he replies.

"Yes, Mr-If-I-Can't-Get-Laid-Neither-Can-Anyone-Else, I promise"

And he runs off before Kris can find anything else to throw at him.

****

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Hey

BikBik: Hey

BikBik: What happen?

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Kris read your interview. I had to promise him I wouldn't smuggle you onto the tour bus.

BikBik: : (

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: I know, it sucks. No reenacting this for us

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: <video file: UKTourChaChaCha">

BikBik: <gif: "SadDavidTennant">

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: <gif: "SadDavidTennant">

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ...

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Anyway, I think we're both off Krisko's Christmas card list this year.

BikBik: ...

BikBik: OK but still on Christmas present list, yesyes?

BikBik: Still on track for visit from...Grandfather Walrus?

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ...Grandfather Walrus?

BikBik: Is not correct? I put "Dedek Mrož" into Google Translate and-

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: OH

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: OMB

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: X D

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: DEDEK MRAZ

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: BRB DYING OF LAUGHTER

BikBik: ...

BikBik: ...

BikBik: F**k you Bojan X D

****

Jere is laughing as he puts his phone down, he can't help laughing whenever he interacts with Bojan, but he's soon serious again.

Yes, he ABSOLUTELY said that to that reporter because he knew they'd eat it up.

But...

He was hoping that he and Bojan would-

Well.

You know.

But Bojan has made a promise, and his Bojan doesn't break promises.

So Jere is going to have to...get creative.

He grins.

He's always enjoyed a challenge.

[chicken-fifi]

Hong Woojin (Bloodhounds) Headcanons | Him as a Boyfriend

Pairing: Hong Woojin x Fem!Reader

Requested by anons: (1) Hi! May I please request jealousy and confession headcanons for Kim Geonwoo and Hong Woojin for a fem reader? and (2) Hey! Can you please write general relationship and nsfw headcanons for Hong Woojin and Kim Geonwoo for a fem!reader?

Genre: angst, fluff, NSFW

A/n: once again, i combined these requests since they were pretty similar and i did this for the jang hanseo and jang hanseok headcanons that went up last week. like the previous headcanons of this nature, please refer to this A-Z as it is mentioned quite a bit. happy reading!

Tunes: 3am and i'm still awake | a taylor swift playlist. by vante

Dating

Back at it again with my A-Z references

Woojin honestly tries to show why he’s the best man for you with the dates

He listens to everything you say you like and don’t like just to plan the perfect dates

He wants you to know and realize that he hears you

That he will always hear you no matter what

He also inadvertently takes the chance to show off just how domestic he is when he cooks

Even though that wasn’t his initial intention when he asked if a dinner date at his house would be fine rather than going out to a restaurant

He may a flashy boxer, but he does prefer the more domestically intimate moment that come with dating you

He can be a rough and stiff when you first start dating but that’s mainly because he doesn’t really know how to not be a huge flirt

Because he doesn’t want to be a huge flirt

He wants to be serious and come across as genuine

If I had to pick a way to describe this relationship, I think I would go with these next words

You fell first

But he fell harder

SO much harder

Confession

You can’t convince me this man isn’t afraid of you rejecting him

Which is why he’s in the same boat as Geonwoo when he confesses to you

I don’t know where all the confidence and rizz (yep, i said that) goes

But it is nowhere to be seen

Nowhere in the tristate area

He restarts time and time again trying a different sentence starter each time

Probably has flowers that he’s wringing to death from the nervous

The poor things are getting worse

Eventually asks for a minute as he take a deep breath to compose himself

Letting out a quick breath and jumping in place

Petals falling off the flowers as he does so

“Okay!”

And he says it just like that

No fluff or space filling word

Just goes for it

And the smile on your face as you giggle is the answer he needs as you take his hand

Jealousy

Jealous, jealous, jealous man

Frfr

Literally glaring at other people who approach with clear intentions of not simply wanting to complement you or catch up

Doberman boyfriend?

German shepherd boyfriend?

One of those two

He’s glued to your side the entire time

Silent as a wolf stalking its prey

He’ll pull you to the side eventually in a more private area of wherever you’re at and talk it out

He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable about it

But he also want to make sure his feelings are valid and he’s not crazy

Communication is key here though

Especially since most the time with some guys you immediately just motion to him and introduce him as your boyfriend

Stressing every syllable and letter in the title

Enough to get the message across on your own

NSFW

Dom!

Still a pretty soft dom though in my head at least

He’s powerful and more often than not you will be limping and have some bruises from his tight hold on you

Sorry!

He can get pretty rough too

He wants to show off

Give it to you like no one else

Make it magical everytime

When you fuck,

You FUCK

Wouldn’t be surprised if he slipped in some dirty words

Def a doggy man

Perfect view of your ass and how it jiggles as his hips come into contact with it

Loves when you suck him off too

Might be one to tease you in public too and look all innocent/as if he’s not doing anything

You’ve also done it in the locker rooms of the gym when it’s empty

Or the dressing room after a match

Okay

I done now

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Midnights vs Daylight

Thoughts on TS Midnights title and promotion (This will tie into my ‘Thoughts on the Eras tour’ theories)

I think we can all agree that folklore and evermore were pandemic products. If there had been no pandemic, it stands to reason that Lover would have led directly into Midnights (especially with the way the re-recording process has inspired this album). And that’s interesting because Lover was originally meant to be titled Daylight.

So instead of getting an album called Daylight, we now have an album called Midnights, the polar opposite. Could that be because daylight never came after all and she’s stuck in an eternal night?  

Midnights announcement and visuals

In the midnights announcement on socials, we got two images: the cover of Taylor holding the lighter, and the image under the announcement text from the promo photo shoot. Immediately, these two do not look like they are front and back of the same album. The cover image on white background has a modern classy but glamourous tone to it, and the announcement photo has a depressed 70s vibe. So the duality here is not hidden, and that confused me at first, but I do think this is deliberate and once we got the Anti Hero mv, it became clear why:

Midnights is about hiding your true self in favour of protecting a beloved public image and Taylor has perfected this to such a degree that her public and private personas have become two separate entities battling each other until they finally learn to co-exist, as we see in the two Taylors in the mv. One is the quiet contemplative one, the other is the loud party girl. One writes the songs, the other is the performer. One is the trusting people pleaser, the other knows that everyone will betray her. These two Taylors and their differences are the overarching theme of the video, and that theme carries over into the dichotomy of the midnights album style: Private vs public

Front: She’s wearing her glittery stage make up here so while we can’t see her outfit, I do think this is meant to be the performer Taylor. She’s holding the lighter open and looking at the flame, which to me feels a bit threatening, like she’s poured the fuel and is about to drop a match into it. And what did performance Taylor do this year on tour? Ah yes…burn the Lover house. (More on that HERE if you haven’t read my lover house theory). We should have seen it coming 😊

Back: The second image has even more to unpack, both in the photo and the text. I wasn’t a gaylor on the internet back in 2022 so forgive me if I’m repeating what other people have already pointed out. Taylor is inside with the curtains drawn, blocking out the outside world, looking hopeless with her head in her hand and phone in the other. The old phone could be a reference to the one she uses in the Anti Hero mv to call for help, so maybe she’s trying to call for help here and no one is answering. Or it could be a nod to the red phone from MMWM which many have pointed out could be a reference to the ‘red telephone’ Moscow-Washington hotline during Soviet times, which was used to deliver encoded messages. I like this interpretation, because the way she’s holding the receiver looking so devastated really gives me the vibe of someone who’s been on the phone with a person for ages who is just not getting the message. Almost like someone whose constant flags and encoded messages are falling on deaf ears (to a large majority)… I’ve also noticed that there is a framed photo of two people on the table in this house where she supposedly paces the floors alone at night, but can’t really make out enough to say anything more than that.

Now for the text: I’m by no means the first person to point out that the ‘lanterns lit… out searching’ is from one of Emily Dickinson’s letters to her lover Sue which seems a fitting comparison for Taylor, the writer of many lyrical love letters to her muse and lover. But what really gets me is the sentence

‘Just maybe, when the clock strikes twelve … we’ll meet ourselves.’ Why the ellipse? The sentence would have made perfect sense without this, so why add that deliberate suspense?  What happens when the clock strikes 12? In the following months we also got the ‘it’s a clock’ video announcing that the four midnights vinyl covers together make a clock, and then the Eras tour literally starts with a countdown to midnight. Clocks ticking down to 12 are also in both the Bejewelled and Karma mv, so safe to say this means something. The obvious one is the Cinderella connection, which was probably an Easter egg for the Bejewelled mv, but if that’s all it was then it could have stopped after the video was out. Notably also, Cinderella’s party ends at midnight, whereas Taylor’s starts both in the mv and on tour. Midnight is the first minute of a new day, so this seems a lot more about new beginnings for me, than eternal darkness. I’ve pointed out in a previous post that Taylor references the song ‘Naughty’ from Matilda the musical in her Eras tour performance of Anti Hero. That song not only references Cinderella heavily, it also includes the lyrics ‘Every day starts with a tick of a clock/ All escapes start with the click of a lock.’ So… interesting that the announcement post mentions both ticking clocks and cages. Is she escaping from her self-made cage at the strike of midnight? Which brings us to the final, but very loaded, sentence of the announcement.

Meet ME! At Midnight

Before you come at me, yes I know, that’s not how it’s written. It’s meet me, not ME!, but that would be first and foremost, way too obvious, wouldn’t it. I still think that this is where she is taking us with this sentence, back to the beginning of the Lover era, the dawn of daylight, if you will. If you need a reminder, ME! was the first single off of Lover and kickstarted the sunshine and rainbows parade that was meant to be her coming out with the glorious ME! OUT NOW post on Lesbian Visibility Day in April 2019. This whole summer has felt strangely similar to that, with cruel summer becoming a single and playing endlessly on the radio, Taylor being unashamedly queer in public and surrounding herself with other queer artists, gaylor discourse in mainstream media outlets, and then of course, Karlie Kloss of all people showing up to the last LA show. The congratulatory comments under GLAAD’s instagram post from the VMAs felt much the same to me as the ones under TN’s post of the ‘proud’ bracelet back in 2019. The people that get it, get it. We are officially in the soft launch period.

So, is there going to be a hard launch? Maybe. With all this open queerness I could totally see her just gradually turning it up until she gets photographed kissing a woman in public one day and it’ll just be a case of ‘deadass thought I made it obvious’… But the lesson from the 2019 (not so soft) soft launch was that a lot of people would still rather default to accusations of queerbaiting than assume that she is queer herself (as shown by what happened to Kit Connor last year), and I’m sure she wouldn’t want that again. For that reason, and the fact that she did have a plan to explicitly come out in the past, I think she may have another go in the future, whatever form that may take. One thing I will say, as it ties into this midnights to daylight theme, is this:

With all this clock/countdown imagery, it is notable that the three different versions we have so far of the midnights album are all chronological on a clock. Starting at the top, we have midnights, then the 3am edition, then ‘dawn’ which is around 6am, so to complete the circle we’d need a 9am (or near enough) version. I know that seems unlikely, as 9am is definitely morning and not night anymore, but maybe that’s the point, that at the end of midnights we have a daylight version. ‘You’re loosing me’ is still not officially out on streaming so there is a glimmer of hope that maybe one more version is coming.

What era are we actually in…?

It’s hard to remember that we are actually still in the midnights era with all the re-releases stealing the show and the throwback to lover with cruel summer. But given that the masters heist foiled her plans to come out and made Daylight into Lover, it makes total sense that the 'midnights to daylight' era is the one that includes those important re-releases to further this journey.

She has made so many positive changes and additions to these ‘Taylor’s versions’ that I think it’s just as much about owning her work, as it is about owning the narrative she puts out there. And on that note, it may not be a coincidence that the titles that Taylor has left to reclaim now are her birth year, her name and her reputation, all things that are intrinsically linked to her, and she has arguably never been more authentically queer out in the open. I’m not saying these next three re-releases are suddenly going to have she/her pronouns, but they may have vault tracks that would never have made the cut back in the day. And if we thought the 2017 version of rep was already unbelievably gay… I won’t make any predictions for the tv, but I have high hopes.😊 And I still think that if we end with debut (tv) in June 2024 (Pride month), then ‘TAYLOR SWIFT OUT NOW’ isn’t looking too far-fetched.  And I recon if I was putting out something called MY version of MY name, I'd want to make sure that it absolutely reflects who I am. It did surprise me initially that debut wasn't the first album to be re-released and it's in fact now looking likely to be the last one, but it makes sense if she is using it as an opportunity to go back to the beginning and re-write the story. What a boss move that would be: ‘My version of ME, OUT NOW’ and maybe she really means it this time.

My prediction is, that the end of the midnights era will also be the end of the re-releases (some time next year) and with the final one we end the night and step into the daylight. ☀🌈

[seangelfish]

Childhood friends

Yuzuru Fushimi & Ibara Saegusa x Platonic! Reader

Genre/s: Fluff (and a bit of angst)

Word count: 1,728

Plot/summary: You're childhood friends with both Yuzuru Fushimi and Ibara Saegusa in which you have a story with both of them. However, you became rather distant with Yuzuru due to his butler duties at the Himemiya residence, but you try not to hold a grudge as you still loved being his friend. Thankfully, Ibara was there for you, and you have always appreciated his help and company. They were your closest friends, so it was time to hang out with them both!

Honestly, it’s kind of weird. You have met Yuzuru first, when you two were both very young, before he went into the military and before he decided to become Tori’s full-time butler. It was an odd encounter especially since his family were strict with everything he did. He came from a family of higher class too.

Ibara, however, was a different story. After Yuzuru informed you of him joining a military training camp which was enforced by his parents, he would send you letters of how well he was putting up. In those letters, he would write about Ibara, even if they were short sentences. The relationship he had with Ibara at the time was ‘quite wholesome’ as you would say, but when Yuzuru’s last letter was sent to you, you realised that their friendship really didn’t last too long.

When Yuzuru’s military training camp came to an end, he had finally become a servant for the Himemiyas. That meant he didn’t have that much time to hang out with you as you used to. It broke your heart, but it couldn’t be helped. However, he would always try to make time for you even if that time was spent at Tori's home.

"Is (Y/N) coming over today?!" Tori would ask Yuzuru in excitement. The pink-haired boy had grown fond of you every time you visited, but in exchange, you had mixed feelings. So, this was the boy that took your best friend away from you? Seriously? You tried to hide those feelings, but of course, Yuzuru read you like a book and even scolded you for it.

"(Y/N), are you jealous?" he asked you one day, pouring you a cup of tea and setting down a plate of pastries in front of you.

You smiled at him. "Yes," you confessed. "I know I shouldn't be jealous though, after all, I don't own you – Tori does."

Yuzuru sighed at your answer. You were always so blunt with him, but he appreciated how honest you were sometimes. You picked up one of the pastries and took a bite. Mmm, that tastes nice, you thought. Does Yuzuru bake these himself?

"(Y/N)..." Yuzuru started. "I'm sorry, but–"

"This is what you chose, I know," you interrupted. "I should support my friend, but I just can't help feeling... I don't know... betrayed?"

Yuzuru fell silent and so did you.

After a few seconds, you mumbled an apology. He smiled at you softly, pinching your cheek. He understood your feelings all too well as Ibara was the same.

And that’s when you met Ibara. Before Yuzuru devoted his whole life to the Himemiyas, he pleaded that you befriend his friend from the camp. He gave you specific instructions and everything in order to find this Ibara character you’ve only known in his letters.

“You must really care about him,” you commented, drinking your tea slowly.

“I do regret leaving him there by himself,” Yuzuru admitted. “So, please take care of him for me. I know he resents me now.”

You obliged yet befriending Ibara was hard work. He would NOT open up. After the training camp, Ibara had tried to work his way up, rebuilding all of the Godfather’s abandoned businesses.

“Oh, I’m also taking business courses,” you stated happily, hoping that this relation would bring you closer to him.

Ibara shrugged it off. “So?” he said. “You won’t be able to help me with the basic knowledge you acquire from those little lessons.”

You just wanted to slap him. However, you could understand why he acted this way. Yuzuru did give you half of his backstory…

You kept trying and trying. You would wake up everyday happy and energised in hopes Ibara would finally accept you. He would find you annoying for a bit, but he did really appreciate your help. Though, he did keep an eye on you. What did you want from him anyway? Money? If that was what you wanted, he’d give it to you for you to finally leave.

But you never left, and you never took any money from him. That was when he realised that you weren’t using him at all.

“(Y/N),” he said, eyeing you on your laptop, calculating some random income statement he wanted you to do. “Thank you for everything, I’m serious.”

You looked up from your laptop, confused. Though, when you noticed his smile linger on you, you couldn't help but smile too.

“Have you finally accepted me as your friend?” you chirped.

He nodded and muttered, “My best friend.”

What he didn’t know was that you were best friends with Yuzuru too, but that’s a whole ‘nother story for him to dissect.

Present Day...

Tori looked through the whole school for you, but when he found you in the gardens enjoying a cup of tea, he began to beg.

“(Y/N)!” he whined. “Can you please do me a favour? I’ll pay you back!”

He gripped your leg with pleading eyes.

You sighed. “What is it now, Tori?”

“Well… the first years are going off on a two day trip, and uh… I want you to keep an eye on Yuzuru,” he said quickly.

“Yuzuru?”

“Yes, can you PLEASE do it?”

Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with Ibara lately, but a portion of you found Tori annoying. Of course, you loved him, he was sweet to you, and was cute! But this was the person that took Yuzuru away from you, and you just didn’t like that. You could never admit this though. You’ll take those thoughts to your grave.

“I don’t understand, why would I need to—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Yuzuru dashed in.

“Young Master, I was looking everywhere for you! You had forgotten your lunch,” Yuzuru exclaimed. “You need to eat it.”

Tori groaned, “Ugh, fine.”

Yuzuru caught your eye and said, “(Y/N), hello. How are you today?”

You smiled sadly, and this immediately took him aback.

“I’m fine,” you responded. “Tori, I’ll take care of Yuzuru.”

“What, really?! Thank you!”

Tori jumped onto you for a hug, telling you that ‘you’re the best’ multiple times. Yuzuru, who hated when Anzu would get attention from Tori, smiled at this display of affection. However, he didn’t understand what the two of you were talking about.

On the day of the trip, you finally realised why Tori wanted you to take care of Yuzuru. Yuzuru had been frantically bringing Tori stuff that he ‘needed’ for the trip, giving him his best advice, and telling him to keep safe.

“What would the Young Master do without me?!” Yuzuru would say, and you would roll your eyes at how dramatic he was being. “I’m just so worried!”

“I now realise why Ibara hates you,” you commented. “Come on, lighten up. Tori will be fine. Plus, we can finally hang out as friends now. We have two days free together!”

Yuzuru stopped and looked at you. You didn’t hate him? Well, you did greet him with a hug when he transferred to Yumenosaki, but you definitely were different from the last time he saw you. He did leave you behind like he did with Ibara after all.

“Today, we shall go to a themed cafe!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hand and twirling yourself around.

He laughed at this and he just couldn’t help but to twirl you around a second time.

“Why is HE here?” they both said simultaneously.

Situated on a circular table from left to right was Ibara, you and Yuzuru. You simply grinned in response.

“(Y/N), I thought it was a day for us two?" Yuzuru queried, perplexed at his current predicament.

“I thought so too,” said Ibara. “Why would you bring him?”

“Well, both of you are my favourite people and I would like to spend the day with the two of you together. Plus… it’s my birthday, so you have to do whatever I say!”

“It’s not your birthday,” they both said at the same time.

You changed the subject quickly. “That’s so sweet, you guys remembered my actual birthday!” you cheered.

They looked at you with confusion, so you held both their hands in a way to plead them to stay.

“Let’s just enjoy this time together, okay?” you continued. “We’re all friends here, and I never really get to hang out with you two at the same time! This is exciting for me, you know?”

You had the biggest grin on your face and they just couldn’t let you down, so they reluctantly agreed to stay. You were their dearest friend after all, and they wouldn’t want to see you sad.

The platonic date wasn’t too bad. They kept it tamed when you were around, but when you needed to go to the bathroom, they immediately began hurling insults at each other. When you came back to find them acting like that, you smacked both of their heads.

“It’s like I’m babysitting you two,” you said with a sigh.

They looked offended at the statement.

“(Y/N), I think we’re both the ones babysitting you most of the time,” Yuzuru corrected, and surprisingly, Ibara agreed.

“We’re the ones helping you with your homework,” said Ibara. “And who got you into Yumenosaki in the first place?”

You smiled at them sheepishly. “Just so you know, I love you both,” you sang. “Ibara, Yuzuru, I really do appreciate you both with my entire heart.”

They smiled at this. Due to your presence, they finally had something they could agree upon: teasing you. So, with the rest of the platonic date, they would talk to each other about how an annoyance you were when you were young. Of course, they weren’t harsh about it, so they did leave you compliments here and there.

With that being said, you three even took a picture together. They saw how sweet the smile on your face was, and they hoped you could smile like that forever.

“Thank you for treating me today!” you exclaimed as you walked with them, arm in arm, down the bustling street.

“I actually enjoyed it,” hummed Yuzuru.

“Hmm, so did I,” admitted Ibara. “But I’d rather not do it again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said as you tried to swing yourself with their arms wrapped into yours, like a little kid whose swinging by their parents’ hands.

Even so, you hoped you could do this with your childhood friends again.

Intro page | Ensemble Stars masterlist | Rules

[gothhabiba]

hi! sorry to bother and if you've answered this before. of course, you dont have to answer this. you mentioned in one post that you were still learning Darija and also your posts on scolarship are very interesting. ive been trying for a while to learn my dad's language since i didn't grew up speaking it, but have always been interested in persian literature and the evolution of the language so this has been a difficulty for me. i was wondering if you have any tips on improving the way a language is learned, since you're amazing at explaining things and making even complicated subjects clear.

Thank you and have a nice weekend!

Thanks for the compliment!

I don't think that I have anything like my own original foolproof method for learning languages; this is the first language I've self-taught for which there aren't a lot of materials, and everyone learns differently. Here's what I've been doing & what I can broadly recommend when learning a language for which there isn't an enormous amount of teaching material:

Be specific about what it is that you want to do in the language. Chop this up into small sections. So, instead of "I want to learn [language]" (an enormous, vague, impossible task—even native speakers do not know 100% of their languages), think "I want to be able to understand recipes," or "go to the market or a restaurant," or "make small talk and general conversation," or "text friends and family," or "read literature," or "read theory" (and for those last two goals you might have a waypoint goal of "read storybooks" or "read materials intended for language-learners or children").

I began by learning the Arabic script (resources for this abound, and the abjads used for Persian and Darija only add a few characters), and I always write Darija in this script (even though most people write it in the Latin script) to get practice.

I also learned the standard phonology at this point. But the phonology for Persian and Darija are different and involve fewer consonants than Arabic, since some of them have merged, so you won't need to worry about the Standard or Classic pronunciaton of some of the letters. The Wikipedia page for Persian phonology should be a good resource; the IPA symbols for various sounds are noted, and they have explanations of how the sounds are produced and playback that you can listen to. Note that there are obviously regional variations in phonology, but this is a good start. This is a script with a pretty standard orthography, so at this point you can theoretically pronounce any word you read (with diacritics).

cut for length:

I took inspiration from how I had been taught French and divided information up into "units" (first greetings and introductions; then numbers and colours; then telling time; then time including days of the week and months of the year, words for "today" and "yesterday" &c.; the weather; family; then personal pronouns "I" "you" "me" &c. and the verb "to have" to begin forming simple sentences such as "I have three sisters" or whatever—you'd also want to learn "to be" at this point, but Darija doesn't often use it—then I decided that my first priority after very basic conversation was cooking, so I learned terms for food items and cooking verbs).

If you can find online resources or textbooks that will teach you things in units of this type, all the better (I got started on speakmoroccan.com). If you can't, try following an online course or textbook for learning another common language (such as French, German, Spanish, English) but substitute out the vocabulary terms by using a dictionary (for Darija I used tajinequiparle).

You may be able to find some materials (at least greetings, introductions, numbers and the like) on YouTube—I recommend using these even if you can find these same terms elsewhere, to get practice listening to the language.

I feel that I learn best from textbooks and by understanding the syntax and grammar of sentences in depth. However, the materials I've consulted for Darija (and there aren't too many materials in existence) tend to give lists of words but no grammar, or example sentences that are translated in full with no explanation. Even materials that do go into the grammar (such as the Lonely Planet phrasebook) are targeted at tourists and do so with an ethos of "good enough" that may fudge the details to make them more similar to French (which is the language the book is in). So I write down and compile example sentences that I come across (there's an English/Darija dataset already in existence to help with this kind of thing) and compare them to each other to determine which word means what, which affix might be the marker for past tense or infinitive or the object pronoun or whatever, and write down my guesses to test as I go. This may be more difficult without an education in linguistics, but probably not impossible.

I separate my studying into two phases, which I go back and forth between: creating study materials, and learning from those materials. Creating study materials means finding words and writing them down in my little book, figuring out grammar and writing out the rules, writing down example sentences, and making flashcards to learn vocabulary terms (with one or more example sentences on each one).

Studying from those materials involves running through the flashcards and coming up with new example sentences for each term (so I see the side of the flashcard with the English "banana" and come up with a sentence in Darija that's something like "they have eight yellow bananas"). You could also have flashcards separated by category (pronouns / numbers / verbs / nouns / adjectives) and pick a flashcard at random from a few categories (the selection "I" / "sixteen" / "want" / "new" / "oranges" prompts you to construct and speak the sentence "I want sixteen new oranges" in your target language); this is basically analogue duolingo.

As you go about your day, name objects and colours you see and talk to yourself about actions you undertake; try to 'translate' as many thoughts as you can into your target language.

You can also construct dialogues or short compositions at the end of each "unit" you finish. Write a dialogue between two friends greeting each other after not having seen each other for a while. Write a composition about your family members; explain how they're related to you, what they look like, &c. Look up any vocabulary that you notice you're missing.

Once you have a decent vocabulary base, you'll be able to start reading. If you can find writing that's intended for children or language learners, that's great! There may also be fora or message boards online devoted to conversation in your target language. If you can find a dictionary from the target language to a language you understand, this becomes a lot easier—unfortunately I haven't found one for Darija (the lack of a standardised orthography would probably make one difficult to make). Persian has a history of being written that Darija doesn't, so you may have more luck on this score than I did.

I have an "index" in the back of my little book with abbreviations for each of the sources that I get vocabulary from, and I use these abbreviations to take note of where I got sentences, phrases, and vocabulary terms from (whether dictionaries, textbooks, youtube, online courses, online fora, reddit, academic / linguistic articles, &c.). This is so that I can return to these sources and verify what I've written down, just in case; and also because different vocabulary terms are used in different regions, so it's a good idea to have a way to look up who uses which terms.

If I come across anything by serendipity (whether in an academic article about some sociological aspect of Darija, or in the dictionary I've been using, since there's no complete words list that I can find so serendipity is the only way to discover some of the words that are in it), I write it down then and there regardless of how useful I think it will be to me immediately. This is because I have no way of knowing whether I'll ever come across it again! I don't need to memorise it right away, but maybe I'll want to learn it later.

I don't think this will help you, but for some minority languages or dialects there may be a colonial language other than English in which materials for that language are easier to access (for example, I tend to search for Darija resources in French, not English).