#Cursive Review

[eggbunni]

I’ve been staring at this pen, mouth watering with NEED, ever since I started collecting fountain pens back in October 2021. And now it’s mine. MIIIINE. ✨🤩 The Monteverde Regatta Mother of Pearl in Rose Gold is just… Chef’s Kiss. 💋 Sugar for the eyes. An elegant addition to any desk.

Here’s what you should know about this gorgeous fountain pen.

1) The cap is magnetic in an extremely satisfying way. It pops off easily, and even POSTS magnetically (not that I write with it posted anyway — the balance is fantastic without it, IMO).

2) The rose gold Omniflex nib is NOT A FLEX NIB. Learn from my mistake and don’t do what I did in this video, which is attempt to flex it as much as I flex my vintage pens. Yikes. The tines are super easy to misalign and cause hard starting by over-flexing the nib, because it’s not actually a flex nib. It’s just a SOFT nib, despite the name. 😅 Woopsie! Thank goodness I’ve dabbled in nib repair, because I was able to set it back correctly. 😆

3) This pen. Is so. PRETTY. You will find every excuse to write with it! 😍

And tell me this Monteverde Mercury Noir ink isn’t beautiful? I love the Noir line. Deeply saturated dark inks that are readable, wet, and lovely to write or draw with. Can recommend.

[gbhbl]

Single Slam: Heriot, Heavensgate, Scarlet Rebels, Kilonova, Cursive, Turin, Giant Walker, Fahran, Rare Words, Wraith, Speaking with Spirits, Alleviate, Windwaker, Blunt Force Trauma, and HammerFall!

Today’s single slam features Heriot, Heavensgate, Scarlet Rebels, Kilonova, Cursive, Turin, Giant Walker, Fahran, Rare Words, Wraith, Speaking with Spirits, Alleviate, Windwaker, Blunt Force Trauma, and HammerFall.

Today’s single slam features Heriot, Heavensgate, Scarlet Rebels, Kilonova, Cursive, Turin, Giant Walker, Fahran, Rare Words, Wraith, Speaking with Spirits, Alleviate, Windwaker, Blunt Force Trauma, and HammerFall. You can read our thoughts about the latest singles from these bands below. Heriot – Foul Void The UK’s most exciting new heavy band, Heriot, are proud to announce their long-awaited…

[haikyu-mp4]

Get to know you

Fluffy workplace romance working for the MSBY Black Jackals with your crush Sakusa, for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @act-nat-ural. word count; 1319 – f!reader

“Hi, Sakusa!” you greeted, voice way sweeter than when you greeted any of the other players who arrived that morning. Sakusa nodded his head once in greeting before heading to the wardrobe, leaving you to cover your face with your hands and groan in defeat.

Having a huge, obvious crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi was already hell, but actually acting on it and trying to both gain his attention and act cool about it, that was even worse.

You’re an assistant manager for MSBY, always ready with their water bottles, towels and a thorough review of their game stats. For any events, you were there as well, doing your best to predict their needs.

Atsumu patted your shoulder. “That’s just Omi for ya, don’t mind him.”

You pouted, getting out your notepad to ready it for today’s notes. “I would think less of him if I could,” you mumbled, making the rusty wheels in Atsumu’s head start turning.

Ohh… our manager has a crush!

On the way to the press event, you were squished in the middle seat between Hinata and Sakusa, gnawing at your lips as if that would make you any less nervous.

As you neared the location, you fumbled around in your purse for something while Hinata loudly practised his manuscript. Just as Sakusa was about to turn to you and ask for something, you held your hand out with a small bottle of unscented sanitiser. The kind that was all flat and could fit in his blazer pocket.

He looked up in surprise, silently meeting your eyes with a grateful nod. Instead of holding his hands out, he took the bottle from you and distributed it himself before sneaking it into his pocket.

While he rubbed his hands together, your attention was drawn back to the shorter player who asked you for some details.

It might have been your delusions, but it seemed like Sakusa stuck around you while inside the event building, sighing in relief when you had brought an extra mask for him just in case.

It even earned you a spoken, “You’re a lifesaver.”

After a division game finished in a victory for the Jackals, you ecstatically handed out bottles and towels, doing your best to praise all the players on their individual performance.

You were about to turn to Inunaki when someone stumbled into you, a flurry of awkward limbs and curly hair. Sakusa held your shoulders to steady himself, grumbling an apology and childishly accusing Miya of pushing him.

You smiled nervously before looking to the side so he wouldn’t notice your blush. “Don’t worry. And your spikes were amazing today, Sakusa. Good job.”

Sakusa eyed you for a second before stepping away, throwing a “Thank you, y/n” over his shoulder as he moved along with the rest of the team. 

He said your name.

On the last practice of the week, before you would all have a week off for autumn break, you were surprised to find a cup of coffee sitting on the bench where you usually sat. You blinked at it for a second before asking the coach if it was his, holding it up to him and feeling it was still warm.

“It has your name on it,” the coach said, making you turn the cup in surprise only to find he was right. Your name was written on the back in cursive, with a little smiley at the end.

Looking around, you checked to see if anyone was waiting for you to acknowledge them, but no one was. All the players had lined up for warm-ups led by Meian, so you left the mystery for another time.

Unexpectedly, he added, “Someone already filled the first round of bottles as well, so you can just take a rest until they start the drills.”

It made you stutter, unsure if this might be some test to see if you were still motivated enough for the job, but the coach’s smile made you agree and sit down. You silently drank the coffee and watched the players until you finally had to get to work, and the empty cup was tucked away in your bag.

If only you dared look at Sakusa, who was staring from the corner with a small smile on his face, happy you could take a breather before running around to cater for them all day.

He wondered if that one was actually your favourite coffee, or if you just got it because it was cheaper. He wondered if you liked going to cafes and if you had other hobbies. He wondered if you knew how to cook and what season of the year you liked most.

Sakusa found himself to be very… interested in you.

You were dressed in the most gorgeous dress you could find, in a colour you loved and with your most shiny necklace locked around your neck. To say the least, you felt exquisite.

However, your hands were anxiously fiddling with the fabric. It’s a Christmas party, reserved only for the team and their staff. The players were dressed up in suits and you were pretty sure everyone had noticed by now how your eyes trailed after Sakusa.

It should be illegal to look that good.

You jumped as a figure dropped onto the chair beside you. “Is that drool on your chin?” he teased, pointing to the side of his own mouth with a wolfish grin. You punched his shoulder loosely, but your other hand was still raised to check for any drool.

It made the setter laugh heartily, and you shielded your face from everyone as they turned to look. “Atsumu,” you groaned. “Shouldn’t you be embarrassing yourself on the dance floor by now?”

“Ha, ha.” The man settled into the chair, and you eventually turned to look at him properly. He almost forgot what he was supposed to say, not used to seeing you so dolled up. You looked amazing. “I suppose you don’t want to hear my plan to get you and Sakusa together, then.”

“Hardly,” you agreed. “But I bet you’ll tell me anyway.”

An arm rested across the back of your chair and the setter leaned closer. “Right you are. Now, the DJ has been instructed to play a slow song next, and you will ask dear grumpy to dance.”

You looked at him wide-eyed before your gaze automatically moved to the grumpy in question. “I can’t just do that. Have you seen him today?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Him? Look at you.”

You had to give it to Atsumu. He got you dancing with Sakusa, arms resting around his neck while you did your best not to step on his feet. His hands were firm on your waist, but his dancing was stiff.

Make the most of it, you decide. Taking a deep breath, you finally look up at Sakusa to find him staring at you with an unusual flush painted upon his cheeks.

“Are you okay, Sakusa?”

“Kiyoomi.” You raised your eyebrows, making him carefully clear his throat. “You can call me Kiyoomi.”

“Kiyoomi.” Your heart skipped a beat when his face responded by growing even warmer as you repeated his name. “Are you having a good time?”

“A little embarrassed you asked me before I could ask you, but at least we got to dance.”

You let out a small gasp as he twirled you, making you smile even more. “Do you like dancing?” you asked him as he pulled you back to his chest, seeming to loosen up more in his movements.

“Not particularly. But I think I like you.”

And to say the butterflies fluttered in your stomach would be an understatement. “I think I like you too.”

Your eyes spoke a thousand words that night, fluttering lashes and soft looks coming together to tell the other how you felt. I would like to get to know you more.

masterlist

[cavillscurls]

the love languages | joel miller (headcanons)

summary: the various ways in which joel miller expresses his love for you.

warnings/tags: implied jackson era. mentions of trauma. suggestive language and scenarios. fluff.

word count: 1.2k

words of affirmation

joel is not the most eloquent speaker, avoiding it altogether when he has the choice, but he’ll make every effort to tell you he loves you in his own way

you've gotten use to the way his voice always sounds grumpy, even when he's perfectly content

he is a proper texan gentlemen, never missing a thank you, you’re very welcome, or reminding you that he couldn’t have done it without you

most of his verbal endearment comes from the pet names he gifts you, and only you:

“you’re so beautiful, darlin’”

“need you so bad, babygirl”

“takin’ it for me so well, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

he checks in on you regularly

"you doin' okay?"

"you let me know if you need anythin'"

he’ll never miss an opportunity to let everyone know that you’re his

“that’s my girl”

“my girl’s waitin’ for me at home”

“i gotta check with my girl first”

and on the occasional nights, when the heavy darkness returns, or nightmares plague his dreams, he’ll whisper to you, desperately hoping you believe his rare but honest words, perhaps even seeking a bit of reassurance himself:

“you know i love you. you know it, right?”

gift giving

he’s never had much, but what he does have, he shares with you

often when he walks home from a long day of patrol, he’ll stop near the garden, plucking the brightest flower he can find to gift you, secretly hoping you’ll wear it behind your ear for the rest of the evening — you always do

once his workshop is set up, he starts working on various projects for you

most of them end up being carved trinkets or new items for your shared home

but when he’s able to, he trades for some metals to wield you a dainty necklace, your name sprawled out on it in beautiful, golden cursive

you wear it everyday after that, and he immediately begins plotting whatever else he can make you to wear

quality time

even if he doesn’t say so, every moment with you is precious to joel

if the task or event at hand is something you can do together, he wants you there

the moment he returns back into town from patrols, no matter how tired, dirty, or famished he is, the first thing he does is find you, wrapping you up in his arms and savoring every lost moment

some of his most cherished evenings are spent with you and ellie inside your shared home

his favorites are family dinners, each of you assigned to a task in the kitchen, where he gets to enjoy both of his girls at his side

normally, he’s listening to the two of you sing horribly off key to whatever tape ellie found for the stereo

and when you’re lucky, you both convince him to join you in an impromptu dance session right there in the kitchen

on lazy days, you'll share the couch, you engrossed in a book while he reviews plans for whatever building they're working on next

you don't share many words during these days, but just basking in each other's presence is enough to comfort him

sometimes, he’s still shy to ask you to come out with him

be it to tommy and maria’s for dinner, or a gathering at the tipsy bison

but you are happy to assure him there’s no one else you’d rather be spending your time with

physical touch

joel is one of the most handsy men you have ever met, and you love it

seldom is there a time he isn’t touching you in one way or another

a ghostly hand at the small of your back, or shamelessly reaching out to interlock his fingers with yours while you’re in public

he’ll lovingly grip you by the biceps whenever you’re walking home from the bar, making sure to guide your drunken footsteps in the right direction

when you’re sat beside one another, his arm often finds it’s way to the back of your chair or rested casually across your shoulders

sometimes it’ll be his hand at the back of your neck, squeezing it tenderly to remind you that he’s there, thinking about you, feeling you

when you come home from a particularly long day, he does not hesitate to pull your legs over his lap, massaging his way over your tired calves and feet

he loves how soft your hair is, how sweet it smells, and never passes an opportunity to tuck a strand behind your ear, or bury his face in your neck to inhale you

during your more intimate moments, joel is ravenous, groping and caressing every inch of you he can find

he loves to feel you tremble below him, the way your slick skin sticks to his own

he’ll cradle your face, your hips, your ass, anything he can hold onto as he takes you for himself

and when you’re both finished, he kisses you in every place he pleases

there is not an inch of your body that hasn’t been touched by joel’s mouth

he’ll cuddle you for hours, all through the night and into the morning, painting shapes across your skin with his soft touch

one of his favorite things in the world is to wake up with you sprawled across his chest, his entire being bearing the weight of you, feeling the most at peace with the world

acts of service

this is joel miller’s primary love language, and you could tell that was so from the moment you met him

what he could not express with words, he expressed with actions

god forbid you ever tried to carry anything heavy, you simply would not get away with it

a shake of his head and a heavy grunt, he would wordlessly pick up wherever you left off in the task

in the same vein, you can’t remember the last time you opened a door for yourself

nothing was ever broken in your home because joel always fixed it

he’d survey the space at least once a month, making certain there was no damage to the infrastructure (the contractor, through and through)

sometimes, when he knew you had errands to run, he would pick up whatever you needed on his way back from patrol without even asking

“i was already out, it ain’t no trouble”

he does the dishes every night

on the rare occasions he isn’t home for dinner, he makes it up to you by cooking breakfast the next morning

there’s always a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter

when you’re feeling under the weather, he trades for the necessary soup supplies

he’ll check your temperature every hour, run you a bath, make sure you have plenty of pillows to keep cozy

during the summer months, when you insist on planting flowers in your front yard, he’ll keep up with watering them, knowing how forgetful you can be, but too attached to the smile they bring to your face to let them wither

but what really wooed you was the attention to detail that he possessed

he knows your favorite foods, colors, clothes, hobbies

he never forgets parts of your past you’ve shared with him that made you sad or uncomfortable, and actively avoids coming close to something similar

he is an attentive listener

despite saying very little sometimes, he is always engaged with a nod of his head, or a concentrated mmhm

not to mention the eye contact

he uses what he knows about you to organize the sweetest of dates:

picnics in the grassy fields

guitar lessons on the front porch

once, he even rented out the entire barn to set up dinner for you, borrowing some of the string lights from the neighbors to decorate (as best he could)

most importantly, you know joel miller would do just about anything for you

and he would do so happily.

[risuola]

DON'T HOLD BACK — F. READER x GETO SUGURU, who'’s as sweet as he's mean to you

If anyone got to know Suguru Geto, they would say that he's really nice guy, very kind and soft spoken, and they wouldn't be exactly wrong, but it seemed like you were the only person in the world that knows that Suguru, your tattoo artist boyfriend, is a meanie.

cw: smut, no-curse au, size difference, spanking, hair pulling, cunningulus, slight description of pain (tattoo related), so many pet names, Geto has tattoos and piercings (yup, that's a warning), there's an appearance od Satoru at the end, reader discretion is advised — 7,9k words

masterlist

If anyone would ask you few days ago what will you be doing on friday at 21:38pm, you’d probably respond with a large dose of confidence, that you’ll be resting in your bed. Maybe catching up on your favorite anime because you had no time to watch the newest episode during the week. You’d be lying comfortably, sipping on your favorite, fruity tea and if you’d feel fancy enough, maybe you’d even order yourself a pizza. That’s what you’d assume you’ll be doing late on friday, it sounded reasonable and reasonable is what you liked to call yourself.

Making spontaneous decisions is not a trait you’d give to your personality. You were always the one to think at least twice, usually more like seven times, before you commit to something, especially when it came to serious things such as body modifications or a choice of college. You were an overthinker, a helpless one to be exact, but that got you through life somewhat safely up until the point of reaching the sophomore year at uni. Your grades were fairly good, you had a little circle of people that were close to your heart, and you couldn’t think of many that you’d actually call your enemies. Being called a bore by your best friend was just a side effect of your usually cold and calculated thought process, but it never bothered you.

That was just who you were – a helpless overthinker – so it’s only natural, that you couldn’t find an answer reasonable enough to explain why on earth, on late friday evening, while the clock was slowly but surely heading towards 10pm, you were standing in front of the deep purple, slightly flickering neon sign that read Curseive.

A clever concoction of something so dark and mysterious as a curse and the intricate art of lines and shapes that the font cursive is all about – it hung up high above the entrance, written in a way that mirrored the conflicting feelings and somehow making it work. It was a tattoo salon, a relatively new one in your area, but it already had many good reviews online – or at least that’s what you assumed while doing the quickest research of your life. If scrolling through the messages left by customers for at most thirty seconds could be even called research. Why were you here? You had no clue, but you pushed the doors open and there was that little version of you sitting on your shoulder that wished you’ll just get asked out, because the salon was closing in about 20 minutes, but you decided to ignore the frail voice in your head and move forward.

When you stepped inside, it was empty in the lobby where the little sofa was situated for those who are waiting and a desk that was probably a reception. Dark walls around you were adorned by paintings that on the first glance looked to you like were handmade. Quickly you found yourself lost in the soft sound of buzzing that mixed with the quiet rock music playing somewhere in the background, as you began examining the artworks around you. One of the walls was made into a gallery of sorts, with the photographs of finished tattoos and printed patterns displayed in an array, supplemented with little descriptive notes and sometimes comments, that you assumed were left by clients. All of them were breathtaking and although you couldn’t see yourself rocking most of those heavy inks on your own skin, you were more than happy to appreciate and analyze. The precision of lines, the shading, the colors and composition – all of those tickled your artistic soul in ways not many things could and maybe it was the aesthete in you who stopped you from decorating your own body until this point, because fact is – you thought about getting a tattoo many times before. You really did and even had a pattern you really wanted, but it just scared the shit out of you to think someone could butcher it up and charge you for the mess. So, you never made an appointment. Until now. Now you were determined to do so.

You took one deeper breath, as if encouraging your own self to speak up and make your presence inside more obvious. The subtle scent of antiseptics and inks filled in your lungs as you inhaled, but instead of giving you more courage, you became more nervous. It’s just an appointment, you thought to yourself, you can always call later and say you have to call it off. Yeah, that sounded like a plan in your head and with that plan, your legs automatically moved towards the exit, despite what you wished to do.

“Running away, princess?”

That voice. You couldn’t mistake it for anyone else, you knew the soft, tender tone that even laced with malice sounded so pleasurable to the ear. You knew the owner, although not that close, but you met him many times – not one of them being all that nice. It was Suguru Geto, one of the biggest heartthrobs in your college. He rocked a disposable, black surgical mask that was pulled down under his chin and a pair of black gloves that he was in the process of taking off. Silver earrings glistened in the dim light of the salon, just as his rings were when he finally dealt with the hand protection. Your eyes glazed over the metallic accessories he had on – that also tickled something inside of you, triggering an unknown fantasy of having those long, ringed fingers of him deep in your… Suguru had nice hands.

“I’m not running away,” you told him, hoping that your voice was as firm as you intended it to be. Spoiler alert, it wasn't.

“No? Looked like it.” He chuckled, throwing the latex to the designated trash. His tone was taunting, you felt so small under the weight of his golden gaze. “Are you lost, little girl? You don’t exactly fit in that place now, do you?”

“You’re working here?” The question slipped through your mouth as if it wasn’t completely obvious from the very fact that he was here, alone, equipped in safety gloves and a mask, so near the closing time.

“Do I work here?” He took a look around himself, taking the mask off his ears and throwing it away before once again looking at you. “It’s kinda my place, so yeah, you could say so.”

That actually made sense the more you thought about it. Suguru was your senior, he was two years older and now finishing college. You had some of the faculties joint with his year and you were always the one to sit beside him – by the orders of the teacher, not by your own choice, although sitting next to him wasn’t that bad usually. You can clearly remember that during every lecture, he was doodling something on the screen of his ipad – something that you never really paid attention to because for your own good, you decided that staying away from the so-called frat boys was the best you could do. All this time, he probably was designing tattoo patterns.

“Right, so-“

“I assume, if you’re here that means you’d like to have something inked, is that correct?”

“Y-yeah, but, uh-“

“Are you 100% about it or did you come here to stutter?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious about your decisions or just mocking your nervousness, but either way, you felt it in ways you probably shouldn’t. This man had some power in his demeanor, and when he leaned over the counter, propping himself on the elbows and looking at you like a predator would glance at his pray, you felt small.

Suguru wasn’t the typical fuckboy, although he for sure was a magnet for the ladies, thanks to his absolutely stunning visual. That, you couldn’t deny – he was just gorgeous, with his sharp features that somehow still looked soft and inviting, the golden irises of his eyes that never faltered from eye contact, manly jawline and long, luscious locks of black hair that he often tied in a low bun. You never seen him in anything that wasn’t grey or black – white when it really was an odd day – but other than that, he was dressing in monochrome and you truly couldn’t blame him. He was a type to make the most boring sweats set look like the sexiest outfit on earth with just the fact that it was him who wore it. Yeah, he was gorgeous, you had to give him that, or rather blame him for that, because his apparition was for sure going to be the beginning to your end. Speaking dramatically, of course.

“I’m sure.” You forced out, mentally kicking yourself for being caught off guard just because it was him. You were never that taken aback near him, but you were also never alone with him. It was easier to stay indifferent when there were people around, when all of his focus wasn’t targeted at you and when that gorgeous pair of eyes wasn’t gazing straight into your soul. You felt like he could read your thoughts just by looking at you.

“Cool. So, let me close and you’d tell me what’s your vision.”

Suguru found your presence in his studio amusing. He’s seen you at uni, you were quite known in his circle of friends that unofficially were called the frat boys, even though your college didn’t really have this kind of organization. It’s due to your friendship with the cheerleader’s leader, but thing is – although you’re close with most of the fun girls, you were most definitely no fun whatsoever and for some reason, Geto found it interesting. And the fact you never faltered to speak up for yourself… How he’d wish to fuck the attitude out of you. He himself wasn’t exactly the type to party until blackout, drink until sunrise or have a checklist for girls to screw at the college. He had no wish to cross any names off of any list. Aware of his good looks, he used them to their limits to make his way through studies smoother and there were not many things that he couldn’t achieve if he tried hard enough. Even the principal of his faculty had a soft spot for him, so many things he was able to get away with. That being said, if he really wanted to have a girl, unless she was really hooked in someone else, he would probably face no issues of getting her. That’s what he thought, until you came to picture. Considering every charm and trick he had up his sleeve, he was almost certain that getting you wouldn’t be so easy for him, or for any of his friends. And now you were here, in his shrine, trying to sound confident when you most certainly weren’t. Adorable.

You watched him pulling down the shades in the windows and turning keys in the lock, effectively closing you both inside the studio and in a matter of few minutes, you were situated with him on the couch, sitting quite snug as you scrolled through your phone to find the picture of your little drawing. It took everything from you not to melt into his side. The way he smelled was intoxicating, a mixture of cedar wood, pepper and some kind of citrus – a tangerine if you were to guess. And the warmth of his body was so inviting. Before being so close to him, you didn’t even notice how cold you were – apparently your shorts and a sweatshirt weren’t good enough for the October evening, even though during the day it still was way too warm for the fall attire.

Geto waited patiently for you to find the picture you just told him about. The sketch you did that was meant to present him the idea of what you wanted to have tattooed onto your skin and as you were scrolling through your gallery, he took this time to take you in. He noticed that you have a really nice profile. Your lips were pouty, just slightly pushed forward and so kissable right now, as you were focused on the display in front of your face. Your hair looked good also and he couldn’t deny the fact that you looked like you’d perfectly fit into his arms. And on his dick. You were way smaller than him, but that wasn’t unusual – he was a fucking giant, but something in your frame made you appear like you’d slip into his embrace just right and that thought make him go crazy. It’s been quite some time since he found a girl so captivating.

“Here, I found it,” you informed, showing him the screen, and he placed his hand over yours, slightly shifting the device so he can see it better. A hum left his mouth as he analyzed the drawing you did. It showed two betta fishes, one black and one white, positioned in circle, as if they were chasing each other’s tails. The pattern was intricate – the fins were ruffled and detailed, scales bearing a little bit of shading and yet, the whole image was quite a simple one. It also reminded him a little about the yin and yang symbol. He liked the idea, it worked well with his perception of you and what surprised him was the fact that he as well had a little tandem of bettas tattooed on his body and there was no way you’d know that.

“And where would that be?”

“I thought on the sternum maybe?”

“Oh, that’s going to hurt like hell, princess,” Suguru chuckled, already opening the new canvas on his tablet. “How are you with pain?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be good,” you accentuated the words with a nod at the end and leaned in a little bit to see what he began to draw. The pencil slid over the grey colored screen with skill that stunned you. Just from memory and the little reference you had in your hand, he quite quickly created the basic sketch of what you just showed him.

That night you spent two hours with him on the couch in his salon, admiring in quiet the process of creating a finished artwork. You enjoyed every second of it, the artistic sequence of lines made something unbelievably good, impressing you to the very core, even though you already looked through the little gallery he had on the wall. Seeing it being put down in real time made it that much more captivating and you didn’t even notice how during the process you glued yourself to him, nearly laying your head over his strong shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

When he was about to finish, you understood why he chose grey background to work with. As the last step, he dragged the white color over one of the fishes and that really made the whole piece magical.

“That’s perfect,” you told him when he tilted the screen so you could see it better. Taking his ipad in your hands to closer examine the creation of his hands, you nearly gasped at the incredible detail he put into the scales, shading each and every one individually. And the tails were so beautifully drawn, perfectly reflecting how they would just flow in the water.

Geto would lie if he said that the admiration your eyes were overflowing with wasn’t fueling his pride. Sure, his clients liked his projects – obviously, cause they let themselves be tattooed with them, but somehow the sparkle in your eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

“Is that so?” He purred, wrapping his arm around your back and planting his hand on the curve of your hip. There was no protest from you – quite the contrary, Geto noticed you even scooted a little closer, but the reason made itself apparent sooner than he’d expect. Even through the fabric of his dark washed jeans he could feel how cold was your thigh when it made full contact with the side of his leg. He placed a hand over your naked skin to check if his senses weren’t fooling him. “Gosh, you’re so cold.”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to shrug it off, but the feeling of his palm pressed against your plump flesh sent searing impulses through your nervous system. Slowly, you became almost painfully aware of how pleasant the near proximity of him was. How perfectly warm he felt next to you and your mind couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be even closer. You actively tried to suppress those thoughts, but it was damn difficult, when he was just right there, so easy to reach.

“You look great in those shorts, but the summer is over, pretty,” Suguru muttered, his voice just slightly amused as he let his fingers smooth over the supple flesh of your inner thigh. He was so close to where you wanted him to be and yet so far.

“Yea, I know. It was warm during the day though. I was supposed to be home hours ago,” you confessed with a sigh, already thinking about the cold you have to walk through to get to your apartment. It wasn’t far, but if you were freezing inside Curseive, you’d most likely turn into an icicle when you get out, considering it was already midnight.

“Well, let me schedule your appointment and I’ll take you home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll set you up for next month, so you’ll have plenty of time to chicken out,” he teased, shooting you a wink and making you roll your eyes.

That night, you did many things you’d call unreasonable. You spent few hours in closed space with a man you probably shouldn’t have anything in common, you leaned into him without giving it a second thought. That night you made an appointment to your first tattoo. That night Suguru carried you home in his arms, wrapped in a blanket he kept in the studio in case someone felt cold during the inking process. And that night, you let him into your bed.

If anyone was to meet Suguru for the first time, they’d probably say he’s absolutely perfect human being. Kind and always keen to help, very soft spoken and caring and mostly, they would be right, because he really was all of those things to the public eye. Before, you considered him a red flag, but it turned out, he didn’t leave you alone after he fucked you. You expected him to be gone as soon as he pulled his dick out of you, you expected him to ignore you after that night, but he stayed with you till morning, not even once letting go of you. You woke up to the soft kisses smeared over your shoulder and a little tickle of his hair brushing against your flesh instead of the cold bed.

You spend day after day at learning things about each other. You got to know how he liked his coffee in the morning, what foods he enjoy and what shampoo he uses to keep his hair so luscious and gorgeous all the time. Suguru noted to himself what sweets bring you the most joy, he discovered that the little scrunch on your nose when you’re laughing is the most adorable thing in the world and he also studied the playlist of your favorite music, finding out you share similar taste when it comes to songs. You spent hours drawing with him, creating designs on his tablet while sitting in between his legs, your back pressed to his broad chest. Sometimes he was suggesting changes to what you created and sometimes you were the one to add some details to what came from underneath his pen.

It’s been a month since you got together with him, or at least, since you started paying more attention to each other. With good dose of confidence, you could call him your boyfriend – even though it wasn’t officially talked through between you two, your actions made it pretty hard to deny. It just happened, after the first night together, you just became closer and there was no need to give it a title, when everyone knew you’re in relationship. You were holding hands in the campus, kissing publicly and spending time together for most of the breaks. You got to know his friends, his brothers and even got the password to unlock his phone. Yeah, it’s been only a month, but your bond with him developed quite quickly. Turned out, Suguru Geto wasn’t anything that you assumed he is. He’s lovely, really. Saccharine sweet if he really wants to be, but what no one seemed to be able to notice was that he really is a meanie sometimes.

Just like now, as you laid on the dark leathery bed in Suguru’s salon, already having enough of this whole idea of getting a tattoo and he only just started. To his credit, he did warn you that it’s going to hurt like hell, even suggested picking another place for your first tattoo with real concern in his voice, but you weren’t anticipating this kind of hell when you insisted you wanted it below your cleavage. It really was something you couldn’t compare to anything else in your life – maybe a kick in the shin, but continuous and in the middle of your chest.

Geto was working in focus, keeping his eyes on the pattern he was permanently imprinting onto your skin and taking little breaks from time to time to check on you. Last thing he wanted was you fainting there, and you felt like you were close. You couldn’t even focus on how the chocolate tasted on your tongue – the one he bought you, so you can have something to snack on during the process. The way his needles were stabbing the delicate, sensitive skin of your chest millions of times made you feel sick. The vibration of the machine reverberated directly into the bone below, enhancing the horrible experience and you could have sworn you were actually hearing the pain, while he was going over and over again through some areas. The choice of white ink made it that much worse, because to even make it properly visible, he had to re-trace the shapes more times and you felt each of them.

“Oh, you’re such a crybaby,” he teased softly, noticing the glistening trace of a tear that just rolled down your cheek. “Told you it’s gonna be a painful process.”

“Oh, shut up, Sugu,” you muttered, wiping the salty mark away and taking another chocolate. “Can we take a little break?”

“Let me finish that one and I’ll give you a minute. Sounds cool?”

“Uh-huh…”

You weren’t looking at what he was doing, and those little moments that he promised will get you that breather you asked for seemed to stretch for hours. The constant, sickening poking of the needles seemed to never end and at some point, you really were that close to just yank him by the hair and throw the tattoo gun out the window, just so he’ll stop for even a moment. But the break never came, Suguru just kept going, telling you he needs to just finish that line until the relief washed over you, when he smeared some kind of gel over the area of your sternum. You felt almost orgasmic, when the cold, soothing fluid covered the burning skin between your breasts.

“You can stop crying now, baby girl, we’re all done,” he all but sneered, making sure to cover the entire pattern with the healing formula that he made sure was enriched with anesthetics. He ordered that specially for your session.

“We’re done?” You repeated after him, wiping away the tears.

“Yes, baby, save those tears for me later.” He teased, helping you get up from the bed and you hopped down on the ground to properly see the artwork in the mirror. The skin around the lines was red, but the pattern itself made you gasp. It was made so beautifully, the lines were crisp and very thin, perfectly mirroring the vision you had, and the white ink? Gorgeous. Suguru put his entire soul into your tattoo, it was a mark he left on you that will stay there forever and sometimes you wished he’ll stay with you just as long.

“You’re so mean,” you grumbled, admiring the shapes that now were stuck to you permanently. Geto laughed quietly and wrapped his already ungloved hands around you, standing right behind and checking his work in the reflection.

“And what’s my crybaby gonna do about it?” He couldn’t help the mock and the glare you shot him only made his laughter bigger.

“I’ll ban you from my bed,” you deadpanned, a soft pout forming on your mouth and you slapped his hand away when he tried to undo the only button that held your tiny cardigan together.

“Then I’ll take you to mine and you’ll have to deal with Satoru sleeping with us. You know he can’t help himself and you know how that will end, right?”

“I know, I know…” you sighed, too focused on the lines that adorned your skin to care about the clinginess of Gojo, although you felt the soft cringe washing over you quickly. The artist in you was screaming, giggling and kicking its legs – the tattoo was everything you wished it to be and more. “It’s so beautiful, Sugu.”

“You like it, huh?” Geto smiled, leaning in to have a taste of you. The kiss he pressed to the side of your neck sent immediate shivers down your spine and you tilted your head as an automatic reaction. Your body knew that giving him more space will result in more pleasure. “I like it too,” he purred against your skin. “No bra for you for at least few days, pretty. I’ll be checking.”

“No cum on my tits either, poor little you.”

“You didn’t just call me little, did you?”

“And if I did?”

“Isn’t my dick pretty much the size of your entire forearm?” He joked, looking you up and down in the mirror. It was comical in a sense, to see what buttons you were eager to push when it was clear as day that you’re just tiny next to him.

"I wouldn't say so."

“Oh, you little brat. And to think I felt guilty for making you cry today,” Suguru shook his head and it was you this time who chuckled.

“You shamelessly tortured me for two hours, where’s the guilt in that?”

“I could have tortured you for three. Am I not the best for making it quick?”

“You’d love to make me suffer for longer, wouldn’t you?”

“Not before, but now I might wanna make you cry a little more.”

You shook your head and followed him, so he could put the protective film over the tattoo and once you sat on the edge of the tattooing bed, Geto pressed not only the second skin to your chest but also his lips to yours. The force with which he leaned against you made you almost loose your balance as the metallic frame underneath you squeaked from the sudden weight change. With ease, the man encaged you between his arms, intimidating your small form with his much larger one. You were no match for Geto when it came to sizes. He is a damn giant next to you – tall and broad, nothing but wall of muscle with limbs long and strong. Sometimes, you found it unfair how easily he was able to overpower you, manhandling you any way he wanted, no matter how much you’d fight.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling his weight overpowering you and you tried to push him away, desperate to catch some air into your lungs but that desperation only made you mewling into his mouth. The cold metal of his lip piercing never failed to send shivers down your spine, whenever he was kissing you like his life depended on it. He made you feel special, even though you were far from it.

“My sweet girl,” Suguru praised, his words being kissed away by you, because as much as you needed oxygen, you also needed him just a little bit closer. “My little crybaby.”

“I think you owe me some kind of apology for the pain you’ve put me through,” you muttered, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth and swiftly taking the elastic from his hair. The pitch-black locks fell down his broad shoulders, keeping the slightest curl to them from the way they were tied up.

“Oh yeah?” A grin stretched his lips and his fingers immediately found their way to the front of your jeans. “I’m not going to apologize for something you signed up for, but I’ll gladly eat that pussy as a form of payment.”

His remark made you roll your eyes, but any comment you wished to throw at him got lost when he pressed his digits to your clothed clit. Suguru smiled in satisfaction, feeling the wet patch spreading over your panties. Desperate to see it all, he pulled back and took those jeans off of you completely, taking your underwear along with it. Cold air hit your soaked folds, making you shiver as you spread out for him.

“Look at you,” Geto smirked, sitting down on his stool and spinning your panties around his pointer finger, “all wet and ready and I barely just touched you. Or is it that pain you’re so whiney about what made your panties so soaked?”

“Don’t focus on that,” you muttered, snatching the cotton from his hands. “Focus on me.”

“So demanding.” Suguru chuckled, but truth was, as much as he wished to tease you a little more, his mouth was already watering at the sight in front of him. You were a meal he’d choose to have as his last supper, the most delicious dessert he could slurp on for hours and never get bored. Every inch of you, he found to be perfect, you raised the bar of his standards to the point he couldn’t even look at other girls around him. You really got him addicted and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The feeling of hot kisses Suguru was planting all over your thighs made you scoot closer to the edge. Usually, you’d let him do his thing – you loved his mouth marking your skin. You loved the bruised spots he liked to suck on here and there only to claim his place beside you, you loved the soft touches and harsh grips. But now, you really wanted him to jump straight to action. Those nips and kisses can wait.

You allowed your fingers to brush through his silky locks, your nails scratched his scalp along the way and he purred softly before a gasp cut the sound short – it surprised him how roughly you grabbed the strands of his hair, right next to his scull and pushed his head nose deep into your pussy. It was new to him, no one ever dared to tug at his hair and when it was you, he was more than keen to get used to it. The stinging feeling of the pull at his hair follicles sent an impulse straight down to his already erected cock, making it now impossibly hard and Suguru was thanking himself that his work attire that day consisted of sweatpants and not jeans.

You couldn’t help yourself, you knew he had the strength to fight you back if he really needed, so his suffocation wasn’t any of your concerns. And Geto took the challenge with pleasure. His pierced tongue danced over your clit as if he was trying to tattoo his own name over the swollen bud between your folds. The mixture of his hot muscle and cold metal made you whine above him, squeezing his hair even harder, pushing his head even deeper. A low, deep purr that left his throat reverberated through your entire nervous system and sipping into the bloodstream, making the pleasure rush inside your veins instead of blood.

“Oh my god, Suguru-“, you breathed out, coming undone just underneath the skill he had in his mouth. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, like he would die if he won’t bring you over the edge just with his tongue, like he was born to pleasure you. A coil quickly began to form in your stomach, a string threatening to snap at any given moment if he’ll continue with the intensity of his actions. Your thighs trembled, squeezing around his head, but he held them apart with force. He wasn’t done with you yet.

You couldn’t control the way his name was leaving your mouth; it came out like a prayer that he’d love to listen on repeat for the rest of his life. A music that filled his ears with pleasure and that pleasure seeped down, creating a river of ecstasy running down straight to his straining cock. You really got him to the point he felt he’s going to cum in his pants, but then the hold on his hair loosened. He used that moment to catch a breath before going back to his work.

“Don’t hold back,” he purred, keeping your hand where it belonged over his head, getting rid of any guilt you felt regarding pulling at his hair. You came not long after and he happily slurped you through the bliss, licking away everything you gave him, devouring your pussy as if nothing better was ever going to happen to him. “So sweet,” he grinned, finally pulling away. His face covered with your slick and hair messed up from where you held it, and he looked so beautiful like that when you looked back at him. Surrounded by haze of your release, he looked nearly angelic when he got up, pushing back the stool and taking his rightful place between your still trembling thighs. Giving you a moment to collect yourself, Suguru used it to take off his t-shirt for no other reason that to feel your hands over his skin and you were quick to press your palms over his tattooed flesh.

Geto’s body was only one of things that were impressive about him, but unarguably one of the most breathtaking. Years of training martial arts made his shape resemble the stone statues of gods. A hard wall of muscles covered with a light layer of soft skin and adorned by black lines of ink. You never failed to trace your fingers along the dragon that curled around his entire arm and spreading onto his chest. He also had a line of letters underneath the side of his ribcage and two betta fishes swimming up along his spine, following a trace of abstract lines and dots. He had told you once about the meanings beside all of images that adorned his body, but you couldn’t recall them now as he was once more kissing you feverishly. You tasted yourself all over his mouth, you took in his purrs and low groans that vibrated in his throat when you pushed down the waistline of his sweatpants, palming him through his boxers.

Geto grabbed your thighs, repositioning you closer the edge.

“Shouldn’t I avoid any physical activities with that tattoo so fresh?” You asked him with the littlest teasing undertone and he grinned, kissing your lips and everywhere around them with fervor.

“I’ll go slow, babygirl,” he promised, but slow is hardly the word he’d use once he pushed his girth into you. If you were a drug, Suguru was addicted to the point of no return, he never had enough of you, always too little, always eager for more and more and more. You were a godsend to him, a gift he was certain he never deserved but he cherished it with all of his might. Just like with all of his might he began thrusting into you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking them above his pelvis as if you needed to make sure he’s not going anywhere. Soft pants and whimpers were leaving your mouth every time his hips collided with yours and the sounds you were making concocted an erotic symphony with the low grunts he let slip through his throat. The melodic line of mixed voices, quiet praises and heavy breaths accompanied the desperate squeaking of the bed below you and wet reminders of how he was fucking into your dripping pussy.

Every ruthless push and pull of his hips sent surges of pleasure through your body. Lust and heat erupted inside of you like a volcano and the searing lava of endorphins turned your brain into a flurry. The room around was lapsing, nothing else mattered and even the untrusty bed underneath you, that held there just barely underneath the force of Suguru’s relentless slams couldn’t bother you when he was fucking you that good.

Flaming hot waves of white covered your vision as you hid your face in the crook of Geto’s neck. Panting for air, you held onto his shoulders harshly, digging your nails into the flesh there and marking it in red with crescent moons and scratches. The stinging pain made him whine in excitement, the sound low and prolonged enough to make your walls clench and flex around him. The stretch of his cock was setting your mind ablaze along with your body, your heart was beating fast and threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Sugu-ru-ah~”, you were panting, whimpering shamelessly under the force of his pelvis slamming against yours and he grinned above you, his grip over your hips merciless and bruising.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, smearing wet kisses along the line that led from underneath your ear to your shoulder. Something incoherent left your mouth and you felt yourself close, the swollen walls of your pussy squeezing him repeatedly and he knew you were close but wasn’t ready to give it to you quite yet.

It’s like you blacked out for a moment because it felt like you barely blinked and then your position changed. You didn’t notice how swiftly Geto slid onto the bed himself, situating you over his lap.

“Hop on baby, work for it a little,” he mocked lovingly, giving your ass cheek an encouraging slap. There was barely enough place for the two of you, but you made it work anyway, sliding back down onto his dripping from your juices cock. A soft moan escaped your lips as his girth once again squeezed into your oversensitive insides, pushing against every sweet spot on the way and making you shiver as the tip kissed your cervix. Desperate to feel more of him, you began rolling your hips, working your way into the palace of pleasure that Suguru Geto was and making the most out of the current position. His exposed chest and neck begged to be devoured and you couldn’t leave them neglected, so your mouth was on his skin in no time.

Suguru kept bucking his hips upwards, gasping and growling underneath you. His hands left burning marks over your ass, each slap sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body and the little whines you were letting out against his skin fueled the intense fire that burned inside of him even more. Sometimes Geto couldn’t believe you really were with him. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he’s high on something, maybe he’s imagining you, but only thing he really was high on, was you. Nothing could compare to the way your tight pussy swallowed his cock, to the way your little hands were grasping his arms and shoulders just to steady yourself when his force was becoming too much and absolutely nothing could stand even close to the intoxicating feeling of your lips on top of his. You really were made just for him, it had to be fate that once you stumbled upon his studio. He still remembers the first time you let him in, spontaneously inviting him over and after that, every day seemed to be somehow better than the previous one. Every minute he spent with you managed to surprise him with how good it felt. Suguru was hooked on you. But how could he not, when you had the ability to strip him of everything that was cool about him, leaving him raw and sensitive just for you?

“Fuck, c’mon, cry for me,” he panted, forcing your hips to move even when you clearly were running low on power. Your entire body was tensing, the velvety walls of your pussy squelching over his length and he felt himself flexing inside the hot embrace of you. The rush of ecstasy sent him overboard, it filled his veins and neurons with blissful daze of desire, and he found himself chasing the high, bracing for the impact of upcoming climax.

You whined and melted into him, lost in the haze and diving head first into the puddle of pleasure. The feeling overtook you, you couldn’t think anymore when he was pulling you underneath the euphoric sea. You felt light from pleasure, the ferocity of his movements burning you inside out, sending seething waves throughout your entire form. With vision blurred, nothing felt real anymore and if not for the rough grip he had on your hip and ass, you’d probably fly away and never get back.

Lost in the stars and haze of orgasm, you pushed yourself up, encouraged by few more harsh slaps and Geto followed you to sit up for no other reason than to be able to still taste you. At this point you were sure he tattooed not only betta fishes onto your chest but also the imprint of his hands to your butt cheeks. Gathering every last bit of strength you had in your muscles, you rolled your hips against him few times more. All of the intensity that was building inside of you snapped suddenly. Your spine arched and head rolled back, exposing your neck and chest to his kisses as he pushed you over the edge of bliss and you fell off that cliff with nothing but acceptance. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face and Geto was quick to kiss them away as they gathered along your lashes and down your jawline.

The weak sound of his name slipping down your tongue was enough for Suguru to let go. White hot ribbons of cum sprayed deep inside you as you rode him through both of your orgasms, the movements of your hips now slower and sloppier, bearing no more strength in them and yet, time after time you pulled them back and forth, desperate to feel him a little longer, to take more from him.

“My little crybaby,” he cooed, when you finally run out of battery, settling down on him and leaning against his broad chest, hiding there to catch your breath. You were sore, still overwhelmed by the avalanche of feelings that just fell over your head but satisfied to the point of delirium – so much so that you let the little honey-covered taunt slip. Suguru smoothed your back softly, relaxing in your proximity, once again stunned how somehow, you managed to make all of it feel better than the last time you slept together. Highs with you were unforgettable. Nonreplaceable. Incomparable to anything else he ever felt with anyone.

“Thanks god you’re strong,” you muttered against his skin, planting there few kisses while you’re at it. “I don’t think my legs will work after that.”

Geto chuckled. Yeah, he was going to marry you one day.

“No worries, sweet thing, your place in my arms is secured for lifetime.”

“Good.”

“But first, let me get you cleaned up.”

Your legs were weak when you got off of him, but surprisingly carried you enough to allow you to slowly pull yourself together. Suguru cleaned the space a little while you got dressed and made sure the protective film over your fresh tattoo was unharmed during the activities before you buttoned up your cardigan.

* * *

“Suguru, you still here?” Gojo stormed in, even though the studio was locked, but truth was, nothing could really be locked when it came to Satoru.

“Don’t tell me you copied the keys to my studio.” Geto chuckled, finishing the final wipe of the bed. There was no force that could stop his friend from invading his spaces, he dropped the effort years ago.

“I won’t tell you, you got this.” Satoru shrugged and looked at you. Then at Suguru and back at you, repeating that at least few times. “Were you two fucking here?”

“And why would you ask that?”

“No, the real question is, did that thing endure it?” White haired man pointed at the leathery bed. “What a champ, I thought it’ll collapse.”

“Fair,” you admitted at the same time as Suguru, and handed your man the hair elastic that you snatched from him earlier.

“So, what were you doing here? Besides contaminating the area of course.”

“I got a tattoo,” you replied to him and Satoru grinned.

“For real? That chest piece he told me month ago that you’ll for sure chicken out for?”

“Yeah, that one.” This time it was you who laughed and Geto just shrugged, tying up his hair.

Satoru wasted no time, it’s like he teleported to you and before you registered what was happening, he was already unbuttoning your blouse and truly, you couldn’t really be bothered. It’s been only a little less than a month since you really got to know Gojo, but it was very quickly presented to you that him and your boyfriend have a thing for sharing. It was as natural for them as breathing and whenever you saw them together, you wondered how it happened that they weren’t brothers by blood.

“It’s so cool, Suguru. Who knows, maybe I’ll let you tattoo something on me too.” Snow white grinned, examining the concoction of lines over your sternum. He had to bend in half almost, to be in line with the pattern on your skin so you brushed through his hair, messing them more than they were already.

“Not that it’s my life mission to do so, Satoru.” Geto stretched his body and glanced over the room once more, making sure he can close the studio for that day without leaving any visible remnants of what happened just moments ago.

“Doesn’t it kinda look like us?” Gojo asked, stopping you before you covered yourself back. “The black and white contrast… am I the only one who think so?”

It wasn’t your intention, but as he said it, you began seeing it. It really made sense, especially considering that Geto mixed the tiniest bit of lavender ink to the white, to prevent it from yellowing over time. That lavender coincidentally being the exact shade as the undertone of Gojo’s hair.

“Well, not anymore,” the black haired one sighed and once you managed to button up your blouse, he swooped you up into his arms. “You’re gonna lock the doors, Satoru. Turn off the lights.”

“Sooo…” Gojo nearly sang, flicking off the switches and turning the keys in the locks, making sure everything is well secured before he joined you two, already walking slowly towards your home. “Are you ours now?”

[mikkomacko]

can we get a blurb on luke and reader from him and i?

Luke didn’t do it on purpose, really. He’s usually very attentive. He cares a lot about the Devs and their success, about the family Nico’s created.

But at the same, he is only human.

When he got up in the middle of the meeting it was just to go to the bathroom. He drank an ice coffee before it started and now his bladder was basically throbbing.

So he excused himself, ignored Nico’s gaze on him as he ducked out of the room during Jonas’s review of the bars profits this month. Luke doesn’t even need to know the profits. He doesn’t work at the bar. He just drinks there.

Afraid of being scolded for taking too long, he practically sprints down the hall, past the living room and kitchen. He’s rushing back down the hall to return to the meeting when he realizes you’re in the kitchen.

And something awfully good smelling is in there with you too.

Stomach rumbling, he peeks his head into the doorway. You’re at the island counter, a blue apron tied around your waist that reads “kiss the cook” in flowy, cursive letters.

A pot is boiling on the stove behind you, big, steaming bubbles releasing whatever that wonderful smell is into the air. Luke’s mouth waters. You finish chopping some carrots, picking up a tiny piece and reaching down to feed it to the drooling dog sitting politely by your feet.

If you’re willing to feed it to the dog, you’d feed it to him too. And he can be quick, just duck in, ask for a couple bites, and leave. He won’t miss much of the meeting, really.

“Hey,” he says sweetly, padding into the kitchen on soft feet. You look up, smiling across the island counter when you see him.

“Hi, you hungry?”

Oh, a girl after his heart, you are. Smiling innocently, he nods and slips into the bar stool across from you.

“That’s good because I’ve been learning new recipes all week and I think Nico is tired of eating them.”

You turn to the fridge, ducking down to grab a stack of containers and Luke’s mouth waters at the glimpses of beautiful cakes and desserts he catches.

“Who could ever get tired of your cooking?” He asks and he’s completely serious. Luke would take it to his grave, but he thinks your food is even better than his mom’s.

Scoffing, you dig a fork out of the drawer and slide him the tower of desserts. Luke is quick to pop open the first one, a beautiful slice of chocolate mousse cake greeting him.

He digs in, practically moaning around the bite and the dog toddles over to sit by him with big brown and begging eyes.

“So,” you drag out expectantly, clasping your hands together. “What do you think?”

~~~~

“Where the fuck is Luke?”

Bratter shrugs, looking around the room for the youngest Hughes boy but coming up empty. Nico had seen him leave 30 minutes ago, assuming the kid was just popping out for a moment.

Now it looks like he’s ditched the whole meeting.

Nico scoffs, leaving Timo to finish up closing remarks and exiting the room. He’s immediately stopped by the smell of whatever you’re cooking up in the kitchen, and knows exactly where Luke is.

The kid can eat three times his body weight in food a day, and even then have room for snacks.

Moving to the kitchen, he’s not at all surprised to find Luke sat at the counter with you feeding him every bit of leftovers from the fridge.

“Hughes,” Nico barks, meaner than he actually should be but sometimes he’s gotta scare this kid or he’ll never listen. Luke straightens out, whipping around in the chair to look at Nico with wide, terrified eyes.

He’s got a fork hanging out of his mouth, some kind of frosting smeared in the corner. The kid starts mumbling something through his mouthful, tripping over his words and Nico slips further into the room.

“Oh don’t do that,” you beg, interrupting Nico’s scolding with those bright and beautiful eyes he loves so much. “He’s just a kid Nico and he was hungry.”

Pretending to be annoyed, Nico crosses his arms over his chest. Unfazed, you pad up into him with that cute little apron tied around your frame and your hair in a messy clip on your head. You smell like good food and something warm, settling into the crevices of his lungs with familiarity.

He can’t be mad at you. Not when you’re looking at him like that and you’re so sweet to want to feed all the boys.

And fuck Nico for the way he suddenly falls to his knees every time you get motherly with the boys.

“Oh he was?” Nico goads and you run your palms up his chest, smiling prettily.

“How’s he supposed to learn if he’s hungry? He won’t be able to focus.”

Nico sighs, looking over at Luke who’s still slowly picking at the food in front of him. “Wash the dishes when you’re done.” He instructs, and Luke smiles gratefully, nodding.

“Boss,” he asks shyly, “can I stay for dinner?”

“No,” Nico says at the same time you coo “Of course you can Lukey!”

Luke’s gaze flickers between both of you, but Nico knows where he stands on this one so he dips his head in defeat.

Your smile widens so Nico can’t actually count this as a loss.

“Whatever,” he agrees, “I gotta a meeting to finish up.”

[heimeldat]

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

The Old Gallifreyan alphabet:

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

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

EXAMPLES OF OLD HIGH GALLIFREYAN TEXT

ITEM ONE

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

ORA PSYERPA

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

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

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

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

Thus, the full text reads:

O-Rassilon-ya psyerpa

The Rassilon’s harp

ITEM TWO

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

QU  ETHOA TRIOUAX BRIA

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

Ethoa – exile

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

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

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

ITEM THREE

From “The Time of Angels.” Translation given.

JUSYMOU CAIDEU OXA OOYY MAISOM

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

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

Oxa – prepositional suffix, “part of”

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

Maisom – name, designation, identification

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

Or as the Doctor paraphrases it: Hello, Sweetie.

ITEM FOUR

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

First Face:

RA NASA TO TANA EURIFSTAN OBLR ORE NATA

Ra – where

Nasa – sleep

To – in

Tana – lies, reclines, rests

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

Oblr – abbreviated form of obelar, tomb or grave

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

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

Nata – a basic verb of being, is

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

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

Second Face:

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

Third Face:

ULIREIF RAENATA TOAAN LAKI FSTA TORARO

Ulireif – to lose everything, to be utterly defeated

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

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

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

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

Toraro – future tense of torar, to fail or collapse

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

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

Fourth Face:

KIRA ATOUNA OR TA LIRI EUKI RAATO SUTE ANAAN FEIRLIO REUNT

Kira – takes

Atouna – ring

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

Ta – from

Liri – hand

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

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

Sute – reward, prize, payment

Ana’an – desired, sought-after

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

Reunt – immortality, eternity

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

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

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoah Week 2024: Day 2 - "First Encounter"

... The remaining two submissions, a pair of brothers, stared tauntingly back at him from the photographs in his hands. The photos had been helpfully signed, with the elder brother's displaying his name, "José Burromuerto", in blocky capitals whilst the younger's name, "Alejandro Burromuerto", laced across the printing paper in a pretty cursive. If their respective handwritings weren't anything to go by, their chosen poses for the photos certainly were- and they were all too telling. José's face, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, was pinched into something the latino probably thought was an attractive smoulder, though to Noah it looked more like he was trying (and failing) to hold in a gargantuan fart, but he was otherwise stiff and statuesque in the image. Even his hair, poised into an upwards quiff, looked rigid. It screamed fake. As far as first impressions went, José's was lacklustre at best. In contrast, Alejandro's chosen image was almost playful- and Noah loathed to describe it as such, though he couldn't think of a more fitting term. The younger brother graced the camera with a pair of impishly pouted lips and a wink, throwing up a cheeky peace sign towards the recipient. Long hair, liquid smooth in appearance, cascaded across his shoulders like swirls of coffee, brushing against his caramel skin and framing the vibrant apple green of his eye. (Had the cynic been inclined to continue his chosen semantic field, he might even go so far as to describe Alejandro as a whole snack. But he would never think such a thing.) If Noah didn't know any better, he'd assume that Alejandro was the ditzy sort- especially in comparison to his older brother- but the bookworm was smarter than that. Alejandro's mannerisms in the photo were playful, sure, but far more subdued than your average himbo's behaviour- there was something calculated about his buoyant presence, something carefully constructed. Just as fake as his brother, but something far more intricate and performative. It was... intriguing. He was also, as much as the assistant hated to admit it, unfairly attractive.

Assistant Noah's first encounter with Alejandro; wherein Noah reviews the submissions for Total Drama Dirtbags and has to choose which Burromuerto brother makes the cut. Two guesses as to who he chooses!

Otherwise known as Noah sees Alejandro's submission photo and experiences gay panic.

Bonus! Without the sunglasses:

He's so tired someone please let him rest.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Best Jeanist: You need to be the ultimate force. I have a new skill I'd like to teach you that will help you to incorporate yourself into the tapestry of our diverse local community.

Bakugo: Okay, bring it on!!

Best Jeanist: Today we will work to help you master the ancient art of...cursive.

Bakugo: Eh?

Best Jeanist: It's best to have practical experience. The ways you interact with the public and craft your image are vital to sewing the threads of your success.

Best Jeanist: We will write letters to the local nursing home to raise the spirits of the elderly, and you will write each card out in fashionable cursive.

Bakugo: *seethes*

*Two Hours Later*

Bakugo: *Furiously muttering under his breath while writing the most beautiful cursive on doily greeting cards*

Best Jeanist: *grabbing a card to review Katsuki's work, nods approvingly when he sees the elegant script* I'm proud of the way you've embraced the fiber of this exercise.

Bakugo: I need to prove that I'm the best at everything I do, of course I can write some flowery letters!!

*Several days later, at the nursing home*

Elderly Woman: *reading card aloud to her friends* "Dear Old Person, I hope you don't die anytime soon." What a thoughtful young student - and what absolutely lovely handwriting!

[snk-smartpass]

TEXT Vol. 05 Jean’s Textbook

He’d gotten rid of as many of his belongings as possible when he joined the Survey Corps. There was no point in bringing anything like his jumbled collection of notes, and anything he did need he could buy or be issued. There was one item, however, that he kept in his bags because he’d need them to review the basics when understanding an operation.

“…My textbooks, huh. I guess I did leave them here.”

It had been some time since Jean last returned to his quarters. When he opened his bags in the personal space he’d been assigned, something moved him to pull the books out.

••••••

Around the time the old regime had been overthrown and Jean had met up with the main unit of the army…

Jean had been acting separately from the rest of the Survey Corps as a member of the “new Team Levi,” keeping him away from the main unit for some time. His bags had been haphazardly tidied up, just like those belonging to the rest of his squad. Now that much had been settled and he had returned, he needed to prepare next for the new operation to retake Wall Maria. When he unfastened his bag, he found a number of textbooks he’d used during his time in the Training Corps.

“I can’t believe I kept these …”

Even though he’d joined the Survey Corps and found himself in an ever-changing situation, he couldn’t allow himself to be negligent when it came to reviewing his fundamentals… And so he’d brought these books upon someone’s recommendation.

“A Guide to Marching Drills… What does this say about nighttime movement on horseback, again?”

One of these volumes seemed to be exactly the reference material he needed for the upcoming operation, and he casually began flipping through its pages.

••••••

[Seems like this appears on exams a lot.]

“…What’s this?”

The first handwritten words to jump out at him were not his own. These were marks left behind during a group study session for a written exam in his Training Corps days. Jean remembered sitting in the center of everyone, having placed his own textbook in the middle of the desk for them all to see and at times write in as they discussed this and that.

Jean couldn’t remember who the rushed cursive belonged to at first, but his memories of that day gradually began to return to him.

(Armin? No… If it was the person right next to me… I guess it’d be Marco.)

The words were written right-side-up on one side of the book. They’d been penned by someone reaching in from the side.

He shook his head at the memory of his close and now departed friend as he turned the page to find other writings.

••••••

“What’s this one say…?”

Jean couldn’t read the upside-down letters at first. He turned the book around, then gasped.

[Horses can move in other unpredictable ways. Be careful]

[—>Finger whistling, page 54]

The thick and powerful words of caution belonged to Reiner.

The thin and weak words that pinpointed Jean’s weaknesses and noted where he needed to read belonged to Bertolt.

Back then… they were comrades he learned alongside. In fact, it had been Reiner who suggested that he hold onto his textbooks. He had said that while Jean was talented, he had a tendency to rely on the fact. That’s why he needed to hold onto books that would let him go back to basics.

“…He really could see what’s most important.”

The contents of this textbook would have to be solidly in the minds of the two who were now on the “other side.” They would also know how the Corps would move by horseback according to it, too.

In other words… such was the opponent that now awaited them.

“The last ones I wanted to have to face went and became our enemies.”

…So this is what they meant when they said the world is a cruel place.

Jean quietly closed the book and placed it deep within his bags, as if to seal away the memories of the time he spent with the two.

••••••

SOURCE: Attack on Titan: Short Stories 3

TRANSLATION: Ko Ransom

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧 - 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

idol!jake x gn!reader

warnings: jake is a little mean, swear words, suggestive, reader is kinda down bad for jake

word count: 796 (0.7k)

a/n: this is highly inspired by that one tiktok ai audio hihi, readers thoughts are written in cursive

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

he looks unnecessarily fine there, you thought to yourself as you zoomed in on the photo that had been taken just some days before. however, your thoughts were quickly interrupted as the door sprang open, revealing no one other than the man whose face you had zoomed in to just a second ago.

"for fuck's sake, don't you know how to knock on doors?"

jake. of course. the other members would have knocked, you thought.

jake was an overall lovely person when it came to his fellow members, as well as his fans. he was kind and courteous to staff most of the times, too. but he was extremely impatient, sometimes lacked basic manners and whenever something did not quite go according to his plan, he would turn into an asshole. how childish.

"i took this tiktok with sunghoon, just quickly give permission to post it", he said nonchalantly, not sparing a second to even consider apologizing.

being part of their management team, you recently acquired the position of managing their social media accounts. that also meant reviewing their own content before they post it.

"jake, i'm preparing to post the comeback teaser photos right now", you explained, earning an annoyed expression from him. "i can see it after that, okay? you know they have to go online at exactly-"

"can you shut the fuck up for a minute and watch this tiktok for me? pretty please"

while the first words were uttered harshly, the last ones were added with the dearest, most innocent smile - the tone of his voice sweet like honey.

jake was always like this. mean, only to be a sweetheart the second after - and while you should be either concerned or annoyed about the sudden change in his mood, you couldn't stop your heart from performing a small jump. every. damn. time.

at this point, you didn't know if you wanted to strangle or kiss him - if you wanted him in your bed or six feet under. oh god, i think i'm the pathetic one here.

trying to shrug all of it off, you rolled your eyes.

"fine. send it to my email, i'll watch it", you replied shortly, hoping that would help getting rid of him.

"so much work for nothing", jake mumbled, before stepping closer to your chair, stopping right behind it, and placing his phone down on your desk. without hesitating nor asking if you were ready, he started the video.

feeling his presence so close to you made it ten times harder to focus on the video, honestly. you had worked with him for a while now, so being near him wasn't new - but he had never been this close to you. unnecessarily close. so that his cologne almost blurred your senses, that you could feel his breath on your neck and that you swore you would have even heard his heart beating if the video hadn't been playing.

while you felt your mouth grow dry, your hands got all the more wet with cold sweat. all because he's just inches closer than normally?

"so?", jake's voice snapped you back into the moment as he grabbed his phone from your desk.

admittedly, you hadn't paid too much attention to the video. not very professional. not professional at all. but hell, you were not going to admit that the close proximity made you lose focus. so, you decided to just risk it and nod in approval, "it's fine."

he stepped away from behind your chair and made his way to the door, but turned back to you before opening it.

"also, we'll go for food and some drinks after practice today. jungwon said i should ask you to join us", he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

you raised an eyebrow in confusion. "jungwon asks me to join? how come?"

jake's eyes widened only a tiny bit, before his gaze went back to normal. "uhh... well, he said something about how someone from the management should be around or something, y'know"

you pressed your lips together to suppress a laugh. "you're good at almost everything but you can't lie if your life depended on it"

for the nth time in your life, you could see jake rolling his eyes. "shut up. just look good for me, deal?"

you slightly bit down on your lower lip, replying with just a tiny nod, as you could feel heat rushing through your body and straight to your cheeks. yep, i'm definitely the pathetic one here.

jake gave you a short grin and opened the door. just as he stepped out the room, he turned on his heels and looked at you again.

"also, if you wanted to look at my face so bad, you could have just asked me to come", he tilted his head towards your computer screen, before finally closing the door behind him.

oh god. i never zoomed out of the picture.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

join my taglist here

[linghxr]

4 years of Anki: How I make my Chinese flashcards

My first post on this blog was about 4 years ago on July 12th, 2019! That's also around the time I started consistently using Anki. I still review flashcards on Anki nearly every day, but a lot about how I make my cards has changed.

Fields:

Front: The word/phrase, in simplified characters.

Traditional: At some point I decided I wanted to improve my recognition of traditional characters, so I added this field. If the simplified and traditional forms are the same, I leave this field blank.

Back: The definition, written in Chinese and/or English. I try to use Chinese as much as possible, but sometimes I have to resort to English or mix both languages. I didn't start using Chinese definitions until a couple years ago, so my older cards only have English definitions.

Example: Example sentences or phrases that I usually get from Pleco or some other Chinese dictionary source. I replace the word/phrase in question with underscores because I used to mimic cloze deletion-style cards. Now I mostly do it this way out of habit.

Pronunciation: The pinyin with numbers for tones (since that's easier to type on my laptop). I also include variant pronunciations. Above I have both the Mainland Chinese and Taiwanese standard pronunciations.

Alternate: If I notice in the dictionary that there is some alternate form of a character or word, I'll often include it here.

Card front:

Here's how the front of the card looks. I use a cursive-style font called Swim the Wolf to hopefully improve my ability to read others' handwriting. It also forces me to slow down and focus on the example sentences.

This is how the front template looks in Anki:

{{Front}} {{#Traditional}} / {{Traditional}} {{/Traditional}} {{Alternate}} {{Example}}

This template is configured so that if there is text in the traditional field, the card will be displayed with a "/" separating the simplified and traditional text. If the traditional field is empty, the "/" separator will not be displayed.

Card back:

And here is the back. When I started using Anki, I actually had the definition on the front and the word/phrase on the back. That was back when I only wrote the definitions in English. I would try to guess the Chinese word/phrase based on the English definition and Chinese example sentences (thus why I had to use underscores in the examples). At some point, it got unmanageable, so I switched to word/phrase on the front and definition on the back.

Here's the back template:

{{FrontSide}} {{Back}} {{Pronunciation}}

So there we have it, my Anki set up! My method for making cards has changed so much over the years as I've learned more about what works for me and as my goals have evolved. I don't use any add-ons or extensions (unless the added font counts), so you definitely don't need to do anything fancy to get a lot out of Anki. I hope you can glean some inspiration from this!

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Wendy

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The bold beauty of Bowser's army and queen of our hearts, Wendy! Truly an icon for us all.

Right-handed.

All her clothes have pockets in them. She sewed them on herself, and after much pestering, she taught Roy how to do it as well.

A superb figure skater and rollerblader. She likes practicing on her own time and going out to a rink with Lemmy and Larry to have fun. Her coordination for moves is perfect.

She is one of the most organized generals out of all of them, and one of the most well-liked among the troops. Also they have some of the best color coordination.

She keeps a self-care journal. She originally did it out of spite, but now genuinely likes the thoughtfulness it provides.

She's allergic to nickel, so she's been finding a lot of her jewelry in titanium or gold.

Likes to bake! She has Iggy help her in the kitchen and has Larry as her taste tester, and often likes bribing exchanging favors with her brothers for their favorite treats. It partially paved the way for her donut business, too.

Speaking of which, HUGE sweet tooth, and likes all kinds of desserts, but little pastries are her favorite. Lemmy once made her macaroons after she had a bad day, and she was so touched she cried, and now the two of them make them together.

Favorite fruit is watermelon. Roy taught her how to spit the seeds out at people (much to Kamek’s disapproval), and now everyone stays a good ten feet away from her when she's eating them. Pomegranate and grapefruit are close behind.

Looooves the beach. Would spend all day there if she had the chance.

Runs a side hobby of trying and reviewing different beauty products, and when she got frustrated on how a lot of them are aimed at skin and not scales, launched her own line of cosmetics. She spearheaded quite a movement in the industry because of this.

She's a big seafood fan! Especially stuff you have to crack open, like shellfish, crabs, and clams. Free stress therapy.

Favorite candy is life savers, but she loves a lot of different kinds, particularly chocolate candies with fillings.

No one knows what her phone password is, not even her siblings. Attempts have been made to discover it. Those attempts have not ended well.

She's not what you would call a professional sketcher, but she's still a pretty decent fashion artist. She keeps a few sketchbooks in her room for designing new outfit ideas.

She swims whenever she needs to think or contemplate something; she says it's relaxing and helps her focus. If she's ever lost or can't be found, the first place her brothers check is a pool.

While not as involved with her siblings in the 'engineering' aspect of kart-making, when they started making their own businesses, she did want to do something related to it with design. After a bit of debate, she decided to focus on making the car look nice, not just run nice. And so, Wendy's Car Interiors was created.

She is allowed to tease her siblings and rough them up, because she has to stand the nonsense these boys put her through all day, every day. Other people do not have that privilege. She will make sure anyone who thinks otherwise is aware that they do not have that privilege.

Has two styles of handwriting: one that's cursive and sweeping for her own diary, and one that's a type of short-hand for when she needs to take notes.

She also happens to be the fastest writer of the seven. Ludwig is a little awed by it.

While her favorite way to spend time is through shopping, she's a surprisingly responsible credit card owner, balancing several at a time and always paying in-full on time. Her reward points amount is in the hundred-thousands.

Likes beach-reads! She goes through a lot of romance novels, but she can enjoy a good cozy mystery or contemporary at times. She likes reading before she goes to bed, too.

She’s fond of a lot of flowers, and certainly won’t say no to some unusually colored roses, but her absolute favorites are plumerias.

She doesn't play an instrument, but if she did, she'd pick either flute or harp.

Aside from Roy and Ludwig, one of her other siblings she's close with is Morton. He lets her practice different makeup color palettes on him, and they like to bond by getting skin treatments and having spa days together.

Not that she would tell anyone, but she does hold both a rivalry and begrudging admiration for Princess Peach and Princess Daisy.

Loves dragging the hell out of reality TV shows with Ludwig, but prefers to listen to talk-shows or beauty videos; they let her have something to listen to while she works on her designs, bakes, or does her routines.

She likes doing yoga as a way to relax, especially with Pom-Pom.

She's a schemer. All her siblings are, but, apart from Ludwig, she might be the most dangerous one out of all of them; she's not gonna stop at one prank. She's in it for the long-haul.

She doesn't remember it much, but apparently she had a very intense phase of bedazzling and glitter-ifying things when she was younger. Larry remembers this especially well because she somehow managed to bedazzle all of his game controllers in the span of one night. He's still not entirely sure how she did it.

When she was younger, she really wanted to be a ballerina, and took classes for it. It's become less of a dream now, but she still likes doing it. Lemmy likes to join her sometimes.

Likes keeping a to-do list, something she picked up from Ludwig. Only difference is that everything’s on her phone, since she always has it with her.

The best, perhaps out of all of them, at portal / teleportation magic, given her rings, as well as enchantment spells. She's also not too shabby at illusions, though hers are more focused on herself (rather than tricks and performances like Lemmy).

Her social media accounts are f l o u r i s h i n g, and swoon-worthy. Lots of beautiful pictures and her living her best life, along with promos for her businesses.

[n7punk]

the experience you describe of learning those is how cursive is generally treated in the USA. if you look up (american) cursive on google you'll get a bunch of stuff that looks like this:

but in my experience that's way too readable to be cursive. american cursive looks more like this:

which is totally incomprehensible, at least to my three (3) kinds of dyslexia. so honestly i would say your examples are borderline cursive/not cursive because they're closer to printed letters than what anyone's cursive looks here, but it could be the case for y'all as well that people's cursive doesn't actually look that readable IRL.

the defining feature of cursive that makes it so hard to parse is that every letter connects to the next one, which makes them a lot harder to pick out. i can't tell if y'all do that from the letter practice sheet (i think so?), but if you do, then i'd say the lowercase letters are cursive. when i was growing up, typically we would have writing sheets to practice print letters (your computer letters), and once we're doing okay at that, the cursive ones are introduced too (although that delay might have been done because of my dyslexia and people normally start both at the same time). I remember this distinctly because i was working on my cursive sheets for so much longer since dyslexia #3 meant i kept giving letters extra bumps and swoops and stuff and i couldn't read anything i'd written.

i'd say the capital letters you showed have some of the cursive ones i'm familiar with and but mostly look like fancy calligraphy letters. your lowercase letters are more consistent across the board with what we use, but like i said, too readable lmao.

im seeing that poll about learning cursive in school a lot on my dash and as a vietnamese im kinda bewildered bc what do you mean you cant read cursive?? because to us cursive is for capital letters only! the rest are normal letters. so ig our normal written letters are the american cursive, and our "computer" letters are your normal letters?

↑ these are the fonts we learn in school. The left are our normal letters, the right are our cursive. Oh and the thing is, these are the only fonts we actually taught a school, the "typing" font is just what we imitate from printed books. In elementary school we have "good handwriting competitions" where the participants write in the above fonts and are graded on how close it is to the table above. its like boring calligraphy

[miredball]

no you guys by the series finale years and years probably decades down the line after the hubbub and awards and stars and success of the bear and their own respective careers syd and carmy are gonna return to their sheridan catering and beef of chicagoland roots. there’s gonna be a hole in the wall spot (as much as two superstar chefs can have a hole in the wall spot) in some other corner of chicago serving unique and tasteful and good yet simple food. people food. family food buddies food lunch break food tired summer heat hunger food. carmys vintage denim is framed up on the wall. family photos. sydney embroiders names of their regulars on a tapestry. people come down in groves every single day with lines looping around blocks. sometimes it’s quiet and it’s nice too because their daughter does her homework at one of the tables and looks over at them every so often to ask for a refill on her peach iced tea and a pat on the head from her dad. marcus visits from copenhagen as much as he can but it’s always on random days and on short notice but his desserts are coveted so the restaurant has to make a group chat with all the guests who wish to be notified. it’s like on whatsapp or something because not everyone has an iPhone. tina and ebra eventually retire from the bear and they each have a grandchild who come in during summer break and learn under the renowned adamu-berzatto duo (with pay). richie is in love with the bear and the upscale and rigorous and intentional pace of service but syd and carmys hole in the wall sells tshirts ala the beef and richie buys like fifteen “one for each day of the week” “I don’t think that adds up” “well I might get mayo or some shit on it” “you’re gonna get mayo on it EIGHT times?” sugar and her little family come for dinner every week and they all get the exact same thing every single time even their kids it’s almost annoying because like pick something else!this one gets three Michelin stars its first year. reviewers rave articles and more profiles get written. a netflix show features them for an episode. more and more awards for the restaurant and both chefs. its nice and syd and carmy are grateful for all of it. but theres this group of old ladies who come in after bingo on wednesdays who pull them out of the kitchen and pass on their own secret family recipes always handwritten on some kind of ripped paper or a napkin in swirly old timey cursive that syd and carmy can barely read. in these moments the blood red michelin star plaque by the door almost pales in comparison. almoooost.

[gallivantingheart]

Use Your Mouth as an Anchor

masterlist | next

🍵 chapter 1: lychee 🍵

who?: soonyoung/hoshi x (f)reader

word count: 834

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

genre: social media!au, princess diaries II !au, humour, romance, mild angst

warnings: none, as of yet

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

The office after a news cycle was simultaneously quiet and loud. The stress reset before building again. So the coffee in your hand - an order excessively complicated with oat milk - looked like it would actually have time to be consumed today.

Your Head Editor, Minhyuk, points at you with a finger guns through the opening of his office doorway as you come past, his dark hair styled to perfection. He always looks like such a slacker.

“Hey Chon. That piece on Wednesday? Damn fantastic. How did you know?” He marvels with his keen smirk.

You wink and shoot finger guns back. “I have my sources.”

At minimum being the cook’s assistant and the assistant footman - they were old school  buddies of yours. Somehow despite your job, most forget that your family is infamous for their longstanding claim to the Amaide crown. Maybe it’s the fact you don’t mention your name very often or that you live in a rundown cottage on the opposite side of the island. It helps if people forget.

Your colleague, Wonwoo, has a desk that backs onto yours, his long limbs stretching out beneath his desk. He usually runs a portion of the entertainment section and is often rubbing shoulders with the most affluent for the best gossip. It’s surprising, seeing as he’s so quiet, but he’s always had a way of bringing out the most in others. Both of you also tend to overlap in terms of events and sources for articles.

“Another glowing review from our Head Editor.” He says dryly.

“Of course.” You hum as you spin and preen in your chair. “If only I got more than that. With Eunbi on maternity leave I was secretly begging for the assistant editor’s gig. If only for a little bit.” You put your fingers close together and squint through them to see his rolling eyes. “Just a taste.”

“One day, but I’m sure that at this point Minhyuk’s only keeping you in this position because of your Royal contacts. No one could fill your shoes. They made this role just for you, remember?” He’s softly spoken and very mild about it as he adjusts the wire frames of his glasses.

You groan and loll your head back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I might gain a conscience about it.”

Just as Wonwoo is chuckling at your complaints, the office executive assistant whizzes through the office, dropping off post and internal communications for the day. A heavy, textured envelope lands on your desk from over your shoulder, frisbee-ed haphazardly. The magnolia tinted envelope is serious and makes your stomach swoop. Your name and work address are looped in formal cursive in the available space, along with a singular lemon printed post stamp. The envelope is sealed with navy wax, the Park family coat of arms. Your hands shake and your aren’t graceful at all with the letter from the Royal house. It takes you a few times to scan the writing and take in its meaning. Holy crap.

You spin to face Wonwoo, sitting with your firmly planted feet and legs apart in your dress trousers. He blinks, eyes sparking in surprise.

“What?” He asks.

You lean forward across the walkway, waving the heavy paper under his chin. “This is an invite to the royal family’s welcoming soiree. The King and Queen have been away on business in Korea for at least three months - at least publicly. This will be the night they celebrate their official return.” You getting an invite, of all people?

It’s no secret that your family is weird, unhinged, delusional. Whatever you wanted to call their obsession over the rightful heirs to the Amide royal line. Your uncle led the charge, having always been an eccentric to say the least. Swearing till he was blue in the face that the Chon bloodline were the rightful heirs to the Amaide throne and future of the people. The irony there being that he was a man who had a slim chance of getting within breathing distance of that title and power. Worse is that your whole family indulged his outlandish claims, treating them as gospel. Why else had you split to South Korea for your studies as soon as you could? Protect yourself from that drivel and disgusting brain rot. Unfortunately your studies eventually ended and you had to return to the hellfire that was your family. Landing you here as a Royal Correspondent at Genoa Post, the leading news outlet in Amaide.

So, back to the matter at hand. Why would the Park family invite the heir to their greatest enemy into their home? Was this invite extended to any of your other family?

It felt so much like walking into the lion’s den, vastly different from fishing for next week’s news reel from the back doors and harmless shadows.

“What do I do?” You hiss.

Wonwoo stares for a long moment at the paper between you before shrugging. “I guess you go and find out.”