#Pen vs. Keyboard

[pebblegalaxy]

The Ultimate Way to Craft My Perfect Reading and Writing Space: A Saga of Ergonomic Chairs, Vintage Desks, and Coffee Chronicles

The Ultimate Way to Craft My Perfect Reading and Writing Space: A Saga of Ergonomic Chairs, Vintage Desks, and Coffee Chronicles #WritingSpace #ErgonomicDesign #VintageDesk #CoffeeCreativity #HomeOffice #InteriorInspiration #PenVsKeyboard #LightingLove

You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like? In the whimsical tapestry of domesticity, where the echoes of ergonomic chairs and the glow of ambient lighting weave tales of creative prowess, I embarked on a grand odyssey in pursuit of the Holy Grail of literary sanctuaries. Buckle up, dear reader, for a narrative of epic proportions, where furniture becomes a…

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[haztory]

october 17th ♡

– ceo!kuroo tetsurou x assistant!reader; timeskip au, slow burn, mutual pining

– summary: It’s October 17th. The day of which you can never get a semblance of peace. It’s the start of volleyball season.

part one

a/n: i saw the hq movie and remembered my roots. it's kuroo time. love that man. (w.c.: 6.4k)

It’s October 17th, your desk calendar tells you. 

Marked in a quick circle in bold red pen for emphasis. Not like you could forget it, what with the building buzz that seems to escalate with every hour and the excited greetings bubbling in the office. And certainly you couldn’t forget the date with your boss reminding you of it every single chance he could get.

It’s October 17th. The day of which you can never get a semblance of peace. It’s the start of volleyball season. There’s a tally sheet in your mind that holds eight marks— one for every time he’s mentioned the damn day— and it’s not even time for your second cup of coffee. 

The most wonderful time of the year, according to Kuroo. 

There’s a pep in his step as he juggles his briefcase and files between hands and skips towards his third meeting of the day. His phone is tucked between his ear and shoulder, swarmed in the air of chaos and yet, there’s a wide smile on his face. Toothy and eager, almost maniacal. An exhilarated man, the ringmaster of madness, preparing a show for thousands with only coffee and sheer enthusiasm running through his veins. 

The tiles beneath his feet practically turn golden as he passes by. 

He stops before your desk on his way out, phone dutifully tucked yet ignored as he meets your gaze with burning excitement. The chatter on the other end of the line is audible, and he really should be listening to it, but instead his focus is maintained on you. You raise a brow in question, fingers hovering over the keyboard to your computer and e-mail to the finance department woefully on hold as your boss stares at you. 

Tufts of his hair are pulled in various ways, the standard for a busy morning, and the sleeves of his white button down are rolled up to his elbows displaying the veins that no doubt pulse excitedly; But the most revealing part of him, the most captivating part in his day of havoc, are his eyes. 

Honey auburn that burns alight in sheer joy— the kind of happiness that he wants you to revel in, hopes to convey in the intensity of his gaze. Sticky honey brown that coats the inside of your stomach and fills you with warmth. A gleam that can make flowers bloom with just his simple gaze.  

Slowly, he points his finger towards your calendar that’s displayed clearly for the regular passerby. Fingertip presses the red circle on the paper, emphasizing the words scribbled inside of it detailing the events of the day. 

1st Day of Volleyball Season!

His smile splits his face into two. You add another tally to the sheet.  

Indulging him with a grin would be encouraging juvenile behavior, so it takes everything in you to bite back the tugging of your lips and instead roll your eyes. It doesn’t deter him. He all but clicks his heels together as he prances out the door, throwing his fist holding his briefcase in the air with a silent cheer, and answering whatever question was posed to him on the other end of his line.

It’s October 17th, Kuroo’s favorite day of the year. 

Yours, too. 

Although, you would never tell him that.

-

The starting game of MSBY vs. Tachibana Red Falcons is a match predicted to be vicious and brutal. Considering Japan’s top players had more than proved themselves to be powerhouses during the Nations League Tournament over the summer, the star power and media attention given to the players has given the entrance game to the season an anticipation that could not be tamed— not that anyone in the marketing department would want it to be. 

The players this year have been nothing short of top tier athleticism— a detail that so graciously fell into the JVA’s hands and became their capitalized advertisement. 

An unmatched season! A trial of power and speed! Japan’s best players go head-to-head in the best playoffs Japan has ever seen!

Kuroo practically played the lottery every morning with luck like this. 

The Ariake Arena fills up like a lightning flood, waves of bodies decorated with black and red filling seats with heightened excitement. It vibrates throughout the stadium, transcends beyond the high beams and open space. It fills and suffocates until all that can be seen, heard, and felt is pure, unadulterated energy. It’s a straight shot of adrenaline to the heart. It’s the taste of a sweet memory. 

The sound of excitement from guests and vendors steadily rises and Kuroo buzzes in place. His shoes tap incessantly on the wooden floor, fingers flutter with anticipation as he adjusts, then readjusts, the now wrinkled tie across his neck. His cheeks ache from the endless smile that pushes on them. 

Carefully moved chess pieces, endless phone calls, and retina-burning contracts with sponsors have finally gotten him here: To the sweet smell of cool conditioned air and freshly waxed floors, to the sounds of chants and joy, to the sight of his successfully pitched logo printed beneath Miya Atsumu’s smug face on the large banner tacked on the left side of the arena. The veneration on his face is one that finds itself familiar to veterans. Standing on the shining hardwood of the court, his hands finally find rest on his hips, his gaze stilling at the sight of his months-long work. 

Pride doesn’t really do much justice to the feelings inside of him— but damn if it isn’t a close enough guess. His hard work finally actualized, but it’s only just really beginning. This is where his fun begins, the shining light, the gentle reminder of how much he loves his job.

October 17th, the best day of the year.

“We need to see the players before warm-ups begin.” Kuroo says after a moment, not even needing to spare a glance backwards to see if you’ve heard him. Such is the consequence of having a good assistant, one that, even with all the eye rolls and dragging sighs, is always a step ahead of him.

“Coach Foster said that he could spare us ten minutes before he gives his locker room speech. Coach Sato said the same.” You tell your boss, stepping beside him as his eyes follow the movements of staff members dragging carts of volleyballs to their respective places. An approving look settles on his face, a delightful perusal.

There's a tablet held in your arms as you notate on a timetable, presumably a schedule with detailed notes that Kuroo has to be on in order for the evening to go well. Probably one you've put a lot of time and effort into. Knowing you, it’s probably color coded. A schedule that he would do well by both you and the company in abiding by.

He shoves his hand between the tablet and your fixed stare, wiggling his fingers obnoxiously in front of the work that holds your dutiful attention. "Stop paying attention to that and look around you. Smell the air! What is it you smell?"

The excitement held so passionately in his eyes bore into your unimpressed ones. "Stale popcorn and lemon cleaner, Kuroo-san."

"So negative, I think the long work days are finally getting to you."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Not mine. You love me too much to quit." He grins. He gestures his hand outward, panning it across the stadium to the sight of guests filling the seats. "It's the smell of anticipation! The promise of a worthwhile game! How can you not be excited?”

A ping resounds on your tablet that draws your gaze back down to the schedule. It’s a message from the volunteer coordinator. You write a note in the margin—volunteers in break room at 8:45, give thanks and gifts at 9.

"It’s hard to be excited when you keep yapping in my ear about what day it is." You mutter distractedly.

"You're telling me," Suddenly his fingers are poking into the skin of your cheeks, lifting the skin upward in a manufactured smile, "You look frightening." 

You swat his hands away, your own palms connecting with his in a vicious slap. "If we don't get started now you're going to be late in meeting the President of the JVA at his box seats." 

Kuroo waves his hand nonchalantly. "Ah, he'll wait for me. I am the reason we’ve got a turnout like this. It's the least he could do."

You roll your eyes, formality lost as you address your boss. "It's about the principle of it, Tetsu. He'll be upset."

"Have you forgotten what day it is? How can anyone be upset on this day?"

You stare at him in violent silence clearly exposing the extent of your disdain for him at this moment. It’s a futile endeavor. Your stare only fuels the fire of his need for provocation tenfold. His smile widens, teeth bearing a shit-eating grin. With little remorse, you tell him, "You're very annoying when you're happy."

His head tilts backward in a laugh, lean and tall figure elongating with the motion as he, genuinely, finds himself amused. “And you're even meaner than usual when I am. C’mon, let’s pay the Jackals a visit.” Accompanying the turn of his body, he taps the tip of your nose with his slender finger and begins a trek towards the main entrance leading to the corridors of the arena.

“No.” Your quick retort is the popping of a balloon. He deflates, hands thrown upward in exasperation as he turns around to face you once more. You swear he stomps his feet. 

"God, what now?"

“Favoritism.”

He balks with a furrow on his brow, “Pardon?”

“Favoritism. It’s obvious to everyone in this building who you’re rooting for, so we need to minimize those details before someone catches wind and decides to tell the press that the games are rigged.”

“Now, that is an outrageous idea. No respectable reporter would use my words against me.” Kuroo smiles, annoyingly, confidently. To which your stare only digs further into him, the infamous memory of last year’s season playing quite clearly across your face in which his sarcastic comment about players salaries made headlines and resulted in a week of endless phone calls to your office.

“JVA DIRECTOR STATES DIV. ONE PLAYERS WILL NOT RECEIVE SPONSORSHIP BONUSES AFTER ASTOUNDING SEASON AS ‘WE DON’T PAY FOR MEDIOCRITY AND THESE PLAYERS SUCK, OBVIOUSLY’.”

It’s the conveyance of death in your eyes alone that really gets him going. Truly, there’s no one more impressive than you. 

“I said, respectable.” Kuroo emphasizes, hardly batting an eye as you walk past him. 

“C’mon. Coach Sato is waiting with the Falcons.”

“The favoritism allegation is ridiculous. Ask around the office, no one is able to tell that you’re my least favorite of them all.” He follows you into the hallway without prompting like the well-trained dog you’ve made him to be, “That’s how good I am.”

You turn back to look at him, “Oh, sure. So the names Bokuto and Hinata don’t mean anything to you?”

Biting back a smirk, he says, “I have no idea who you’re referring to.”

—

In the aftermath of a worthwhile game and an impressive start to the season, the stadium quickly finds itself abandoned. Scores of people taking to the street to celebrate their win or drink their sorrows away, their raucous din and lived delight exiting with them, leaving only a barren arena—save for the remaining staff who dutifully tidy the empty aisles and clean the floors. Yet, even with their humble presence, it’s quiet. Only the light echoing of shoes and brooms on the floor, the rolling of carts, the sounds of vacuums filling the space and providing life. 

And standing on the second floor of the arena, leaning his body against the railing overlooking the court, Kuroo finally gets a second to just look.

There are very few times in which Kuroo is quiet. Or rather, there are very few times where he gets the chance to be. 

It’s hard to walk the line between professional and man, not that he does a good job at it on a regular day. It's an all-consuming persona and his job demands the full devotion of mind, body, and spirit despite the relative nonurgency that comes with being a Marketing Director. And while he’s never been known for his outstanding polish as a young professional— particularly within the confines of his office— Kuroo has never not been one to commit. What is demanded of him is what he gives, and more. 

These days he’s finding it almost impossible to switch the hat of boss for the one of man. The lines between the two become even more blurred with each passing day that he spends another sleepless night in the office, attends another soul sucking meeting that could have truly just been an email, brown noses at people with titles and credentials that he cannot bear to remember for the sake of money. 

Humanity slowly depletes when met with the four walls of an office that never changes shades.  Moments like this are brief allowances. The empty stadium is conducive to the quick slip into a memory, the removal of the permanent hat for the other one. 

The game played not even an hour ago is replaced with that of what he remembers.  The once erratic beat of his heart before the blown whistle, the feel of burning muscles in his calves, and the sting of the ball on his skin; He can almost taste the salt of the disappointment of a lost match, and the sweetness of the joy the game gave him. If he tries, Kuroo can recall the last time that he was on a court just like the one before him and remember just how wonderful it once was.

The sweet memory of it all. A sliver of happiness that he keeps stowed away in the back of his mind, meant only to be pulled out in times of emergency. When life gets too loud and work becomes exactly what it is—work. It’s the needed reprieve, the gentle vice. But much like everything else these days, it lasts for only a lingering moment before it fades into the nothingness of everything else. 

There isn’t one particular thought that he can train on. He couldn’t even tell anyone what exactly it is that he thinks about, for it all blends together into the great variation of everything. A hectic whirlwind of things that fall over one another as they fight to take his attention. 

The game schedule for tomorrow, the invoices he needs to have approved, the mountain of unread emails relating to a media sponsorship that needs to be finalized by the end of the month, the leadership training that he needs to attend next week. Seeing Bokuto and Hinata before the game was a slip of the hat into the relative calm of youth that he remembers so fondly, he should probably try and hang out with them more. His social life is already pitiful. There’s also the fact that he has to go grocery shopping since he just ran out of instant noodles, unless he wants to have takeout again—but he’s already racked up quite the bill this month in takeout alone and he hasn’t been able to go to the gym enough to counteract those great decisions. He needs to return his sister’s phone call, something he keeps prolonging, not because he doesn’t care to know the details about his nephew’s birthday party next Sunday but rather because that will inevitably lead to the discussion about their father’s well-being and truthfully, that’s not a can of worms he’s willing to open just yet. And also—

“Hey.”

Kuroo’s head snaps towards the intrusion, towards the voice that cuts through the storm of flying thoughts and stills them in their rampage. 

You stand behind him, your blazer thrown over your purse and the sleeves of your dress shirt rolled up to your elbows. Your hair is no longer the neat style you had at the beginning of the event, but instead the reflection of a long work day. Your own work hat stowed somewhere deep in your purse, in favor of someone he’s rather fond of. 

“Hey.” He returns, surprised but pleased. He had figured at the end of the game you would have made haste with the exiting crowd. Your duties done for the day, the schedule you made him stick to like glue finished and completed. Any other person would have run for the doors and be home by now. 

But, here you are. Standing with a content smile on your face and a softening in your eyes as you meet his gaze. (Truthfully, he should know better. You’ve never been one to just leave without telling him, whether directly or through email, for home or for a date. Hell, you all but yell your plans in his face just to reduce the risk of confusion. But he assumes, still, that you’re smarter than him. That you know when to call it quits on a work day and head home. 

He conveniently forgets that, above all, you’re good at your job. You never listen, too stubborn and insistent on doing your duties even when he tells you to go home early; to not worry about the final details on a draft or a missed message; tells you that he can handle it. That’s never been you, because aside from being fantastic at being his assistant, you’ve been committed to your craft no matter what it is. You care too much about your job and the things it affects. 

Because that’s who you are. It’s who you’ve always been. It’s what he knows to be true and violent about you, and it's what he’s been able to see blossom since working with you. So, of course you’re here. Waiting for him, because that’s what you do. Commit to being there for him, through and through. 

Because you’re his assistant, of course. 

Just his assistant. That’s all.)

He stands straighter, manners not entirely drilled out of his subconscious, even if he was distracted. A beat passes, he looking at you and you looking at him, before he, finally, extends a hand— inviting you to join him. You do, settling next to him on the rail, and gazing over the object of his fixation. 

It’s a content silence. The inhale of the aftermath, the exhale of the preparation. One you both know the extent of, have shared too many late nights for. There’s great relief in being able to revel in the fruits of one’s labor, but there’s something all the more satisfying in knowing someone else was basking in that reward too. In not being entirely alone, despite the job often making him feel.

This is your moment just as much as it is his, something he’s never been more convinced of. 

Much of the success belonging to him would be nothing if not for your firm foundation, the depth of your support for not only him, but the game. The wondrous, joyous game. 

 It’s only a moment or two of the stillness between you two before you gently disturb it. 

“Today went well.” You tell him. 

He gives an affirmative hum, a small smile befalling on his face. Folding his arms across his chest, he tilts his head from side to side in consideration. “You don’t think the banner was too big?”

“It’s no bigger than it usually is.” You shrug and he hums again. 

Another beat, then he says, “Did you notice the photo?”

“On the banner?” You ask. 

“Yeah.”

“I did.”

“Good.” He says, resolutely, looking over the arena once more as two staff members begin folding up the commentators chairs on the sidelines of the court, “You chose it.”

“I know.” You say. He smiles again, a happy and content one; and you would tease him about it— (about the fact that he’s smiling as though this were a great victory fought between the marketing department and the photography studio, one that he emerged victorious in fighting tooth and nail for your input instead of the reality of the situation. 

It was a cloudlink sent to his email on a Tuesday afternoon, filled with prints of various D1 players that he was asked to provide input on. A task that he, then, delegated to you by calling you into his office on your lunch break and having you play eenie-meenie-miny-moe with him. With a sandwich held firmly in your hand and Kuroo pecking at his snack bag of trail mix, you point to the smug face of Miya Atsumu.

“It’s because of the smile, right?” He had asked, his eyes squinting and head tilted to the side as though that would give him better understanding of the man’s face. “He’s a great player. He just has the look of a winner.”

“I don’t know. I just think he’s hot.” You tell him simply.

Kuroo chokes on a peanut. You laugh. He sends your choice over to the graphic design team.)

—but you let him have the small win. Four years of working together has taught you which of the battles to fight, and truthfully, there aren’t that many that you don’t give to him. Admitting sucha  thing, however, would be a violation of everything you hold dear to your job so you obviously omit that. 

Kuroo speaks once more, his voice soft as he continues to regard the court. “You did a good job today.”

There’s no tease in him, no wry smile or setup for a joke that you’re clearly walking into. For all intents and purposes, Kuroo Testurou stands before you as a man with more than his guard down. He stands honestly, made soft and tender by the trials of a hard work day and the victory of his labor. 

The kind of man you know him to be, that you hold such deep admiration for. 

“Thank you, Tetsu.” For fear of disrupting the quiet that surrounds the arena or fear of shattering the genuineness of the moment, you respond in kind. Equally gentle when you tell him earnestly, honestly, “So did you, but that’s not new.”

You feel it before you can even see or hear it. The turning of the tide, the impending slant of his smile; The red alert alarm that you have built into your head for Tetsurou’s moments of snarkiness blaring loudly. 

The taunt is on its way and you begin a rebuttal before he even opens his mouth. Kuroo’s face contorts into an exaggerated look of disbelief.

“We were having—”

“I cannot believe it—” 

“—a nice moment!”

“—Is that a compliment I hear?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your head away from him. “If you’re going to act like that—”

“No, no! Can’t take it back. You said it already.” 

“Nope. I formally recant my statement—”

“Ooh, big word—”

“—I forswear what I said—”

“—Forswear?! How do you even know what that means?”

“—You did an adequate job. Actually, you did exactly what was expected of you. Nothing more.”

“C’mon, give me some credit. You weren’t expecting me to land that invite for that GQ party next month. And how did I do that? Remind me one more time?” Kuroo leans his head towards you, tapping his ear repeatedly. 

“By doing your job.” You insist and he throws his head to the side in hurt.

“By being the best at my job.”

“They invited you because you were badgering them in the box seats. What did you bribe them with?”

He levels a steady smirk at you, “Sounds like someone doesn’t want to go.”

You gasp, eyes narrowing, “You wouldn’t.”

“Admit it, then.” He grins.

“Admit what! That I kept you on schedule for the day so that you could actually do your job and get us the invites? Then I will admit that I did my job excellently.” You poke your finger into his chest repeatedly and he laughs.

He agrees with a small nod of his head, smiling widely, knowingly. “You did.” 

“I did.” You affirm. “And with enough time to factor in potty breaks. Plural.”

Kuroo laughs again, incredulously, “Potty. Who even says that anymore?”

“Me. Your lovely, amazing assistant that you are definitely taking to the GQ party.”

Kuroo’s gaze fixes on yours, held firmly as the grin lingering so resolutely on his face reaches up to his eyes. The conversation peters out into another gentle silence, ambers meeting yours in a steady embrace, and voicing what remains to be said. Held tightly by the reciprocity of your own gaze.

It happens, then. The quiet kindling that has become so familiar between he and you. The settling of a warmth between the space that has been occurring more frequently; Found only in times like this. When laughter dissipates and ease takes over. When it becomes glaringly obvious that you enjoy your boss’s company a little more than you probably should, and that he doesn’t necessarily mind you all that much. There isn’t much to say about it even though your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and fiction dictates that this is the moment where someone should say something.

But what is there to say at this moment to the man who signs your paychecks? Who eggs you on in ways that no one would even bother to do? What could you express other than profound admiration and deep annoyances over his character? What could you tell him that he doesn’t already know? 

(Maybe the truth that is buried deep within you. One that you haven’t admitted to yourself because honestly, you aren’t even sure you believe it yourself.

There’s bound to be affections shared between two people who work in such close proximity as you two. Regard, appreciation, fondness— but not that. No, it couldn’t be that. That would be ridiculous.

Because he’s your boss, of course. 

Just your boss. That’s all.) 

“You should go home,” Tetsurou is the first to break the stare. Fortunately, too, lest you become too absorbed in your thoughts and do something stupid like risking getting lost in the eyes of amber. He turns his attention to his hands on the railing, his thumb tapping repeatedly on the metal. “Get some rest. You deserve it, keeping me in line and all.”

He bumps his shoulder into yours. 

“Are you heading home soon?” You ask.

He shrugs, before looking to the court once more. “In a minute.  I’m going to stay for a little longer. Not ready to go home yet.”

You hum, “Then I’ll stay with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, one that, when you glance towards him you expect to see filled with amusement. Maybe a tease on his tongue once more about how hard you work, about how miserable you’ll be in the morning for staying up past your bedtime. Instead, you see only the calm stillness of his face, eyes fixed resolutely on the empty court before him. 

He leans forward onto the railing, bracing his elbows against its fixture, watching the scene below him as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. Four janitors taking a break from their waxing of the floor to play a quick, and sloppy, game of volleyball. Soft laughter echoes throughout the room, broken apart by low mutterings of commentary on their plays that sends the four older men into even further laughter. 

Then, “Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I went pro.”

To learn of other people in the course of a years-long friendship is natural, rightfully expected— and while there is much of Kuroo that you do know and can recite off the top of your head, the willful admittance of intimate details, especially in quiet times like this, is always surprising. Especially when coupled with the contemplative silence that follows his words, the genuine wonder, the longing written on his face as the rose thoughts of a first love bloom in the cracks of a fallen smile. 

In the softening of his eyes and the deep sigh that he releases, you realize that there’s a Kuroo Tetsurou that you don’t know. 

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, you reach out to find him. You ask, softly. “Why did you stop playing?”

His eyes remain trained on the court, as though the answer were laid upon the hardwood floors. “It was time. I loved the game but, I don’t know. Just didn’t make sense for me to keep it going. There were other things I needed to do, and playing professionally would have taken up too much time.” 

You can almost see it, then. A younger Tetsurou, even more chaotic and rowdy than you know him to be, with hopes and dreams that exist somewhere in the great web of could have been’s, cast to the side because of the “other things”. You don’t pry, not when he’s already being so forthcoming as it is, but you make a note. Store it away in the folder lodged deep in your mind dedicated to the man.

“Would you be happier if you did?” You ask, albeit hesitantly. Not entirely sure what you would do with the answer.

He rolls his broad shoulders gently, like a tide rolling in under itself, swayed under its own pressure and maybe that should mean something. “Well, it’s not like I’m unhappy. I’ve got a good life, good job, good people. I’ve got it all.” 

He spares a quick glance to you. So quick you wouldn’t have caught it had he not already been the centerpoint of your fixed stare, but truthfully, when is he not? When is he not the center of your gaze, your life, your world? Everything in your routine seems to start and end with Kuroo Tetsurou.

“But I can’t deny how much I miss the game.”

—you don’t mind all that much. Especially not when he’s like this. Open, sensitive, and wanting to talk. When he actually takes the time to chew his thoughts out and speak them into existence rather than continue his sordid and pointed teases.

You lean forward onto the railing. “Do you think you would have made it far?” 

He adjusts his figure next to yours. His crooked elbow touches yours, but he makes no move to remove it. “Well… I hate to brag, but…” 

You scoff. “You do.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to say.” He shrugs his shoulders wryly. “In another life, I’m still playing.” 

It sounds sadder than he intends it to be, but it’s the truth. And you get it; have your own could-have’s stored deep in the recesses of your mind, your own forgotten dreams about who you wanted to be that haunt and plague in the twilight of hard nights where sleep is elusive and quarter-life crises spring forth in the darkness—but it’s not all bad.

“Well, in this other life, if you’re playing and I just so happened to know you,” You tell him, “I would be your biggest fan.”

He huffs at that. Looking at you with a tilt of his head and a handsome smile on his face. “Oh yeah? And if you didn’t?”

“I’d be Miya Atsumu’s biggest fan.” You say simply.

“You already are.”

“Yeah, but I know you have jealousy issues so I just don’t say anything about it.”

Tetsurou nods his head. Amused. “Well I’m glad to know you, then.”

It happens here, again. 

The quiet kindling, the lingering warmth. With hopes and dreams laid out before you, and the brief allowance into the depths of his intimate details he holds tightly under the weight of himself, do you find the familiarity of the man again. The one you know, the one who laughed so hard at your banana costume that milk came out of his nose. The one who canceled all of his meetings for the day when you broke your pinky finger in the office and who stayed with you in the hospital until a cast was put on. 

The one who smiles at you so gently, as if you are someone important. The one you can’t help but smile right back at. Kuroo Tetsurou, your boss, a friend.

Movement in the corner of your eye draws your attention to the court. The janitors that were once playing amongst each other slowly begin to stray from the court, picking up their brooms and exiting towards the sidelines. Looking at Tetsurou, you find that he’s still looking at you.

“They’re not closing the stadium for another hour. And it looks like the janitors have had their fun.” You say, “Wanna play a quick game?”

His brows raise to his hairline, “You know how to play?”

“We had to choose a sport to play for gym class back in high school and it was either tennis or volleyball. So I guess you can say I know a thing or two.”

“Ah, a professional.”

“Mhm. I’m here to give you a run for your money.”

Tetsurou pushes himself off the railing, standing to his full height as he accepts the offer. Towering over you at his 6’5 height, he begins rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, cuffing the white material until it reaches the crook of his elbow. A quick glance to the revealed skin is only a firm reminder of what you had pointedly forgotten. Long slender fingers attached to a thick and veiny forearm, sculpted through years of volleyball practice and continued exercise.

If he wanted to, he definitely could have made it professionally. You almost choke on your spit.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Tetsurou gives you a smile that rivals the smugness of Miya Atsumu in that stupid banner and you know for a fact that in that other life, you would’ve been Kuroo Tetsurou’s biggest fan whether you knew him or not— and not because he was a good player. 

—

“You need to lock your elbows.”

“They’re locked!”

“No they’re not. Look at this,” Tetsurou steps underneath the net, approaching you in long strides before tapping his fingers against the elbows of your interlocked hands. He watches with little impression as your arms swing easily with his force, “Noodles. How are you supposed to receive with this?”

“I’m trying but it’s not comfortable!”

“So you’d rather suck?”

“Kinky.” You say with a waggle of your brows and he rolls his eyes.

“Stop it. Here, you need to—” Without a second thought, he steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and fixing your hands. wrapping your right hand over your left and running the length of his warm touch down your forearms. Innocuous and gentle, but stiffening as you breathe in the musky scent of his cologne and the faded scent of his aftershave, and feel the hard planes of his chest press against your back. 

“Straighten your elbows,” He mutters, voice heavy beside your ear.  “And keep them locked. Helps you to have a steady receive for any kind of ball. If your form is perfect then you can always pass the ball using this part, here.” His right index finger touches the surface of your forearm, running between the length of your elbow and wrist to accentuate his point. 

It isn’t a matter of fireworks when he touches you, the exploding kind that has butterflies and goosebumps erupting over the expanse of your skin. It isn’t as though your eyes have suddenly been peeled open and the realization has struck you hard across the face like every romance story that preaches about the magic of the first touch, the electricity of meeting hands across the table, the sudden realization of knowing.

No, this is entirely different. A comforting touch, not uncommon, but intimate and while it doesn’t have you reeling in revolutionary realization, nor does it have you fanning yourself from the flames of sudden desire, his touch does, eerily, have you sinking in further. There’s no fluttering and flustering with the confusion of flooding feelings, but rather, it has you looking at his hands with a slight furrow. 

Wondering, when his hands suddenly got so soft, yet so firm. Wondering, in what part of the intertwining of his life with yours did his touch suddenly not only become okay, but felt as though it belonged? 

Were this any other man, you would have a harassment claim sent to HR before he could even get near you. But it’s Tetsurou; And when his slender fingers wrap gently around your wrist, turning them upward slightly, you don’t go rigid in his embrace, but instead fall into it. Settle into his grasp, entrust yourself in his hands. 

Because how could you not?

“Like this?” You ask, quietly. No need to exert volume considering he’s right next to you. In search of approval in how you’ve adjusted your hands, you turn your head to the side to look at him, only to realize how close he is to you. Eyes able to see the steady pulse of the clench in his jaw as he focuses on your form, the sharp angle of his jaw, the closely shaven hairs of his stubble.

“Yeah, just like that. Good.” He answers, before removing his hands and bracing them against your shoulders, straightening your posture for the receives that you are no longer focused on getting.

If Kuroo Tetsurou turned his head to you, there would be nothing stopping his nose from bumping into yours. You must be silent, too caught up in the overwhelming nature of it all because he’s suddenly stiffening from his position over you. Then, at a speed you’ve never seen him move before, he’s rescinding his body entirely from you. And it should sting. The speed at which your boss acted as though you physically burned him, his body essentially repulsed from touching you. 

He’s putting great space between you two as he ducks back under the net to his side of the court, yelling over his shoulder, “T-that should fix it. Try, uh, try now. Try serving.”

“I thought I was receiving?” You ask his retreating figure and he stills, considering for a moment, before waving his hand in the air— obviously embarrassed and confused at the fact that he’s just jeopardized everything and made his assistant uncomfortable. 

“Whatever, just give it back to me.” He says, frustratedly.

And you allow yourself, just for a brief moment, to store another could-have in the sanctity of your fantasies. One where he isn’t your boss, and you aren’t his assistant, and you are able to admit to the true and honest parts of yourself—

“Nice return! See? Better already.”

—you rather liked the way he touched you.  

a/n: HEEEEELP i love him your honor. sorry for always ghosting. i wish i could say i wont, but i know i will. lol

[seokstrivia]

Written In Pages

Summary: Sometimes, it’s for the best, 

Work!AU | KHH M.List | Word count: 2.4K

Boss Christian Yu x Writer Reader - angst, old feelings, exes, new love vs old love, drama(?)

After slamming your laptop shut for the umpteenth time, you groaned in irritation and took the last sip of your wine.

Your dream job was to write articles for a magazine, specifically inspiring stories about everyday life situations. You disliked writing about new cafes and hotspots to visit in Seoul, South Korea on a hot summer day. Your boss, Christian Yu, was someone you despised.

You let out a sigh as you leaned back on your couch, feeling exhausted from working for long hours and staring at a bright screen. Despite the fatigue, you were able to enjoy the peacefulness of your apartment which was quietly enveloped by the sound of light rain tapping against the tall windows that offered a view of the brightly lit city at night. The cityscape was a sight to behold, with buildings and cars stretching out as far as the eye could see, and you found it captivating.

It felt surreal.

You struggled with the idea of writing this article for a while, but now, as it is almost 3 am, you just want to finish it and move on, without having to worry about it anymore.

You worked tirelessly on your article all night, only the clicking of your keyboard keeping you company. As the sky began to lighten just before 5 am, you finally completed your 12th and hopefully final draft. After sending it to your boss, you collapsed into your bed, exhausted.

—>

“Wow, you look like shit.”

“Shut up, Dabin,” you scowled while you pointed a pen at him, almost as if threatening to hurt him if he said another word. “I was up late working on an article.”

“Again?”

As you nodded your head, a yawn escaped your lips, but Dabin didn't seem too impressed. He was aware of your writing skills, and he knew that Ian, his best friend, also recognized your talent. Despite this, Ian never allowed you to demonstrate your best writing abilities.

It annoyed him.

“Do you want me to speak to...“

“No,” you cut him off knowing exactly what he was going to ask. It was his favourite question. “It’s fine.”

Dabin suspiciously leaned over you, face a lot closer than you were comfortable with, and stared into your eyes as if they had a different answer to the one you’d given him.

It made you laugh.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” you genuinely smiled as you pushed his face away from yours.

The two of you discussed where to go for lunch and what you were in the mood for, which varied daily.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?”

The sudden voice behind you caused you to drop the smile on your face. You quickly locked eyes with Dabin before shifting to see your boss standing behind you.

Ian didn't give you time to respond to his question since he was already on his way back to his office. His strides were long and swift as you hurriedly followed behind.

A sigh escaped your lips as you thought about all the terrible things he might say about the draft you sent just a few hours ago.

Christian's office exuded a sense of sophistication and elegance with its predominantly black theme. The black furniture and décor complemented the black walls, creating a sleek and modern atmosphere. The aesthetic aligned perfectly with Christian's personal style, which is characterized by his sharp black suits, crisp white shirts, and multiple decorated tattoos. Overall, the office was a reflection of Christian's impeccable taste and attention to detail.

There’s no denying that he was a handsome man. 

“Do you enjoy working here?”

His voice was firm and almost intimidating, but it was nothing that you weren't accustomed to.

“Ye—“

“Answer me honestly,” he interrupted.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as he once again failed to listen.

It was annoying. 

You gazed out of the window, avoiding eye contact as the rain poured heavily over the city. It was ironic that you had just written an article on what to do on a hot summer day.

“Y/N—“

"Ian," you sighed, interrupting him as he had interrupted you earlier. "I don't hate working here, and I want you to know that. I genuinely enjoy the people and the work that I do. But it feels like you never give me a fair chance to show you how good I am, or how much I love being here."

As you stood up, your eyes met Christian's dark and mysterious ones. You never really understood him, as he always kept his distance. Even when you were dating, he never let you get too close.

His eyes reminded you of the heartbreak you felt when he told you he needed to focus on work and being a boss. There was no sadness or remorse in his expression. He was emotionless.

You subconsciously took a step back as he took one towards you, both caught off guard. You were afraid of falling for him again, especially after the pain he had caused you.

“I think maybe I should find another company to write for.”

“No.”

“Ian—“

“Y/N,” his voice was stern. Cold. “I said no.”

A deep chuckle reverberated in his office. You stepped back and crossed your arms, "It's not up to you. I can do what I want."

He knew you were right, but he didn't want you to leave. He had already given you up once.

Here's a clearer version of the text:

"Will you stay if I let you write your own story?" he asked, trying to offer a bribe.

"Why?" you questioned him, catching him off guard. He had hoped that you would just say yes and leave it at that.

There was an uncomfortable silence as he stood his ground, looking at you intently, but he didn't offer an explanation.

He was being stubborn.

After a while, you looked away from him and said, "I'll stay. See you around, Mr. Yu."

Christian watched as you left his office. He let you walk away.

Again.

—>

It was another late night in the office. Ian had finally given you the green light to write your own story - something exciting, new, and inspiring. However, you were struggling to come up with an idea. You didn't have any unique experiences to discuss, except for your own heartache and the pain you had gone through, along with the emotions you had felt.

It had been more than a year since Ian had broken up with you. Now, you were in a much better place emotionally, and seeing him around the office didn't hurt as much as it did when the wound was still fresh.

Your experience of getting over a breakup could serve as a source of inspiration for many individuals out there who may be going through the same thing. You could write about how you coped with the situation and be honest in your narrative. The idea is to make your readers relate to you and feel that they are not alone in the world and that going through a breakup is a common experience that everyone faces at least once in their lifetime.

As you were lost in thought, a voice interrupted you, asking "How are you getting on?"

You glanced up to see Dabin holding a box of fried chicken and a pack of four beers. You couldn't help but smile as your stomach growled in hunger. You were grateful for your best friend's arrival.

"Thank god for you," you exclaimed, feeling much better now. "I'm starving."

The two of you were quick to get settled into the couches in the staff room; away from computers and cubicles and depressing grey walls.

"This is delicious," you moaned as you took another bite.

Dabin laughed in return, "I'm glad I can help during times like this."

Dabin was a really good friend.

"So, how's your writing coming along?" He asked.

"Fine."

Nodding his head, he asked, "what's it about?"

You took a sip of your drink before turning to face Dabin. It was obvious what he was doing.

"You can let Ian know the article's content will be revealed in my final draft, okay?"

"How did you know I was asking for him?"

You lay back on the couch, sighing as your eyes stared at the plain white ceiling. Dabin followed suit, resting his shoulder neatly against yours.

It was quiet.

There was nobody else in the building except for the two of you. Normally, nobody stayed back late. However, you enjoyed staying late because of the peaceful and quiet atmosphere. The lights would turn off automatically on a timer, leaving you with a breath-taking view of Seoul from above.

Being on the top floor definitely had its perks.

"He didn't want to end things with you, but he had no choice. He misses you," Dabin finally spoke.

You avoided eye contact and stated, "Everyone has a choice."

You were in a three-year relationship with Ian before he broke up with you. As time went on, your love for him grew stronger and you were convinced that he was the one.

But no.

On a frigid winter night, he arrived at your doorstep and broke up with you. Declaring that his work was his priority and that he wanted to become a boss his father could be proud of.

So, he married his job instead.

It was a horrible experience that left you feeling utterly shattered. A heavy weight seemed to sit on your chest, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake off the feeling. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and dealing with the aftermath was so difficult that you had to take a month off work. Seeing him again was too much to bear after feeling so broken.

"I thought he was the one, Dabin," you expressed. "But after he broke up with me, I realized that I didn't really know him. He never let me get close to him, and he never opened up to me. I was blindly in love."

Dabin looked at you with sad eyes; it was the first time you had openly talked about your breakup.

->

Saturdays were your favourite day of the week. You could sleep in as long as your stomach allowed before getting too hungry. You didn't have anything on your to-do list. It was a day just for you to relax, unwind, and not think about anything or anyone for that matter.

However, on this particular Saturday, instead of being awakened by hunger, you were awakened by the doorbell.

You were confused as to who was turning up at your apartment this early on a Saturday. You quickly got out of bed, grabbed your slippers and dressing gown and headed to the door.

You didn't think to look through the peephole before opening the door.

"Hey."

His voice was deep.

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out before thinking.

Ian.

He ran his hand through his hair.

Then sighed. Deeply.

"Can we talk?"

You stared at him, completely gobsmacked. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ian, please go home," you declared, your voice quavering. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

He didn't allow you to close the door as he barged in and let it slam shut behind him.

"Please," he begged.

You witnessed an unusual display of emotion in his gaze, something completely foreign to you in all the time you'd known him.

This was new, and you were in shock. It was so unlike him to do this.

"There's nothing to talk about," you declared, finally breaking the silence.

Ian sighed again, except this time, he sounded annoyed, "just give me five minutes of your time. Please."

Upon not wanting to argue, you silently nodded and sat on your couch, wondering what he wanted to discuss.

"Dabin spoke to me," he began. "He told me about how I made you feel."

"Okay? And?"

"Do you hate me?"

You scoffed. Was he serious? This is what he wanted to ask you?

"No, Ian. I don't hate you," you said honestly. "But I don't like you either."

He rolled his eyes, and you smiled smugly.

"Ian, please get to the point," you stated, your annoyance palpable. He was ruining your favourite day of the week.

"If I proposed, would you have married me?" Ian asked as he sat next to you on the couch.

The shock in your eyes didn't go unnoticed.

You let out a nervous chuckle and moved away from him. He was sitting too close to you, which made you feel uneasy. It had been a year since the two of you had been this close to each other, and you didn't like it.

"Ian, we're not a good match-"

"But would you have said yes?"

As you felt your heart beating harder against your chest, you began to feel nauseous and the sensation of wanting to throw up arose.

Why was he asking you this all of a sudden?

"Y/N, would you have said-"

"Shut up!" you snapped, taking a few steps back as you stood up. "You always have to have your own way, win arguments- even need to get the last word in. God forbid anyone says anything to you."

You were pacing the room, but he was listening for once.

He was actually listening.

"We were together for three years, I loved you unconditionally and fell more in love with you every day. It wasn't until you broke up with me that I realised I'd been dating a fucking rock."

"Y/N, I'm so sorry" he apologised as he stood up.

"Save it," you sighed.

His eyes searched yours, seeking answers, searching for any sign of love.

"I would have said yes. Of course, I would've" you told him honestly. His lips curved into a smile, but faltered when you added, "but not now."

He didn't say anything except, 'sorry' before leaving, making sure to slam the door shut behind him. Except this time, he was the one who was walking away and you were the one who let him.

That night you decided to quit your job, there was no way that it was healthy for either of you to go on like this.

He didn't question it this time or stop you, he didn't even look at you. Your words had hurt him just like he'd hurt you. This wasn't what you wanted, but realistically what else could you do?

It just wasn't written in pages for you two to be together.

And maybe, that was okay.

->

A/N Pls go easy on me with this, its my first time writing since being on my long ass hiatus, but I hope you still enjoyed <3 xoxo

[3c0ra-zon3]

Nami gaining weight after Arlong Park is not only accurate but an important conversation we have to have regarding how healing can cause food intake to change. It is an important piece of rep, and I think Oda missed out. 👊😔 No, but truly. I see a lot of people complain for a variety of reasons, but like... first of all, I don't care. Erm, but like even with sorta valid complaints, I feel like they're wrong, or there could be a reason why she could be slightly overweight to midsized.

To address complaints that she's too active, One Piece bodies are not anatomically accurate or possessing the same as metabolism or whatever as us. So, like that alone is that answer. But also, you can be overweight and active, you all know that right? Weight is calories in vs calories out, Nami could eat/drink enough calories in a day to be overweight.

Another, maybe reasonable complaint, is that Sanji meal plans. But like, I don't like the idea that Sanji keeps any of the Strawhats at their necessary caloric intake and never goes above that. Nami's height and weight, 5'7 and 110lbs, would currently put her in the underweight category. There's no chance in hell. I refuse. Sanji, based on Canon characterization, might not like super overweight women aesthetically, but his ass is not feeding nami to be underweight. Both because of her muscle and the fact that Sanji is feeding his crew good, no way. She would have to eat under 2500 calories, this is based on her doing intense exercise daily cause, like they are doing crazy exercise, a day to maintain that. That's not happening. Think of how many snacks and drinks Sanji gives Nami and Robin, just the ones shown on screen. Let's say for a moment, being we're the same height, she's my weight. 161 lbs, just overweight, but y'know still overweight. She'd have stay under 3000 calories a day, that's feels more realistic. Still I feel like she might weigh more with both fat and muscle. If she was 180lbs she would eat about 3,076 calories to maintain that weight, which between 180lbs and 160lbs is only 163 calories difference which shows how easily she could and would gain weight.

I don't know. I just feel that all factors, including her height, activity level, muscle, caloric intake, etc, would make her weight lay around 160-180lbs. I also just get weirdly fixated on things and need to put pen to paper or thumb to keyboard. Also, this is a better use of my time and knowledge on calories and weight and stuff than what else I could be doing with that knowledge so.

[bielbunny]

I saw in a reblog you mention how you don't even got a tablet to do digital art?? I was under the impression it was (still very good!!!) digital art :0

FIRST OFF aww... you flatter this rabbit like this... But to answer the question properly uh, kind of? The real answer is that it's just mixed media I suppose, but I'mma explain how I draw and try to be a lil' concise about it Here's what an early-ish sketch vs. finished lineart looks

It IS true that I ain't got a tablet, but that just means I sketch my stuff on pencil and paper, then do my line with ink pens. Been using these for a whiiile

BIG fan of them honestly. I got recommended these back when I was doing some watercoloring a couple years back and they're really really really good, I try to get my grubby lil' paws on 'em whenever I can AT ANY RATE, whenever I am done with sketching + lining that's when I get a nice clean image and start coloring on digital, keyboard and mouse style really

So the answer is that it's mixed media really haha I had these sketches lying around on my phone so I might as well show my process. Plus I suppose it's another excuse to post this piece which I really like still..... Thank you for being interested in how I draw tho!!! It's fun to answer art questions like these and it's kind of a big confidence boost haha

[theselfstudyenthusiast]

First step in learning Japanese: Hiragana and Katakana

I’m on my second try at learning Japanese on my own. I’ve decided to start over and return to the basics: kana (hiragana and katakana).

The first time, I only focused on kana recognition with passive recall through reading. After a two-year break from Japanese – no study, no native content –, I could still recognise hiragana and some katakana but I couldn't write them from memory alone.

My primary goal is to consume native content without translation. I have no interest in communicating in Japanese or doing calligraphy. Following this logic, kana recognition would have been enough to move on and study grammar, kanji and vocabulary. However, returning to Japanese after so long made me realise that recognising kana was not enough to cement those syllabaries in my head.

I still feel bitter about it but I acknowledge the importance of writing by hand in my case. For me, kinaesthetic learning through handwriting helps build another strong "memory connection", which is good for my learning process.

However, I hate mind-numbing drills with a passion. Writing pages after pages of the same characters is not very efficient, at least in my case.

This is why, upn restarting my language journey, I tailored a plan to properly learn kana without drills. My goal was to memorise and understand the common uses of hiragana and katakana, pronounce them properly, recognise them (oral and reading comprehension), and actively recall them (spoken and written production). All this, without losing brain cells doing handwriting drills for hours.

I’m pretty satisfied with the results so I’ve decided to share this method with other beginners.

Here's what I did.

Day 1 - 🤝 I paired up hiragana and katakana by the power of Logic 🤝

Why learn kana in pairs ?

Both hiragana and katakana represent the same sound. I studied them in pairs like one would with “lowercase and uppercase letters” in languages like English or French.

What I call the one-by-one method is learning that a sound is represented by a hiragana ("[a] = あ") and, later on, learning that the same sound is represented by a katakana ("[a] = ア").

The pairing method I used is learning that a sound is simultaneously represented by a hiragana and a katakana ("[a] = あ = ア").

Combined with Tofugu's mnemonics for hiragana and katakana, learning kana by pairing them up also helped me better differentiate similar katakana like シ vs ツ and ソ vs ン, since I associated each one with their respective hiragana versions as well.

On a side note, I recommend getting familiar with many Japanese fonts, given how different the language might look from one font to another. This goes for both kanji and kana.

Left pic: DIY collage of different fonts found in manga. Right pic: a glimpse of Shibuya.

In addition to memorising the kana, I used Tofugu's Ultimate guides for Hiragana and Katakana to study/review the basics of the Japanese writing system (common uses for hiragana and katakana, dakuten, han-dakuten, smallっ, existing combinations...).

I also learnt to type kana with a French “AZERTY” keyboard, which is super annoying! 10/10 would not recommend!

Lastly, I learnt to write kana by hand.

Days 2 to 4 - 📝I took a pen and paper… and played games on my phone.📱

In those three days, I wrote down all 46 kana pairs ONCE per day. I didn’t bother with dakuten, handakuten, etc. Just the "plain" ones, following the correct stroke order for each kana.

For each session, I would use a kana chart to correct any mistake.

On Day 2, a mistake would be switching two similar kana or writing a kana wrong, leaving the answer space blank.

On Day 3, in addition to the previous list, a mistake would be to write a kana that is not “proportionate” enough.

On Day 4, in addition to Day 3's list, a mistake would be to take “too long” to remember a kana (more than 5 seconds).

For each mistake, I would write down the correct kana, once or twice, next to the failed attempt. I would also review the mnemonics and the stroke orders to solidify the correct kana in my memory.

After each handwriting session, I would play games like Renshuu's Shiritori Cat, in small increments of 5-10 minutes throughout the day, on my phone or on a paper sheet. The idea was to increase the speed and accuracy of both my kana recognition and my ability to produce them, by reading, typing or handwriting within a time limit.

**True beginners might not have enough vocabulary to play shiritori. Instead, I recommend recognition games found on websites like Tofugu Kana Quiz and Type kana furudean.**

Days 4 to 6 - 🎤I accidentally became a Singer 🎤

My plan was quite simple: translate rōmaji text into kana by hand.

I chose songs because their audio, lyrics and translation are easily available for free. Plus, songs are relatively short, compared to an audiobook, for example.

Every day, I would pick a Japanese song and find its lyrics in Japanese and rōmaji. I would then translate the song from rōmaji to kana on my own, using a pen and squared paper.

Once the translation is done, I would correct it using the song’s Japanese lyrics and Jisho, an online English-Japanese dictionary.

Untested AI Alternative 👩‍💻

You could use AI tools like ChatGPT to speed up your correction process, using a prompt like:

Rewrite the following text only using a combination of hiragana and katakana. Here’s the text: “[lyrics in Japanese or lyrics in rōmaji]”.

Once the AI tool answers your request, you can compare its translation with yours.

I had time to look up words so I didn't use ChatGPT. However, I believe it can be useful for busy people.

----👩‍💻

During these 3 days, I wanted to know how much I could understand from the Japanese songs I had picked. I would listen to each song once or twice to try and pick up familiar words. Later, I would try again using the Japanese lyrics and my corrected kana text.

I didn’t try to memorise these words: this wasn’t the point. But, let’s just say passive knowledge from anime is not a waste of time.

Once I had the correct kana lyrics, I would record my reading the text aloud.

Later, I would sing along with the artist, using the kana lyrics. This “kana karaoke” session became a fun way to practice reading and speaking. I think this can be considered shadowing as well.

Unfortunately, the first song I picked didn’t have many katakana. So, the next day, I picked a Spanish song and looked up the lyrics. I transcribed the “syllables” into rōmaji (in my head), then translated the rōmaji into katakana. Once the text was translated into kana, I followed the steps I had taken with the Japanese song.

When correcting my work, the accuracy of the lyrics was not important. I focused on verifying if the sounds/rōmaji I had chosen were correctly represented by the katakana I had written.

I found this exercise more challenging than translating Japanese songs, given the extra step of transcribing another language into rōmaji.

I don’t know if this exercise would work for all languages but I believe English songs would have been great too. Japanese has many loanwords from this language and there might be more opportunities to use modern kana combinations like for the word T-shirt (English) → Tīshatsu (rōmaji) → ティーシャツ (all kana).

📚 Not fond of music? Try books! 📚

Graded readers with audio are an excellent alternative to songs.

Part 1 - Kana recognition and pronunciation

While listening to the audio, follow the text with your finger, your eyes, a reading pointer, or whatever. Don't try to understand the meaning of the words. Focus on how the kana (text) translates into sounds (audio).

Listen to the audio while reading the story. This time, try to understand what's going on from the pictures or the narrator's intonation.

Listen to the narrator and repeat after them, using the audio and the text. Slow down the speed, pause and rewind the audio as needed. Focus on your pronunciation, more than your speed. You can pick a few words to repeat instead of whole sentences.

Read aloud without the audio, at your own pace, insisting on good pronunciation. If you wish, you can record yourself getting progressively closer to the original speed. Stop when satisfied with your performance.

Part 2 - Kana writing practice

Copy the story in hiragana and check for mistakes.

Translate the hiragana version into katakana and check for mistakes.

Do the opposite for the next graded reader/text.

Of course, the writing process can be done either by hand or via a keyboard.

Websites like Tadoku offer free graded readers with native audio. The stories are short, self-contained and very basic. This makes them ideal for a quick writing practice session.

By nature, graded readers can be a bit boring but they beat doing drills for hours. Like songs, they often use common words to add to your vocabulary and showcase kana in a more natural environment. Stories with native audio are great for improving listening and pronunciation skills.

🏆 Day 7 - My results 🏆

By the end of Day 5, I was already confident in my abilities in kana but Day 7 was when I was ready to move on from actively studying kana.

Overall, it was a very refreshing way of learning kana. I really enjoyed myself for those few hours a day. I could see myself improve, which is always encouraging.

As a lefty with a "strong grip", writing for a long time has become more and more painful over the years. I needed an efficient way to learn kana, without getting bored or hurting myself. I'm glad this method worked so well for me!

I plan to use it with the kanji and vocabulary I'll encounter and see how it'll work.

I'm a self-learner with no tutor nor long experience with self-studying anything. Self-learning gives me the freedom to enjoy the learning process by experimenting with new things and tailoring my study to better fit my situation, my goals and my learning preferences.

All in all, I hope the experiment will help a fellow learner.

🎁 RESOURCES MENTIONED 🎁

Free Kana Charts

Tofugu Hiragana Guide & charts recommendations : https://www.tofugu.com/japanese/learn-hiragana/ AND https://www.tofugu.com/japanese/hiragana-chart/

Tofugu Katakana Guide & charts recommendations : https://www.tofugu.com/japanese/learn-katakana/ AND https://www.tofugu.com/japanese/katakana-chart/

Dual kana chart: https://apieceofsushi.com/

Dual kana chart with stroke order: https://www.reddit.com/r/japaneseresources/comments/ilkott/hiragana_katakana_stroke_order_chart/

Online Japanese-English dictionary : https://jisho.org/

Kana practice with Gamification

Tofugu Learn Kana quiz: https://kana-quiz.tofugu.com/

Type Kana furudean: https://type-kana.furudean.com/

Renshuu's Shiritori Cat (Free but register first): https://www.renshuu.org/game/shiritori_battle

Kotoba Web Shiritori (Free and no registration required): https://kotobaweb.com/shiritori/create

Free Graded readers online library

Tadoku: https://tadoku.org/japanese/en/free-books-en/

Songs

I have no specific recommendation for songs. I believe it’s a matter of taste.

I went on YouTube and typed something like “Japanese song” and picked the first one I saw. It was "Mori no chiisana restaurant/森の小さなレストラン" by Aoi Teshima.

It's a cute song with some dark elements. It gave me the strange nostalgia I usually get from Ghibli soundtracks. Most importantly, this song is relatively simple and short. It also has a bit of everything: onomatopoeia, loanwords, basic vocabulary and even a “storyline”. Its rhythm is relatively slow, which makes it great for listening practice and pronunciation/reading practice, even without slowing down the speed. I easily found the lyrics in Japanese, English and rōmaji.

The lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/ja/sen-noxiao-sanaresutoran-small-restaurant.html

The official audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYGGd2NKwtI

[rebrandedbard]

1, 2, 5, and 10?

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

I care. Deeply. I write in Times New Roman and my chapter headings are done in Cardinal. I write in a formatted document from the very first drop cap; isn't it so pretty!

UGH! I just LOVE IT!

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Ew. Fuck no. But if forced, by pen. Fuck pencils.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

I have to write at night and only at night. That's when my brain shuts down juuuuust enough that the writing just flows.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

My heart is home to many ghosts. I am haunted by many beautiful stories too painful to let go. Mostly short stories. The time invested in them vs the punch to the gut is a good compromise and I never feel betrayed by them when I consider their length. I feel that a story haunts you by either having a profound impact at the end or by greatly insulting you by ending poorly after being so invested.

My own writing haunts me because the stories aren't finished yet and I feel the pain of I GOTTA FINISH IT WAAAAAH

...

or because my mom won't stop hounding me to get the finished ones published. Like, I actively avoid thinking about a few books because she's made me associate them that. They'll never see the light of day.

[chris-aok]

Notetaking

If you had told me years ago that I would now enjoy taking notes, I would have told you to get the hell out of my face with that mess.

I've always recognized the value of taking notes, and while I would take notes at times, I can't say I much enjoyed taking notes, knew how to best take notes, or how to get the most value out of my notes.

In fact, I would argue I'm still mediocre at taking notes, but thanks to some technology and a few habits I've developed, I've gotten better at it, enjoy it more, and get more value out of it than I did for years.

The first rule of notetaking is: Assume you will forget everything. Write your notes accordingly.

The second rule of notetaking is: Don't write everything down. Write the most salient points down so you can connect the dots and make the necessary connections when re-reading your notes later.

The third rule of notetaking is: Assume you are writing your notes for a complete stranger. Make your notes clear enough that anyone can re-read them and understand them clearly. This is because when you will re-read your notes much later, you might as well be a complete stranger to who you were when you originally took the notes.

I find notetaking especially valuable to me when I'm learning something new. Notes are a way of making sure the time and effort I spend learning isn't wasted or lost because of my poor memory. More than a tool: They're a friend. They're there to help. They're you helping yourself later.

I love technology, so I'm always trying to find ways for tech. to help me with things. Hand-written notes have their value and I won't debate their merits, but I'm more efficient with a keyboard than I am with pen and paper. Plus, with notes taken electronically, you can search for a specific word or phrase through all of them, which has come in handy several times.

For every job or task, you need the right tool for the job. In the case of notetaking software, you need two kinds of notetaking tools:

A tool for quick notes: We all have notes that we need to quickly take but don't necessarily need to keep in the long term. This is what this tool is for. Formatting and presentation are not the priority here: Speed is. Good software for this are Microsoft Notepad, Microsoft Sticky Notes, Microsoft Visual Studio (VS) Code, Sublime, Atom, Notepad++, Apple Notes, and any other lightweight text editor that isn't necessarily pretty but that you can start writing in within seconds. Despite not necessarily needing the notes to be kept, I still like something with a cloud backend that synchronizes notes. Just in case. I also like being able to access my notes from the various operating systems I use. For these reasons, I prefer Microsoft Sticky Notes on Windows and Apple Notes on macOS, iOS, and iPadOS.

A tool for persistent notes: This is the main event. This is what we usually think of when we think of notetaking software. This lets you add various forms of media such as diagrams, pictures, video, audio, or even hand-written portions. The need here is to be able to make complex, pretty notes that will be accessible for years to come. This necessarily means the tool has to have a cloud backend to make sure your notes are always saved online so they are never lost and are accessible from everywhere. The major contenders here are Microsoft OneNote and Evernote, among others. I personally prefer OneNote.

The thing I noticed after making my notetaking software choices was that once I had picked them, I ended up using them more. A tool you use more because you want to, is a good tool. As a result, this has helped me keep more things for posterity (Hello, my name is Chris, and I am a digital hoarder.) The benefit is that I take and keep more notes now than I ever did before, which means I retain more knowledge, thoughts, ideas, and information than I did before and that's a net positive.

Notetaking isn't just about the software you use, though.

There needs to be a methodology to make sure you get the most out of your notes. Follow these steps:

Write your notes as you're learning the thing. They don't need to be pretty; but they do need to be minimally understandable. This step can be done in a quick notetaking application with a cloud backend.

Within 24 hours, go over your notes and rewrite them so they are structured and pretty (Heading 1, Heading 2, bulleted lists, identify action items, etc.) This is the most important and valuable step that I didn't do for years. This step helps you make sense of your notes, but more importantly: Of what you learned. Most of the value of your notes are yielded in this step. In this step, you might even come up with questions you hadn't thought of when you first took your notes. Questions whose answers will likely yield further insight and understanding into the new thing you're learning. This step needs to be done in a persistent notetaking application.

Within 7 days, review your notes. This helps you make sure your notes make sense, but also helps you recall what you learned. Feel free to edit, update, or tweak your notes to make them even more easy to understand

Refer to your notes whenever you need to in the future. You will likely have a better understanding of your notes because you now master the subject better, but your notes are also much clearer than they were in the first step

To be clear, I am not some notetaking guru or expert. This is just what has worked well for me over the years.

[thedruidsforest]

Stone & Leaf, Queensdaughter, & Other Happenings

I'm here with...yet another Queensdaughter Trilogy book update! I had to, most unfortunately, take the months of May and half of June off of writing (and basically everything else) because I bought a house! And it's still hectic, but now at least I'm able to sit on a flat surface and have room to write. (The mice in my walls that I just discovered.....that's another story.)

However, as always, I'm very excited for where book 2 is going! There's a lot in store and it feels good to pick up the pen/keyboard again. I'm going to really be pushing myself, I probably won't meet my goal of winter publishing, but spring is looking very likely. I hate that it's been so long between books - but, life calls. A LOT has happened in the last 2 years of my life, and balancing everything makes me feel like a real acrobat.

Some other exciting news! I'm conferring with my cover artist for Stone & Leaf - my dearest, best friend - and she came up with a wonderful idea, to redesign the paperback for Queensdaughter, and have differing images for paperback vs hardcover for all 3 books. And the design idea is incredible. We will also be releasing these images as posters and selling them through my site - trust me, they're going to look amazing!!!

As always, thank you for bearing with me. Tumblr has always been my go-to, and my favorite platform to talk about everything on. I'll try to stay as active as possible <3

[villain-sympathizer]

I, Q, and Y from the SFW Alphabet for ReDestro?

YES YES OF COURSE fellow redestro simps unite 💕

I = Intimacy (how affectionate are they?)

Oh he's SO affectionate. Loves to kiss, cuddle, nuzzle, hold hands, the whole shebang. He doesn't mind PDA at all, but the way he acts in public vs. in private is a little different, of course.

In public: Cheek kisses, linking arms while they walk, holding hands, hand kisses, a peck on the lips or nose, arm around his partners waist if they're talking to people at a social or party

In private: SO MUCH CUDDLING AND KISSING, hugging his partner from behind while they cook or wash dishes (if he doesn't need to help, otherwise he will lmao), and yknow that one old photo of the couple gaming together where they face each other while cuddling but are still doing their own thing? Yeah he and his partner do that a lot when they both work LMAO

This one:

[This also applies to Skeptic and Shigaraki ksdfkshd]

Q = Quality (how much do they value the relationship? is it top priority?)

He values it as if it were his LIFE. However, work for the MLA/PLF does have to come first, as that has been his life's goal since he was a child. As long as his partner understands that and is willing to accommodate, he's over the moon. If he were to have to choose his partner or his dreams of a liberated society? He'd reluctantly choose his dreams, but he'll obviously be insanely upset and likely not hold as much of a drive for it anymore. Is likely to realize his mistake and beg them to take him back LMAO

BUT... if he had to choose his dreams or his partner's life? He'll choose his partner, hands down. Making up in a relationship is possible, but the person he loves as a whole? They're his one and only, no way is he letting them die.

Y = Yearn (how do they cope when away from their partner?)

He's a mess, no joke. While he keeps his good mood toward his partner when they call or text each other, it's an entirely different story around his workplace or home.

At work, the MLA are honestly scared of him. He becomes temperamental, distracted, accident-prone, and overall a beacon of stress. The longer his partner is away, the more his colleagues realize the growing stress marks aren't going away anytime soon. They've had a few 'incidents' where Rikiya would accidentally use a little too much strength while doing something; which leads to broken coffee mugs, pens, keyboards, printers - he even ripped off the door to his car once. Needless to say, his partner's trip is willingly cut short after hearing about that.

But at home? He's a yearning, sappy mess. Don't be surprised if he constantly has his partner on speaker phone all day, with calls that rack up to hours on the line, only ending when he needs to sleep - sometimes he winds up falling asleep on the line! He'll be mushy and soft, begging his lover to come back home already. If his partner is unable to call him, he'll probably cry a bit, not gonna lie LMAO

[not-another-parable]

[ SEND ]

VZ ABG N IVEHF QBAG CONFUSE ME WITH ONE OF THOSE THINGS! IM JUST - - VAT GB YBBX BHG SBE LBH - .. ! !

CRBCYR SRIRE VF [ RELOADING ]

ITS [ RELOADING ]

ZBER CRBCYR ! VG JBAG TRG LBH VS LBH CYHT LBHE QRIVPRF - ZL NQIVPR - - [ RELOADING ]

PLEASE BE CAREFUL !

[ RECIEVED ]

Charlie groaned as his screen was once again occupied by another unwanted message. He hesitated before he could hover his cursor over the 'delete' button, however-- just long enough to piece together the... not-entirely-random nature of the gibberish that compiled part of the message. He searched over his desk for a pen and some paper, and prepared to copy down the message in hopes of decoding whatever it truly said, before his screen suddenly went black.

Need some help with that? Jim asked.

"Oh! Um, hello- yes, please, if you don't mind." Charlie quickly answered, selecting the 'yes' button that appeared beneath the question.

Give me just one second....

After a moment of sifting through the message and swapping some of the letters around, Jim presented Charlie with a new message:

IM NOT A VIRUS DONT CONFUSE ME WITH ONE OF THOSE THINGS! IM JUST - - ING TO LOOK OUT FOR YOU - .. ! !

PEOPLE FEVER IS

ITS

MORE PEOPLE ! IT WONT GET YOU IF YOU PLUG YOUR DEVICES - MY ADVICE - -

PLEASE BE CAREFUL !

Charlie leaned in towards his screen, tilting his head. "Well, that's... certainly odd, at least. Doesn't seem like Rex-- or, I suppose, 'Vir,' which is always a good sign, I suppose. Anyone who's known for screwing with people for fun. Thanks, Jim." He raised his hand to his keyboard.

'I'm sorry, our connection doesn't seem very stable. What does this 'fever' do? Has it moved between Offices? How will 'plugging in devices' help?'

[purplejabberwock]

Hello, how are you? Hope the moving thing is going well :D

For the game, can I ask for 🖊, 🌈 (with dead men walking?) and/or ✨️??

Thank you so much, love your writing <3

The moving is, fortunately, mostly complete! Mostly.

These questions came from here. I'm doing the pen last even though it's first in the order, because I just think it makes more sense that way.

🌈 What inspired you to write Dead Men Walking?

As I recall, I'd recently read Book 6 with the Requiem Ball and we knew there were other Dead Men, and that two of them died. So I did what I often do, and started wondering okay but what were they like and what would happen if they were alive?

My motivation for this was partly because I prefer people living to dead, necromancy notwithstanding, and also because I already felt at the time that Valkyrie needed a reality check that the adults in her life just weren't giving her -- specifically Skulduggery. How he would change as a result of two of his friends living, and therefore how Valkyrie would change as a result of his changes, was a wondering I wanted to answer.

I don't remember the order of writing vs development of Hopeless and Rover, but I'm pretty sure the latter came first because I was already talking to and developing stories with @amaraqwolf, though I don't fully remember how that development came about anymore. I do remember the original version of Dead Men Talking would have been early days, because Hopeless and Rover are both somewhat different (I was still figuring them out) and we hadn't gotten confirmation that Saracen existed yet.

As I recall, we met Saracen while I was writing the first book, because I did made some changes to account for him -- that's why he doesn't show directly as early as the others do. I didn't want to do a wholesale rewrite.

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

I'm assuming this means 'compliment'. Amazingly enough, as assured as I am in my own writing it's still weirdly hard to find adjectives for it. Especially overtly complimentary ones.

I guess I'l go with 'exciting', 'grounded (positive)' and 'hopeful'.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

"Who was that, exactly?" asked Principal De Haviland, very carefully, and glancing toward the garda officer. It was a sidelong glance that didn't make it obvious who he was asking, only that he knew some people had recognised the name.

"I think I'm going to —" The fireman pointed toward his fellows and hurried away without waiting for response, still rather pale.

"That was the prince of Tir Tairngire," said the garda softly. The paramedic squeaked again. Principal De Haviland went ashen, and the teacher stared at Valkyrie.

"You have the prince of Faerieland on speed-dial?"

"Sure." Valkyrie shrugged and scootched onto the gurney next to Natalie, and looked up at them all in her best mimicry of Tanith's perky-receptionist act. "I'm apprenticed to him and his brothers. And no one buys phones with a physical keyboard these days, how old are you?"

[residentdormouse]

Leisurely Locating “L” Words Tag Game

Luckily, this labor of love legitimizes learning liberal levels of lyrical linguistics, leading to ludicrously large labyrinths of limitless language located in literal libraries littered with loads of lush lingo. Ok, I went too far. Writing helps you pick up a lot of good words and create nice things, or something…

My Words: Lost, Line, Less, Learn, and Live

There were an abundance of all of these words. Tbh, I think that makes it harder. Pick one of 9 different sections vs pick one from 238. There may be better selections for each of these words, but honestly, just went with the first one that had enough of an image in a small section. Eh, it is what it is I guess.

New Words for You, @mrsmungus : Meaningful, Music, Mind, Melt, Motivate

Lost

(I gave Hayden my love of alliteration as well. This is the first instance I caught of it actually in writing.)

Reluctantly Glen pulled away from her and took a walk over towards their truck. "Seems, I'm not the only one seeing things in my dreams these days."

As soon as it was said, there was a rumbling off to the side. Cracking. The group watched from a safe distance as the whole retaining wall in front of them collapsed in a landslide. Snow, dirt, rocks, all began toppling down the side of the hill as the road began to crumble and finally gave way, the large chunk of pavement crashing down the drop off into the valley below.

Hayden felt her jaw go slack as she watched what was once a clear path in front of them turn into ruin. A couple more feet, a few seconds of travel, and that would have been them. That was almost them. How was it not them? She looked over at Glen for those answers.

"We can also rule out the pen being a factor. Unless Dinny is keeping some big secrets from us. Gonna say that's probably not the case." The reference to his pen was lost on her, and he seemed to realize it once he said it. "My 'prophetic pot dreams', you called them. The alliteration might not be needed. Just your standard prophetic dreams, it is."

"Standard. Right." She nodded, but they all knew; nothing here was standard.

"You're telling me the kid knew this was about to happen?" Harold. Still the skeptic.

"Knew enough to tell us to stop. Didn't really have much time to discuss anything further, I'm afraid." Glen began to walk towards his truck, while Larry began making a three point turn to go back the way they came. "We’re going to loop back, and try and hit 70 again later. Need to find a place to set up for the night too, this is gonna put us back another day.” As he walked past her, a hand was placed on her shoulder, and he gave a light squeeze. The unspoken words between them were still felt.

‘Stay safe.’

‘I love you.’

‘We’ll be home soon.’

Line

Her speech went into an autopilot setting as her fingers flew across the keys, clattering away on the keyboard. A majority of the screen went to black. Predominantly green text began flying upwards, occasionally switching to yellow and red. Regardless of color, the code itself had familiar notes to her.

“It's just like, think about it. How many languages started from Latin, right? It’s dead now, but it was the basis for so many things. If our code is their latin, then maybe I can piece this together. If/Thens may look a little different, or there may be some new loops to adjust to, but I could probably find a way in. As long as— Oh look! They still make comments! Isn’t that nice…”

The script came to a stop as new lines began to appear at the speed of her typing.

“If I was a villain, I would so be doing the maniacal laughter right now. ‘You fools! Leaving comments behind for the likes of me! Your encryptions mean nothing! Mwahaha’.”

She looked up to see Nick sitting on the desk in front of her, a very amused expression on his face.

“Well, I guess Max’s shitty music will have to make do. I'm assuming this is Max’s." She looked at the smaller screen quickly. "Dangerous. Yeah, has to be Max’s. It does have a certain ‘I’m a badass’ vibe to it, though, I'll give her that. I mean, this is badass, right? Hacking into a global organization to find all their nasty little secrets.”

Her fingers began typing away furiously again, new lines scattering across the screen. There was a pause while she read the screen and her eyes went wide.

Less

"I'm…I’m Hayden. Stu was telling me you used to hypnotize people?"

Formality gave way to familiarity, and he began smiling. "Yeah, got some good laughs at parties, for sure! It's crazy the stuff people come up with when they're in it… chicken dances, head stands, flips..."

The smile she put on felt expected, but it never made it to her eyes. This was seeming less promising. Stan was clearly not at Glen level of observation though, because he kept going without missing a beat.

"The best was the guy I had thinking he was a stripper every time you said the word dance."

"Did you ever use it to help people?"

She blurted it out, not able to keep her distress in any longer. This wasn’t a joke. She wasn't a party game. His brow crinkled as he thought back. "Had one guy that wanted to stop smoking. You mean like that?"

Closer. Her anxiety was going to skyrocket if his only experiences were strippers and chicken dances. "More like amnesia. Pulling repressed stuff?"

"Can't say I've ever tried anything like that. Pretty sure I read something on this before, back when I was learning the trick. Something like memories might not come back reliably if you do, but maybe it could work."

She wasn't sure if she was relieved that it could all be bunk, or terrified because she was going to try it anyways. Both, both it was.

"What would you need to try?"

Learn

Nick began to sign, but Harold waved him to stop.

"You know I don't know what you're saying."

Nick stopped where he was, and just looked at Harold.

“What?”

Nick began to sign again. ‘You know what.’

The pair stood in silence. Still. No facial expression, barely a breath. A staring game between the two. Harold broke first.

‘Ok, fine!’ He signed back.

A knowing smirk found its way onto Nick’s face and Harold had to fight down the irritation that was building up. Of course he learned how to sign. Fran and Nick had a whole language to themselves, and spoke it in front of him. Did they realize how insulting that was? It was like spelling words in front of a toddler to hide a surprise.

Harold didn’t want any more surprises.

‘You're not as invisible as you think you are.’

Live

"Too long, don't read. As long as people aren't on the menu and world domination ain't the goal, live and let live."

An oversimplified addition from Max, but still on point. Quinn nodded to confirm, before continuing on in his thoughts,

"In essence, yes. That was the core message. But after decades, the message itself has mutated, the sentiment behind it. And now… All that's observed now, whether it be willful or not, are results. Eliminating potential threats to humanity. Rayna is running this place with unheard of efficiency. Removing “dangerous creatures” before they ever become a danger, with a complete disregard to whether the creature in question would ever act in that manner. On paper, the statistics, reports, all the numbers look astounding, and it's hard to argue against that. But if they saw... it's not just hunting evil anymore. It's more complicated than that. They're wiping out families. Innocent creatures. Because of a hypothetical potential of danger. This success we're having, well, there's always a sacrifice isn't there.."

The silence among them lingered as the music continued to fill the space. She felt Glen shift his weight next to her, and she looked over. The fire Harold’s comments sparked inside of her had taken over, and she didn’t even think to check in with him yet. Now that she had come back down, let Quinn take the lead again, she found herself anxious for his opinion. And he didn’t disappoint in providing it.

"There usually is. One hard concession, then another, until they're not really all that hard anymore. Ends justify the means, judgements made on face value, and it suddenly becomes about what you are over who you are. Yeah, I think I've heard this one before."

"It's fucking bullshit."

"For once, Max, I'm not going to argue with you. Society… Never ceases to amaze in its destruction, does it?"

[spacedoutwitch]

Tribble Month Commences!

We're gonna get a pair of prompts to choose between each day. The first one was Keyboard vs. Pen and Paper. I chose Keyboard. No, I will not elaborate.

___

It awakens to pressing, pressing, pressing, cocooned in crushing tight on all sides.  Tight, and then wriggling, little wriggling things, around and inside and through.  Against its skin.  Between its ribs.  Along its tongue.  And above all, well beyond and infused within every other sensation, simmers the smell of damp, healthy earth.

Well.

This won’t do.

It starts small.  Flexing fingers, twitching toes.  Cracks and pops and creaks, each one of them aching.  But it persists.  Up the limbs, to wrists and ankles.  Elbows and knees.  Shifting and squirming, and the little things redouble their own efforts, seeking to tickle everything they touch.  But it doesn’t laugh.

Not quite yet.

Grander, now.  Its bending spine.  Its rolling shoulders.  Its jittery organs with their fuzzy muscle memory.  Shuddering thumps to its chest, empty pangs underneath that, fizzling along the inside of its skull.  A wheeze, a gasp, a mouthful of not-air.  The dirt slips around in the bony cracks, slides down its throat.  But it also clumps in its trembling hands, and goes soft when the pressure gets forced upon it.  Soft, grainy, but not enough not to ache…

And all at once, all too soon, the grit is gone.  Instead, a biting breeze.  An icy moon.  The rattle of dead leaves.  Of dead skin.  Of dead bones.  Of moaning, unbidden from its own gaping mouth.

The little things writhe in all their astonishment, and the sound tiptoes towards a proper cackle.

(Word Count: 241.)

[jorjawdesign]

Week 1:

Straight Line Vector Drawings

This week we were introduced to the Software/Fundamentals Course, and we’re also shown how to use OneDrive, Student Hub, Teams, and Moodle. 

The goal of this lesson was to teach us how to use Adobe Illustrator and specifically the pen tool. We started off with creating straight line shapes, to do this, with the pen tool selected (press ‘P’ on the keyboard) you just click to create an anchor point and then click again to create a path repeating this, forms a shape.

For this lesson, we were to draw chosen images in our books and then draw them again using the pen tool. These shapes varied in difficulty as we proceeded and showed us the difference between drawing with pen and paper vs in Illustrator. I thought it was interesting how some shapes were easier to draw using the pen tool and others were easier with pen and paper. 

I believe I did rather good with this activity, it does help though that I am not new to Illustrator or the pen tool and have been using it since Year 10 (15yrs). I do think, however, that I could have improved these shapes by spending more time ‘perfecting’ the paths with the direct selection tool (A), so they look more proportionate/symmetrical, I also found the star shapes much more difficult than the other shapes on Illustrator and preferred drawing them on paper. 

The pen tool is a great tool and can be used for many different projects. In graphic design class, I believe this could help me with cutting parts of images out or creating shapes relevant to my poster, I lso believe this would help in Illustration class to delve into the style of flat illustration or collage. I personally really like the pen tool, despite it being quite tedious at times, it makes creating things in Adobe programmes a lot quicker and allows user to be more creative than just using the shape tools.