#There were entirely different letters and sounds that no longer exist

[rahabs]

current mood: eternally annoyed by people who refer to the variation of English spoken in the medieval era as “Old English.”

[fratttymatty]

Back To The Past

(All characters are 18+)

Eli Turner was an adventurer in the truest sense of the word. At 20 years old, he had explored every nook and cranny of his college town, seeking out abandoned places like they were treasures waiting to be uncovered. His favorites were old warehouses, deserted schools, and forgotten buildings that whispered secrets from the past. But his newest obsession was an abandoned mall on the edge of town, a place he’d heard rumors about but never visited. People said it had once been a bustling center of activity in the 1980s, but when the new shopping center opened a few miles away, the old mall was left to rot.

Eli loved the idea of stepping into a space frozen in time, untouched and decaying, as if it were a momentary glimpse into a world that no longer existed. His friends thought it was weird, but to him, it was perfect. He loved exploring the past, especially when he could do it on his own terms.

It was a warm, late summer afternoon when he finally decided to go to the mall. He grabbed his camera, a flashlight, and a backpack filled with snacks, then hopped on his bike. The mall was located on the outskirts of town, far enough that most people had forgotten about it. As he pedaled there, he imagined the bustling crowds, the neon signs flashing, the music drifting out of stores. What did it feel like to be there in its prime? What was it like to experience a place that was now nothing but a faded memory?

When Eli reached the mall, he stood at the entrance, eyes wide with awe. The sign that once read "Crystal Springs Mall" was barely visible, the letters half-faded and chipped, but he could make them out if he squinted. The doors were locked, but that didn’t stop him. He was no stranger to finding a way in.

The side door was slightly ajar, as if it had been waiting for him. With a quick push, Eli entered the darkened mall, his footsteps echoing off the empty halls. The scent of must and old wood filled his nostrils as he turned on his flashlight and began to explore. The escalators were frozen in time, frozen in place, as were the stores. He wandered past long-forgotten stores like Champs Sports, Sam Goody, and Orange Julius. His heart raced as he took it all in.

He made his way to the food court, and there, in the center, stood an old fountain, its water still. He crouched to get a closer look, his flashlight scanning the cracked tiles and faded murals. Everything about this place seemed wrong, but also perfect, like stepping into a dream or a forgotten memory.

And that’s when it happened.

The ground beneath him seemed to shudder, a soft vibration underfoot that sent a shiver up his spine. He stood up quickly, scanning the area. There was nothing unusual, but something felt off. Almost as if the mall itself was alive, waiting.

Eli turned to leave, but his body froze when he noticed something that hadn’t been there before. In the middle of the food court, there was a strange door—one he was sure had never existed. It was old-fashioned, wood-panelled with a brass handle that gleamed even in the dim light. His curiosity gnawed at him.

Before he could think too much about it, Eli approached the door, and as he did, a sudden gust of air swirled around him. The door creaked open, as if inviting him in. Without thinking, he stepped through.

The moment Eli stepped through the strange door, he felt a jolt, as if the very fabric of the world was being rewoven around him. The air shifted, thickened, and for a heartbeat, everything went still. His senses sharpened—colors seemed to snap into sharper focus, and sounds that had been muted became overwhelmingly clear. His head throbbed as if trying to process a flood of information all at once.

As the world around him began to settle, Eli looked down at himself. The loose, comfortable college clothes he’d been wearing—skinny jeans, a hoodie with a faded logo, and scuffed sneakers—were gone, replaced by something entirely different. His T-shirt was now a tight, bright red one with a sports brand emblazoned across the chest, his jeans fit snugly and tapered at the ankles, and his sneakers were high-top, almost too pristine to be real.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that had changed. His body felt... heavier, more substantial. He’d always been lean, wiry—now, he was broad-shouldered, muscular, his arms thick with strength that had never been there before. His reflection in the window of a nearby store sent a jolt of disbelief through him. The face staring back was the same, yet different: square jaw, high cheekbones, sharper, stronger features. It wasn’t the face of the Eli who had spent his nights exploring forgotten places and reading in quiet corners—it was the face of someone who belonged here.

His hair... that was the biggest change of all.

He ran his hands through his hair and froze. What had once been a messy, tousled mop of dark brown hair was now... something else entirely. His fingers met thick, wavy curls that felt foreign to him. It was soft but voluminous, and it seemed to have a life of its own—bouncy, fluffy, and wild. As his fingers ran through it, he felt the shape of it fall over his neck in a kind of perfectly chaotic way. It was like he was looking at a grown-out, curly mullet—a style that screamed 1980s loud and clear.

"Whoa..." Eli... no, Ryan—he was pretty sure his name was now Ryan—said aloud to himself, his voice deeper than he remembered, a bit huskier. He tugged at a lock of hair, mesmerized. It was like something from an old high school yearbook, a style that belonged to the jocks and cool kids he’d seen on TV but never thought he’d embody.

"Looks good on you, bro," came a voice from behind him.

Ryan spun around to see a guy in a leather jacket—definitely a classic 1980s style—grinning at him like they were old friends. He felt a surge of recognition, like this person was a part of his life in a way that felt so comfortable, so familiar. He wanted to give the guy a high-five, maybe throw an arm around his shoulders, but he didn’t even know his name yet.

"Yeah, thanks," Ryan replied, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that something was wrong—something about his old life. The more he looked around, the more everything felt right, like he was always supposed to be here. His reflection, his clothes, the new energy in his body—it was all in place. He was him. This was who he was.

He flexed his shoulders as if testing the new muscles, and they felt... perfect. Strong, solid, like they were meant for something. He stood a little taller, his posture straighter, more confident. His hair, now a fluffy, curly mullet that seemed to fit him effortlessly, bounced with each movement of his head. As he ran a hand through it again, it felt natural, like this was how it was always meant to be. The feeling of his old self—the Eli who wandered the world quietly, curious and introspective—began to fade, like a dream slipping away from his consciousness.

The guy in the leather jacket clapped him on the back. "You coming with us to the arcade, or what?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said with an easy, confident grin that didn’t feel forced, but like it had always been there. The invitation felt more like a command than a suggestion, and Ryan was eager to follow.

As they walked, Ryan’s hair bounced with every step—his mullet a little more wild now, the curls not just waving in the air but taking on a life of their own. It was as if his body was fully embracing this 1980s persona, from the way he moved, to the way his clothes fit, to the loud, proud, irreverent style of his hair. Every inch of him screamed jock, popular, alive.

There was a strange satisfaction in it. He didn’t need to think about it; it just was. He was Ryan now, and that was who he would be. The mall, the strange door, his old life—it all seemed distant, like a dream he could barely remember.

As they reached the arcade, the flashing neon lights welcoming him in, Ryan felt the last remnants of Eli's existence slipping away. There was no need to wonder about his past, no need to think about the life he’d left behind. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The past? It didn’t matter anymore.

Ryan grinned at the sound of the arcade machines beeping and buzzing around him. He was home.

Over the next few days, Ryan fell into his new life with eerie ease. He went to high school, hung out with his jock friends, and spent hours in the arcade. The more he lived this life, the more natural it felt. His old identity—the curious college student who loved abandoned places—faded into a distant memory, something he barely remembered. His new world felt more real than the one he had come from.

He no longer cared about the past. The idea of his old life, of being a gay college kid who explored forgotten buildings, seemed silly now. His mind didn’t yearn for solitude or adventure. Instead, he cared about football games, parties, and the approval of his friends. His body, too, had shifted to match this new life. He was bigger, stronger, more attractive in a way that made girls—and even some guys—look at him with admiration.

But deep down, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small part of him remembered something—a fleeting image of an old, abandoned mall, of exploring on his own terms. But it was distant, fading like a dream, until it, too, vanished completely.

And as Ryan stood on the edge of the football field one crisp autumn evening, watching the lights of the school shine down on him, he didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The past was gone. He was home.

[chnets]

A hidden despair (Richard Papen fic)

This story is inspired by chapter 3 of the secret history, which is one of my favourites of the entire book.

I just want to give a little warning before this begins that there are multiple mentions of suicide in this story. So if that might upset you keep scrolling

(Word count: 1126)

I felt as if I was fading away, like a plastic bag discarded on the ground, no longer serving any purpose other than floating aimlessly; the wind carrying it so far away it is forgotten about entirely. Any notice of its existence is minute and uncaring.

I was being carried away by this wind myself. With each passing moment the hurricane enveloping me would grow in size, massive gusts of wind causing any recollection of any memory that ever brought me joy to vanish; and it was as if this perpetual misery is the only feeling I have ever known or ever will know. 

The sun began to set at around four o’clock, so in the weeks leading up to Christmas I spent the majority of my time in darkness as I would wake up at the crack of dawn to walk to Dr Roland’s office and I would lock myself away like a recluse and work until dusk. On my exhausting and desolate walks to Hampden each day, I couldn’t help but reminisce over the peacefulness of Autumn; and how I would go about my days without this staggering amount of unhappiness clouding my mind. 

Previously my life had been quite miserable. Miserable but bearable. Recently it had transitioned from disconsolable to utterly unbearable. I began to frequently fantasize about my death. At first they were quite distressing thoughts and would be rather upsetting. But soon they became my sole source of comfort on freezing nights in the warehouse, as depressing as that might sound. 

As the weeks progressed and the temperature steadily dropped, the idea of throwing myself off the footbridge overlooking the river that I walked across on my way to work became increasingly more appealing. It was quite a thrilling thought to know I wouldn’t have to endure the rest of Winter and my mind would quiet; I would be still and silent until I was found in the Spring. 

I thought about my friends, who were enjoying spending this Christmas in a warmer climate, likely not giving me much of a passing thought, and wondered if they would even acknowledge my absence when they returned to school; or if they would miss me at all when they found out what had happened to me. I tried to guess how long it would take for the people in my life to get over my death and return to their normal lives, to stop dwelling  on the things they could have done differently and accept that I’m gone, if they would do that at all. The only remaining proof to passers-by that I ever lived at all being my name scrawled on a piece of stone; the person I once was and the life I lived long discarded in my half-hearted eulogy.  

I decided that evening, sitting in Dr Roland’s office, that I would write a few letters to my friends. They were more letters of confession than apology. I ended up writing much more to Henry than I previously thought I’d be able to; and it made me think more about my relationship with him. Although the amount of words  we exchanged were minimal, I always felt comfortable in his presence. Would Henry miss me? 

I remember at the end of one of my last classes with Julian before Winter break, he told me that Henry is a much more emotionally complex person than he allows others to see. Thinking about this made me realize our friendship wasn’t one sided at all, Henry just found it terrifically difficult to let people see him in any other light than a cold-hearted and stoic individual who spoke infrequently. 

This discovery made me think about the implications of my plan in a greater depth, and if it was worth all the trouble. The warmth of the office seemed to permeate through the solid ice my body seemed to have become; and the ice melted for a moment. That feeling was enough for me to second guess myself, until I looked out the window and was reminded of the harsh cold that had sunk deep into my bones, fixating me in this endless winter and subsequent incessant melancholy. This presentiment caused my heart to sink to my feet at the reminder of the merciless January wind awaiting me, and the fact that I wasn’t sure I could bear another night in that warehouse. 

As I was packing my books, I sealed the letters and tucked them away in my jacket. I said a goodbye to the office that had treated me so well the last few weeks and locked the door a final time. I replaced my brisk walk for a slow stroll, trying my best to admire the bare trees and the crunch of the snow under me that dampened my socks with each step despite my boots. Tonight being a particularly grim and miserable night did not do much in aiding me find a good reason to wait until morning to call Henry. 

I reached the phone box and stepped in, the wind slamming the door against its frame with a jarring crash. I fished in my pockets for quarters and punched in Henry’s number. As I let the line ring, I shuddered as the unrelenting gusts of wind blew in through the gap in the door of the phone box. I leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, hearing the line ring for what must’ve been the thirtieth time. I looked at my watch under the dim light of the streetlamp and saw it was half past two in the morning. Henry wouldn’t be awake. I went to replace the receiver to begin my walk to the bridge.

‘Hello?’

My eyebrows shot up in equal parts surprise and relief.

‘Hi Henry.’

‘Richard? What’s the matter? Are you okay?’

Tears immediately pricked at my eyes as I heard somebody else’s voice for the first time in five weeks. A greater comfort that it was Henry’s.

‘Sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t wake you.’ Was all I could manage.

‘You didn’t.’ He reassured me. ‘What’s happened?’ His tone alone caused an audible sob to wrack my body.

I felt a little bit of that weight being lifted off my shoulders at the sound of his voice. God, I missed him.

‘I need your help.’

‘Stay where you are Richard, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He hung up the phone.

And I did what he said. I sat down in that phone box and waited for him. Hearing his concern through the phone put all my other thoughts to rest. I ripped up my letter to him, leaned my head against the cold glass and waited.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #41

Somehow, today I managed to mostly successfully chill.

Though I had intended to play Terraria with my new friend from Germany, due to the flow of our respective lives in different parts of the world, I played by myself instead. And this was also very good!

I think, more than I realized previously, I needed a bit of time to do things without socializing, anyhow. As much as I love to interact with the people I care about, for me, being around others comes with a vague sort of… heaviness…??? that I don't really know how to articulate. It's not something that others impose upon me; I know that this thing is internal to me; it is leftover from my past, so at this point, the fact that this "heaviness" still exists is no one's fault but mine.

I think it might have to do with the fact that when I'm around others, I put a lot of pressure on myself to exist in ways that are consistent with the other person's needs, wishes, and comfort. Though, whether I can do that well is an entirely different matter altogether; I feel very clumsy in this regard almost all the time, and when I am around other people, I can never really shake the sense that I'm falling short of being good company. I never feel as though I do a very good job of being a person around other people. So although I try really hard to be a safe and comfortable space for others in which they can be nurtured and at ease, I feel like I'm constantly failing at it.

Being by myself doesn't come with the vague dread of "what if I say or do the wrong thing and I end up hurting the other person and then they hate me forever, oh no." But it does often come with the vague guilt of, "maybe I'm being selfish by not trying to be helpful somehow to someone else in this immediate moment." Either way, I'm not quite relaxed no matter what I do, so the only thing I know to do is to switch up my various states of "not-quite-relaxed" once in a while so that my brain doesn't explode or something.

I wonder if any of this sounds at all familiar to you? Are these things that you must struggle with? I know you can't answer me, but still I wonder.

Today I gathered materials and made various quality-of-life changes to the structure of the Underworld biome. Really, I was trying to gather up gems so that I could make stained glass, but my brain would not settle down, and I kept bouncing from one task to the next without actually finishing much of anything. My friend from Germany worked really hard to create a tunnel to the Underworld biome, so I wanted to complement her tunnel with a house made of obsidian, but then I realized that I don't remember the dimensions of the kinds of houses I used to build.

So I looked in old worlds on different computers. I remember having built various themed houses; one was cactus-themed, another was pumpkin-themed, and another was sandstone-themed… I remember that they were all lovely, and I was very pleased with what I had done. But none of the working computers had the world I was looking for. I think it must still be on my laptop that no longer works, but I'm not entirely sure.

In any case, I did find older examples of my general style of building. I'll show you a few pictures; it's mostly shops that I built (an inn, a bar, a tailor and costume shop, a weapons and armor shop…). I'm especially proud of my marble owl coliseum; I'll save that one for last.

Here is a very old build, back before amber was added as a gemstone:

Here is an armor shop (left) and a weapons shop (right).

Here is a make-pretend costume shop:

Here is a make-pretend hospital. You can tell it's a later build because there are bits of orange stained glass, which are made with the amber gemstone:

This is where the general goods merchant is supposed to live. I'm not sure why the dryad is in there... hm. Oh well.

This is where the barkeep lives. I built it to look like a tavern:

This is where the guide lives. I built it to look like an inn.

This is the crafting area, which also leads to the tunnel to the Underworld biome. Yes, it's a very, VERY long way down, and yes, the whole way down is rainbow-colored with this pattern. I'm autistic; one of my superpowers is my unreasonable levels of persistence for repetitive tasks that are absolutely meaningless! Hahaha!!

This is the lower half of the coliseum I built. It's very big. We go there to fight bosses, or to take care of goblin raids, or pirate raids, or Blood Moons, or Solar Eclipses, or...

And finally, here is the upper half. It serves no real practical purpose, but I drew an owl and various other geometric designs with the different kinds of marble walls. Because why not? Parts of it are unfinished, but that's okay.

I think that if I experiment with building something like this again, I might see how having foreground blocks recessed into the background via actuators might look; who knows, it might turn out to be kinda cool!

If I ever find the world with the various themed houses I built, I'll be sure to snap a few pictures so I can show them to you.

I wonder if you'd like Terraria. I wonder what sorts of things you would build in it. It's a shame that we'll likely never get to find out. I feel more than a little sad about this, actually…

Anywhozits… whatever it is that you're doing at the Edge of Creation, please stay safe. Make good choices. Remember that you are loved and cared for, and let that knowledge give you enough courage to remain kind and gentle. Build amazing things. Build yourself up into someone even more wonderful than you are already. If anyone has what it takes, it's you.

I will write again very soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey, I think I sent an ask a few days ago about headmates you're afraid of, not sure if it got eaten or you just didn't have enough time / info to respond, but I'm feeling a little more stable now so I'd like to elaborate if that's okay?

So. I'm a fictive of a character from an anime/manga, and the host of my system. This past weekend, we had a very traumatic incident happen. I don't want to put too many details that might trigger people, but the short version is that an event we were attending got swatted. It was all a false alarm, no one was hurt, and we were back to usual activities within an hour or so.

We knew.. Pretty much immediately that we were splitting over it. The symptoms we have for traumatic splits usually line up to a pretty consistent order for us so we were just braced for it. What I wasn't expecting was that we would split.. My grandmother.

We never met properly, in source. She died before I was born, and I grew up being told by my father and then my.. caretaker, for lack of a better word, that she had abandoned us, didn't care about her family, didn't care that we were hurting, and put the lives of strangers above her family. I only ever saw her.. Spirit? I suppose? In a few instances, and it obviously wasn't a happy reunion because I was so full of hate that I didn't care what she said.

I know from an objective sense that she was doing what she thought was best. I read our source and the longer it's gone on, the more I've realized just how much of my life was lies and fabrications from the people around me who wanted me to be hateful. I can see as an outside viewer that she wasn't pure evil like I thought. But that doesn't change the immediate gut feeling that I'm dealing with now that she's right in front of me again.

I panicked really badly when she first showed up in headspace. I'm usually a frontstuck host, but I fully switched out and hid in a corner of headspace for a few hours until our gatekeepers were able to pull her back into a different corner of the world that I don't have access too. She.. Looks a lot like I did when I was a kid. I wasn't expecting that.

I'm still not entirely sure how to react to all this or how to get comfortable with her being here. I don't want to panic and run every time she needs to front, but I also have no idea how to even approach her without all the heaviness from source crushing me completely. Sorry if this is really heavy. I'm just hoping you guys or someone else has some advice on coping with this.

Hi! We genuinely think your first ask got eaten, we’ve never seen an ask like this in our inbox… I’m so sorry!

It sounds like you’re dealing with a really tough situation. I guess we’d like to remind you that what you’ve heard from others may not align to what’s actually happened in your source’s past. Sometimes emotions can get the best of people, and situations can be misinterpreted, especially when tensions are high and family is involved.

Have you spoken to your grandmother in the system directly to hear from her what happened before you were born in your source? Maybe she had a good reason to leave, or thought she was acting in your family’s best interests at the time.

Additionally, she may not come with source memories, and not feel attached to her source at all. We firmly believe that introjects are their own people and cannot and should not be held accountable for events that happened in their source, even if they feel extremely connected to their source.

If it’s difficult to interact with her directly, perhaps try writing her a letter, or asking another headmate to pass a message along. Beginning to communicate, even if it’s hard, is the first step towards building trust. I know it won’t be easy, but unfortunately, it’s probably necessary in order for the two of you to come to an understanding and exist happily in the same mind.

We’re so sorry you’re going through something like this. If it’s easier for you, please remember that the grandmother in your headspace is an introject, just like you. She can’t help being formed and did not choose this - sometimes the brain makes internal choices that can’t be helped. We hope y’all can grow together and learn to coexist, and we’re wishing you the very best!

🌸 Margo and 💫 Parker

[emojiglyphics]

Should English throw out our alphabet and use Emojiglyphics instead?

It’s a bit of a silly question to begin with because it’s not going to happen. When English spelling is eventually reformed, it will be with a new system using the existing Latin alphabet. But since I’ve been spending so much of my time on this lately, I thought I’d explore the question inside the realm of fantasy.

First, we have to talk about the advantages and disadvantages of some types of writing systems, and their viability for English. These explanations will be SIMPLIFIED but for all you language heads who know what I’m skipping, know that I love you and I’m pulling for you.

Phonetic Alphabets

Phonetic Alphabets are the kind used in English, Greek, and Ukrainian. They have separate characters representing vowels and consonants. The major advantages are that the character set tends to be pretty small (20-30) which makes them quick to memorize. After memorizing a small character set and learning some rules, you are (hopefully) equipped to handle the entire dictionary of words. One small disadvantage is that since most languages have more sounds than letters, spelling rules can get complicated. But the major disadvantage is that as the spoken language undergoes natural and inevitable change, it diverges further and further from the written language until the two bear almost no resemblance. In some languages, there isn’t much to worry about. You can be accurately reading German or French after a week. But you can study English for a lifetime and not know all of its trap doors. And phonetic alphabets leave you on your own if two words are spelled or pronounced the same (or both).

Logographic Writing Systems

The most famous Logographic writing system is Han Chinese. (It’s technically a semanto-phonetic system, but that’s like... very technically.) In Logographic writing systems, you learn a new character for each word. The big disadvantage is obvious; you learn a lot of characters. They’re complex and often abstract, and there are thousands of them. But there are serious advantages. For instance, two people who speak different languages can actually read the same text and understand it. They are immune to pronunciation changes in the spoken language, which means that text remains comprehensible for a lot longer. What’s more, they could theoretically be much easier to learn than they are. Han characters didn’t start out as abstract as they are, they were once much more recognizable representations of the objects they stood for. The transformation into the characters we know today took millennia. But if you were to start a logographic system today, you could very well decide to make the word for “cat” a literal drawing of a cat.

Syllabic Alphabets

Syllabic alphabets encode an entire syllable in a single character. Typically, you start with a character that stands for a given consonant, and then tweak it indicate what vowel should follow. These are systems like Tibetan and Katakana. These have the same disadvantages and advantages as similar phonetic systems, but they have the added constraint that they assume certain qualities about the spoken language. Syllabic alphabets work well for Japanese because Japanese tends not to allow so-called “consonant clusters”, you usually find at least one vowel between all consonants in a word.

Abjads

Abjads are another system based on phonetics, except that they lack vowels and only use consonants. As you can imagine, this can lead to ambiguity, which I will wager is why they are associated with languages with a limited vowel inventory. It works great for languages like Arabic, Hebrew, and Persian. But they would not work well for, say, Danish which has 20 distinct vowels.

Egyptian Hieroglyphs

Egyptian Hieroglyphs could be described as a combination of an Abjad and a Logographic system. Egyptian had a limited vowel inventory, so it wasn’t too impractical to leave them out. But because of the way it mixes phonetic symbols with a logographic determinative, it doesn’t need to have as large an inventory as Han Chinese. Moreover, these characters are often pretty easy to figure out because for thousands of years, they remained fairly literal. A drawing of a man pointing to his mouth-- oh, this must be a word about the mouth. Learning unfamiliar glyphs is often a matter of learning more about the ancient world, far easier than memorizing a thatch of brush strokes, beautiful though they are.

What this means is that while Hieroglyphs certainly take a lot of work to learn, they’re pretty readable, especially for such ancient texts. In a way, hieroglyphs combine the strengths of both phonetic and logographic systems. The large number of phonetic symbols makes it easier to approach unfamiliar words. The character set is certainly not small, but it’s very much doable, and you can get surprisingly far from a limited set. The determinative clears up ambiguity between homonyms, and the literalness of the designs makes them easier to learn.

Unfortunately, it also combines some of their disadvantages. The phonetic components of the words will still eventually fall out of sync with the spoken language. Within the lifetime of Egyptian, the word “hand” when from sounding like “ka-raht” to “to-ra”, but the spelling stayed the same. And while the determinatives do look like the objects and concepts they represent much of the time, it often does it with objects that no longer exist or which we have little contact with in the modern world. And there’s still... many of them to learn.

So would Hieroglyphics be good for writing English? Kind of. I mean, we’d muddle through, right? It would be tough because English cries out for vowel representation. We just have so many of them. You don’t know how tempting it has been for me to incorporate a vowel system into Emojiglyphics. But I’ve been continually surprised at how readable it is, once the determinative is added.

Emojiglyphics

Emojiglyphics is basically hieroglyphics for English using a subset of currently available Emojis as its character set. The advantage, for me at least, is that they’ve already been created and there are tons of devices out there capable of stringing them together quickly. The other big advantage is that they represent things that people recognize. By necessity they are relevant to our current lives. They are also designed not just to be a collection of clip art, but to aid in communication. They are filled with hand gestures and facial expressions.

What this adds up to is that Constructing Emojiglyphics has been surprisingly easy to do. At least when it comes to the design part of it. Much tougher is actually using and documenting it. Which leads to the first disadvantage: 

Emojis were not meant to be used this way. The web browser or text file can’t tell you’re making a word. The spacing is terrible. Emojiglyphics has been a joy to create but not to use. Also disadvantageous is that it’s been hard for people to understand which characters are phonetic and which are determinatives. All emojis seem to have equal status. Egyptian phonetic characters tend to actually look simpler, which helps set them apart. They’re also the first ones you learn, you spend a lot of time with them. By the time you’re dealing with determinatives in your study, you’re pretty confident you’ll never mix them up. One way I’ve tried to combat this is to use as many animals for phonetics as possible. But it may not be enough.

So should English be written this way?

Maybe by some people. If they feel like it. I don’t think it should replace the Latin alphabet mostly because of our incredibly deep vowel inventory, the number of people who learn it as a second language and already know the Latin alphabet, and the fact that it’s much easier to write by hand than Emojiglyphics would be. We’d have to make some kind of Emojimotic, making all the characters abstractions of the emojis and stripping them of their recognizability. Which is what tends to happen, I suppose. 

But I find it very satisfying, and I think that if it ever got realized enough to be practical, it could be a fun way for people to communicate. If it ever got adopted  by any significant number of people (and I’m not holding my breath) it would be bittersweet for me. It would mean that I had invented something people played with. But it would also be the beginning of the end for me. It would no longer be my project, it would be a living written language with a will of its own. People would invent new rules, new spellings. Things I never expected. Some would be delightful to me, others irritating. And my job at that point would be to shut the hell up about it because no one person can tame a language. .

[just-some-random-blogger]

part 2 for meow love! 'so nada is dream’s first love' OH nice to learn abt her finally. 'dream we cant be together im sorry i was stupid pls let me go this is bad' cant really judge her. its probably scary to learn that smn youre connected with is... nothing normal and nothing you know about. and pity for dream... hope hell get some love. well this rock thing... is so desperate... feel so bad for her. and its kinds cute (bc oh <зhe doesnt care<з/sarc) but REALLY creepy of dream to still want her to be his queen when shed done THIS to get rid of him.. 'so they make love on top of the mountain' ok i have some questions for the author... well now you have all the right to only sympathise with him bc they said it doesnt matter hes been creepy. (dont take all my words seriously in the first meaning). 'THEN FUCKING BURNS NADA’S ENTIRE VILLAGE' 🤡🤡🤡 . idk whats going on. just remember that i dont know any of them and have no (0) feelings about the characters and the events. 'its cold hard reality the people have to suffer for their rulers’ mistakes' understand like nothing else... its kinda difficult to speak abt the other century bc i know what and why and morality was different but i want to say what i think now with me own experience but dont want to repeat that its only how i feel... they all are so fucked. 'CRYING FUCK then jumps of the cliff and dies' ghdjdd sorry but it sounds amusing to me. reasonable 100%. 'theyre dead youre dead just be with dream forgetting that guilt exists' yeah i thought about it too. like you can do nothing for them now? so what? so punish yourself for them? it has no meaning. BUT also dream? man chill down pls TT yeah she betrayed you, thats all, just hate her peacefully and have good fluffy dreams lol. 'of course i still love you BUT i stilll havent forgiven you' what sex on top of the mountain does to men.... as ever, i judge everyone. she couldve done better, he couldve done LOTS of different things. but ok. it is as it is. YEY FINALLY TALKING ABOUT JOSE RIZAL! this worldwife TT hdsddk actually reminded me of pushkin. good for them both. 'his work inspired the revolution and he did so with non violence so' sounds really cool. and hes so badass for his death. this cunning spain... wow its really good to learn about your history. and the KKK is pretty cool. i like this title. and this cute story about you being confused bc of the song TT such a pure feeling. wow its REALLY amazing to learn about his works. your retelling is delightful. thanks SO MUCH for your efforts, your time, your big brain vibes and everything you do to answer to me! youre SO educational! youre an amazing catmom! 'we love kdramas here in the ph and complain if there arent eng subs on their shows' fhdhsp cute. its soso intriguing to learn about the culture that in fact is a lot different from my own. so please continue! 'this is such a long love letter' i love it!! i cant answer to everything bc itd be even longer and im too gripped by all the information you give but i love long love letters! omg i.. i JUST UNDERSTOOD that i misplaced papak and flan FJSHFHJ. my inattentiveness will be the death of me im SORRY TT so ive already said you what is the thing similar to flan so what is similar to papak.. i meant the defenition, not the very word. theres a word 'кусочничать' (kusochnichat' ig) which is informal, actually, and literally means do smth with the pieces. in fact eating them... i already see how confused you were TT im sorry im silly. well majority of european languages derive from the proto-indo-european including english and spanish as well as slavic languages. and all the vagons come from proto-indo-european 'woghnos'. actually, our vagon came from the french. as far as i know, we didnt have much face to face contact with spain throughout the history. 'its normal to be anxious but you will overcome it' yeah i did! but i was so sleepy and dizzy and all bc of the things i was doing in the night... so ig part 3.... see you soon, love! have a nice.. time? yeah, enjoy your time. love you<з

HELLO <3

'so nada is dream’s first love' OH nice to learn abt her finally. 'dream we cant be together im sorry i was stupid pls let me go this is bad' cant really judge her. its probably scary to learn that smn youre connected with is... nothing normal and nothing you know about.

true T_T i dont blame nada at all she be a stupid mortal like the rest of us 😩 Icarus core flew too close to the sun

and pity for dream... hope hell get some love.

T_T yes and therapy

well this rock thing... is so desperate... feel so bad for her. and its kinds cute (bc oh <зhe doesnt care<з/sarc) but REALLY creepy of dream to still want her to be his queen when shed done THIS to get rid of him..

i mean HAHAHAH he's not human so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what is morals to someone like him? what is injury or death to a flesh form to him ya feel. i get what you mean its kinda cut eHLSAHAHSF but he problematic af still HAHAHAH

'so they make love on top of the mountain' ok i have some questions for the author...

I MEAN THEY WERE ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN ALREADY COS SHE WAS RUNNING AWAY FROM HIM I THINK HAHHAHA I DONT REMEMBER HAHAAH

well now you have all the right to only sympathise with him bc they said it doesnt matter hes been creepy. (dont take all my words seriously in the first meaning).

AHAHHHAHHAHAH

'THEN FUCKING BURNS NADA’S ENTIRE VILLAGE' 🤡🤡🤡 . idk whats going on. just remember that i dont know any of them and have no (0) feelings about the characters and the events.

HAHHAHAHAHAHAH ITS FINE ITS JUST LIKE HAHAHAHAHAHAH ???? WHYYYYY>???????

'its cold hard reality the people have to suffer for their rulers’ mistakes' understand like nothing else... its kinda difficult to speak abt the other century bc i know what and why and morality was different but i want to say what i think now with me own experience but dont want to repeat that its only how i feel... they all are so fucked.

eat the rich and powerful

'CRYING FUCK then jumps of the cliff and dies' ghdjdd sorry but it sounds amusing to me. reasonable 100%.

NAH HAHAHH IT IS KIND OF FUNNY HAHAHAHAHAHA COS REAL HAHAHAHAH T_T

'theyre dead youre dead just be with dream forgetting that guilt exists' yeah i thought about it too. like you can do nothing for them now? so what? so punish yourself for them? it has no meaning.

see we be the same

BUT also dream? man chill down pls TT yeah she betrayed you, thats all, just hate her peacefully and have good fluffy dreams lol.

FACT but he be petty 😩

'of course i still love you BUT i stilll havent forgiven you' what sex on top of the mountain does to men.... as ever, i judge everyone. she couldve done better, he couldve done LOTS of different things. but ok. it is as it is.

HAHAHHAHAHHAHAAHHAAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS SO FUNNY SEX ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN DOES TO MEN AHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAH ur so right #justicefornada and yeah dream with that one braincell coming through HAHAHAHAHAHAH

YEY FINALLY TALKING ABOUT JOSE RIZAL! this worldwife TT hdsddk actually reminded me of pushkin. good for them both.

HAHAHA OMG YOU GOT A MR WORLDWIFE TOO HAHAHHHAH

'his work inspired the revolution and he did so with non violence so' sounds really cool. and hes so badass for his death.

yeah bang bang 😞😩✊

this cunning spain... wow its really good to learn about your history.

<3 im glad you think so i find it so funny that you keep saying cunning spain HAHHAH IDK ITS KINDA CUTE HAHAHHAAH

and the KKK is pretty cool. i like this title.

THEYRE THE REALEST AND THE COOLEST 😫😫😫😫

and this cute story about you being confused bc of the song TT such a pure feeling.

T_T i was so confused for real

wow its REALLY amazing to learn about his works. your retelling is delightful. thanks SO MUCH for your efforts, your time, your big brain vibes and everything you do to answer to me! youre SO educational! youre an amazing catmom!

💗💗 I LOVE THAT FOR ME thank you my kitty kat muning <3

'we love kdramas here in the ph and complain if there arent eng subs on their shows' fhdhsp cute. its soso intriguing to learn about the culture that in fact is a lot different from my own. so please continue!

i love kdramas 😩 and yeah were pretty culturally different huh, besides the kwoa thing HAHAH

'this is such a long love letter' i love it!! i cant answer to everything bc itd be even longer and im too gripped by all the information you give but i love long love letters!

<3 <3 im glad you think so <3 <3 <3 im worried i might be telling you things you dont care about so this is reassuring <3

omg i.. i JUST UNDERSTOOD that i misplaced papak and flan FJSHFHJ. my inattentiveness will be the death of me im SORRY TT so ive already said you what is the thing similar to flan so what is similar to papak.. i meant the defenition, not the very word. theres a word 'кусочничать' (kusochnichat' ig) which is informal, actually, and literally means do smth with the pieces. in fact eating them... i already see how confused you were TT im sorry im silly.

no i know you meant the definition! its ok mistakes happen stop apologizing /: its fine. its cool to know you have a similar word <3

well majority of european languages derive from the proto-indo-european including english and spanish as well as slavic languages. and all the vagons come from proto-indo-european 'woghnos'. actually, our vagon came from the french. as far as i know, we didnt have much face to face contact with spain throughout the history.

wow my blown mind mind blown wow oh my HAHAHAHHA DAMN i got schooled love that for me purr 💅 as you should queen

'its normal to be anxious but you will overcome it' yeah i did! but i was so sleepy and dizzy and all bc of the things i was doing in the night...

YAY GOOD FOR YOU MY LOVE <3

so ig part 3.... see you soon, love! have a nice.. time? yeah, enjoy your time. love you<з

omg p3 wow slaYYY

xxx

[strawberryboyhimself]

Something I think that’s really interesting is the context of these two eras and the landscape around storytelling at the time. In the past stories were told mostly through word of mouth, you’d tell stories while you worked or relaxed in the pub or simply gossiped because that was what you did for fun. Life was simply slower and less full so you had the time to tell long-winded tales about the goings on around you. Think about it, the story of Scrooge could easily be something told by workers talking about their boss or Pride and Prejudice the local drama at the time or Wuthering Heights a real story built up by the locals over the years. We can also see this in the formatting of these works, how all of Dracula is told through letters and diary entries, Frankenstein begins with letters or again, Wuthing Heights is almost entirely told through word of mouth between a few characters. In the time these books were written, stories were a way of passing time and sharing news without the need for arcs or themes or anything like that because everyone told stories all the time. It was very much a time before show don’t tell because every story was passed down through being told so writers matched this method and spent their time setting scenes and creating characters who were terrible and writing their stories like everyone around them told them, the only difference was theirs were written so it would reach a wider audience. They were storytellers before they were writers.

Now, cut ahead to the boom in technological advancement, especially the invention of film and suddenly everything changes. Life is moving faster now, people don’t have the same amount of time to tell these long, winding tales, they have too much work and business and excitement in their lives. My English teacher pointed out Gatsby as a great show of this, the way it’s written in a way that is far more familiar to us, more like a movie. There’s no time wasted on these long paragraphs with little information or minor characters just to pass information or anything like that, it’s quick and snappy and rather than telling it like a story passed down from word of mouth, it cuts around like movie scenes and really wastes no time because now there is none to waste. Now films are able to tell stories that would have taken an audience days, maybe even weeks to read in mere hours, all that longwinded information can be told in a second with image and sound. The time of telling stories around a fire or while you do your long, slow work are over now it’s all efficancy and excitement and the rush of this new urban life.

Finally, not even that long after we reach today where life is faster than ever. Not only do we have movies now, we have streaming and social media and an endless stream of information that we can plug into and absorb for the rest of our lives and never even scratch the surface of it all. You have more to consume and less time to do so than ever before so there is no way you can go through all that time and energy of lengthy and longwinded writing every single time you want a story when you have all this content you could get so much more stimulation from so much quicker. It’s no longer about just telling a story anymore, it’s about selling a product, making something that stands out in this constant stream. There’s no time for the old style anymore, you gotta trim the fat and perfect your product to give it a fighting chance to survive.

Granted, that is a huge generalisation and books will always exist and be needed and cherished and one of the greatest inventions humans ever made but it’s undeniable that so much of the great literature we admire these days would never be found if it were written today, the style just would not be able to compete and books themselves are becoming more and more neglected or having to change to become more like the other, less time consuming content to be able to get any attention. It’s more a weakness of time than art itself and I am in no position to make such grand statements as this rant has become but my history lover brain simply found it interesting to look at the context and patterns of these eras and how the lives we live define the art we create and vice versa in that beautiful relationship between humanity and art.

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

[yessadirichards]

Songs by Taylor Swift, Drake and more starting to disappear from TikTok

NEW YORK

TikTok may look (or sound) a little different when you scroll through the app going forward.

Earlier this week, Universal Music Group — which represents big-name artists like Taylor Swift, Bad Bunny and Drake — said that it would no longer allow its music on TikTok following the Wednesday expiration of a licensing deal between the two companies.

Now, the takedown of UMG-related music has begun, ByteDance-owned TikTok confirmed to The Associated Press. As of early Thursday, a vast roster of popular songs had disappeared from the social media platform's library.

The complete removal of UMG-licensed music might not be immediate — but chances are, avid TikTokers are already seeing the effects. Here's a rundown of where things stand.

The songs getting pulled from TikTok are those that are licensed by UMG — which carries an enormous reach across the music industry and, consequently, our digital diet today.

“Universal Music Group is literally the largest record label... in the history of the music industry,” said Andrew Mall, an associate professor of music at Northeastern University. An “uncountable number of tracks and sounds” would be impacted on TikTok, he added, significantly limiting options for creators.

TikTok users signing on Thursday will see that they are no longer able to search for many popular songs — including music from Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber, Olivia Rodrigo and more — under the “sounds” tab.

In addition to users no longer having the option of adding these songs to next dance craze and other trending content, past videos featuring UMG-licensed music will also be scrubbed. According to a UMG spokesperson, whether these existing videos are muted or taken down entirely will be up to TikTok.

Artists will also not be able to post the audio of their UMG-licensed songs on TikTok. If the music has a UMG license, it should be muted, the spokesperson said — noting the company will protect its copyrights.

Tour clips of artists could also be affected, if those songs are represented by UMG, a person familiar with the matter told The Associated Press. This can become tricky if there are multiple songwriters, as recordings from other labels could also be affected, the person added.

Complete removal will likely be a process, so it may take a few days for TikTokers see the full effects. It's also important to note that music licensing is a complicated business and artists often have different songs that move through different labels. While a singer's UGM tracks will be removed, songs licensed exclusively with other music giants (like Warner and Sony-owned labels, for example) shouldn't be impacted.

The expiration of licensing between UMG and TikTok arrived after the two companies were unable to reach a new agreement — and soon shared heated exchanges.

In a Tuesday letter addressed to artists and songwriters, UMG said that it had been pressing TikTok on three issues: “appropriate compensation for our artists and songwriters, protecting human artists from the harmful effects of AI, and online safety for TikTok’s users.”

UMG said that TikTok proposed paying its artists and songwriters at a rate that’s a fraction of the rate that other major social platforms pay, adding that TikTok makes up only about 1% of its total revenue. The music giant also took issue with TikTok's promotion of AI music creation — which UMG says poses risks to human artists — and the platform's record with what it says is hate speech, bigotry, bullying and harassment.

TikTok pushed back against claims by UMG, saying that it has reached “artist-first” agreements with every other label and publisher.

“It is sad and disappointing that Universal Music Group has put their own greed above the interests of their artists and songwriters,” TikTok said.

Despite the licensing deal's expiration, experts note that we're still a moment of negotiation between UMG and TikTok — and it probably won't last forever.

“We’ve seen this movie before. It’s a wonderful, theatrical stand-off between two very major corporations... who are wanting to assert their authority on the landscape,” said former president of UMG's Virgin EMI Records Ted Cockle, who now runs music advisory company called Mussel Music Management.

Users will likely find ways to adjust in the meantime, Cockle added, but he and others doubt that such a standoff will last long — noting that a partnership between UMG and TikTok is significantly beneficial to both parties. Historically speaking, Mall said, gaps for other licensing agreements in the 21st century's digital era have typically lasted just a day to up to a few months.

There will also likely be added pressure from TikTok creators, artists and their fans.

“This is a platform that’s really important for artists,” said Alexandra J. Roberts, a professor of law and media at Northeastern University. “It might not affect established artists as much, but some of them are going to lose revenue streams. And I think we’re going to see frustrated fans, right? Users who don’t understand or are angry about the fact that they can’t use or access or engage with some artists' work.”

Representatives for several artists with UMG-licensed music — including Taylor Swift, Bad Bunny, SZA, Drake, Ariana Grande and Billie Eilish — did not immediately respond to The Associated Press’ requests for comment.

Mall stressed the overall consequences of pulling music from social media platforms like TikTok — particularly for younger developing artists. In this situation, UMG’s revenue mostly comes from well-known artists who will probably be “just fine” if their music is no longer on TikTok, he said, but “smaller labels, smaller artists (couldn’t) afford to do something like this.”

Content creators and marketing experts are already preparing to pivot as needed. Jessica Henig, founder and CEO of music marketing firm Unlocked Branding who is works on campaigns involving UMG-licensed music, said it's not ideal, but that her team has grown accustom to working through delays across the social media landscape.

Still, Henig, who previously headed influencer marketing at Virgin EMI, said time will tell.

“If this is going to be a longevity thing, then we might have a different conversation," she said.

TikTok’s standoff with Universal isn’t the first time a recording label has gone head-to-head with a social media company over licensing terms. In late 2008, Warner Music Group pulled all of its music from YouTube, saying the payments it received from the video-sharing site did not fairly compensate the label, its artists or songwriters. Warner agreed to return songs and music videos months later after reaching a new deal with YouTube.

[scary-senpai]

They say 'write for yourself,' and so here's Genos and Garou arguing about the mathematics of Christmas.

...I don't know, I just think they're neat. :D In any case, I am glad to be getting into the spirit of @wanpanmas 2022 and also finally my fic from Wanpanmas 2021.

Not yet beta read, there may be science errors because I usually have my boyfriend fact-check my jokes.

“Alright,” Garou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tell me exactly what I’m looking at.”

The whiteboard was literally painful to look at. Shining more brightly than fresh-fallen snow (and with a nasty glare to match), it was as large as a wide-screen television. Scrawled across the surface in tiny, meticulous strokes of blue ink were countless symbols, numbers, and letters—calculations, Garou guessed. Not that he could make heads or tales of it.

As far as Garou was concerned, the whole mess may as well be ancient hieroglyphs—overwhelming, incomprehensible remnants from an entirely different world. And that’s how he felt, standing beside Genos in the kitchen—as if they were from two entirely different civilizations, separated by time, possibly even space.

“These are the comprehensive mathematics of your so-called ‘Santa,’” Genos explained. “Figure two billion adolescents currently in existence, and roughly 15% observe Christmas. For simplicity’s sake, we will ignore the complexities of mixed-faith households, as well as the existence of Orthodox Christmas.”

“Uh-huh.”

Garou rubbed his eyes, dizzy with all the facts and figures swirling behind them.

“On average, one can expect to find roughly 3.5 children in every home—wait, Garou, why are you laughing?”

“I’m not.”

Garou was, actually, although he sensed he shouldn’t be… snickering as he envisioned a family of three full children and one half child standing side by side.

“Alright,” Genos continued. “Postulating 3.5 children per home, let’s assume that at least one child can expect gifts from Santa. In the interest of time, we will sidestep any philosophical discourse regarding the nature of ‘good,’ of which there are many—“

“Yeah, ‘moral dessert’ and whatnot,” Garou muttered. “The hell’s that?”

“A reindeer.”

Garou eyed the four-legged stick figure with what seemed like antennae (or possibly horns). A jumble of shapes—mostly squares and circles—appeared linked to the thing.

It almost, almost looked like a reindeer.

“Does Santa have eight of those?”

“Taking into account the gifts and the sleigh, Santa has a payload of 321,300 tons, not including Santa,” Genos said plainly, as if this were common knowledge and Garou already understood what these numbers meant.

“…and?”

“Presupposing the existence of exceptionally gifted reindeer, Santa would require no less than 214,200 to support the weight of his payload. In order to conserve resources, I have augmented my sketches with scientific notation.”

Genos pulled a napkin from his front pocket and snapped it with all the flourish of a picador.

“‘Back-of-the-napkin calculations’,” Garou grumbled. “Of course.”

“In order to frequent all 91.8 million qualified dwellings within the requisite 31-hour timeframe, Santa must accelerate to 650 miles per second—roughly 3,000 times the speed of sound. Moving at this unthinkable speed, with this inconceivable payload would generate enormous air resistance,” Genos continued, pausing for a breath he did not need to take. “Not unlike a spaceship re-entering the atmosphere, for example.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As I am sure you’re aware, hundreds of meteors breach our planet’s atmosphere and fall towards the earth itself,” Genos continued, “yet only a handful will actually complete their journey. The remainder burn up upon re-entry, which means—“

Genos snapped the napkin again, showing off the drawing on the other side: a rotund stick figure with a strange, triangular hat, that was (painfully, unfortunately) on fire.

“In conclusion,” Genos declared, “if Santa once existed, he does no longer—due to rampant population growth and the spread of Christianity.”

(the primary source of the santa calculations is here: http://www.comedycorner.org/5.html)

here's a silly drawing of Genos' reindeer. when it comes to illustrations, Garou thinks he can do it better, but he also understands now is not the time to try.

[tcbefearless]

Eyebrow raised toward Eir, she gave a small shake of her head. "No, I don't have a magic sword" she replied. The whole thing sounded ridiculous. Why would she have a magic sword? "I have used my abilities many times, and I have never seen any runes on it. I do not think this is the sword if such a thing exists" Eilonwy argued, leaning back in her chair slightly taking a sip of the Elven wine. It was sweeter than she was used to, but it was quite palatable.

Gandalf looked to Elrond, giving a small nod of his head. Elrond glanced to one of the other Elves who then came forth with a scroll. It looked old. Very old. "You might as well show her" Gandalf stated. Elrond sighed unravelling the parchment on the table, she noticed then how those who were messing around looked on in curiosity. Even Thorin. "This is what it looks like" it was different to the one she had. This one was longer, the runes were quite clearly upon it and on the hilt there looked to be a ruby. Elrond pointed to the top where words were written.

"To my daughter.." Eilonwy started to read.

"I hope this finds you well. Unfortunately the gift of the elders has passed onto you and with that gift comes great power. I have worked with the dwarven lords and witches of the woods on this sword to control your power.

The Dragon Flame is dangerous if not used correctly and it burns inside of you. To wield it, you would need a sword unlike any other and so, I have gifted this to you on your twenty first birthday.. use it wisely.

Love from Queen Arien (your mother).." Eilonwy slowly looked up to Elrond and Gandalf. The table was silent all except the harp that still played.

"Well where is it?" Eilonwy asked her voice beginning to shake. This was quite clearly a letter for Eilonwy that she never received. "We do not know." Gandalf commented, "Maybe if you tapped into the Dragon Flame on your current-" Elrond began to suggest but Eilonwy raised her hand. "I'm not using it. I am not killing and making an entire Kingdom fall .. again."

Eilonwy glanced to her friend, she went to get up from the table. "I..I need some air" She breathed, blue hues resting briefly on Fili. She gave a small tap of the shoulder to Eir to follow her out of the dining area and into the cooler breeze of the open space.

Begins with a K? Eilonwy thought then it hit her. Kili. No one else began with a K! Eilonwy sat down opposite Gandalf and two from Fili, making sure that Eir sat beside her. Ori was looking at his plate confused as were the rest of the dwarves, "Have they got any chips?" He asked which only made Eilonwy laugh a little. She understood that they wanted meat and potatoes, yet the Elves ate differently compared to dwarves. Eilonwy however didn't mean the salads upon her plate it certainly made a change.

"You both look lovely" Lord Elrond complimented, making her smile. "Thank you Elrond" She stated politely, giving Eir a small kick with her foot to also say thank you. Gandalf glanced toward Eilonwy there was that look in his eye that she noted, a look of wonder and concern. It seemed to always be on his face whenever he looked at her. "You say your family is from the ancient Kingdom of Domino?" Elrond questioned, "Apparently.." he extended his hand and Eilonwy showed the mark upon her palm.

Elrond looked to Gandalf, "Thank you, My Lady.." but she saw the grave look in even the Elven Lords eye. What weren't they telling her? Eilonwy glanced to Eir giving a small shrug of her shoulders. It was then did she notice the other Elves look at her, why did she feel as if eyes were burning into the back of her head? Not to mention that Fili was making sure to avert his gaze. She decided to pour herself a goblet of wine, Bilbo looked toward the two then to Eilonwy and Eir.

"So you don't remember anything?" The Hobbit asked, to which Eilonwy gave a shake of her head. "Before I was in the company I just roamed.. I didn't know where I came from, I know my name but my heritage I didn't know. It is like that part of my life is clouded and when I do see it, it's just fragments." It bothered her, often Gandalf would have to wake her from a nightmare because he was afraid that she would unleash a power that she did not know she had. It was why her ocean hues always looked tired, why there was always as if there was a constant weight upon her shoulders. "And you weren't given a sword.. with ruins on the blade?" Elrond asked. A sword? No one mentioned a sword.. "Only the one I made on my back. Pretty plain. Nothing special about it I'm afraid."

[chocoenvy]

Happy Birthday to you...

Sagau!Diluc x Reader

what if reader and an acolyte shared a birthday?

10000% self indulgent. I've had the thought of sharing a birthday with an acolyte for a hot minute now due to the fact that Diluc and I share a birthday. And now that our birthday has finally come around I decided to write about it! Happy birthday Diluc and to anyone else out there that shares our birthday!!!!!

Warnings: Cult behaviors, fluffy, Diluc isn't exactly fond of reader but doesn't hate them either

The festival left a bitter taste in his mouth. It had ever since he was a kid. Sugary snacks and the creator's favorite cakes out on display did nothing to him, in fact it merely made him scrunch his nose in distaste.

It was the same thought every year, nobody cared to celebrate his birthday because of you. Because the all-creator was born this day. It should be an honor to be blessed with creation, to be so closely intertwined and favored by the creator to share a birthday with them. He was chosen is what everybody would tell him.

Except this day was never his special day. Not like he needed it anymore, birthdays stopped having meaning when he was quite young, however he still had bitter memories of it from when he was young.

His eyes caught onto kids blowing dandelions, making birthday wishes to the All-Creator. His maroon eyes held distaste, briskly walking back into his house. He was seen around the festival, he bought a little cake for himself, and now he could say he did the bare minimum. He could go home now without Kaeya and whoever else on his back about worshipping the creator.

Before he even realized it, he sat at his desk in Dawn Winery. With a quill in his dominant hand, he hesitated for a moment before beginning to write a letter to the traveler - your first vessel - as it had become customary.

The letter had derailed quickly, filling up the entire page in slightly messy handwriting. Honestly, the whole thing was unbecoming of him. Being so affected by this and then writing his feelings out in a letter. It all felt so... wrong. With a grim glare, he held the letter he had wrote, and it erupted into flames.

*~

Midnight struck and in your cozy home, you smiled as your device showed the date April 30th. A message popped up at the top of your screen, and you immediately knew what it was.

You eagerly went to see the letter sent by Diluc but was shocked to see how long it was.

With furrowed brows and eagerness in your stomach, you started reading:

Dear Traveler,

Today is not only my birthday, but yours as well. I have no doubt it is a joyous day considering all you have done for Teyvat. However... today is also the day the All-Creator blessed the Earth. The day their human vessel took form for the first time. It's a common legend, perhaps you've heard of it?

Well, either way, festivals are held on this day. Grand and full of splendor and things the All-Creator adores. I've always been seen as blessed to share this day with them but... it doesn't feel like I'm sharing. Ever since I was a child they overshadowed my birthday, and then so much happened as a kid. It made me ponder, if there was truly a merciful god, why would they allow such things to happen? If there were such thing as a god, why would they not grace us with their presence? Why not celebrate their birthday with us? Why not allow me to have this day as well?

Perhaps my ramblings sound like that of a madman, and perhaps they are. I doubt you could understand my plight as the hero of Teyvat. I'm sure everyone celebrates your existence no matter the circumstances.

Perhaps if my father were still around he would celebrate with me. Perhaps if I had done things differently.

It's all in the past now. This day is no longer my joyous day, but even still, I hope you have a good day. May all your wishes come true. If you wish to celebrate with me, I'll be at Dawn WInery as usual. I can get you some sparkling grape juice and we can have a meal we'd both enjoy for our birthday. If you so wish though it's fine if you don't show up. I've sent along a special ticket for Dawn Winery. Just give it to anyone at the Winery and they'll give you the food and gift I've prepared. Even if you don't want it, I merely ask you make use of it. Give it away or hold onto it if you so wish.

May your birthday be one to remember until our next.

Sincerely, Diluc.

For a moment, you merely stared at the screen, your jaw slack from shock. What the hell was his man going on about?

Lore-wise, had Kaeya managed to get him drunk on his birthday? Was that Hoyoverse's explanation for the bullshit he was spewing. But even then, none of this had been explained before hand. Who was this All-Creator? Why was Diluc acting so odd in the letter?

What was happening?

You mulled the thoughts over in your head as you pulled up the character screen, staring at Diluc. Whether he was important to your or not was irrelevant at the moment, he was your birthday buddy and he had just sent you a very odd letter. Did Hoyoverse put in the effort to have exclusive letters for if you and another character shared a birthday? Surely not. They can barely give you some scraps of food for their birthdays, much less exclusive gifts and letters.

Then you remembered the gift Diluc had mentioned. You checked your backpack for it and, sure enough, there was a special ticket.

"Dawn Winery VIP Ticket." You muttered, "A gift from Diluc on his and yours birthday. Turn it in at Dawn Winery and maybe you'll get something special. Diluc mentioned a meal and a gift in his letter."

You hummed, your brows furrowed, staring intently at the screen. As though if you scrunched up your nose and stared suspiciously at the ticket for long enough it'd give you the answers you were looking for.

After a minute of this, you roughly sighed and shrugged, exiting out of the backpack and going to your party set up. It was Diluc's birthday, so you might as well go to Dawn Winery with him.

A chuckle bubbled up in the back of your throat at the thought of Hoyoverse actually implementing a birthday activity with one of the characters. Now that was wishful thinking. But still, you could pretend. Plus, at the very least, maybe the ticket could get you some cool item or recipe.

So, with Diluc as the leader of your party, you made your way to Dawn Winery.

He felt your presence within him, urging him to run run run to the winery. Jumping down cliffs with agility and speed he never knew a mortal such as him could posses until your hand graced him.

It's the same thing each and every acolyte experiences. But he was surprised to see you so eagerly posses his body and use him to sprint as fast as possible to the winery. Were you really that excited to see what he had prepared? He didn't think you'd even care. You had never cared all of his other birthdays, where he had to celebrate alone. Where you overshadowed any and all birthday wishes he could have ever received.

So why now were you so interested in his little gift? Was it selfishness? Curiosity? Surely such a noble and supreme god such as yourself couldn't care for such trivial mortal matters. That's why all of he others whom had sent letters with offers to spend their precious time with you never got anything. You'd never shown up, too busy with godly duties or whatever their excuse was to save face. It had become standard practice by now to offer it up and for you to not show up.

So why now? Why his birthday were you rushing to turn in the ticket, with him as well?

Self-centeredness perhaps? The fact that it was your birthday and perhaps that's why you're rushing to celebrate his birthday. Nothing else mattered unless it's centered around you. At least that's the conclusion he came to. It's the only one that made sense to him.

You made it to the Winery with a pep in your step. It was then that you realized that there wasn't a specific person you were told to hand it to.

You roughly sighed, realizing that it was indeed another null note that meant nothing.

"Curse you Hoyoverse." You frowned, comically shaking your fist.

You shrugged and headed in anyways. Might as well pay a visit it Elzer and the ugly ass model the poor man got cursed with, and also a teeny tiny part of you was just a tad hopeful.

You cringed back when you saw his model, remembering how the manga had depicted him and now... he just had an ugly npc model.

You clicked on the speak option and the screen went black.

"Hello there your grace!" Text popped up where it usually would, under the name of Elzer, "Is there something you'd like to give me perhaps...?" He trailed off as though he already knew why you had came here, and your inventory popped up.

For a minute, you sat there in stunned silence. Staring at the black screen, your backpack, and then the words. Your grace. He'd said.

For a moment, fear struck your heart. Then realization hit you, "Oh!" You laughed it off, "Right, Elzer calls Diluc his grace." You shook your head at how you'd freaked out. The black screen was probably another glitch.

Still, it was a bit odd that he was referring to Diluc in particular. What if you had been a different character? What if you didn't even have Diluc?

"Hoyoverse? Putting effort into their game? Aha-" You chuckled, shaking your head and clicking on the only lit up item in your inventory. The ticket from Diluc's letter.

"Ah! The ticket from the master!" Elzer said, "Thank you for this, I'm sure the master will be delighted. Please, come this way, your grace."

Something was off... was Elzer... speaking directly to you? He was mentioning Diluc so that meant he wasn't talking to him... why was he calling you your grace?

Your head spun, the loading screen popped up and your body went slack. The only thing you could hear was the Dawn Winery music and then slowly... the smell of alcohol.

[sineala]

How would you say fandom culture has changed over the years? What are some differences you notice between older and younger fandom folks?

I’ve been thinking for a while about how to answer this, and I’m not sure I have a really good answer, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been in fandom since approximately 1995. Maybe 1994. At that point, the world wide web was a relatively new part of the internet, and the fandoms I was in had most of their activity on privately-hosted mailing lists (predating eGroups/OneList/Yahoo Groups) and on Usenet newsgroups, with fiction beginning to be available on websites as part of either fandom-specific or pairing-specific archives as well as authors’ individual pages. Fanfiction.net did not yet exist. LiveJournal did not exist. AO3 definitely did not exist. If you wanted real-time chat, there was IRC. I was coming in basically at the tail end of zine fandom; zines were no longer the only way of distributing fanfiction, as fandom started to move online. So I have a selection of zines from 90s-era Western media fandoms but even by then zines weren’t where I was doing most of my reading.

I think in terms of generally “what it was like to be in fandom,” the big-picture stuff hasn’t changed. Fandom still produces creative fanwork and likes to, y’know, get together and talk about fandom. Also, almost every fight or complaint that fandom has about something is a thing that has been going on for actual years. People complain that, say, the kudos button is ruining comment culture because back in the LJ days the only way you could comment on a story was, well, by leaving an actual comment, or sending an email on a mailing list, and this might mean that people who would have otherwise commented have left a kudos instead. But back in the LJ and mailing list days, people were complaining that commenting was going downhill since the days of zines, when in order to comment on a story you had to write a real paper letter and mail it and because you had to do that, the quality of feedback was so much better than you got nowadays because people could just dash off a quick email or comment. You get the idea. Top/bottom wars are not new either. Pairing wars are not new. If you’ve been in fandom a while, you will pretty much have seen all the fights already. I think one thing that is new, though, is the fandom awareness of things like privilege and intersectionality and various -isms, as well as things like “providing warnings might be nice” (do you know how much unwarned deathfic I have read? a lot!) and I sure won’t say we’re perfect at any of this now, but I think fandom is trying way way more about all that stuff than it used to.

There are some fights we actually don’t have anymore, as far as I can tell. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the “real person fiction is wrong” battle, but also I don’t hang out in a whole lot of RPF fandoms, so it’s possible that’s still going and I just don’t see it.

There also used to be a recurring debate about whether gay relationships that were canonical were slash or not. When slash started, obviously this wasn’t a question because there weren’t canonical gay relationships in fandoms, period. But as gay characters began to appear in media, people started to wonder “does slash mean all same-sex relationships, or does slash mean only non-canonical same-sex relationships?” Now, you may be reading this and think that sounds like an incredibly weird thing to get hung up on, but that’s because what appears to have happened is that the term “ship” (originally from X-Files Mulder/Scully fandom) has, as far as I can tell, come up and eaten most of the rest of the terminology. Now people will just say, “oh, I ship that.” For any pairing, gay or not, canonical or not. Fandom seems to have decided that for the most part it no longer actually needs a term specific to same-sex relationships as a genre.

Similarly, there are a few genres of fic that we used to have also pretty much don’t exist anymore. There are also plenty of genres that are well-entrenched now that are also extremely recent -- A/B/O comes to mind. But there are some kinds of fic we don’t write a lot of now. Like, I haven’t seen smarm in years! I also haven’t seen We’re Not Gay We Just Love Each Other in a while. There was also a particular style of slash writing where you’d basically have to explain, in detail, what made you think that these particular characters could be anything other than straight. You’d have to motivate this decision. You’d have to look at their canonical heterosexual relationships and come up with a way to explain why all those had happened in order to reconcile how this one guy could have romantic feelings for another guy. When had he figured out he wasn’t straight? Who might he have been with before? How does he interact with people in ways that make you think he’s not straight? That kind of thing. You had to, essentially, show your work. And these days a lot of fanfic is just like, “Okay, Captain America is bisexual, let’s go!” It’s... different.

Fandom also used to skew older, is my sense. A lot older. I don’t know, actually, if it really was older, but I get the sense now that there are some younger people who are surprised that adults are still in fandom. I have seen people saying these days that they think they’re too old for fanfiction because they are not in middle school anymore. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that the barriers to access fandom are a lot lower than they used to be. You used to basically have to be an adult with disposable income (or know an adult with disposable income who was willing to help you out; but even then if you were reading explicit fiction you also had to swear you were 18+, usually by sending in an age statement to whoever you were buying the zine from or to the mods of the list you wanted to join, so a lot of fandom was very much age-gated). Internet access was not widely available. Even if you had internet access, you maybe didn’t have your own email address, so you couldn’t sign up for mailing lists; free email providers didn’t exist. If you wanted to buy zines, you had to have money to buy them. If you wanted to go to cons, you had to be able to afford the cost of the con, travel to the con, et cetera. If you wanted to have a website you had to know HTML. Social media did not exist. You want to draw art? Guess what, you’re probably drawing it on paper! You might be able to upload a picture to your website if you have a digital camera or a scanner, but both of those things are expensive, and also a lot of people don’t have the capability or the money to download pictures from the internet (some people have data caps with overage charges, and some people have text-only connections!), so they won’t get to see it. Maybe you can sell your piece at a con! You want to make a fanvid? We called them songvids, but, anyway, you know how you’re doing that? You’re going to hook two VCRs together and smash the play and record buttons very fast! If you want anyone else to watch them, you are either making them a tape personally and mailing it to them or bringing your vids to a convention. Maybe you can digitize them and upload them, but it’s going to take people hours to download them!

(Every three hours my ISP would kick me off the internet and I’d have to dial in again. If it was a busy time of day, it might take me 20 or 30 minutes to get a connection again. And that was assuming no one else in the house needed to use the phone line. Imagine if your modem went out every three hours now.)

And now, for the cost of my internet connection, I can read pretty much whatever fanfiction I want, whenever I want it. I can see all the fanart I want! I can watch vids! Podfic exists now! Fanmixes exist! Gifsets and moodboards exist! If I want to write fic I can write it with programs that are completely free, and as soon as I post it everyone in the entire world can read it. If I want to draw or make vids that may require some additional investment, but I may also be able to do it with things I already have. Do you have any idea how good we all have it?

There are a couple of kinds of fan activity that don’t seem to exist anymore, though, and I miss them. I know that roleplaying still goes on, but I feel like these days most people who do real-time text roleplay have switched to things like Discord. I know that in the LJ days, RP communities were popular. But I really miss MU*s (MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs, MUXes..), which were servers for real-time text-based RP with a bunch of... hmm... features to aid RP. There were virtual rooms with text descriptions, and objects in virtual rooms with descriptions, and your character had a description, and they could interact with the objects as well as with other characters, and you could program things to change descriptions or emit various kinds of text or take you to different rooms, and so on. Just to, y’know, enhance the atmosphere. It was fun and it was where I learned to RP and I’m sad they’re pretty much gone now.

I also don’t think I see a lot of fanfiction awards in fandoms. Wonder where they went.

Going back to the previous point, the barriers to actually consuming the canon you are fannish about are way, way, way lower now. You can pretty much take it for granted that if right now someone tells you about a shiny new fandom, there will be a way to read that book or watch that show or movie right now. Possibly for free! Of course you can watch it! Why wouldn’t you be able to?

This was absolutely, absolutely not the case before. I’m currently in Marvel Comics fandom. If there is a comic I want to read, I can read it right now on the internet. I have subscribed to Marvel Unlimited and I can read pretty much every comic that is older than three months old; the newer ones cost extra money. But I can do it all from the comfort of my own home right now. I was also, actually, in Marvel Comics fandom in the nineties. If I wanted to read a comic, I had to go to a comic book store and hope they had it in stock; if they didn’t, I had to try another store. Not a lot of comics were available in trade paperback and they definitely weren’t readable on the internet. I used to read a lot of Gambit h/c fic set after Uncanny X-Men #350. I never found a copy of UXM #350. I still haven’t! But I did eventually read it on Unlimited.

Being in TV show fandoms also had similar challenges. Was the show you were watching still on the air? No? Then you’d better hope you could find it in reruns, or know someone who had tapes of it that they could copy for you, otherwise you weren’t watching that show. It was, I think, pretty common for people to be in fandoms for shows they hadn’t seen, because they had no way to see the show, but they loved all the fanfic. The Sentinel had a whole lot of fans like that, both because I think it took a while for it to end up in reruns and because overseas distribution was probably poor. So you’d get people who read the fic and wrote fic based on the other fic they’d read, which meant that you got massive, massive amounts of fanon appearing that people just assumed was in the show because it was a weirdly specific detail that appeared in someone’s fic once. Like “Jim and Blair’s apartment has a small water heater” (not actually canonical) or “Blair is a vegetarian” (there’s an episode where his mother visits and IIRC cooks him one of his favorite meals, which is beef tongue).

Like, I was in The Professionals fandom for years. I read all the fic. I hadn’t seen the show. As far as I know, it never aired in the US, and it certainly never had any kind of US VHS or DVD release. I’d seen a couple songvids. I eventually saw a couple episodes in maybe 2003, and that was because my dad special-ordered a commercial VHS tape from the UK and paid someone to convert it from PAL to NTSC. I didn’t get to see the whole show until several years later when I got a region-free DVD player someone in fandom sent me burned copies of the UK DVD releases and then I special-ordered the commercial release of the DVDs from the UK myself. But if I were a new fan and wanted to watch Pros right now? It is on YouTube! For free!

I think also one of the things about fandom that’s not immediately evident to new fans is the way in which it is permanent and/or impermanent. There are probably people whose first fannish experience is on Tumblr or who only read fanfic on FFN and who have no idea what they would do if either site, say, just shut down. But if you’ve been in fandom a while, you’ve been through, say, Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Pillowfort, Imzy, DW, JournalFen, LJ, GeoCities, IRC, mailing lists. And sure, if Tumblr closed, it would be inconvenient. But fandom would pack up and move somewhere else. You would find it again. It would, eventually, be okay. Similarly, if you’ve been in a lot of fandoms, if you’ve made a lot of friends, drifting through fandoms is like that. You’ll make a friend in 1998 because you were in the same fandom, and then you might go your own ways, and ten years later you might be in another fandom with them again! It happens.

But the flip side of that is that I think a lot of older fans have learned not to trust in the permanence of any particular site. If you like a story, you save it as soon as you read it. If you like a piece of art, you save it. If you like a vid, you save it. Because you don’t know when the site it’s on will be gone for good. I have, like, twenty years of lovingly-curated fanfic. And I feel like people who have only been in fandom since AO3 existed might not understand how much AO3 is a game-changer compared to what we had before. It’s a site where you can put your fic up and you don’t have to worry that the webhost is going out of business, or that the site might delete your work because they don’t allow gay fiction or explicit fiction or fiction written in second person or fiction for fandoms where the creator doesn’t like fanfiction, or whatever. Because all of those things have absolutely happened. But, I mean, I still save pretty much everything I like, even on AO3, just in case.

So, basically, yeah, fandom is a whole lot more accessible than it used to be. I think fandom is pretty much still fandom, but it’s a lot easier to get into, and that has made it way more open to people who wouldn’t have been able to be in fandom before. There is so, so much more now than there ever was before, and I think that’s great.

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

[materassassino]

Alpas

Alpas (verb): Tagalog. To become free or break loose.

-------

“It isn’t the done thing.”

“It certainly isn’t,” Luke says.

“Against the Code, it is.”

“I know,” Luke says.

“I’m not sure I approve of this at all.”

“You tell me that a lot,” Luke says.

“Call yourself a Jedi, you should no longer.”

“Probably not,” Luke says.

He hasn’t stopped grinning this entire exchange. He doesn’t appear particularly contrite, despite what his masters say. No, he merely sits there cross-legged, hands clasped in his lap, wearing a smile that carries just a hint of mischief. Both Obi-Wan and Master Yoda look deeply displeased.

“The teachings state–”

It seems that Luke has had enough, because he raises a hand to silence Obi-Wan. “I know what the teachings state,” he says. “You’ve both told me them. Multiple times. Ahsoka has as well. So I think it’s time to tell you that I’m not going to follow them all to the letter, because I honestly think some of them were detrimental to the Order. Furthermore… can either of you truly stop me from calling myself a Jedi?”

Both Obi-Wan and Yoda exchange twin looks of frustration.

“You cannot just call yourself something!” Obi-Wan grumbles, folding his hands into his sleeves.

“Would you rather the Order die out for good?” Luke murmurs.

There is a brief but poignant silence.

Yoda sighs. “Important for balance, the Order is. Do without it, the galaxy cannot.” He looks up at Luke with a deep frown. “Approve of this decision, I also do not.”

“Nothing else will change,” Luke says. “I’m the only Jedi in the galaxy. What difference does it make, truly? Besides, I’m good at multitasking,” he adds, trying for humour.

It works on Obi-Wan, who muffles a snort, earning himself a glower from Yoda.

“And the child?” he asks.

“My padawan and my son,” Luke answers, as if everything is unbearably simple and Obi-Wan and Yoda are utter fools for not considering it.

As if on cue, a head pops around the doorjamb, ears twitching curiously. Luke turns with a smile.

“Grogu, come see your foremasters,” he says, holding out a hand. Grogu wanders over, happily settling in Luke’s lap, peering up at them with enormous eyes. The two old men visibly soften at the sight of him – it’s hard to stay stern in front of Grogu, which makes disciplining him very difficult indeed.

“Hello there, little one,” Obi-Wan says warmly.

Even Yoda smiles fondly. “Remember you from the creche, I do. Smaller, you were, you have grown much.”

Grogu giggles. Masters! he coos in the Force, clapping his hands.

“And what say you to this, hm?” Yoda asks. “Approve of your master’s decision, do you?”

Luke chuckles. “This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for him.” He strokes one of the child’s oversized ears gently, and Grogu leans into the touch.

“Well, if Grogu says it’s alright…” Obi-Wan says with a wry tilt of the head, to which Luke responds by rolling his eyes.

“It’s not that,” Luke says, and he finally sounds serious. “It’s that… while I acknowledge that they have sometimes blinded me in the past, I won’t forsake the people I love. I spent nineteen years without my sister–” Obi-Wan has the basic decency to look somewhat ashamed, at that. “–I won’t let her go again. Or my nephew, or my friends. Or Grogu and Din. I’m human, I’m sentient, I… feel. I love. I’m not pretending it doesn’t exist.” He allows himself a small huff of amusement, as if it’s all very ironic. “This is the Way.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “It would be cruel now, I suppose, to make you forsake them,” he says. Yoda frowns at him, but Obi-Wan merely shrugs, and the vision of him ripples, looks younger then, less weary. “Would it not be cruel to remove an ad from one of his buire?”

Yoda groans. “Far too sentimental, you are, young Kenobi.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says primly, “that’s Anakin.”

Luke watches them banter with fond exasperation, until he can sense a familiar presence step into the room.

“Meditating?” Din asks.

“No, just entertaining guests,” Luke replies. Grogu squirms and he lets the child go, lets him hurry over to Din, eager to be picked up.

“Oh, well, I can certainly see why you’d marry him…” Obi-Wan mutters, twirling his moustache appraisingly. Yoda whacks him in the knee with his cane as Luke splutters.

“Ben!” he exclaims, face turning red.

Din, helmetless, raises an eyebrow as he settles Grogu in the crook of his elbow. “I’d ask, but the answer would only confuse me,” he says wearily.

“You don’t want to know,” Luke grumbles, getting to his feet and heading over to plant a kiss on his cheek. Grogu waves as the Force flows, and two presences that Din will never know were there take their leave.

[boytouya]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦

words:2.3k

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence, blood, angst, open ended/ambiguous ending, descriptions of death.

request: “Can i request sukuna x male reader. Where reader keeps reincarnating with each lifetime for a curse and every time he remembers sukuna, he dies after gaining memories back. You can choose if theres a good ending or angst. Thank you king! I fell in love with him especially after reading that one shot i had to watch jjk and hes hot! Thank you for turning me into a sukuna simp! Much love”

a/n: i went,,,overboard with this request 🗿 BUT IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITESSIJEHSHE i’m honored to have introduced you to such a foine man

When you were five, only then had you understood the curse deemed ‘Ryoumen Sukuna.’ A rather tall man with two heads, one of which had splattered blood onto your sneakers. You understood the concept of death, of course, but could never truly comprehend the feeling of nothingness after watching your life flash before your eyes until nineteen. But there you stood, clutching the loop of your shorts when you witnessed the murder of your entire village. You didn’t know evil could have a moral compass, but the tall curse seemed to exclude half of the women and children. After the widening of youthful eyes and curdling screams you learned the monster took likings to things too. Women, with shaking forms and broken spirits. He’d stop before them, stare at them with eyes that could- in fact- kill, if they truly wanted to. But then he stopped in front of you.

“Close your eyes, Brat.” Death's hands were just as large as your family painted them out to be, if not larger. Calloused and riddled with blood as they are placed over your ears. You do as he- it says, squeezing your eyes shut and enclosing your eyes behind the meat of your palms just to be extra careful. You can see stars behind your eyelids, just as you can feel the sickening twang of death lingering in the air. You were aware it would happen at some point, Death would find its place for you over and over and over again, you’d been told since the day you were born.

There’s another sound, only muted under large palms. You don’t need your sense of sight or hearing to know what it was, the warm chunks splattering onto your skin was enough. Immediately, you flinched. When you opened your eyes, there were piercing eyes staring straight into your own. It looked so human, but something was off. Uncanny, as if it took years to manipulate its flesh and bone to emulate humans to a T. But there was nothing human behind those eyes, instead a void of nothingness. Death itself. If Death could express interest, you’d have thought that was the expression it was imitating. It offers a hand, one of four. Larger than your face, with sharp claws that could almost be described as talons. Darkened by dirt and remains of your loved ones, if it truly wanted to kill you, it could. It could tear you limb from limb with the wave of a finger. And it knew that.

So you took the hand, and he became your second home.

When you were ten, you learned about the red string of fate. It could never be broken, and those connected by it would always reunite, no matter the circumstances. You often had nightmares, those of which filled with blurred faces and sharp pain that reached you in your lucid state. Dreams of talons, piercing eyes, and double headed monsters. You dreamt under the stars, tasted metal on your tongue, and choked on smoke that wasn’t actually there. You dreamt of facial markings, details that you couldn’t exactly place, a name that you couldn’t quite remember. It left your tongue feeling thick in your mouth, racked tremors through your body, and caused premature dark circles to accumulate under your eyes.

When you were nineteen, you experienced your last breath. The air was stolen from your lungs, crushed under years of heartbreak and terror, and snatched from you in the dead of night. Your eyes glazed over, and nothingness overtook you. It left you for someone else to find, cold and lifeless. A void, similar to the eyes you had finally placed. But that didn’t matter much then, you had already drifted away from your body.

And that was that.

Thus, the cycle repeated. Under different names, different ages, different genders. There was always something gnawing away at your conscience, you felt as though you were forgetting something. But when you finally remembered, it was too late. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was almost like deja vu, stepping outside your home to find blood splattered on the concrete floor. It made your blood run cold, sent a tremor through your body and made you feel like you were five again. Small and defenseless. You take it as your best interest to go back inside before you pass out, but the second you whip your body around you meet something- someone?- large and sturdy.

“Sukuna.” That was it, the sour taste at the tip of your tongue, the lingering sensation at the back of your brain. Him. He didn’t look the same, no, much smaller with tufts of pink hair. There’s something behind his eyes this time, something almost irrevocably human. For some reason that’s much scarier than what you remember. What you think you remember. He’s much more human, but the way he looks at you is everything but humane. He looks frustrated, angry at something, as if he’ll implode any second and go on a rampage. Dread bubbles up in your stomach, nearly erupting through your mouth as bile. It felt as though something should be happening, like something usually happened when the itch went away. He chuckles, low in his throat as he cranes his neck to put his face uncomfortably close to your own. His hands, still large, find their way to your wrist, gripping your right hand uncomfortably tight. For a moment, you consider how long a trip to the hospital would be if he shattered the bone beneath his fingers. But instead there’s a jolt of electricity that would’ve had you yanking your hand back if he weren’t holding it.

“What? You look different.” He all but purrs, inspecting your palm with long nails. Not long enough to be talons, but longer than those of a claw. It was true, you did look different. He wondered if you spent your lifetimes looking exactly the same. That couldn’t have been possible, he would’ve found you much easier, then. Still quite boyish, as if the body you were in didn’t originally belong to you. Clearly grown out of cargo shorts and polos, much taller than you were before. There was no way he could have forgotten you, the way you jumped when the remains of your loved one splattered across your legs. The way you stared back at him with a look of acceptance, the way you grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead you out of the village. It explained the body memories perfectly, the feeling of large palms on your head and remnants of a brain splattering onto your knees.

“Last time I saw you,” He let’s go of your wrist with a bored expression, then replaces its spot with the top of your head. He shoves you down, and you make an effort to ignore the crack your knees make when they smack against the concrete. Then, he crouches down to stare you directly in the eye, just like he had the first time you met. His eyes were no longer dark, instead a deep shade of red that caught light from the moon. They reminded you of vials of blood. “You were this tall. Much cuter in this century.”

“And you were bigger.” Sukuna laughs as if hearing that was the funniest thing in the world. He leans his weight into you and uses you as a support beam, laughing until his ribs burn and beg for a break. But how could he laugh at a time like this? He didn’t think it was weird? He’s existed for centuries, murdered for millennias and only now has he seen you. That wasn’t how it worked, when you died, you died. But Sukuna was a walking oxymoron to that statement. When he died, if he died, he would return. He’d return through you, the last fragments of his soul would stay bound to yours until the end of time. Perhaps that’s how he knew, how he remembered. Perhaps that’s why he still took the time to find you, even after countless years of failure. It was peculiar, but not as much as being bound to Death himself. It was a sick game of turning the phrase ‘Til’ death do you part,’ because in your case it was literal.

“You’re still a brat.” His voice is closest to something fond, as if he’s reminiscing sweet memories. It was much different on your account, and part of you wondered if Sukuna understood that. He makes no effort to help you up (he explains that you’re “a big boy now”) as he invites himself into your apartment. Nothing special, he doesn’t care much for family photos or if you have them, but the stacks of letters and books on your table peak his interest. He tears apart envelopes as if he owns them, reads through the contents and discards them to the floor if he deems them useless. The way he sits nearly breaks your chair, and, honestly, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

So you sit beside him.

“You were so scared,” He says, almost as if he were bragging. But he was known to be arrogant and cocky, that was just his nature. He didn’t truly mean it like that, in fact, he looked quite reverent after letting the thought drift into the air. It was kind of funny, such a powerful thing fawning over past memories. But that wasn’t how this should go, you had your memory back, so why hasn’t anything happened? “When you grabbed my hand you stopped shaking.”

“...”

“It’s a shame I couldn’t keep you long,” He visibly frowns, the skin around his lips worry, but you can't tell if it’s genuine or not. He looks at you with something knowing the second the thought enters your head. “I looked for you, at first. You died young, for a human.”

Ninteen. ‘I should have been there,” he wants to add.

“Why aren’t I dying now?” You interrupt and let the panic sink in, the thought of impending doom sits on your shoulders because, really, it could happen at any moment. But this time, you don’t want it to. You remember accepting death when it came to your door at the young age of five, nineteen, countless times over and over. You had only ever gotten this far, you weren’t ready yet. You couldn’t start over, not now. “Sukuna?”

The question sours his mood in the blink of an eye, and instead of looking through your things, he raises himself from his seat to rest his palms on the table. It seemed he had a thing for staring down at people, making them cower under his stone cold gaze. You note the way his jaw clenches. You open your mouth to speak again, but he seems to have other plans. He squeezes your cheeks, making your lips purse together under the pressure of his large fingers. The movement feels familiar, like he’s done it before. The five years you spent with him were still a bit of a blur, but you remembered holding his hand quite often. He’d tell you to close your eyes if there was something he didn’t want you to see, he’d ruffle your hair a bit too hard, let you sleep on his back if he was out in the town. But that was all you remembered. He remembered it all.

“Respect your elders,” He lets go and sits back down as if he hadn’t just thrown a tantrum over you interrupting him. Sukuna was centuries old, but even then, he’d exhibit immature behavior sometimes. Living for so long had to get boring (and lonely) at some point, perhaps that was why he looked for you. He did consider you something close to family, after all. In truth, there were some lifetimes where you met. Some when you were friends, something more than that, and something inseparable. And that’s why you hadn’t died yet, you didn’t remember it all. “It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

“You’re much more handsome in this life.” His smile is much more intimidating than sweet, the sinister curl to his lips would only ever be associated with bloodshed in your eyes. But it was much more than that. Nights of sleeping together, days of laughter and flirtatious comments, soft moments that only you had seen. And it was bittersweet, because he knew the second he’d jog your memory you’d be gone. It wasn’t just a curse for you, but for him. Maybe it was his punishment for hurting so many people, dragging an innocent soul down with him and hanging them by the red string of fate. The comment makes your skin prickle with heat. Sukuna was quite the charmer when he wanted to be, easily picking at your weak spots with whatever you wanted to hear. But the comment was much more for the sake of his own, instead of yours.

Sukuna stands, hot on his heels as he holds out his hand one last time. If something were to happen to you tonight he’d make the most out of it, just as he did countless times over and over. So many years of starting over, getting to know you in various different bodies, realizing that being trapped away was the only way you’d get to live a full life, it was always on his mind. You were always on his mind.

So you take his hand. And for the millionth time, he’d become your second home.

taglist:

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