#there are not enough words in my vocabulary to express how much these mean to me

[slytherinslut0]

STOP?????? STOP IM SOBBING AND SCREECHING AND HONESTLY SMILING SO HARD MY CHEEKS PHYSICALLY ACHE. IM SO INLOVE WITH YOU AND I TELL YOU THIS EVERYYYYYY MFFFFF TIMEEEE BUT I LOVE THESE SO MUCH THEY MAKE MY YEAR YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLLDDDD FOR THR EFFORT😭😭😭😭

THIS IS MEEEEEEEE LIKE PLZZZZ.

i loved writing this mattheo. i loved him fighting with his conscience and his attraction and knowing that no matter which choice he made it would be detrimental to him either way. it didn’t take much for you to alleviate his inner conflict but idkkkk something about a hesitant matt drives me insane because i like to think he’s normally so careless BUT NOT WITH YOUUUUU

ANYWAYYYYYYYZ i’m not even joking i love these so much and i love you so much more. thank you for the time you take for these dear god i will never be able to express how much they mean to me. 😭 my wifey my soulmate my babyyyyyyyy

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you��you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

[strawberry-peach]

Them... them and nothing but THEM

[ikementally-deficient]

Advice On Writing

I have a couple of writing friends who keep asking me for advice (which is extremely flattering and I love to infodump, please don't stop), but I thought getting my thoughts down on the metaphorical paper and putting them out into the world might be helpful for others as well.

I mostly had fanfiction in mind when I wrote this, but honestly I think the vast majority of it will be applicable to any kind of creative writing.

I would love to get feedback or have conversations about this, so if you want to squawk at or with me, please don't hesitate!

The Bare Minimum

Write

Write as often and as much as you can. If you manage to do nothing else on this list, just writing consistently and continuously will eventually improve your skills, even if it takes a long time.

The Basics

2. Read

Find things you enjoy, and read them. Read as much as you have time for. Things that speak to you and make you feel things (words, turns of phrase, tropes) will all work their way into your subconscious and feed your own writing.

3. Read Critically

Re-read the things you enjoy, and consciously think about why you enjoy them. Why did this scene manage to express such a clear sense of desolation? What about this interaction between characters made me relate to them so much? How did this story give me such a sense of satisfaction and coming full circle? Highlight the phrases you really love. Look for and circle the small details that foreshadow later developments. Identify the things you don’t like as well (nothing is perfect). How would you have done this differently? Do you hate the purple prose, or is it killing you that these scenes aren’t more detailed? Look up the words you don’t understand - maybe the author chose their words poorly, or maybe you’re one of the lucky ten thousand who gets to learn a new vocabulary word today.

The Cringe Parts

4. Ask for constructive criticism

This part is really hard, but vital. While you will inevitably find some of the weaknesses of your own writing, you won’t find all of them. An outside perspective is invaluable. If you’re frightened of constructive criticism, start small. Ask one person to look at SPAG (spelling, punctuation, and grammar). Pick one paragraph or scene to show someone and ask them how it flows. Have someone review your outline for plotholes instead of giving them prose. Brace yourself for things you don’t want to hear. Sit with any and all criticism for a few days before reacting. It’s okay to decide that someone just didn’t get what you were going for, but make sure that’s actually true instead of just a knee-jerk reaction to hurt feelings or a bruised ego. Listen to what your reviewer or beta is actually saying - ‘this part confuses me’ doesn’t mean your writing is bad, it means that your head holds the entire picture and you just didn’t put enough of that down on paper so your reader can see it too.

5. Re-read your own work

Every once in a while, go back and see how what you wrote six months ago or last year holds up. You’ve been writing for a while, you’re a stronger writer, so give yourself the perspective of seeing how far you’ve come. And see if there are any weak areas that are still giving you trouble; you can focus more on those in your next piece of writing.

6. Edit for other people

Editing is a skill. No one falls out of the sky able to give useful and actionable feedback. The act of reading and criticising something you have a little cognitive distance from is far easier than criticising your own work, but it’s still a muscle you need to build. Start with basic proof reading (SPAG). Ask questions: “Why did you choose this word, it seems obscure?” Explain your feedback: “I can’t tell who’s speaking here, I think the dialogue went back and forth one too many times without a tag.” Instead of “I don’t like this,” explain why: “This description feels like something I’ve seen too many times already and feel cliché, but I bet you can change it up.” Learning to give that feedback in a kind and helpful way is something you can bring back to your own writing. Remember that if someone asks you to beta read or edit their work, they too are trying to get better. Don’t just blow sunshine up their ass, give them the respect of being honest about elements that aren’t working. Just don’t be an asshole about it. 

Some resources on being a good beta reader - these also are handy guides for writers on how to communicate their needs effectively to a beta reader:

How to Be a Great Beta Reader and Give Helpful Feedback (dianaurban.com)

What makes a good beta reader? (smallbluedog.com)

Tips on how to beta read, from a beta reader : FanFiction (reddit.com)

Advanced Class

7. Try new things

Try a different format. If you mostly write long, multi-chapter works, aim for a short story. Write some poetry. Change up your genre. Consciously try to imitate someone else’s style. Stretch out of your comfort zone. Feel like you write too much descriptive detail? Force yourself to write nothing but dialogue, like Isaac Asimov. Feel like your characters are always floating in empty space? Indulge in some Robert Jordan, down to every detail of what the characters are wearing. This is going to be difficult, and the results might not be something you want to share publicly, but it’s still worth the effort.

8. Read about writing

There are university courses on this stuff. Check your local library for a copy of the Little, Brown Handbook - it’s aimed at academic writing, but it’s a great resource on grammar and syntax and planning and revising your work. Look for fun ones like The Transitive Vampire and The Well-Tempered Sentence, or Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Centre for Fiction has a great list of books on creative writing by writers, and industry professionals (if publishing for profit is a goal of yours). 

Back to the Beginning

9. Keep writing

You might not be the next Stephen King, or Jude Devereaux, or Isaac Asimov. Cool, me neither. You don’t have to be. As long as writing is still giving you joy, keep doing it. 

[nekovmancer]

Broken porcelain

pairing: Ramattra x f!reader  prompt: sexual tension when tending to someone's wound from this list warnings: semi-nsfw, mentions of blood, injuries, semi-nudity, swearing, reader being a bit masochist etc etc word count: 2272 a/n: backstreet's back, alright! and finally. 😎 I’ve been a bitch with a big B for Ramattra over the past couple months, and of course I had to write a piece on that robot guy. He gives me… feels I can’t explain. So, for all my fellow robot fuckers, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing! Feedback is always appreciated and please please please send an ask, a chat, anything so we can talk about this big guy and more fanfiction prompts. 😭 also on ao3!

Who would ever say to be a human amongst killing machines would, impressively, be a dreadly task? Or deadly, you would remark to yourself after a long walk of dragging your wounded body through the corridors from the training field to Ramattra’s personal workshop. At least, those new assassin omnics would perform their duties impeccably, you could tell from the way they cut through your skin without a single issue.

The wound was still covered under the thin layer of the tank top you have on, the white fabric damp of crimson blood denouncing something went terribly wrong, not to mention the pained expression contorting your face. 

As soon as he eyes your state, if Ramattra could bring a worried expression to the surface of his faceplate, he would, a mirror to the torment running through his systems. He was an engineer, not a human healer, but you needed him to act more as such in the present moment if you’re both willing for you to stay alive, which you indeed were. 

Growing impatient, not to mention the pain reaching under your skin, you adjust yourself slowly on top of his workbench, holding your side to prevent any further damage. Your fingers get moist with blood, and that has your lips twitching. “Can you fix me or not?” 

“That depends on your meaning of fixing,” he states, a stoic demeanor on the outside despite feeling quite the opposite inside. Feeling. Something he didn’t think to be inclined to, at least not when those diverged from the violence he was shaped to perform as a being… and yet, here they are, as foreign to him as the surgical aspects of flesh and bone. “I can’t weld you, obviously. At least, not as a first resource,” his slight humor brings a faint smirk to your lips, slowly shaking your head in a quiet response. In a lighter tone, Ramattra proceeds, and now it’s definitely a command. “I would like to have a closer look.”

Quietness follows, not as fast as the warmth spreading from your neck to the tip of your ears. To say you hadn’t considered you’d need to remove your shirt was unnecessary, in front of him of all people, ‘cause you’d rather overcome your own fear of blood if a second thought had you aware of the chances before. But as the old saying remarked: if you are in hell already, just go and sit on the goddamn devil’s lap.

Proceeding a thick swallow, you do as you’re told, diverting your eyes to a corner to avoid examining the cut yourself, or to avert them from Ramattra’s, anything and everything were an excuse in such a situation. It hurt just enough to be something you knew you couldn't handle alone, and considering how sharp that assassin’s knives were… fuck’s sake, what a weak fool you were.

On the other hand, at the sight of your almost bare torso, Ramattra felt inexplicably tense. The wound itself was not too deep to reach anything vital, but would need a patch up indeed in order to heal properly. Yet, his sight wasn’t restrained to that minor part of your skin, and that’s when tension was found. Maybe the vocabulary wasn’t a perfect fit, ‘cause that jolt of electricity running through his circuits was something else, something as sublime as the curve of your hips, and the way you shallow breaths of anticipation had your body quivering, despite an enormous strength to keep it still. He could hardly find beauty in human beings, and let’s not even mention himself, but that was a whole different scenario… warm, with a hint of degradation he couldn’t ignore, and something that could only be named as akin to desire. 

The silence was killing you now, almost making you forget the very pain which brought you there in the first place. “Will we be helding any funerals?” you risk, in the same light humor he used with you before. At least, if you didn’t consider the shaking tone in each syllable you’d pronounced. You thought Ramattra couldn’t  never understand your concerns fully, even if he invested all his force to: if the worst happened, he could be reconstructed, you were there for it after all. But as a human, it’s not like you have a respawn chance anytime. That’s why, aside the anxiety turning your stomach into a knot, you needed him to act. 

“You speak as if it's more severe than it is in fact,” he muses, tilting his head as the scanners on his optics do the rest of the work, searching for the right proceeding in a shared data file, where he was hoping to get anything from an omnic model whose initial propose, contrasting his, was to heal, not to kill. “No funerals, you have my word. The pain may be harsh, but the wound itself is of little harm in the bigger picture. You’re safe,” the addition of the last sentence has you sighing in relief, and a pinch of pain reaches you once more, but it’s bearable. Ramattra made you feel protected, or better, cared for. The warm feeling is enough to soothe your anxiety, dissipating the chill air in the workshop for a little while before rushing up to your cheeks as you’re reminded you’re still half naked in front of him. 

“Lay,” he commands, and your breath gets caught in your throat in the act. Only if your mouth were open, your heart would surely jump out if it during one of its chaotic heartbeats, contrasting the steady tone on Ramattra’s voicebox, echoing those words without a single trace of malice. But when they hit you, they sounded profane, leaving a delicate trace of forbidden to the tip of your tongue. 

You curse your mind as you lay down, a shiver erupting from the contact of warm skin to the cold metal of his workbench’s surface. Fuck, he’s your commander, superior office or whatever goes between you both, your boss to be short. Thing is he saw a purpose for you and spared your life long ago, and that purpose goddamn sure didn’t imply any… deeper contact than the occasional intellectual help you provided, with efficient (and smaller) hands and a cunning mind. After all, no Ravager was made to indulge in such a thing as intimacy, the very same thought cursing through Ramattra’s systems right now. He wasn’t built for delicacy, a single gentle touch for his standards would be brutal enough to leave you bruised for days, and how he would lament to see such perfect skin ruined by his own hands… unbearable to even think of it without feeling a strange sensation housing between his metallic limbs, pushing further inside in search of a bloody beating heart among the cold hardware. 

It wasn’t the first time he felt unsure in his existence, but that was a whole new thing. To think one like him was able to possess a spirit tender enough to be mesmerized by such a fragile thing as you touched him not physically, but deeper than it could ever be… how thrilling it was, but insufficient to make him search for its source on his internal data to completely erase it. No, never. He was actually holding into it with every fiber of his soul, curious to see which path it would lead him through. A bit embarrassing, at first impression, like the sight of you would burn his optics until they melt.

After all these years working along, was it there all the time? Within him, within you? He would search for it later, revisiting each time you shared each other's company in his memory, to see where a quiet admiration turned into this. 

After gathering the resources to fix you, ensuring everything was sterilized, he turned to sight over your form once more. Ramattra could sense the rapid heartbeat against your chest controlling your breath motions, the rising and falling of your chest following along, where he caught a peek of your nipples drawing a small circle under the fabric of your top, the last barrier between him and your fully exposed torso. Thankfully, unlike any human, his faceplate didn't betray any of his thoughts. They’re guarded within his systems, safe in his memory and imprinted there forever. Nothing could ever make him forget of you, nor time, nor enemies, nor… fuck, the injury. 

“It would feel better if you were asleep,” he commences, carefully. You’re already scared for it seems, and it’s not on his wishes to make it worse. “Instead, I will ask you to bite on this,” the discarded cloth of your tank top is brought to your lips, and your heart could have stopped right there. Instead, avoiding the disbelief, you silently obey. “Try not to move. I shall be slow.”

A nod follows, and you gather your best to not whine, or flinch, or sob too much when his hands begin to work, stitching the wound close. Whatever sounds leaving your mouth are muffled, and the pain is great. But erotic. And, fuck, you should be loosing your mind by this point. How could your brain process such agony in a pleasurable way? You’d be blaming the omnic in charge of patching you up, for sure. It was him, after all, all about him. 

Ramattra was enormous, and the effort he put in each precise movement didn’t go unnoticed. He could have discarded you, blamed you for your mistakes, assigned anyone else to deal with this bullshit, but there he was: the infamous Null Sector leader, treating you as a precious porcelain tea-cup, once broken, now being patched in threads of gold, despite the gold being metaphorical. It was a form of art, wasn’t it? You’ve read of it somewhere, once. If so, right now, you’re his masterpiece.

To say he’s being delicate is a statement. Ramattra is afraid he could shatter you again, worse than they did with you before. The responsible for it would be severely corrected, later of course. The pads on his fingertips could never be soft as your skin feels under them, and an eagerness to venture further brings a shiver of electricity through his spine. Should he ever be thinking of it in your state? In fact, was it reasonable to have you consuming his memory like this, injured or not? What could be a groan echoes from his voicebox, and within a few long minutes, it was done. 

Your jaw clenches to the minimum effort of raising your torso, sitting on his workbench once more as a small discomfort to the newly sewn cut emerges. Covered in bandages, you can’t see his work, but there’s no blood and the pain is moderate, so you trust with your eyes closed it’s perfectly fine. Your shirt is sitting by your side, bloodied and wet from your own saliva, but you don’t mention reaching for it. 

Blinking, your eyes search for him, meeting the stoic faceplate turned to you. Silence lingers as you both stare at each other, considering every single thought that coursed through your minds during the late couple of hours. Was it genuine? Absolutely. Would you voice them? No, surely not. Tension is still there, so palpable you could touch it, and shattering it would come with a price. 

A small blush color your cheeks red, and you finally manage to break eye contact with a hint of timidity. Too much to ask of you for a little time of strong, contrasting emotions, still tickling under your skin as the adrenaline begins to sparse. Clearing your throat, you’re the first to speak. “I apologize,” it begins as simple as it, almost ending the sentence there as your eyes don’t dare to move from your lap and you choose carefully what to say, and what to keep to yourself. Ramattra may have performed a solid progress towards emotions, but you feared he would fail to comprehend the turmoil in yours. “It wasn’t strict of your concern, nor a matter you should care for as you did, and I-”

“I had to,” he cut you off, sternly. Now that you’re safe, his worries tend to other subjects, still resonating over you. Was he too obvious, despite his best efforts? Couldn’t be, and yet he wished fervently for you to point it out, verbalizing what he was too afraid to: he wanted to keep you close, and safe, more than he ever did. “Whatever happens to you is my business, especially if it's a menace to your well being,” Ramattra takes a step closer, his fingers aching to reach for your face, and soothe that sorry expression out of it. Instead, he keeps them to his sides, clenching them a fist. “So don’t apologize for it. It wasn’t your fault, in the first place, and yet I’ll ask you to be careful and not wander over the training field whenever a new IA is being tested.”

A short nod follows a faint smile. His words were gentle, not explicitly voicing what he meant in between the lines, but you knew it nonetheless. Ramattra cared for you, more than you could have thought, and enough to satisfy your heart. “I don’t even know how to begin thanking you.”

“Dressing will do,” a chuckle reverberated in his metallic rib cage, and if his words alone wouldn’t catch you yet, it would be enough to make your face red as a cherry for, somehow, you were able to sense a trace of malice in Ramattra. “Rest now, human. I shall meet you when the day is done.”

[meddwlyngymraeg]

Vocabulary - to want

A few different ways (that I know) to express wishes and desires.

eisiau - to want. One of the standard ways of saying you want something, all across Wales. In truth, it’s not actually a verbnoun like many others, it’s really a noun. That’s why you don’t need the ‘yn’ before it ad you would for any other verbnoun: ‘yn mynd’, ‘Dwi’n mynd’. ‘Dyn ni’n aros.’ Etc.

‘Dwi eisiau cysgu.’ I want to sleep.

I believe the reason for this is an older construction that is used in literary Welsh, but that got shortened and dropped off over time in colloquial Welsh. ‘bod ... ar [rhywun]’ was the construction used, roughly meaning to have ‘a want upon you’ (very roughly).

Double checking this with Wiktionary (beloved), they do have a credible literary source demonstrating this: the Welsh bible (which thanks to a frenzied linguistics and orthography-fuelled spiral down Wikipedia, and oddly enough, the Welsh comedian and radio broadcaster Elis James (unrelatedly), I know was first translated in the 1500s and directly led to the loss of the letter ‘k’ from the Welsh alphabet).

‘Yr Arglwydd yw fy Mugail; ni bydd eisiau arnaf.’ The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Close enough to colloquial Welsh to understand, that's using ‘eisiau arna (i)’. Over time, colloquial Welsh has dropped the ‘ar’. The example sentence above could've been 'Dwi eisiau cysgu [arna i]'.

A note. Some people have a misconception that eisiau should cause a soft mutation in the word following it, because it is an exceptional case of an action (of sorts) that doesn’t need an ‘yn’, and so must follow a pattern similar to a few other conjugations out there like ‘dylu’ (should).

‘Dylet ti ddweud rhywbeth’ (You should say something), ‘Galla i wneud rhywbeth amdano fe’ (I can do something about it), ‘Ga i rywbeth?’ (Can I have something?), the past tenses of gwneud, ‘wnaethon ni ddysgu Cymraeg’, ‘Mae rhaid iddyn nhw dduhino’n gynnar!’ (They must wake up early!)

And so on. This isn’t the case, as eisiau is not a conjugated verb. It’s just a noun for desire! (*not exactly. I’m trying to explain this as best I can)

There is a south Walian usage of ‘eisiau’ that makes this idea clearer.

In some southern dialects, the construction ‘mae eisiau i…’ is used to mean that someone needs something. E.g. ‘Mae eisiau i ti fwyta’ means ‘you need to eat’. What it literally means is ‘there is a need for you to eat’, and so you can see the noun eisiau (a need) in use.

North Walian Welsh uses the same structure, but with the noun angen instead. ‘Mae angen i ti fwyta.’ ‘Mae angen iddyn nhw sosban’, literally, ‘they are in need of a saucepan’.

Speaking of dialect differences, especially in north Wales Welsh, you might come across spelling variants of eisiau: ‘isio’, ‘isia’, (N) ‘isie’ (S), ‘isho’, etc. Perks of a phonetic language are that nothing’s a misspelling really if it sounds alright when said out loud. I did raise an eyebrow at the last one a little, ‘sh’ isn’t the English ‘sh’ in Welsh, is it? (Is that Wenglish?)

Other forms!

moyn - to want. Used pretty much only in the south and valleys, but this one is a regular verbnoun. ‘Dwi’n moyn cwpla fy ngwaith gytre’n fuan’ (I want to finish my homework soon)

(Just realised there are a Lot of dialect words in that sentence! Cwpla -> gorffen, gytre -> cartef)

It seems simpler than the exceptional eisiau construction, why isn’t it more widely accepted?, you ask. (Most people I’ve said it to say it immediately places you geographically to them because they never hear anyone else say it.) It derives from an older verb, ymofyn, which itself comes from the word gofyn (to ask), ‘ym’ + ‘gofyn’ = ‘ymofyn’, which sort of goes away from the original idea of wanting, and into one of asking. Still, language evolves, and so you will still hear moyn in South Wales. In fact, the Say Something In Welsh course teaches it (which is how I know it. Probably worth giving a disclaimer that I’m simply mad about linguistics and Welsh alternative bands, before anyone starts to think I live in Wales just because I occasionally write long grammar posts!)

Awydd - a desire. Used similarly to eisiau, no ‘yn’ precedes it. The whole point of making this post was that I just came across this sentence: ‘Ti awydd mynd i Gastell Caerfili?’ Meaning, do you want to go to Caerphilly Castle?

And those are the ones I know!

[my-writings-and-musings]

Earthspark Frenzy, Ravage, and Laserbeak start to notice that Soundwave (Aka their dad) becoming a bit more…’friendly’ with their human ally (*wink wink*). One morning, after Soundwave and the human had gone away on an ‘mission’ and and just returned to their little base in the early hours of the morning when they though the cassettes would still be in recharge, but they thought wrong. Frenzy decides to be a little shit and asks, “So~ does that mean we can except a little brother or sister sometime soon?”

I wheezed out loud at this one and then started thinking about it and now I want to write this and a whole host of other Earthspark fics invoicing human/bot babies. Thank you very much for this anon, I've been waiting for a reason Hehehehehehe...

(Headcanon Note; I fully imagine bots can knock up humans with lil bot babies that grow into full size Cybertronians. Partly because I like the idea of the Allspark creating a species that can reproduce universally as some kind of all-life-is-connected thing, and also because I just prefer alien to human babies.)

Apologies for the tangent, now on with the story! I hope you enjoy, and if you like my writing style you can always commission me!

"Wassup?"

Hearing Frenzy's voice surprised you out of your light doze, and you snapped your head up to find the three Minis up and awake in the tiny "kitchen" you'd all set up in the main area of the bunker. Soundwave acknowledged his Cassetes with a nod, just as tired as you were after the mission that had dragged into the early morning hours. Seated atop his shoulders, you did the same, waving and trying not to yawn as you rubbed the sleep from your tired eyes.

"Morning, everyone..." you greeted as warmly as you could, grumbling stomach reminding you why you hadn't asked to head straight for the bedroom to pass out. Soundwave raised a cupped servo for you to crawl into, his sharp claws curling protectively about your tiny form as he dropped to one knee and set you down. You were too tired to care how your hand lingered on his after grabbing on for support, and found yourself smiling up at him in a bit of a daze.

"I will initiate recharge. Join me after your rations." he said simply, utilizing a much broader vocabulary for you as he often did. Frenzy made a sound like a cough, and in the corner of your eye you saw her quickly put down a cup of energon to clear her vents. Soundwave left at that, and you set about pouring yourself a bowl of cereal for some much needed breakfast before bed. Just thinking of curling up in your little spot in the crook of his arm had you struggling to keep your eyes open...

"Back so late you're early, huh Y/N?" Frenzy asked after you'd fetched what you needed, briefly confusing your tired brain before you put her words together. Sitting down at the little salvaged table, you sat opposite the three and tried to stir up enough neurons to be conversational.

"You could say that. The mission took a bit longer than we planned, but we got what we needed." you explained, trying to stay conscious long enough to pour milk over your cereal.

"We weren't too worried. The two of ya have been spending a lot of quality time together of late, we were sure you were using the night well." Laserbeak added, bobbing his helm in confirmation. There seemed to be the faintest hint of a grin on his beak, but you didn't look too deeply into the expression, even as Frenzy snorted at his words. It was quite normal for them to be amused by their own antics, so you were hardly suspicious, and didn't even notice Ravage observing you in silence.

"Guess you can't wait to get back the berth." Frenzy continued, smirking over her glass as you shoveled cereal into your mouth. Not reading into any of their questions, you nodded, thinking of how Soundwave would probably be recharging by the time you joined him. It would feel incredible to just sink in with your blankets and pillows and sleep next to his warm frame. "You two must love sharing that thing."

"Yeah, no point in wasting space." you agreed as you got to the milk at the bottom, thinking purely in literal terms thanks to sleep deprivation. A single glance would have allowed you to see that Frenzy was biting her lip to keep her giggles in check while Laserbeak did much the same, all while Ravage tried to pretend he wasn't affiliated with either of them, but you merely continued talking without a thought. "It's at such a premium down here, we're practically on top of each other half the time."

This time you recognized the sound Frenzy made as a barely restrained chuckle, but when you looked up for clarification, it was Laserbeak that spoke.

"For you and Soundwave, it's way more than half." he said with a snicker. Though their double meaning was so obvious you should have caught on straight away, all you had the capacity to do was tilt your head over your cereal, the wheels of your brain doing their best to try and figure out why these bots were acting so strange.

"What?" you pressed, your direct question coming just as Ravage swatted his tail at the avian bot.

"Nothing." Laserbeak replied with mock innocence after ignoring the hit, grin never once leaving his beak.

"He's just goofing around." Frenzy said to calm your concerns, waving off the other mini in a good natured tease. Figuring they were all just involved in a game, you shrugged and brought the bowl to your lips to finish, getting about halfway through the sweetened milk before the cassette broke the silence.

"But for real, when can we expect a little brother or sister?"

You half choked on the milk and sprayed the rest over the table, eyes bulging as you finally understood everything that had been implied up to that point.

[certifieddorianandcassiansimp]

Angel gets a hug.

Angel Dust/Reader (platonic)

angst, be warned now, angst. If you’ve ever wanted to hug Angel Dust, you’re in the right place.

word count: 753

     It had been a long night in the studio for Angel Dust. He’d somehow pissed off Val enough to gain four extra hours of filming. He was practically limping by the time he got back to the hotel. Everyone had gone to sleep, including Husk. It was just Angel, alone with his thoughts. He trudged to the bar, needing to drop off his feet for just a moment, even if it caused him to crumble. He leaned on the surface, taking his face in his top hands, the others wrapped tightly around himself. His phone chirped, and he dejectedly looked at it, a voice message from Val. He sighed and clicked play, his boss's smooth voice cracking the quiet atmosphere. 

   “Angie, you were great tonight, did you really have to go back to that hotel though baby? I miss you.” He was practically whining for him at this point, but it wasn’t in his contract to service the boss as well as the people, so he turned the glowing box completely off, resisting the urge to throw it in the garbage with the empty bottles of liquor. He took a few more minutes to compose himself, for who, he didn’t know. But he eventually slunk to his feet, and turn towards the staircase, and saw your silhouette. He cursed under her breath and put on a flirty face.

    “How long ya been standing there, dollface?” He asked in his usual voice, denying anything being wrong. You frowned at him.

    “Long enough.” You responded. “You can barely stand on both feet, go to bed.” You chided him, and he didn’t have a visual reaction, but winced internally.

   “I’m alright baby, don’t worry for me.” He crossed 3 of his four arms, the other one he checked his nails on. He would deny it to his second dying breath that anything could break him. Physically or emotionally. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

   “Liar.” He pouted at that. 

   “Come on doll, get a drink and I’ll settle in your room?” He winked and you scoffed.

   “One, no. Two, you’re in no state to cloud your mind further. Let me take care of you Angel.” You pleaded, and he looked at your concerned face and his expression softened. 

    “If it means that much to you honey, you can make sure I get to my room.” He conceded, wanting to get that look off your face. You smiled. 

    “Good, now come on.” You bowed at the waist mockingly, waiting for him to pass you and go up the stairs. He rolled his eyes, standing from the barstool barely concealing a wince and then made sure to strut across the lobby, taking the tall boots of his and making a show of walking up the stairs to prove he was fine. You weren’t buying it however and started walking behind him. He spun on the stairs and started walking up them backward, a raised brow at your actions.

    “That worried eh?” He smiled slightly, still working to bury his feelings. It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. 

   “Can you be normal for a second so you don’t fall?” You asked, and he shook his head, having already reached the second floor.

    “Normals not in my vocabulary dollface.” He said, splaying his arms. “I got four arms for Lucifer’s sake.” He joked, still walking backwards. You sighed exasperatedly, and went to open your door.

    “Yes you do Angel, yes you do.” You sighed as he leaned on his doorway. 

    “You sure you don’t want to come in, doll?” He asked once more, holding himself together with sheer pride, and you shook your head. You come closer and wrap your arms around him in a gesture meant to be comforting, and he locks up in your grasp. He doesn’t let it show on his face how much the action displeases him, he in fact tries to return the gesture but can only get one arm to move. At first, that is. The longer you hugged him, the longer he relaxed. All four of his arms eventually enveloping you. After a while, he even leans his head on yours, tears threatening to fall. He quickly pulled himself together when you pulled away, putting a hand behind his hair. 

   “Thank you, Y/n. I needed that.” He whispered. You smiled.

   “I’m glad I could help, Angel.” You say, then you walked towards your room, and he stared after you for just a moment, before shutting himself in his own. 

absolutely no one asked for this but say thanks to @g0dwat3r for this tbh

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

YOI-meta: Viktor's apparent insensitive reaction to Yuuri's love confession & what it might mean

There are several ways to read Viktor's comment on Yuuri's love confession depending on the level of his knowledge of the Japanese language and culture at this point in the series. While his words seem insensitive and blunt at first glance, plausible explanations for the choice the creators made here align rather with Viktor's character and the concept of the show than Viktor only caring about Yuuri's appearance in one of the most significant moments of their relationship.

So let's break this down!

1. Language barriers

The press conference of the Japanese Skating Federation, where the skaters participating in the Grand Prix Series present their season theme, is broadcasted on Japanese TV for a Japanese audience. Hence, Yuuri speaks Japanese in this scene. By now, Viktor has been living in Japan for about 5-6 months, and while he possibly knows enough Japanese to get along on his own and communicate with Yuuri's family about basics like food or the weather, complex speeches are probably still beyond his abilities.

Besides Russian, Viktor speaks English and French, so we can assume he has a knack for languages. But whereas Cyrillic and Latin characters have some resemblances, Japanese has three different types of characters (hiragana, katakana, and kanji), and these differ vastly from Western scripts. Beginners spend a hell lot of time learning these in addition to vocabulary and grammar. It's not a stretch to assume that Viktor understood parts of Yuuri's speech but not enough to connect the dots. Like "here, Yuuri presents his season theme which is about love... Oh, I heard my name! He's talking about me now! ... Was that something about a gold medal and Grand Prix Final? That's my Yuuri! He's so fierce! I love this! But ugh, he really needs a new tie! That hideous thing doesn't fit his new image at all!"

2. Utter shock

That face...

Looking at this scene, Viktor is either completely shocked because he didn't see this coming or trying hard to understand Yuuri's speech. While in my personal headcanon, language barriers keep him from understanding the speech, a person who is described as a genius and already speaks three languages might be able to follow the speech after living in the country for several months (I'm not sure about this though, but some people learn at lightspeed once they start obsessing over a subject). In this case, his reaction is a coping mechanism due to overwhelm. So far, Yuuri has said a few sweet things that showed Viktor how much he matters to Yuuri, but this is a whole new dimension of expressing affection, especially coming from someone so reluctant to voice their feelings. And while Viktor undeniably has been hoping for Yuuri to love him back, seeing his love confessing his feelings live on national TV is quite something to process.

Which leads me to...

3. Viktor doesn't take Yuuri's love confession seriously

This interpretation falls into the category of "Did we watch the same anime?" and I will briefly explain why using some past instances of Viktor's reaction to Yuuri using love language:

Episode 2 "I want to eat katsudon with you!":

Episode 3 "I'm going to become a super tasty katsudon. Please watch me!":

Episode 4 "I want you to stay who you are":

We see the occasional confusion, which is attributed to the fact that Viktoir is still familiarising himself with Yuuri's unique way of expressing his feelings and desires. However, in all these scenes, Viktor is genuinely happy that he means so much to Yuuri. Although Viktor can be insensitive at times, he never mocks Yuuri, which speaks volumes about his character. Not even when Yuuri says things like "Katsudon is my eros!" It's not in his personality. So far, throughout the series, Viktor has helped Yuuri become more confident and express his feelings. As soon as he understands Yuuri's speech and has processed the meaning, he would burst with happiness because Yuuri loves him back and pride because of how confident Yuuri became. But mocking Yuuri for his necktie when he just expressed the full dimension of his feelings? Just nope. He's not JJ.

Bonus: Viktor's reactions after episode 5 (the pattern continues)

4. The necktie is a metaphor

This interpretation came up in a Twitter discussion with @maetae2288 (kudos to her for bringing this up!) and it can coexist with interpretations 1 and 2. If you tell a story that needed to be condensed to 12 short episodes, you don't waste precious air time on throwaway lines.

For this interpretation, I would like to refer to Tumbleweed's translation errors master post. It's a super long post, so I quote the relevant part:

「 初めて自分から繋ぎとめたいと思った人、それがヴィクトルです 」 [...]'For the first time in my life, there’s a person I want to hold on to. That person is Victor.’ Also, while I think this word choice is the best choice, 'hold on to’ doesn’t quite get all the connotations of 繋ぎとめたい across. Tsunagi tomeru is composed of two words, tsunagi = bind and tomeru = stop. It means tying the subject to something and stopping it from going away. Since he added 自分から, 'from/by himself’ in front of it, it infers Victor being the first person Yuuri wants to reach out to and bond with, and with those bonds, bind them together so that they would never part.

I highly recommend reading the full post if you're interested in the linguistic nuances of translations from Japanese to English regarding Yuri!!!.

In his speech, Yuuri voices his desire to form an inseparable bond with Viktor (it's quite a lot like "stay by my side and never leave" if you think about it, although he uses a different vocabulary). Bonds are often symbolised by a knot. In this sense, the necktie comment would refer to the new bond Yuuri and Viktor will form henceforth.

It's unclear when Viktor learns Japanese love language and dating culture (you can read my post on Japanese dating culture in YOI here). In episode 9, Viktor correctly identifies Yuuri's (accidental) marriage proposal, but when did he brief himself on these things? In fact, he uses love language as early as episode 3 ("I love katsudon"), but was he aware of this? Whether or not he is, it's beyond doubt that the creators knew what they were doing when they gave him this line. In this light, his necktie comment suggests that he understood Yuuri's kokuhaku very well and gave a unique response that refers to their future bond and is true to his character. This is top-notch storytelling.

To sum this up, whether Viktor understood Yuuri at once and responded accordingly, or this line foreshadows that he will understand somewhere between episodes 5 and 6, his comment implies that they will start dating soon after. And we see the result in episode 6.

If you enjoy my meta posts, please consider giving my blog a follow or checking out my works on AO3(link in bio). You will find the results of my meta musings in there!

[kestalsblog]

What I Love In Writing

Lately, I've seen so many negative posts (including my own) circulating about things not to do in writing, "advice" about which words to avoid, which tropes are most annoying, etc., etc. No wonder writing is often seen as a discouraging avenue to explore. In response, I've decided to make a post about things I personally LOVE to see in other people's writing, things that make me want to read more and more.

Attention to physical details that are less commonly described in stories. Three of my personal favourites are descriptions of hands, necks, and shoulders, which are just as expressive as eyes and other facial features.

When writers stretch a word's known meaning in a way that feels new and off-kilter. It always surprises me and draws me in. I particularly like when a noun is made into an interesting new verb. For example, "His eyes lanterned the dim room." Even though it might not make immediate sense, it can evoke a variety of new readings and emotions based on the context. If the scene calls for it, invent your own vocabulary. Language is yours.

I personally love contrasts between emotional states and settings, like when a character is facing turmoil on a beautifully sunny day, or, alternatively, two characters expressing their love for each other in a place that's falling apart.

How wonderful is it when someone can pull off the present tense elegantly? That sense of immediacy is refreshing.

Lengthy sentences that cascade rhythmically and emotionally to the point that you reach the end of the sentence and think, "Oh my gosh, that was only one amazing sentence!"

I love when characters are raw and real and messy and complicated, when they feel like people I could meet in my everyday life. I love when good characters do bad things and bad characters do good things.

Metaphors and similes, especially ones I've never read before.

I like when ugly or unexpected things are described beautifully. There is a difference between romanticizing something ugly and acknowledging an ugly thing's attributes thoughtfully enough to illustrate it with the same care and passion as a universally accepted lovely thing.

Personally, and I've changed my mind on this one recently, but I think it's sweet when I can pick up on favourite words or phrases the author likes to return to now and again. I understand it can be repetitive at points, but it's also like discovering a secret, cherished thing I can share with the writer. It adds to the voice. (Side advice: give yourself the liberty to change your opinions and try again with writing techniques you previously disliked).

Emotion, emotion, emotion. I'm an emotional person, and I like emotional writing that always walks that line between "balanced" and "too much." Not necessarily in that everything feels exaggerated or out of proportion with the plot, but that I can sense the characters' emotional states at all times, and sometimes even the grammar or language can reflect that - shorter phrases for an abrupt feeling, elongated ones for drawn-out, languid moments. The world is gorgeous, and our feelings are gorgeous. Writing that can capture that sensitivity has an everlasting effect on me. Like I'm at a party and the lights are too bright, the music is too loud, there are too many people, but it's all a reminder that I'm a human being. We're alive.

There are many, many more aspects of writing I love, too many for me to name but these are just some of the first that came to my mind. Amid all the cautionary writing tips you read out there, I encourage you also to establish for yourself the good things you should do. The risk of perpetual don'ts is a perpetual blank page.

Do what you love, and love what you do, but above all else, do.

[kira-dofc]

Chapter 4 You Worried?

"Y/n," Yunah began, her voice trembling slightly. "This is a lot to take in. I always wondered if I had any family out there, but I never expected this. I know for a fact that I don't know much of my past, but this is still confusing me."

"I know," you replied, your own voice heavy with emotion. "It's a lot to process, but please, I just wanted to see if you're okay. You're the only family I have after that incident."

Yunah raised an eyebrow in question, "Incident?"

You took a deep breath and began to recount the traumatic event. "Our parents died, and our house burnt down. I was still inside there, but luckily I got out. Unfortunately, I lost some of my memories. I can only recall the fire blazing around me and the times when we used to play ball together. You also got out, but you were lying on the floor when I last saw you."

Yunah glanced at Kuroo, who stood beside her with a dark expression. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you, clearly unimpressed. "Yunah," he said, his voice low and hard, "maybe we should take things slowly. Sure, you forgot your past, but that doesn't give you a reason to trust this guy right away. We hardly know him, and who knows what's lurking in that damned mind of his."

"That's enough, Kuroo," Yunah said, a small frown forming on her lips. "He's just trying to reconnect."

But Kuroo wasn't having it. He stepped forward, his posture aggressive. "You don't understand, Yunah. This isn't just some reunion. This guy shows up out of nowhere, claiming to be your brother, and you just believe him? What if he's lying? What if he's here to hurt you?"

You raised your hands defensively. "I understand your concern, Kuroo. But I swear, I just want to reconnect with my sister. I don't mean any harm."

"Don't mean any harm?" Kuroo spat. "You think just saying that makes everything okay? How do we know you're not some kind of threat? How do we know you're even telling the truth?"

"Kuroo, please," Yunah pleaded. "I need to figure this out on my own. You don't have to be so hostile."

"Hostile?" Kuroo's voice rose. "You don't know what hostile is. I care about you, Yunah. I'm not going to let some stranger waltz in and turn your life upside down."

"I get it," you said, trying to stay calm despite Kuroo's anger. "I understand why you're protective of Yunah. But I'm not a stranger. I'm her brother, and I just want to be a part of her life again."

Kuroo glared at you, his eyes filled with suspicion. "Fine. But one step out of line, and you know what's going to happen to you."

"I understand," you replied, meeting his gaze. "I just want to take things slowly and get to know Yunah again."

Kuroo snorted, clearly unconvinced. "We'll see about that. I'm watching you, and if I see even the slightest hint of trouble, you're out of here."

"I'm sorry about him," Yunah said, her tone apologetic as she looked at you. "He can be cranky at times, but he's a nice person underneath it all."

"'Nice' isn't in his vocabulary, I guess," you whispered to yourself, barely audible.

The tension in the air was palpable, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words and emotions. You both stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, each lost in your thoughts. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and anxiety. Finding Yunah had been a monumental task, and now that she was here in front of you, it felt almost surreal. You were desperate to connect with her, to fill the void that had been left by the loss of your parents and the fragmentary nature of your memories.

Yunah, on the other hand, seemed overwhelmed by the sudden revelation of having a brother she never knew existed. The look in her eyes betrayed a deep-seated confusion and a yearning for clarity. She glanced at Kuroo again, seeking his silent approval and support. Kuroo, ever the protective figure, stood with his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. There was a fierceness in his eyes that spoke volumes about his determination to shield Yunah from any potential harm.

"I understand if you need some space," you said, breaking the silence. "It's a lot to take in all at once. I don't want to pressure you into anything. I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Yunah replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I appreciate your patience. This is just... a lot."

"Take all the time you need," you reiterated. "There's no rush."

Yunah nodded, looking down at her feet as she processed everything. The room seemed to close in on you, the weight of the past pressing down heavily. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This wasn't how you had imagined your reunion with Yunah, but you had to remind yourself that these things took time. Building a relationship, especially one based on a fractured past, was a delicate process.

Kuroo cleared his throat, drawing your attention. "Look, Y/n," he began, his tone slightly softer but still firm. "I get that you're trying to do the right thing here, but you need to understand that Yunah's been through a lot. She's got a life here, friends, people who care about her. You can't just waltz in and expect everything to fall into place."

"I understand," you replied, meeting his gaze. "I'm not here to disrupt her life. I just want to be a part of it, in whatever capacity she feels comfortable with."

Kuroo nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "Good. Just remember that we're watching out for her."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," you said, offering a small, tentative smile. "She deserves to be protected."

The conversation began to wind down, and you could feel the exhaustion setting in. It had been an emotionally draining encounter, but you were grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with Yunah. You just hoped that, in time, she would come to see you as the brother you wanted to be for her.

"We should get going," Yunah said finally, glancing at Kuroo for confirmation. "I need some time to think about all of this."

"Of course," you replied. "Take care, Yunah. And thank you for listening."

"Goodbye, Y/n," she said softly. "I'll be in touch."

You watched as Yunah and Kuroo walked away, their figures disappearing into the distance. The air felt heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just the beginning of a long journey, and you were determined to see it through, no matter how challenging it might be.

As you made your way back home, you couldn't help but replay the encounter in your mind. There was so much more you wanted to say, so many questions left unanswered. But for now, you had to be patient. Rebuilding a relationship, especially one fractured by time and trauma, required time and understanding. You were willing to give Yunah all the space she needed, even if it meant waiting in uncertainty.

When you finally reached your home, you sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the day's events. You were filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. Finding Yunah had been a step in the right direction, but there was still a long road ahead. You were ready to take that journey, one step at a time, and hopefully, one day, you would find the family you had lost.

For now, all you could do was wait and hope that Yunah would find it in her heart to let you in. The future was uncertain, but you were determined to face it with courage and resilience. After all, family was worth fighting for, no matter how difficult the path might be.

-

You planned to see your sister on weekends, to get to know more of each other. You invited her to go to a restaurant near their place, and she luckily agreed.

-

You picked Yunah up from her house, then drove to a rather classy and glamorous restaurant. It was much fancier than the usual places you frequented, but sometimes that's what people with money did—waste it on small portions of extravagant food.

"This place looks expensive," Yunah mumbled as you both stepped inside, taking in the opulent decor and soft lighting.

"It's on me, don't worry about it," you replied with a reassuring smile.

"So, how's life with your new family?" Yunah questioned as you settled into your seats.

"It's fine, I guess. I don't really miss our family since I never got to spend much time with them, but I still do in a way. Part of me thinks that you're still special to me," you said, your voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and hope.

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way because it's the same for me. I love my adoptive family, but I want to get to know you again," she said, her eyes earnest. "Mind if I ask, how old are you?"

"I'm 18, turning 19 next month," you replied.

"What? I'm way older than you then. I'm 21!" she said with a tone of excitement.

"It was obvious, you look old," you remarked with a playful smirk.

Yunah's eyes widened in mock outrage, and she started screaming at you for the words you had spoken. "How dare you! I do not look old! Take that back!"

Before you could respond, a sudden female figure walked up to your table. "Hey Y/n, fancy seeing you here!" she exclaimed.

A surprising look came upon your face as you recognized Sana, a friend of yours, who seemed genuinely excited to see you.

"Not the time, Sana. Get lost," you said bluntly, trying to focus on your time with Yunah.

"No need to be feisty! Fine, I will. See you tomorrow, honey!" she teased with a playful wink before walking away.

"Your girlfriend?" Yunah asked with a smirk on her face.

"Ugh, no. I'd rather die," you replied, rolling your eyes.

Yunah laughed at your reaction, and the mood lightened considerably. As the evening progressed, the two of you continued to talk and laugh, sharing stories and memories. Despite the initial awkwardness, you found that you enjoyed her company and the opportunity to reconnect.

After finishing your meals, you both started to leave the restaurant. The conversation continued as you walked to the car, filled with the excitement and nervousness of rebuilding a sibling relationship.

-

As you and Yunah headed to your car, you were suddenly startled by a man standing in front of you, brandishing a knife. His eyes glinted maliciously as he sneered at you. "Hey, give me your money, and I might as well touch your girl while I'm at it," the man smirked, his voice dripping with menace.

Your heart pounded, but you didn't let fear show. "Yunah, move," you ordered, your voice steady and firm. "I'll handle this."

-

Yunah hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide with fear, but she obeyed, stepping back to give you space.

The man lunged at you with the knife, aiming for your midsection. You managed to sidestep just in time, his blade slicing through the air where you had been standing. You grabbed his wrist with one hand and twisted it sharply, forcing him to drop the weapon with a grunt of pain.

He retaliated quickly, swinging his other fist toward your face. You ducked, feeling the rush of air as his fist narrowly missed your head. You countered with a punch to his gut, making him double over in pain. The man was tough, though, and he quickly recovered, charging at you with renewed aggression.

You blocked his wild punches, your arms absorbing the impact. Each hit sent a jolt of pain through your body, but you stood your ground. With a surge of adrenaline, you delivered a swift kick to his knee, causing him to stumble. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, you landed a solid punch to his jaw, followed by another to his ribs.

The man let out a pained grunt, but he wasn't finished yet. He grabbed a handful of gravel from the ground and threw it in your face. You flinched, momentarily blinded, and he seized the opportunity to tackle you to the ground. You felt the sharp sting of the pavement against your back as he pinned you down, his fists raining down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you used all your strength to roll over, reversing your positions. Now on top, you delivered a barrage of punches to his face and torso, each one fueled by the need to protect Yunah and yourself. The man struggled beneath you, but your determination and anger gave you the upper hand.

After what felt like an eternity, the man finally stopped fighting. He lay on the ground, bruised and unconscious from the beating you had given him. You stood up, breathing heavily, and wiped the blood from your face with the back of your hand. Pain radiated from your wounds, but you didn't let it show.

"God, Y/n, you're bleeding!" Yunah exclaimed, rushing to your side. Her eyes were wide with worry as she looked at the stab wound on your side and the bruises forming on your face.

"It's just a scratch," you said with a grunt, trying to downplay the severity of your injuries. "Come on, I'll get you home."

"But what are we doing with the guy? Leave him here?" Yunah questioned, glancing nervously at the unconscious man.

"Yes, I called the police. They can handle the rest," you replied, trying to sound reassuring despite the pain coursing through your body.

You got into your car, wincing as you moved. Every movement sent sharp stabs of pain through your body, but you ignored it. Yunah climbed into the passenger seat, still looking worried.

The drive to Yunah's home was quiet, the tension from the fight lingering in the air. You focused on the road, trying to keep your mind off the pain and the blood slowly seeping through your clothes. Yunah kept glancing at you, her concern evident.

As you pulled up to her house, you turned to Yunah and managed a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine," you said, though the strain in your voice betrayed your words.

"Thank you, Y/n," Yunah said softly, her eyes glistening with unwashed tears. "I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here."

"Don't mention it," you replied, your voice gentle despite the pain. "I'm just glad you're safe."

-

"Do you need help?" Yunah exclaimed, her voice filled with worry as she looked at you.

"No, I'll just come inside for a moment," you groaned, feeling the sharp pain where you had been stabbed. She opened the door to her house, and as you stepped inside, you were met with the sight of a familiar tall figure, clearly very worried about Yunah.

Kuroo's eyes widened in shock at the sight of your state, but his concern was directed at Yunah. "What the hell happened? Yunah, are you okay? What did this bastard do?" he demanded, his voice tense with worry.

"Relax, Kuroo. He just fought some creep while we were going back to his car," Yunah replied, trying to calm him down. "It's Y/n you should be worried about right now. He's all bruised up, and he even got stabbed!"

Kuroo scoffed but softened slightly. "Come on, I'll go treat your wounds. I guess. Don't get any other ideas," he said bluntly, turning and walking towards a room. You followed him, your steps heavy with exhaustion and pain.

Once inside, you noticed the room looked like an office of some sort, with a desk, medical supplies, and various items neatly arranged. "Sit here," Kuroo instructed, pointing to a seat next to him.

You sat down with a groan, feeling the pain intensify as you moved. "Stay still," Kuroo said firmly as he began to assess your wounds. "How did you even get stabbed? Damn, that's deep. Do you want to go to a hospital? I think you need some professionals."

"I'll be fine," you said, a small smile forming on your face despite the pain. "You worried about me, Kuroo?"

Kuroo blushed at your words and looked away, clearly flustered. "What!? I— SHUT UP!" he snapped, throwing the cotton ball he was holding in irritation. He turned away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, but the movement caused another wave of pain to wash over you, making you groan again. "You’re pretty funny when you’re flustered, Kuroo," you managed to say through the pain.

"Who the hell told you to move? I'm not done," Kuroo yelled, his tone exasperated but tinged with concern. He continued to clean and bandage your wounds with surprising care, despite his brusque demeanor.

As he worked, you noticed Yunah hovering nearby, her eyes filled with concern. "Thank you, Kuroo," she said softly. "I really appreciate this."

Kuroo grumbled something under his breath but didn't respond directly. Instead, he focused on finishing the task at hand. "This should hold for now, but you need to take it easy," he said, finally stepping back. "And you should definitely see a doctor to make sure there's no serious damage."

"Thanks, Kuroo," you said sincerely, feeling a bit more at ease now that your wounds were tended to.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude. "Just don’t go getting yourself stabbed again."

Yunah smiled at the exchange, feeling a sense of relief now that you were taken care of. "I'm glad you're okay, Y/n. You were really brave out there."

"It was nothing," you replied modestly. "I just did what I had to do."

Kuroo rolled his eyes but didn't say anything, his way of acknowledging your bravery without making a big deal out of it. "You should get some rest," he said instead. "Both of you."

"Agreed," Yunah said, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "Come on, Y/n. I'll make sure you get home safely—wait, what if you stay here for the night?"

"It's okay, I don't want to be a burden to you guys, taking care of me and all of that," you mumbled, feeling guilty about imposing.

"No, really it's okay! I can contact your dad," Yunah said, while Kuroo shot her a glance, clearly against the idea. But her determination won out as she went ahead and made the call anyway.

"Good news! Your dad said yes, but he said you should go back by afternoon tomorrow," she announced with a tone of excitement.

"Sure, but where do I sleep?" you questioned, eager to find an answer and not wanting to make things difficult.

Kuroo then replied, "Where else? On the cou—"

"In Kuroo's room! You can share!" Yunah cut him off, her voice filled with cheerful authority. Kuroo's face turned a shade of red as he tried to protest, but her decision was final.

Of course, by all means, Kuroo was in shock, trying to cancel what his sister suggested. "Yunah, seriously—"

But in the end, you still ended up in his room. "I can sleep on the floor if that's what you want," you offered, trying to be considerate despite your condition.

"No, sleep in the bed. You're hurt," he said in a small voice, blushing slightly.

"Are you sur—?"

"Just get in before I change my mind!" he blushed while looking away, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and concern. "I sleep on this side, and you on the other."

You nodded in response and carefully laid on the bed, trying to avoid aggravating your injuries. As the lights were turned off, you smiled to yourself, feeling a strange warmth from Kuroo's concern. Despite his rough exterior, he clearly cared.

You could hear Kuroo's breathing next to you, and the proximity was oddly comforting. "Thanks, Kuroo," you whispered into the darkness, unsure if he could hear you.

"Just shut up and sleep," he mumbled back, his voice softer than usual.

You closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion from the day's events wash over you. The pain was still there, but it was manageable now, especially with the knowledge that you were safe and being cared for.

The night passed peacefully, with you drifting in and out of sleep, comforted by the presence of your newfound family. You dreamed of the earlier fight, the adrenaline, and the fear, but now it was interspersed with the warmth of Yunah and Kuroo's concern. A/n: The brain juice is done I think have none anymore :(( I still will be posting and probably be posting updates so dw! Word count: 3300

[arabic-langblr]

hi there! may I ask if you could share some examples of filler words/phrases in Levantine dialects (like 'well', 'you know', 'I mean' etc are used in English)? thanks so much; your blog is so helpful!

Hi anon!

Thank you for your kind words! I'm happy you find my blog to be helpful!

Alright, I'll tell you a list of filler words and interjections from the top of my head :

خَلاص (ẖalās) or alternatively خَلَص ẖalas

This one is very popular filler. I know many non-Arabic speakers who incorporated this word to their daily vocabulary. Literally it means that's it or it's enough, it's used as a filler.

خَلَاص قٌلْتِلُّه / ẖalas oltello / that's it I told him مَهُو خَلاص عرفنَا / ẖalas ʿrefnā / ummm... that's it we know.

مَا هُو mā hou ( alternatively pronounced as مَهُو ma hoo)

It's similar to خلاص, it means "that is", I personally use it a lot especially when there's a long justification or a story to be told.

يَعْنِي yaʿnī

This means "it means" but it's used like the fillers "like" and "that is" are used in English or even "ummm". I think this one has the best potential to be a versitile filler. For example : يَعْنِي... مَا بعَرِف شُو قَصدُه / yaʿnī .....mā baʿref šū 'asdo / um.... I don't know what he meant كَان قَصدي- يَعْنِي- عَن المَدْرَسِة / kān ʾasdī -yaʿnī- ʿan el madraseh / I meant... uhhh ... about school

أصْلًا aṣlan

This means "originally" but can be used as a filler especially when someone is being defensive. أصْلًا مَا بدي/ aṣlan mā beddi / it means "I didn't even want it" أَصْلَا عَاديَ / aṣlan ʿādi / when said angrily it means something within the line of " I didn't even care" or "hmph! whatever"

يوووو عاد Yō ʿād or ييييي عَاد Yeeee ʿād

Ok this one is hard to translate so I'll give the context. When saying one of these two, or sometimes خَلاص عاد ẖalās ʿād, you're expressing you're anger at something annoying that is really repetitive. Like someone is nagging at something again or a problem keeps re-occurring. Basically you're being impatient and expressing how annoyed your are. عَاد literally means "he came back" or he returned in MSA, but it's used as an interjection or filler in dialects

ييييييي Yeeee / يييي عَلينا ʿaleina or Yeee

These are used like "oh no" or "oh my goodness" For example if someone remembers that you remember that the cake was still in the oven even after they left the house, they will probably yell "yeeeee" after face palming

أوف off

this is used when you hear something that exceeds your expectations. For example you anticipated that the dress was for 40 $ but it's for 400$, you would say "offf" and then walk away. Sometimes "off" is also used to express distaste or being bored

[starbeltconstellation]

HEYYYYY!!!

i hope you’re well ❤️! i just wanted to come on here for a second to express how grateful im currently feeling for your story. i found it on ao3 a couple of days ago (wish i would’ve found it earlier but now i got a nice chunk of chapters to read through and hyper fixate over 😄😄) and i have been obsessed ever since. genuinely, you’ve made my august with this story.

this story feels so special to me. i’m so excited and giddy everytime i open the website back up to continue reading it (mannn i never wanna finish it) and it’s like the best part of my day.

i just wanna say that you’re a mf-ing genius. a. genius.

everytime something happens in the story i genuinely GASP. LIKE OH MY GOSH. im going insane over this fic. (the theories are bubbling inside of my brain about melanie and what’s gonna happen later on, i also love reading about people’s theories too man its so nice to see how invested everybody is cuz girl I AM.)

this story, man, it’s GREAT. it’s not only very well written, which im sure everybody appreciates as the flow is so nice, but it is also exciting, intense and beautiful. every single character had been on point, mischaracterising isn’t in your vocabulary. it’s like you know these lot personally. but anyway, it is a pleasure to read, like i said, VERY exciting and entertaining. i love our girl mel so much, she is so relatable and honestly just so real 😭 her reactions to most things are so valid like, girl same! she’s amazing, i don’t think i’ve ever encountered an OC as interesting and cool and well written as her. her whole storyline is just insane, bless her having all of this pressure and stress on her too lol 😭😭😭 but what can she do ahah, i mean?! the scene with the shopkeeper telling her to go back to her world had me absolutely stunned i was SHAKING. but i do think she made the right choice, she’s so strong.

like despite the fact that she knows all the hell she will have to endure there, she DID chose to stay, which is such a sacrifice. man i just wanna hug her and say thanks (i am not in the star wars universe but …)

everybody else too though, like ahsoka, obi-wan, anakin, the clones, mace, etc.. are also really cool to see the OC interact with, this is such a comfort fic for me, genuinely. it feels like i know them personally through this fr 🥲🥲🥲

i love reading the other’s comments on your story, it’s so nice to see this community form😭 like i’ve found my people LOL

thank you for feeding our star wars and anakin obsessions with your lovely story, i can’t get enough of it i swear im making a playlist for melanie as we speak.

anyhoo, just wanted to let you know how much i love this story and how much i appreciate you putting effort into creating something we can all take comfort in <3 i hope to stay and interact a lot more as i go on about reading the story!

Ahhhhh, oh my goshhh. Thank you so, SOOOO much, my dear little commenter. Haha. 🥺🥹❤️ This message was a big surprise when I first received it (which was a while ago, I know. 😭😅 I’m really sorry for the delay in response. Life gets the best of me at times. I’m trying to catch up on my asks), because at that time, I was still stuck struggling on the final bit of my huge whopper of a chapter that is now FINALLY out. ✊😖 Haha. And I just want you to know that your comment was SO helpful and motivating to me. Like… I’m not even joking. 😭 Your comment and a handful of other loyal readers (like my dear @ensomniaa ! 😌😆❤️) are probably the main reason I was able to trudge through my writer’s block and depression to get out the next chapter. So, just… thank you. 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write out such a long and in depth comment with such gushing words about my work and about how I’ve been writing the Melakin romance dynamic. It makes me feel like my writing isn’t half bad. Haha.

I always like to take my time responding to comments, because I feel I should always take the time and care to write out a detailed response that isn’t just copy pasted. You all take the time out of your day to comment to me, so it’s only fair I do the same! 🥺💕💕💕 So… my point is… I’m SO sorry this response took so long. 😭 I hope the wait time won’t have discouraged you from messaging again in the future. They truly do bring me such a big smile. And while I might not get to asks or comments immediately—ALL of my reader ducklings WILL eventually see a response. 😭💕❤️ I have made that my life’s goal. Lol.

Now, onto the ask! 😁✨💕 I’ll put the rest under a read more.

I’m soooo happy to hear that you’re so obsessed with my story and that it made your August! 😁✨❤️ Haha, it’s always exciting when I see someone new has stumbled over my fic. And I feel you with that hyper fixation. 😭✊ I’m BEGGING for my brain to give the SW hyper fixation back to me so I can churn out chapters at the speed of sound like when I did first starting this massive project. Lol. 🫠 So far… it’s still not working. But don’t worry! I shall NEVER abandon this story. I swearrrr, this thing will be my magnum opus. 😭✊Loool.

The fact my writing makes you giddy??? 😭 The fact it makes you theorize (which I ADORE when my readers do and ramble in the comments so I can muah-ha-ha to them. 😈😈💕😂) and gasp out loud?? 😭😭 The fact that you ENJOY reading through the different comments and seeing other readers’s theories and reactions?? 😭🥹💕❤️❤️❤️ You are what us writers call a rare GEM, dear reader. 🥺🥹❤️ To not only LEAVE a comment, but also just how you seem to genuinely enjoy commenting/reading other commenters’s thoughts because it feels like a fan community?? (And how SWEET to say I’m a big enough writer to have a little community. 🫠 I’m cryingggg. 😭❤️❤️) The fact you think I’m… a genius?? 🫣🥺😭❤️❤️❤️ (Idk about that, but I’ll put aside my anxiety issues. 😌 It is a lying liar who liessss).

Thank you. Thank you from the very BOTTOM of my heart. Idk what else I can say besides that, because rare reader gems like you keep us starving writers chugging along. 😭✊❤️

I’m SOOO glad you feel like everyone is in character. 😭❤️❤️ I worried about that a LOT. Especially for Anakin and the clones. There’s just a certain way about them that you have to get right, or they become 2-dimensional if you don’t write their little quirks and ticks. And I LOVE getting to explore the clones’s and Mel’s sibling-like relationship. 😭 I based most of their personalities on how they act around Mel off my annoying brother (affectionate 😌💕😂). I’m also so happy you feel the Jedi are also in character as well, and that it feels like a comfort to read them, like you’re learning about them along with Mel. 🥺💕 That was actually a lot of the idea with this fic (besides me living vicariously through Mel to romance Anakin, of course 👀😂❤️) over how I would slowly write scenes to SHOW the audience the misconception about the Jedi/their culture/certain characters. I didn’t want to PREACH to them. I wanted to present them with the evidence that maybe the Jedi aren’t “repressive” and “emotionless 🙄🤢” as they might’ve been led to believe by a big chunk of the fandom’s harsh perception. It would be like it was happening in time with Anakin as his thoughts change into something better and less self centered.

And I HAVE actually received a comment on Wattpad from a reader that my fic helped change their minds about Mace and the Council! 🥰🥰❤️ And it was just… such a joy to hear. 😭❤️ That’s the idea with this fic. I hope to reach across the aisle towards EVERYONE—maybe anti Jedi fans will read my work and have their minds changed about their culture. Maybe someone who despises Anakin to the bone will read my fic on a whim and slowly grow to care about him/see the humanity underneath the surface, just like Mel has. And maybe by the END of this fic… I’ll have convinced some people that the Jedi are not at fault for their own genocide by “failing” Anakin—because the truth is that it was HIS choice. Maybe by the end of this fic, there’ll be fans who’ll read the work and grow to see that you can love a character while still criticizing them/knowing they’re in the wrong (ie; Anakin 😔💔), while ALSO still acknowledging that he went through such horrible trauma as a kid while a slave on Tatooine… but it still DOESN’T absolve him or give him the right to hurt others just because he’s hurting himself.

That’s what this fic is all about, after all. GENUINE growth and change. Not placating a man by changing a few moments that he won’t have to go through in the timeline that will suddenly make him all “warm and fuzzy inside” and see the light. TRUE redemption and change means that Anakin will have to grow and ADMIT he was wrong while not becoming defensive when his actions (*cough* the Tuskens *cough*) are brought to light. Essentially, I’m trying to “Zuko-ify” him. (Loool, I know. Pretty high hopes for myself there. 😭😂❤️)

I’m also soooo happy you love and relate to Melanie so much. 🥹❤️❤️ Almost all readers have told me similar things, and it’s so wonderful to know that I’ve made a character that has been accepted by a small portion of the “SW/Anakin fandom”. 😆😁💕❤️ Mel came about when I was one day reading over an isekai story and just… not being able to fully immerse myself, because the OC’s reactions just didn’t seem realistic to me. 😭 And so I remember sitting down and imagining how I would react in such a situation (immediate freak out/think I was dreaming/would run in terror from Anakin’s hot ass at every opportunity 😌❤️‍🔥😂), and then that’s how Melanie Bains came into being! Haha. ❤️😁

So, while Mel IS somewhat of a stand-in for the audience (it IS an isekai fic after all 😭🤷‍♀️), it was still very important to me to make her three dimensional and—while yes, very relatable—also make sure she became her own character who could grow into herself. So a hero’s journey was important, along with giving Mel an antagonist (The Shopkeeper) separate from Anakin’s antagonist (Palpatine), because it was SOOOO important to have Mel have her own character arc/story AWAY from Anakin. It was important that Anakin wasn’t ALL she was about. Mel has friends (Ahsoka/the clones), she has her own plan she’s dealing with to try and save the galaxy while barely giving Anakin a second thought besides terror at first, and most importantly—Melanie is NOT begging Anakin to change. That was soooo important to me. She doesn’t have TIME to beg him to change. There’s too much at stake already, and if Anakin changed FOR Mel, it’s not even true change in the first place. Instead, as you’ve probably guessed from my latest chapter, Mel is INSPIRING him to change himself, because of the qualities about her he is coming to admire which in turn makes him take a look at his own selfish actions. This is always where I think “bad boy/I can fix him” writers get things lost in translation. It’s not true redemption if they change FOR the girl, because—as the Marvel movie Shang-Chi has recently shown us 🥶—if the girl ever dies… then the “bad boy/villain” goes right back to being evil. 😭🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️ What REAL redemption would be is meeting someone you grow to love who INSPIRES you to become a better version of yourself—not FOR them—but because you want to become someone like them. You want to stand by their side in the light and feel proud.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve ranted a lot. 😭😂❤️ But I just wanted to thank you soooo much again for your beautiful words that were so kind and truly brought a ray of light to my dreary days! 😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I only hope my long response time doesn’t discourage you from writing me messages in the future. 😅😓😭🫠 I’m so sorry again for the long wait.

But I have ADORED rereading your comment these past few days while I’ve been writing out my response. It’s so thoughtful and long and in depth and I lovveeee itttt. 😭❤️❤️❤️ THIS is what feeds our writer brains. Haha.

A playlist sounds awesome! 💕💕💕💕💕 I already made one for Anakin and Mel and the Melakin romance, as you can see from my last response. But I would still ADORE getting to know songs that you think fit with my fic and Mel and Anakin’s journey! 😭❤️❤️ If you ever do make it, please hit me up and send a linkkk! 👀👀🙏

Thank you so much again for letting me know my writing brought you such comfort. 😭💕 I hope you’ll stay and interact more as well! 😭❤️ I always love hearing theories or getting a comment to see a reader is rereading or that two readers are discussing something about my fic together. Haha. 😄✨❤️

And so, I suppose I’ll leave it here! I ADORE you and love you so much, dear reader. I am picking you up and hugging you like a stuffed animal. (Glomp!) 🤗🫂

I hope to hear from you again soon! 🥺💕 I’m so sorry again for the wait. 😭

And now… off to reply to four more asks. Lol. ✊

Gotta blast! 🏃‍♀️💨✍️👩‍💻

-

To any readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

-

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@lemons-2-limes

@shoniwake

@silverwoodj

@lexskiss

@selenaftmarvel

[thesparklingwriter]

lunch is served!

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,”

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, they have a daughter, and reader still can’t cook (sorry)

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

Hi I’m back, I did not forget about this I swear!!! Anyway I’m gonna go in with the usual spiel, requests for this are always open, and leave a comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) I’ll sort out links iab because mobile is being mean to me lol

When little Jingmei is fast asleep on her father’s lap after succumbing to a nap she’ll later deny the existence of, you often try to find topics to entertain Zhongli with as he waits patiently for his daughter to wake up. When you’re not around, he’ll pick up a book, or take a nap himself, but he takes great pleasure in talking to you like this.

When you open your mouth to start a new topic, he pats the space next to him on the sofa, gesturing for you to join him. And you do, nuzzling yourself into his chest, and pretending that you don’t notice the subtle sigh of content he lets out.

“Li,” you start, relaxing into him fully. “Why did you fall in love with me?”

Zhongli chuckles. “I am almost certain that this is some kind of trick.”

“It is not.” You scowl. “Am I not allowed to ask why my husband loves me?”

“You are, provided you don’t start a row when I give you my answer.” Zhongli’s hand trails up to your hair, gently massaging circles in your scalp.

If Zhongli really had to think about why he loves you, he’d probably struggle to quantify it. He’s been in love before, of course, but the way he feels with you is somewhat different. Perhaps it was initially your determination that drew him to you, or it could be your positivity, or the fact you brightened the days of all who were near you. But more than anything, it’s the fact that being with you feels like home. You’re his treasure—a gem he’s spent millennia searching for, and now he has you and he knows you love him as much as he does, he’s at peace. But expressing that in a few simple words will only lend itself to misunderstandings and you accusing him of using filler and metaphors to get away with not answering his question.

“I know my question wasn’t that hard.” You tease, prodding him slightly. His body is somewhat firmer when he’s in his half dragon form, yet at the same time, his touch envelops you in warmth and comfort. He tilts his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile.

“It was, my dear. How do you expect me to translate years of affection into one sentence?”

“I expect you to do it with enthusiasm.” You joke lightly. Jingmei stirs ever so slightly, muttering to herself as she adjusts herself, her tiny rounded horns digging into your thigh. “If I asked her why she loved me, she would answer immediately.”

“Jingmei would say it’s because you feed her.”

“And that is a perfectly valid and acceptable answer.”

“For an infant. I know you well enough to know you would not accept that from me.”

It’s true, you would not accept that from him. You expect his millennia on Teyvat to grant him the vocabulary necessary to express his love. But at the same time, seated the way you are, you can feel that he cares. It’s in the way he cradles you head to his chest, the way he strokes Jingmei’s hair with contented pride, the way his breathing slows as he savours the moment he’s sharing with you. Yes, you’d love for him to bullet point everything that's led him to this moment, but what’s to point in that?

“I changed my mind. Don’t say anything.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll probably just make me cry, and then Jingmei will wake up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love.” He chuckles. His laugh almost rumbles through him, stirring your daughter slightly. You pout, as if to complain, but in all honesty, you wouldn’t want her waking up any other way. But then her head drops and she falls back asleep again, whispering softly to herself.

“I do wonder what she dreams about,” Zhongli marvels.

“Probably food. On that note, I’ll make lunch.” As you stand to leave, Zhongli’s hand wraps around yours.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Pretending your cooking is edible is an arduous affair. Let’s wait for Jingmei to wake up and then we can make something together.”

“You insult me.”

Despite the fact that your honour has been attacked, you wait for your daughter to wake up before tackling the matter of making lunch. At the mere mention of making food, Jingmei disappears up to her room, decking herself out in a chef’s outfit she’d gotten from Xiangling for her birthday.

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,” Zhongli jokes, helping her onto her stool so she can reach the kitchen counter.

“I am a good cook, Daddy. Promise.” She shoots back, crossing her arms petulantly.

“I believe you. Your father is just a big meanie.” You pull her into a hug, smothering her face and cheeks with kisses until she’s falling apart with giggles. “We should leave him here to make the food and play with your toys instead as punishment.”

“Let’s go!” Jingmei turns away from the counters and grabs your hand as she runs upstairs.

“You two are such cheats.” Zhongli complains quietly as he turns to the stove. His words fall on deaf ears as you’re already too far away to hear him.

[starlit-supposedly]

May I ask how you increase your vocabulary? I took inspiration from your writing but it does not quite feel enough. I would like to be able to write like you do.

Tone tag = genuine.

Hello hello! I am delighted to have gotten your ask!

Hmm… for my vocabulary, it really came from reading a lot of different books and just picking up on the way authors structured their stories. I always endeavor to have descriptors in my sentences, or I want it to feel like a pretty/elegant thing to read.

Or another thing I have done is to find someone who writes words, in a way that makes you inspired and want to create, feel genuine emotion after reading and take apart their writing, piece by piece to understand how it was achieved.

I’ve picked up many words by proxy, encountering them in the wild and finding them odd or interesting enough to add to my collection. Or another thing I’ve found fun to do as of late is to find the word that you want, and either figure out a synonym or use the thesaurus to figure out a fitting replacement.

To take it a step farther, if it’s a word I don’t exactly know the meaning of, I’ll do extra research and see how it’s used structurally in a sentence. It’s seeing if you can swap the words out without diminishing the meaning of your intentions.

Hmm..about my writing style, it simply the way I think and interact with subjects, as someone who thinks too much about everything. When I write, it’s to spark someone to think deeper, or to let a conversation happen showing me a different side I’ve never considered before. And yet! I do not proclaim to totally understand what I am doing, because writing like this for others is quite new to me also!

Everything is a continuous learning process and from what I’ve seen you create, is absolutely beautiful nonetheless. I would encourage you to keep going, keep evolving because with practice, you can only get better. Please we implore you, keep writing!

Really, I would love to write as you do! Through this arc you’ve helped create, I as well as many others have felt a whole range of emotions from shock to surprise, anger to sadness and it is no easy feat to express that within the confines of a paragraph.

The way you use descriptors enhances many aspects of what you’re describing, from the appearance, the uncanniness and how it moves. You provide enough detail and context for a reader to visualize the scene itself and you allow the reader to feel the horror, the dichotomy of words that should be sweet, but are used in the cruelest of ways. How the questions hit deep, the suspense growing, how you have turned each opportunity towards your own favored outcome. Truely, we were on the edge of our seats, patiently or I’m-patiently, waiting for things to pan out.

So instead, I and many other anons on this site thank you, anon of many names, for inspiring us to create in turn, for giving us a wonderful story to reminisce on.

If you ever want to converse again in the future, please dm me, I would absolutely be delighted to!

[micromontage]

you can look up any of the common words in the english language on any music streaming service and get hundreds if not thousands of results ...

(which of course include the keyword in song- album-title and artist name) and it's beautiful that so many people have felt the drive to create their own little piece of art and put it out there for the world to see... and i wanted to pose the question, but who listens to all of that... well art isnt necessarily only there to be consumed like a commodity but engaged and interacted with... but then the question becomes, who will engage with it? interact with it? ... all the right people will....

because the point is to create and that's all that matters, but see these people put it out there and are barely reaching an audience... im having a hard time putting my thoughts into words. right so... many people. a lot of music. a lot online. it's out there. who listens to it? which of it is worthwhile? okay well what do you or I or does anyone define as worthwhile in the first place.... subjective. but obviously not all of it is. but again how is it defined and by whom?

I guess I simply find the amount of ... stuff thats out there, the sheer number of it, I find it difficult to comprehend. Theres so much. So much output. nobody will care for so much of it. but there are people who care for it? few? im glad i found those little gems out of the millions upon millions of records that now define me, there is incredible music out there . it bothers me that so few people listen to it. more people should care... i try to make them but they dont. am i not putting in enough effort... no, the sheer amount of music and oversaturation of the """""market""""" and the lack of >advertising >exposure >PR, these factors are all not my fault. there are so many facets when it comes to the fame of any one specific piece of music and I fear im touching on them superficially and vapidly.

so much music out there. so much beautiful stuff. i find it very difficult to comprehend.... consider the most popular genres there are, im not talking exclusively pop, but popular music, genres that have prevailed and are cemented in , well, in particular the west. classical, jazz, rock... who knows how many identical rock records there are on account of folks lacking the lust to experiment with structure and sound and lyrics... but that doesnt matter all what matters is that those people expressed themselves and loved what they were making and doing and performing... but so many arent. and. what....

so many facets to touch on and i fear i lack the vocabulary and knowledge to consider it all and also this post is for a large part..... born out of the worries I personally have regarding music making, out of the stuff I worry about when I consider my own position in the world of music... well it's not... it's not worthwhile to worry about it all, because if you (=read: I ) really care about connecting to other people theough music? wait what does thta mean what do you mean? simply vibing to some music or understanding what the artist ehat the musician wanted to convey through the fact they used a real piano rather than a sampled midi bank/a preset/a synth, what the point was of using a field recording of birds and this recording in particular? you couldve made singer songwriter/easy listening music with some midi, why are you,... why all the extra stuff no all of it MEANSNSS something and ... it's about finding music you understand utmostly the music that... you hear it and you say I get it i get it i get it i get it. I get it. there isnt always something new or grohndbreaking to understand at all because all that the artist wanted is to continue a tradition BUT THE CHOICES THEY MADE IN THE WAY THEY RECORDED THIS MATTER THEY DONT MAKE THOSE CHOICES WILLY NILLY there was a reason why they kept that take in, why they added the chatter of the bar or sampled this noise of a crowd and why the fadeout was so awkward. theres

[rigelmejo]

I'll be sharing some comprehensible input learning channels. I very much recommend using this study method, either on it's own (if you'd like to do an experiement and see how much progress you can make learning this way primarily), or as one study method among multiple in your study plan (this is how I tend to use comprehensible input).

Some notes: the phrase "comprehensible input" is used generally in 2 different ways in the language learning community. The first way, is to describe learning materials that are fully designed to be comprehensible (understandable) to a language learner. Those are the kinds of resources I am about to share. Material designed to teach this way will often use pictures for words, gestures, expressions, body language, and lessons will start off very simple in this way until the lessons have taught learners enough that the lessons can start using that initially learned vocabulary to start teaching and explaining more words. This kind of learning material is sometimes called TPRS (teaching proficiency through reading and storytelling). Examples of comphrensible input lessons are: Comprehensible Thai (on youtube), Dreaming Spanish (on youtube), French By the Nature Method (old book), English by the Nature Method (old book - note that since the books are now used independently instead of in a classroom, they involve a level of ambiguity and guessing, whereas the best designed lessons that exist currently like Comprehensible Thai are truly built to be understandable as an independent learner studying alone). The second way the term "comprehensible input" is used by language learning communities, is sometimes to suggest picking native language materials you "understand enough of the main idea" of that you can practice comprehending what you've studied and learning some new stuff by guessing and context of the material. That second term "comprehensible material" is NOT material designed to be fully understood by language learners, it's content for native spakers thaf learners find which may be somewhat comprehensible to the learner. Graded Readers (stories and books written to be mostly understood by a language learner, with unknown words having definitions or being something the learner can guess the meaning of) are more similar to the first type of comprehensible input, because they're made by language teachers to be mostly understandable to language learners. As a language learner learns more, and moves from graded readers and comprehensible input content made by teachers (like Comprehensible Thai youtube), then the learner moves into finding materials made for native speakers. And at that point, the learner tries to find materials for native speakers that the learner can mostly comprehend, the second type of "comprehensible input."

So I hope that clears up why the term "comprehensible input" seems to be used for 2 different things. If you're a beginner, and engaging with content MADE FOR LEARNERS TO UNDERSTAND then you're using the first type of comprehensible input. If you're an intermediate learner, or a dive straight in type of beginner, and engaging with materials for native speakers, then you are using the second type of comprehensible input. I hope this also will help clarify why I use the term comprehensible input on various posts, when dicussing both of those kinds of materials.

For this post, I am only discussing comprehensible input made for learners specifically to learn from.

Take or leave my suggestion: I personally think you should try out 1-3 beginner comprehensible input lesson videos, and try your best to pay attention to them and see how much you can figure out the main idea of what is being communicated to you. The thing about comprehensible input videos, is you're learning the language by actively engaging with it and being Required to figure out what it's trying to communicate. The last time you had to do this in your native language was at age 1-2 trying to figure out a circle versus square with an adult pointing at one or the other and saying the words, or an adult reading a book for you and saying words like "malevolent" and "rouge" and "ominous" and you doing your best to guess if the scene was happy or sad, scary or exciting, pretty or ugly, because you didn't know a lot of the words and were using the adults voice and expression and the surrounding words you did know to guess. In short: it's very high effort. It requires you to dive into an enviornment where everything is new, and try your best to understand As Its Happening. If you've ever been forced to do something totally new as an adult, it might feel like a technology repair person pointing to a piece of technology and saying "reset the router" and you not knowing what the words reset or router mean... and trying to do something to the piece of technology you guessed is a router since they pointed at it, and guessed reset means do Something since it indicates making some change. If you are a person who does NOT like being thrown fully into something brand new, you may find comprehensible input too draining mentally, or find it more difficult then you feel up for tolerating. In many ways it feels like being a child learning to read again, or a toddler learning everything by intense observation and focus. As an adult, we can often avoid learning anything in such an intense way... we can look up definitions now, translations, demand answers and ask questions, and so depending on your personality you may dislike the way learning through comprehensible input goes. Lets put it this way: if you get a picture manual of how to put together a desk, are you frustrated there's no text and ask others for help/look up text online, or do you just use the pictures and guess how to put the desk together? When you encounter a new word like "obfuscation" do you prefer to look up its definition, or guess what it means based on the paragraph you read it in? Do you like learning by instruction, or can you also enjoy learning By Doing? If you enjoy learning by doing (figuring things out as they happen), then you will enjoy comprehensible input lessons. I LOVE comprehensible input lessons, I love learning by doing.

There is the other caveat: even if you enjoy learning by doing and figuring meanings out through context like a puzzle, you have to get used to not understanding 100%. This can be a huge hurdle for some people. Your goal with comprehensible input lessons is NOT to understand Je m'appelle Mejo means "I myself am called Mejo" word by word correctly interpreted. Instead, the goal is to understand Je m'appelle Mejo is trying to convey THE SPEAKER IS MEJO. You will not know what exactly means I am/I call myself/My name is for possibly weeks, or months. You will not be told explicitly what is different between Mon nom est, Je m'appelle, je suis right away, unless the teacher uses comparative sentences to help you start guessing and figuring out those differences. You will learn what things ROUGHLY mean right away. If you tend to learn words in your native language by guessing, then this will be a familiar experience just on a MUCH larger scale as now every new word is learned in that rough guessing way then clarified over time. (So for example, as a child i guessed Melancholy at first meant something emotionally upset, then i guessed more specificially it meant something like sad or depressed, and got a more nuanced idea of the definition of melancholy over time). The first time you watch a comprehensible input lesson, you SUCCESSFULLY understood it if you grasped the main rough idea of "speaker introduced themselves, and pointed at me and probably said "you" and pointed at a stick figure and maybe said he she or they. You SUCCESSFULLY understood enough that you WILL learn from it. You did not fail if you didnt understand specifically which word was I, am, are. Depending on how you are used to learning, you may jump to the conclusion "this is too hard! I cant understand" if you didnt specifically identify the meaning of every specific word the teacher uses. But im telling you, if you understood their main idea, the main THING they're trying to communicate to you, then you understood enough of the lesson. A decent portion of new learners will see a lesson about say a teacher pointing to a stick figure and saying "this is the head, the legs, the arms" etc and the learner will decide "i dont understand!" Just because they dont know if the teacher said this is, that is, or it is, even though the learner DID UNDERSTAND the main idea: the teacher is telling me body parts. You only need a rough understanding. If you were playing with a 1-4 year old child, and drawing a picture of a ball and a square, would you feel you failed if you didnt clearly teach that child the difference between "this is" "that is" and "it is"? Or would you consider teaching the kid was successful as long as theyve learned to point to the circle (like you did when teaching) when you ask which is a circle, and point to the square (like you did) when you ask which is the square? You'd consider it a success as long as you taught the child what is a circle and square. Well learning from comprehensible input lessons are the same! You will learn the difference between it is, that is, and this is, eventually. After the teacher has said MANY examples comparing those phrases, to help you clarify their definitions. Each lesson may not clarify all information, just the portions they're specifically trying to teach you. You need to be able to accept that ambiguity, and that it is normal, when using comprehensible input lessons. Please don't give up, if you're grasping the main idea but some parts are vague or you feel you're guessing. It's normal. So try out a few comprehensible input lessons, and decide based on if you enjoy them and if you are roughly following the main idea, if you'd like to use them to study or not.

Okay finally the point (lol) some awesome comprehensible inout youtube channels! I'd love to hear anyone's experiences with using these! I'd love to try learning primarily with comprehensible input and see how it goes, but with french and chinese I'm already in an intermediate reading stage so i wouldnt be able to test beginner progress, and with japanese im starting to read novels so likewise i cant test out beginner lessons.

Comprehensible Thai: https://youtube.com/@comprehensiblethai

Dreaming Spanish: https://youtube.com/@dreamingspanish

French Comprehensible Input: https://youtube.com/@frenchcomprehensibleinput

Comprehensible Japanese: https://youtube.com/@cijapanese

Comprehensible Chinese: https://youtube.com/@comprehensiblechinese

Learn Korean in Korean (give his videos a chance, he has lessons to learn the writing system, and as a total beginner knowing nothing I was able to follow his greetings video and I think the writing may help you learn written words alongside spoken): https://youtube.com/@learnkoreaninkorean

Comprehensible Russian: https://youtube.com/@comprehensiblerussian

Think in Polish: https://youtube.com/@thinkinpolish

Impara L'Italiano con Italiano Automatico: https://youtube.com/@italianoautomatico

Podcast Italiano: https://youtube.com/@podcastitaliano

PolyMATHY (Latin, check out specifically his latin lessons) lessonshttps://youtube.com/@polymathy_luke

Ayan Academy (this channel has a lot of audiobooks with text of Language by The Nature Method books, which teach similarly to comprehensible input lessons but may require a bit more guessing if you have no teacher or tutor, I used the French by The Nature Method book to learn enough to read french and it worked well for me. Since these books are often a few decades to several decades old, be aware that you may learn OUTDATED information, or run into opinions within books that reflect the time period they were written in. If you're interested in old textbooks, views of historical texts and how language may have changed, these can be interesting to look into. If you'd prefer to avoid information that may no longer be correct, or prejudiced viewpoints from the past, it may be best to avoid these textbooks. For me, in an ideal world there would be new textbooks made using this kind of teaching style, that reflect current language and the modern world. Id also love textbooks like this made for chinese or japanese. Alas, the last time I saw books made somewhat this way was Linguaphone, which is decades old at this point. If anyone would be interested in a project like translating English by the Nature Method into chinese or japanese, please contact me. Another note: German by Pictures is a book they've got up on this youtube. I also have this book, its fun, I'd love to link more resources of this type): https://youtube.com/@ayanacademy