Hello everyone! Welcome to my twisted mind (my writing blog). I'm likely going to be posting my WIPs and ideas on here as well as links to my stuff on ao3 and just talk about my writing in general!
Right now I'm mostly writing for 18Trip, but I will probably occasionally post about Enstars, D4DJ, and Maplestory, A3, R1999, etc etc... anything I have thoughts on I'll probably write something or other for it.
I'm a multishipper and also I 💙 rarepairs feel free to request for rarepairs when I do ask games! For Ensemble Stars the only things I will not do are incest and relationships between first/second years and graduates & first x third years and for 18trip I will not do romantic day2 x anyone else ships (platonic/familial is fine), everything else is fair game.
I also have 2 ocs for 18trip, Aiko and Miharu! I would love to talk about them more if you wanna hear about them :)
Tags (WIP)
#shay writes - general writing tag
#wip wednesday - snippets of projects that may or may not get finished. will also be sneak peaks at some of my chaptered projects, normally posted on or around Wednesday
#oc: aiko/#oc: miharu - the tags I'm going to use to talk about my ocs. Any future ocs will also be tagged in this manner! Along with the #oc posting tag.
#not writing - anything not related to writing (like this post or personal updates)
I AM TAKING COMMISSIONS UNDER THE FICS FOR GAZA CAMPAIGN. SEE MY POST HERE IF YOU ARE INTERESTED
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You… How do I describe you? The light of the world, just gone. That’s what you are. In this coffin in front of me, it’s like you’re just sleeping, but the color is gone from your face. You’ve fainted. That’s all.
That’s all.
I bow my head, place the flowers at the base of the table. Even having seen it with my own eyes, I can’t wrap my head around it. My hand grips the opposite wrist, nails digging into the skin. You’ll wake up. You have to. Or it’ll all have been a waste.
I glance around, make sure nobody’s looking before holding my wrist up. There’s blood lightly seeping from under my fingers. It drips down to your mouth, I try to wipe it between your lips. Wake up, please wake up.
For a moment, I think your brown hair shifts, your chest moves as if taking a breath, your hands grip the flowers they’re holding tighter. I want to grab you and show everyone that you’re alive, you’ve come back. My vision blurs, my grip tightens, and I’m painfully aware of how the blood is dripping onto the floor now. Someone’s hand covers my shoulder and they gently push me to sit down, giving me only one last glance at your body in the coffin.
This can’t be goodbye. I won’t allow it.
The service starts though. Everyone is crying, talking about how wonderful you were, how you would light up a room, the things they say about every dead person at every funeral. I mean, you were those things, and I loved you for them, but you were more than that.
When it’s finally my turn to stand at the podium, glance at your body, my wrist throbbing under the bandages someone put on me when I sat down, I almost think I can see more color in your cheeks.
I look back at the crowd and tell them just how excited you were to start a new chapter of your life, how you couldn’t wait to travel, and learn to paint, and try new foods and struggle with new languages and to laugh with strangers. You wanted to see everything, to be friends with everyone if you could, to do the impossible and make it look so easy.
Your mother gives me a hug when I step down from the podium and someone else takes my place. She rubs my back, tells me how you really loved me, how you spoke so lovingly about me all the time. I hug her back, telling her the same. That’s what you do when you comfort someone about their loss. You loved them, you loved everyone here.
Eventually we file out into our cars, you are loaded into the hearse, and we make the slow, arduous journey to the cemetery. Your gravestone has already been placed, waiting for you to join it.
I stand next to your mother as they bring the coffin out and lower you into the ground. Your parents and siblings each put a shovelful of dirt in the hole, and I follow their lead. Slowly, you disappear beneath the soil until you’re six feet under. It feels ironic that the sun is shining so brightly right now, my skin burning as you’re embraced by the cool earth. You’d laugh, and I can still hear it clear as day.
One by one, everyone leaves. The flowers on your grave are a symbol of their love for you that I want to throw against one of the nearby trees, the petals scattering in the wind along with their memories of you. Soon, it’s just me and your family. I knew this would happen, but I want to be the last one by your side, so I kneel next to the fresh dirt, caressing it as if it were you. As if you could feel my touch under all of it.
And slowly, too, your family leaves. They offer to walk me back to my car, get a bottle of water, or anything just to make sure that I’m taking care of myself. Even in grief, they can’t help it, can they? I shake my head though. I’m fine, I tell them, sparing a glance and a soft smile in their direction, But I appreciate the thought. Your mom rests her hand on my shoulder for a moment before they leave.
My stomach growls not long after. I really should eat, but I need to wait for you. I know you’ll wake up soon. You promised me. My hands start digging at the dirt, like removing even a little bit of it will help when you wake up.
You have to wake up.
Please.
The tears fall freely and my hands move on their own as the sun continues its journey across the sky. My body aches, screams at me to stop, to eat, drink something, anything. I can’t stop. I tear the bandages from my wrist, scratching at the small wounds. The blood will wake you up, you can smell it that far down, can’t you?
As the sky turns red, finally, I see movement below the soil. I didn’t get very far, but I know that the way the soil is shifting isn’t natural. I crawl into the shallow hole above your grave, trying to help even just a little bit more. My wrist throbs in pain and my head is pounding but I don’t care. You are within reach, I know it.
Just a little bit more.
My fingers are caked in dirt, sweat drenches my body, but at least I have made it easier for you to come back. I knock on the lid, hoping your melodic voice will call out to me again.
It never comes.
I lay down, exhausted from the effort it took to dig you up. Glancing up, the sun is rising again already. A new day. You have to wake up. It’s not a sunrise without you by my side, but I need to rest. I need to have energy for you when you come back. I close my eyes and tell myself it’s just for a little bit.
When I wake up, it’s dark again and dirt is filling my lungs.
You… How do I describe you? The light of the world, just gone. That’s what you are. In this coffin in front of me, it’s like you’re just sleeping, but the color is gone from your face. You’ve fainted. That’s all.
That’s all.
I bow my head, place the flowers at the base of the table. Even having seen it with my own eyes, I can’t wrap my head around it. My hand grips the opposite wrist, nails digging into the skin. You’ll wake up. You have to. Or it’ll all have been a waste.
I glance around, make sure nobody’s looking before holding my wrist up. There’s blood lightly seeping from under my fingers. It drips down to your mouth, I try to wipe it between your lips. Wake up, please wake up.
For a moment, I think your brown hair shifts, your chest moves as if taking a breath, your hands grip the flowers they’re holding tighter. I want to grab you and show everyone that you’re alive, you’ve come back. My vision blurs, my grip tightens, and I’m painfully aware of how the blood is dripping onto the floor now. Someone’s hand covers my shoulder and they gently push me to sit down, giving me only one last glance at your body in the coffin.
This can’t be goodbye. I won’t allow it.
The service starts though. Everyone is crying, talking about how wonderful you were, how you would light up a room, the things they say about every dead person at every funeral. I mean, you were those things, and I loved you for them, but you were more than that.
When it’s finally my turn to stand at the podium, glance at your body, my wrist throbbing under the bandages someone put on me when I sat down, I almost think I can see more color in your cheeks.
I look back at the crowd and tell them just how excited you were to start a new chapter of your life, how you couldn’t wait to travel, and learn to paint, and try new foods and struggle with new languages and to laugh with strangers. You wanted to see everything, to be friends with everyone if you could, to do the impossible and make it look so easy.
Your mother gives me a hug when I step down from the podium and someone else takes my place. She rubs my back, tells me how you really loved me, how you spoke so lovingly about me all the time. I hug her back, telling her the same. That’s what you do when you comfort someone about their loss. You loved them, you loved everyone here.
Eventually we file out into our cars, you are loaded into the hearse, and we make the slow, arduous journey to the cemetery. Your gravestone has already been placed, waiting for you to join it.
I stand next to your mother as they bring the coffin out and lower you into the ground. Your parents and siblings each put a shovelful of dirt in the hole, and I follow their lead. Slowly, you disappear beneath the soil until you’re six feet under. It feels ironic that the sun is shining so brightly right now, my skin burning as you’re embraced by the cool earth. You’d laugh, and I can still hear it clear as day.
One by one, everyone leaves. The flowers on your grave are a symbol of their love for you that I want to throw against one of the nearby trees, the petals scattering in the wind along with their memories of you. Soon, it’s just me and your family. I knew this would happen, but I want to be the last one by your side, so I kneel next to the fresh dirt, caressing it as if it were you. As if you could feel my touch under all of it.
And slowly, too, your family leaves. They offer to walk me back to my car, get a bottle of water, or anything just to make sure that I’m taking care of myself. Even in grief, they can’t help it, can they? I shake my head though. I’m fine, I tell them, sparing a glance and a soft smile in their direction, But I appreciate the thought. Your mom rests her hand on my shoulder for a moment before they leave.
My stomach growls not long after. I really should eat, but I need to wait for you. I know you’ll wake up soon. You promised me. My hands start digging at the dirt, like removing even a little bit of it will help when you wake up.
You have to wake up.
Please.
The tears fall freely and my hands move on their own as the sun continues its journey across the sky. My body aches, screams at me to stop, to eat, drink something, anything. I can’t stop. I tear the bandages from my wrist, scratching at the small wounds. The blood will wake you up, you can smell it that far down, can’t you?
As the sky turns red, finally, I see movement below the soil. I didn’t get very far, but I know that the way the soil is shifting isn’t natural. I crawl into the shallow hole above your grave, trying to help even just a little bit more. My wrist throbs in pain and my head is pounding but I don’t care. You are within reach, I know it.
Just a little bit more.
My fingers are caked in dirt, sweat drenches my body, but at least I have made it easier for you to come back. I knock on the lid, hoping your melodic voice will call out to me again.
It never comes.
I lay down, exhausted from the effort it took to dig you up. Glancing up, the sun is rising again already. A new day. You have to wake up. It’s not a sunrise without you by my side, but I need to rest. I need to have energy for you when you come back. I close my eyes and tell myself it’s just for a little bit.
When I wake up, it’s dark again and dirt is filling my lungs.
You… How do I describe you? The light of the world, just gone. That’s what you are. In this coffin in front of me, it’s like you’re just sleeping, but the color is gone from your face. You’ve fainted. That’s all.
That’s all.
I bow my head, place the flowers at the base of the table. Even having seen it with my own eyes, I can’t wrap my head around it. My hand grips the opposite wrist, nails digging into the skin. You’ll wake up. You have to. Or it’ll all have been a waste.
I glance around, make sure nobody’s looking before holding my wrist up. There’s blood lightly seeping from under my fingers. It drips down to your mouth, I try to wipe it between your lips. Wake up, please wake up.
For a moment, I think your brown hair shifts, your chest moves as if taking a breath, your hands grip the flowers they’re holding tighter. I want to grab you and show everyone that you’re alive, you’ve come back. My vision blurs, my grip tightens, and I’m painfully aware of how the blood is dripping onto the floor now. Someone’s hand covers my shoulder and they gently push me to sit down, giving me only one last glance at your body in the coffin.
This can’t be goodbye. I won’t allow it.
The service starts though. Everyone is crying, talking about how wonderful you were, how you would light up a room, the things they say about every dead person at every funeral. I mean, you were those things, and I loved you for them, but you were more than that.
When it’s finally my turn to stand at the podium, glance at your body, my wrist throbbing under the bandages someone put on me when I sat down, I almost think I can see more color in your cheeks.
I look back at the crowd and tell them just how excited you were to start a new chapter of your life, how you couldn’t wait to travel, and learn to paint, and try new foods and struggle with new languages and to laugh with strangers. You wanted to see everything, to be friends with everyone if you could, to do the impossible and make it look so easy.
Your mother gives me a hug when I step down from the podium and someone else takes my place. She rubs my back, tells me how you really loved me, how you spoke so lovingly about me all the time. I hug her back, telling her the same. That’s what you do when you comfort someone about their loss. You loved them, you loved everyone here.
Eventually we file out into our cars, you are loaded into the hearse, and we make the slow, arduous journey to the cemetery. Your gravestone has already been placed, waiting for you to join it.
I stand next to your mother as they bring the coffin out and lower you into the ground. Your parents and siblings each put a shovelful of dirt in the hole, and I follow their lead. Slowly, you disappear beneath the soil until you’re six feet under. It feels ironic that the sun is shining so brightly right now, my skin burning as you’re embraced by the cool earth. You’d laugh, and I can still hear it clear as day.
One by one, everyone leaves. The flowers on your grave are a symbol of their love for you that I want to throw against one of the nearby trees, the petals scattering in the wind along with their memories of you. Soon, it’s just me and your family. I knew this would happen, but I want to be the last one by your side, so I kneel next to the fresh dirt, caressing it as if it were you. As if you could feel my touch under all of it.
And slowly, too, your family leaves. They offer to walk me back to my car, get a bottle of water, or anything just to make sure that I’m taking care of myself. Even in grief, they can’t help it, can they? I shake my head though. I’m fine, I tell them, sparing a glance and a soft smile in their direction, But I appreciate the thought. Your mom rests her hand on my shoulder for a moment before they leave.
My stomach growls not long after. I really should eat, but I need to wait for you. I know you’ll wake up soon. You promised me. My hands start digging at the dirt, like removing even a little bit of it will help when you wake up.
You have to wake up.
Please.
The tears fall freely and my hands move on their own as the sun continues its journey across the sky. My body aches, screams at me to stop, to eat, drink something, anything. I can’t stop. I tear the bandages from my wrist, scratching at the small wounds. The blood will wake you up, you can smell it that far down, can’t you?
As the sky turns red, finally, I see movement below the soil. I didn’t get very far, but I know that the way the soil is shifting isn’t natural. I crawl into the shallow hole above your grave, trying to help even just a little bit more. My wrist throbs in pain and my head is pounding but I don’t care. You are within reach, I know it.
Just a little bit more.
My fingers are caked in dirt, sweat drenches my body, but at least I have made it easier for you to come back. I knock on the lid, hoping your melodic voice will call out to me again.
It never comes.
I lay down, exhausted from the effort it took to dig you up. Glancing up, the sun is rising again already. A new day. You have to wake up. It’s not a sunrise without you by my side, but I need to rest. I need to have energy for you when you come back. I close my eyes and tell myself it’s just for a little bit.
When I wake up, it’s dark again and dirt is filling my lungs.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I am thinking about maybe trying to write my own original short stories this year... nothing like too crazy but idk I am evidently in a short story mood for both reading and writing lately
60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)
___
[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?
[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?
[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?
[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?
[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?
[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?
[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?
[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?
[9] What is their love language?
[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?
[11] What are small things that make them happy?
[12] How high is their self-esteem?
[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?
[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?
[15] How do they act around people they don't like?
[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?
___
[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?
[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?
[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?
[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?
[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?
[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?
[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?
[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?
[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?
[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?
[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?
[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?
[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?
[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?
[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?
[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?
[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?
___
[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?
[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?
[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?
[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?
[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?
[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?
[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?
[41] What’s their usual morning routine?
[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?
[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?
[44] On a party, where would you find them?
[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?
[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?
[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?
[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?
___
[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?
[50] What are they really good and really bad at?
[51] How good are they with money?
[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?
[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?
[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?
[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?
[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?
[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?
[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?
[59] What would they want to be remembered for?
[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?
---
some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post
Was Miharu going to leave Aiko over this? Was she too violent for her? She killed a bird out of nowhere, crushed it between her hands. She could just as easily hurt Miharu in a fit of panic if she wasn’t careful.
She should just leave. When Miharu’s breath deepened and she was fast asleep, Aiko could sneak out of the bedroom, leave a note in the kitchen explaining everything, and leave, sliding her key under the door after she locked it. She’d quit her job, take her savings and move to another ward and start over again. Somewhere safer, at least until the crows caught back up to her.
Miharu would be out of danger then. She wouldn’t have to see Aiko again, be afraid that Aiko would hurt her, lash out in fear or anger. She could live her life in peace and find another woman she would love as deeply as Aiko loved her. Aiko’s chest tightened at the idea of Miharu being with another woman, but it would be for the best.
Was Miharu going to leave Aiko over this? Was she too violent for her? She killed a bird out of nowhere, crushed it between her hands. She could just as easily hurt Miharu in a fit of panic if she wasn’t careful.
She should just leave. When Miharu’s breath deepened and she was fast asleep, Aiko could sneak out of the bedroom, leave a note in the kitchen explaining everything, and leave, sliding her key under the door after she locked it. She’d quit her job, take her savings and move to another ward and start over again. Somewhere safer, at least until the crows caught back up to her.
Miharu would be out of danger then. She wouldn’t have to see Aiko again, be afraid that Aiko would hurt her, lash out in fear or anger. She could live her life in peace and find another woman she would love as deeply as Aiko loved her. Aiko’s chest tightened at the idea of Miharu being with another woman, but it would be for the best.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Was Miharu going to leave Aiko over this? Was she too violent for her? She killed a bird out of nowhere, crushed it between her hands. She could just as easily hurt Miharu in a fit of panic if she wasn’t careful.
She should just leave. When Miharu’s breath deepened and she was fast asleep, Aiko could sneak out of the bedroom, leave a note in the kitchen explaining everything, and leave, sliding her key under the door after she locked it. She’d quit her job, take her savings and move to another ward and start over again. Somewhere safer, at least until the crows caught back up to her.
Miharu would be out of danger then. She wouldn’t have to see Aiko again, be afraid that Aiko would hurt her, lash out in fear or anger. She could live her life in peace and find another woman she would love as deeply as Aiko loved her. Aiko’s chest tightened at the idea of Miharu being with another woman, but it would be for the best.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
hi im writing again and wrote a really quick kironana fic. i have a few other things cooking too so maybe we'll get back to posting soon.
fic under the cut if you dont want to read on ao3 !
---
Nanaki paces back and forth on the landing. Everyone in Day2 graduates tomorrow and it’s lowkey freaking him the fuck out. It’s not like he’s going to be in a free fall or anything, he’s already talked about his plans with the chief and Kafka to take a gap year to focus on ward mayor duties and music, but he would like to go to university eventually. But school is like, all he’s ever known and the idea that he won’t have to go anymore after the ceremony? That’s kinda freaky.
Nanamegi… someone, well, Kiroku, the only other person who would have known to look for Nanaki here, calls from behind him. Are you…okay?
Nanaki stops and turns to face Kiroku who is standing in the doorway. The light from outside hits his face just right so that he almost looks like a painting. Wait, what?
No, I’m not okay! We graduate tomorrow! Aren’t you scared? When everyone in Day2 had discussed their post graduation plans, Kiroku had expressed an interest in attending art school, maybe with a minor in something like business or hospitality to help with running his ward. Really, Kiroku had this more thought out than anyone besides maybe Muneuji.
Kiroku steps into the stairwell and lets the door close behind him as he places a shaky hand on Nanaki’s shoulder. Nanamegi I…am scared…but I know…everyone supports us. Nanaki takes a deep breath. In. Out. Kiroku’s hand also feels strangely warm on his shoulder (????). Everything will be…okay, you just…have to believe…in yourself.
Nanaki does believe in himself, that’s not the issue. On a basic level, he has a job and has been doing a good enough job that he hasn’t been fired from it yet. He has a support network that some people could only dream of. It has to be just last day jitters. Something like that, anyway.
In.
Out.
Okay. Yeah, he’s got things under control now. He brings a hand to cover Kiroku’s on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze (why is his stomach still doing flips?). Thanks, Kiroku. Kiroku smiles, the tiny one that’s made an appearance more frequently since they became friends.
He should kiss him.
Hold on.
No, no. Kiroku looks…like a beautiful statue belonging to a museum somewhere in the soft light filtering in from the door’s tiny window. Has it always been this dark in the stairwell?
Nanaki feels his face heat up as he organizes his thoughts.
Uh, actually Kiroku, there’s something else I just remembered. Kiroku nods for Nanaki to continue. Nanaki takes his other hand and cups Kiroku’s face with it, tucking a strand of hair behind Kiroku’s ear. I uh, I think… I like you… Kiroku’s face heats up under Nanaki’s hand, and he stiffens at the confession.
Nanaki takes way too long to realize what he just said. He likes Kiroku? Well, sure, they’re friends and he enjoys spending time with Kiroku in their dorm, silently just doing their own things, or when they end up cuddling on the couch during movie nights because there’s not other space to fit and--
Okay so maybe Nanaki does like Kiroku. So what? He has his heart set on… okay yeah they’re both too old and out of his league, it wasn’t really a viable option to begin with. But Kiroku deserves to be more than someone’s second choice!
I uh…I…like you too, Nanamegi.
Oh!
Cool cool cool cool.
How long have you…
About…a year maybe…
In the last year, well the two of them had spent a lot of time together huh. Maybe that’s when Nanaki also started developing his feelings for Kiroku. There’s no way they’d just manifest suddenly like this. Obviously.
Can I…kiss you? Nanaki just knows his face is a mess. He’s never kissed anyone before and knows that Kiroku hasn’t either, so it’s really nothing to be embarrassed about but he would like to impress Kiroku anyway.
WHY IS HE JUMPING TO KISSING? WHAT IS THIS, A SHOUJO MANGA? Whatever. Whatever!
Kiroku nods and leans down just slightly to meet Nanaki’s lips with his own. Definitely not like the movies. They just press their lips together for a second, maybe two, but Nanaki’s stomach is still jumping all over the place. His first kiss is in the school stairway when they definitely need to head back to class soon, but he almost doesn’t want to let go (even if the feeling is… more mid than he thought it would be. It’ll get better though. They have plenty of time to practice when Akuta is out doing his movie stuff).
They pull apart after either 2 seconds or 2 minutes, it’s hard to tell, but Kiroku definitely looks flustered, and very…cute like this.
Yeah. Cute.
Nanaki pulls Kiroku in for another kiss. They graduate tomorrow, so it’s fine if they play a little hooky, right?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
hi im writing again and wrote a really quick kironana fic. i have a few other things cooking too so maybe we'll get back to posting soon.
fic under the cut if you dont want to read on ao3 !
---
Nanaki paces back and forth on the landing. Everyone in Day2 graduates tomorrow and it’s lowkey freaking him the fuck out. It’s not like he’s going to be in a free fall or anything, he’s already talked about his plans with the chief and Kafka to take a gap year to focus on ward mayor duties and music, but he would like to go to university eventually. But school is like, all he’s ever known and the idea that he won’t have to go anymore after the ceremony? That’s kinda freaky.
Nanamegi… someone, well, Kiroku, the only other person who would have known to look for Nanaki here, calls from behind him. Are you…okay?
Nanaki stops and turns to face Kiroku who is standing in the doorway. The light from outside hits his face just right so that he almost looks like a painting. Wait, what?
No, I’m not okay! We graduate tomorrow! Aren’t you scared? When everyone in Day2 had discussed their post graduation plans, Kiroku had expressed an interest in attending art school, maybe with a minor in something like business or hospitality to help with running his ward. Really, Kiroku had this more thought out than anyone besides maybe Muneuji.
Kiroku steps into the stairwell and lets the door close behind him as he places a shaky hand on Nanaki’s shoulder. Nanamegi I…am scared…but I know…everyone supports us. Nanaki takes a deep breath. In. Out. Kiroku’s hand also feels strangely warm on his shoulder (????). Everything will be…okay, you just…have to believe…in yourself.
Nanaki does believe in himself, that’s not the issue. On a basic level, he has a job and has been doing a good enough job that he hasn’t been fired from it yet. He has a support network that some people could only dream of. It has to be just last day jitters. Something like that, anyway.
In.
Out.
Okay. Yeah, he’s got things under control now. He brings a hand to cover Kiroku’s on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze (why is his stomach still doing flips?). Thanks, Kiroku. Kiroku smiles, the tiny one that’s made an appearance more frequently since they became friends.
He should kiss him.
Hold on.
No, no. Kiroku looks…like a beautiful statue belonging to a museum somewhere in the soft light filtering in from the door’s tiny window. Has it always been this dark in the stairwell?
Nanaki feels his face heat up as he organizes his thoughts.
Uh, actually Kiroku, there’s something else I just remembered. Kiroku nods for Nanaki to continue. Nanaki takes his other hand and cups Kiroku’s face with it, tucking a strand of hair behind Kiroku’s ear. I uh, I think… I like you… Kiroku’s face heats up under Nanaki’s hand, and he stiffens at the confession.
Nanaki takes way too long to realize what he just said. He likes Kiroku? Well, sure, they’re friends and he enjoys spending time with Kiroku in their dorm, silently just doing their own things, or when they end up cuddling on the couch during movie nights because there’s not other space to fit and--
Okay so maybe Nanaki does like Kiroku. So what? He has his heart set on… okay yeah they’re both too old and out of his league, it wasn’t really a viable option to begin with. But Kiroku deserves to be more than someone’s second choice!
I uh…I…like you too, Nanamegi.
Oh!
Cool cool cool cool.
How long have you…
About…a year maybe…
In the last year, well the two of them had spent a lot of time together huh. Maybe that’s when Nanaki also started developing his feelings for Kiroku. There’s no way they’d just manifest suddenly like this. Obviously.
Can I…kiss you? Nanaki just knows his face is a mess. He’s never kissed anyone before and knows that Kiroku hasn’t either, so it’s really nothing to be embarrassed about but he would like to impress Kiroku anyway.
WHY IS HE JUMPING TO KISSING? WHAT IS THIS, A SHOUJO MANGA? Whatever. Whatever!
Kiroku nods and leans down just slightly to meet Nanaki’s lips with his own. Definitely not like the movies. They just press their lips together for a second, maybe two, but Nanaki’s stomach is still jumping all over the place. His first kiss is in the school stairway when they definitely need to head back to class soon, but he almost doesn’t want to let go (even if the feeling is… more mid than he thought it would be. It’ll get better though. They have plenty of time to practice when Akuta is out doing his movie stuff).
They pull apart after either 2 seconds or 2 minutes, it’s hard to tell, but Kiroku definitely looks flustered, and very…cute like this.
Yeah. Cute.
Nanaki pulls Kiroku in for another kiss. They graduate tomorrow, so it’s fine if they play a little hooky, right?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
hi im writing again and wrote a really quick kironana fic. i have a few other things cooking too so maybe we'll get back to posting soon.
fic under the cut if you dont want to read on ao3 !
---
Nanaki paces back and forth on the landing. Everyone in Day2 graduates tomorrow and it’s lowkey freaking him the fuck out. It’s not like he’s going to be in a free fall or anything, he’s already talked about his plans with the chief and Kafka to take a gap year to focus on ward mayor duties and music, but he would like to go to university eventually. But school is like, all he’s ever known and the idea that he won’t have to go anymore after the ceremony? That’s kinda freaky.
Nanamegi… someone, well, Kiroku, the only other person who would have known to look for Nanaki here, calls from behind him. Are you…okay?
Nanaki stops and turns to face Kiroku who is standing in the doorway. The light from outside hits his face just right so that he almost looks like a painting. Wait, what?
No, I’m not okay! We graduate tomorrow! Aren’t you scared? When everyone in Day2 had discussed their post graduation plans, Kiroku had expressed an interest in attending art school, maybe with a minor in something like business or hospitality to help with running his ward. Really, Kiroku had this more thought out than anyone besides maybe Muneuji.
Kiroku steps into the stairwell and lets the door close behind him as he places a shaky hand on Nanaki’s shoulder. Nanamegi I…am scared…but I know…everyone supports us. Nanaki takes a deep breath. In. Out. Kiroku’s hand also feels strangely warm on his shoulder (????). Everything will be…okay, you just…have to believe…in yourself.
Nanaki does believe in himself, that’s not the issue. On a basic level, he has a job and has been doing a good enough job that he hasn’t been fired from it yet. He has a support network that some people could only dream of. It has to be just last day jitters. Something like that, anyway.
In.
Out.
Okay. Yeah, he’s got things under control now. He brings a hand to cover Kiroku’s on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze (why is his stomach still doing flips?). Thanks, Kiroku. Kiroku smiles, the tiny one that’s made an appearance more frequently since they became friends.
He should kiss him.
Hold on.
No, no. Kiroku looks…like a beautiful statue belonging to a museum somewhere in the soft light filtering in from the door’s tiny window. Has it always been this dark in the stairwell?
Nanaki feels his face heat up as he organizes his thoughts.
Uh, actually Kiroku, there’s something else I just remembered. Kiroku nods for Nanaki to continue. Nanaki takes his other hand and cups Kiroku’s face with it, tucking a strand of hair behind Kiroku’s ear. I uh, I think… I like you… Kiroku’s face heats up under Nanaki’s hand, and he stiffens at the confession.
Nanaki takes way too long to realize what he just said. He likes Kiroku? Well, sure, they’re friends and he enjoys spending time with Kiroku in their dorm, silently just doing their own things, or when they end up cuddling on the couch during movie nights because there’s not other space to fit and--
Okay so maybe Nanaki does like Kiroku. So what? He has his heart set on… okay yeah they’re both too old and out of his league, it wasn’t really a viable option to begin with. But Kiroku deserves to be more than someone’s second choice!
I uh…I…like you too, Nanamegi.
Oh!
Cool cool cool cool.
How long have you…
About…a year maybe…
In the last year, well the two of them had spent a lot of time together huh. Maybe that’s when Nanaki also started developing his feelings for Kiroku. There’s no way they’d just manifest suddenly like this. Obviously.
Can I…kiss you? Nanaki just knows his face is a mess. He’s never kissed anyone before and knows that Kiroku hasn’t either, so it’s really nothing to be embarrassed about but he would like to impress Kiroku anyway.
WHY IS HE JUMPING TO KISSING? WHAT IS THIS, A SHOUJO MANGA? Whatever. Whatever!
Kiroku nods and leans down just slightly to meet Nanaki’s lips with his own. Definitely not like the movies. They just press their lips together for a second, maybe two, but Nanaki’s stomach is still jumping all over the place. His first kiss is in the school stairway when they definitely need to head back to class soon, but he almost doesn’t want to let go (even if the feeling is… more mid than he thought it would be. It’ll get better though. They have plenty of time to practice when Akuta is out doing his movie stuff).
They pull apart after either 2 seconds or 2 minutes, it’s hard to tell, but Kiroku definitely looks flustered, and very…cute like this.
Yeah. Cute.
Nanaki pulls Kiroku in for another kiss. They graduate tomorrow, so it’s fine if they play a little hooky, right?
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perhaps muneuji with 14) trying to hide their smile? (i dont have a preference on pairing/another particular character, just do what you want for that 🤍)
ask game
SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG I HAD TO THINK ABOUT THIS
---
"Hey hey hey! Muneuji check this out!!" There's a tug on Muneuji's sleeve (well, more than a tug, something like a pull) to get his attention. "It's some SFX I'm trying out for my new movie!" Isotake shoves his phone in Muneuji's face with a video playing at full blast. At least they were alone in the Hama house living room...
Muneuji takes the phone from Isotake and turns the volume down a little before rewinding to the beginning. There's a car chasing an alien at a college campus. There's a surprising amount of explosions but they are definitely... different, than the explosions from Isotake's last movie. At least these ones don't appear to have been large or dangerous.
"I had to do a lot of jerry rigging to get those to go off without breaking anything, but it turned out pretty good! Y'know I thought about just editing them in post but that's just not the same so I got some like, whatchamacallits from this guy at the fireworks stand..."
Muneuji keeps watching the film, people screaming as the alien (clearly just Isotake in a costume) chased a car down the street and small explosions peppered the sidewalk. He brings his hand to his mouth to cover the laugh at how Isotake-like the filming is. Very chaotic, nonsensical, but full of passion.
"So, pretty cool, eh?" Akuta looks wound up enough to fly to the moon and back.
Hey, so, I started doing a writeup a week ago about how to get character voices in your fanfic to sound “in character,” in response to a comment from a new writer I was beta-ing for.
I’ve been told this is a thing I do well.
As someone who studied dialogue extensively for a theatre degree, I tend to do this reflexively now, and I don’t write out each individual step. But I put some thought into how I might break down the process if I was new at it and looking to get better.
I don’t think it’s actually that different than an actor studying character accents, except as a writer you’re breaking down meaning rather than sound.
Let’s take a look at what makes dialogue unique to a character. I’m gonna list these as bullet points first, and then I’ll suggest some exercises to explore these aspects of speech.
Most important aspects - focus on these first
Vocabulary - the words they use. As subset of this:
Complexity of words, which can include:
Syllable length
Likelihood to be used in casual conversation - a character can be very smart and still use very informal language.
Cultural touchpoints
Culture can include pop culture references - think Tony Stark’s nicknames for everyone, i.e. “Point Break” and “Underoos”
How in or out of sync the character is with the story’s setting with regard to both time and place - are they from a different country or era of time than their peers?
Important - Check these out if you have time
How likely the character is to speak their mind vs. change the subject - this could be for any number of reasons, from fear to duplicity
Amount they say / Introvertedness / how reticent they are - This is somewhat related to the above point, but not necessarily, and should be researched from different angles. Subverting a topic is not the same thing as being afraid to talk about it.
Different ways of speaking with different characters - this could be a function of story (i.e. how a character who is captured speaks to their captors as opposed to friends) as well as pure Code Switching
Deep cuts - Advanced aspects of speech
Fluency in the language they are speaking
Accents - You do not have to write a character in an accent, i.e. spell the words differently to show the accent, if you don’t want to. It really depends on the piece (usually how light hearted or humorous you want it to be) whether you do or not.
Okay, this is all well and good, you say. But HOW do I incorporate this into my writing?
Dialogue analysis exercise
Find five (or more, but at least five) representative lines from your character’s canon dialogue.
If they don’t speak, don’t have five lines, do the best you can. (I imagine other forms of communications can probably also be analyzed in this way, but I’m gonna focus on dialogue for now.)
These are going to be your key phrases. They need to be from canon and they need to be words that really show off who your character is.
Say the words out loud. Read them again and again. What do they sound / feel like?
What is the average syllable length? How many long words do they use?
Do any words jump out at you as archaic? What about modern pop culture references?
What is a different way they could have said this? Write some alternate versions of this phrase and figure out WHY the character didn’t say it this way instead. What is the difference between the canon dialogue and the alternative? Try to be as specific as possible. It’s as important to know what they wouldn’t say as what they would.
Look up any of the more complex words and find some similar ones, with a similar level of complexity. Use a thesaurus you trust and possibly also Wordnik. If your character doesn’t use ANY complex words, reflect on that. Why? What’s their reason? How does that fit with the rest of their personality?
Think of some other characters from other pop culture pieces who speak in a similar way. It doesn’t have to be 100% the same, but if it can help your ear get used to some new-but-different phrases, it’s enough. You’re training your brain to speak like the character. Start to sort phrases they would say from ones they wouldn’t. How do these two characters differ?
Now that you have worked thoroughly through your key phrases, start to imagine these lines said in something other than the original context. What if they were said to a different character? WOULD they even be said? What would change? What would happen if your character was scared / hurt / overjoyed / sick?
Finally, after all that, write some NEW dialogue for your character, either as practice, or right into your fic draft. Keep using your key phrases as a guide and go back to canon as much as you need to! You can do this!
After all of this, you should feel significantly more confident in writing that existing character into your story. Huzzah!
If you found this at all helpful, reblog and / or leave me a note. I’m curious to hear what you think.
