Your JP Blog Is Making Me Want To Learn Japanese Lol. I Did It In Primary School But Haven't Touched

Your JP blog is making me want to learn Japanese lol. I did it in primary school but haven't touched it much since besides from a few Duolingo lessons.

I'm going to leave some recommendations and useful links for you. Lookout for a new post on @notayamichan (it'll be in English). If anything, I'll DM you a link to the post.

(⁠^⁠.⁠_⁠.⁠^⁠)⁠ﾉ　P.S,　I hope you do start again. I need JP friends.

🐈　There's a silly little Insta GC too (another JP learner there) ❤️

I'm likely to redraft the first chapter; however, I'm just as likely to erase it completely. I don't actually have any idea whether it's worthwhile.

A first chapter should introduce the protagonist and set the stage for the rest of the story. But the reality is that, the first chapter takes places a couple hours before the inciting incident, with chapter 2 skipping to right after.

Elijah is (initially unknowingly) saved by his mother, hence the chapter title "Goodnight Elijah."

The story involves uncovering what happened. The inciting incident is that Elijah's people (the Wilsics) have been exterminated.

We don't introduce Hayden (second trio member) until chapter 2: "that's a friend," and Xander is teased in chapter 3: "for girls."

Trio De Hearts: Dust & Ashes

Sample from: Chapter One

Story by @ayaisokay (main blog)

A trio of unlikely friends embark toward neighbouring lands, hoping to find answers about the attacks against a warrior clan native to their land. While united with differences, will they find more similarities than expected?

The following sample is being redrafted, this will soon be outdated

"I'm not gonna lose to you again!" Elijah told his cousin, rushing past Tiago as he tossed a thick ball of snow at his head. Tiago stumbled, but he wasn't beaten just yet. He had longer legs that came down hard with a loud crunch against the snow.

Elijah was much smaller still; but he wasn't above finding ways to compensate for his shortcomings.

"There's more where that came from." He warned the older boy with a ghastly grin, scooping up more snow and balling it up in his stiffening hands. He turned back and found that Tiago was already gaining on him once more.

"Try it again, you little cheat." Tiago warned him, working to close the gap. He'd have probably managed it if he wasn't being pelted the entire time. The first strike scarcely missed his knee, the second strike, to his hip, almost sent him face first into leafless trees, but the third was better. Another headshot. Tiago was left struggling for footing after tripping on a rock he'd missed while temporarily blinded. He went down, lightly enough to roll and resume running fast, though he'd still wasted enough time for Elijah to create a large gap.

Yelling and making all manner of noise, the cousins soon found themselves breaking free of the forest's trees and into a short stretch of open plains.

Almost every blade of grass had been concealed in a thick layer of snow. Luckily, the cut out path remained illustrated by horse-tracks and their prior steps.

The boys had been at the race for 12 minutes already— this was the returning and final lap. They'd undergone this race countless times, but their return was always a test of their stamina— and yet, unyielding against his depleting reserves of energy, Elijah pushed on where he would often falter. Tiago wouldn't give up either. With two winters more growth, his strides made up for lost time— he was rapidly closing the gap between himself and Elijah.

They’d traversed roughly 2.4 kilometres already— there was barely 800 metres left to run.

Committed and at their limits, the rivals quartered the remaining distance in about a minute and a half. But, they’d fallen into silence. Only the sound of faint pants and the soft thud of snow crushed underfoot escaped them. Neither dared to utter a word, as they advanced onward, adorning the path with frantic steps.

Determined as he was, Elijah could only maintain his leading position for about a minute longer.

In the short stretch of plains, Tiago was unstoppable— Elijah had no branches or roots to help slow Tiago to his pace.

He passed Elijah with a grin, making sure to tilt his head back so that his rival could see it.

Unphased, Elijah stared dead ahead. The family estate was in sight, just 200 metres ahead. His objective: the well. It was visible through the open gate. He'd make it there first, he told himself, pushing to keep going, much to his aching legs' displeasure.

He'd noticed something his opponent had not. His legs just had to hold out long enough to take the advantage. "You're forgetting to keep your eyes forward," Elijah thought to himself, with a smirk forming on his face.

In close to 30 seconds, Tiago passed the village's gate first, triumphantly pumping his fist. Anticipating victory as the well sat just 20 metres away, he began to yell and cheer. "You're gonna lose ag—" he started, only to stumble on the latest coat of ice while Elijah slid past him. He'd happily embraced the opening, dropping to his knees and letting physics take control. For the first time, he attained victory against Tiago.

"Again?" He asked, "I wouldn't count on it." The proud boy exclaimed, taking his seat at the well.

"No way you won. You're as slow as a blind scribe writing lore." Lyra claimed, yelling from her house opposite the well. She was a meek girl with the voice of a Lion and the kind of attitude that would get boys into trouble.

"Leave him be," Tiago told the girl between breaths, tossing a snowball as he rose. Prepared, she dodged it quite effortlessly, surprising Elijah who watched as he caught his breath. "I'll be back to winning tomorrow." He claimed, tossing a second snowball bounding toward a red faced Elijah.

The hit almost knocked him into the well, but he couldn't help but giggle. "Yeah, if I freeze to death in there," he proposed to Tiago, who dragged himself over to take a seat at his side.

I find both to be isolating in their own way. So, consider them carefully.

No communication is the obvious isolation, and it gets worse when you consider the danger involved with having no vocal, written, or signed voice. But, to speak every thought could cause its own problems.

How often do you have unspeakable intrusive thoughts? How often do emotions shape your thoughts to contradict your true feelings? It could get you into serious trouble or sever all of your bonds. Sure, you could try explain yourself and work with friends to correct the matter... But what's to say their reaction to the initial upset won't make you say worse things?

The question is a matter of choosing your own prison. At least for me.

I'm dependent on others so a loss of ALL communication destroys everything for me. But I'm also emotionally unstable and generally struggle to maintain bonds already. If I vocalised every thought and feeling, I'd probably look insane. I'd probably hurt too many friends.

Is it just me, or is this a cruel choice?

Finally reposted (and published to ao3). Might throw it on Wattpad. I don't know.

Sun at Night (夜に太陽)

@ayaisokay / Yoru Ni Taiyō / M.H

Short story for 1K word prompt challenge

Ishi awoke violently, escaping subconscious terrors, and grounding himself within vivid sensations of reality.

With arms involuntarily outstretched, Ishi breached the cold air. Incidentally, they moved with ample pace, enough to induce pain. His left arm had jerked out and hit the wall at the side of his bed.

The pain preceded the sound. "Yume!" He winced. His stutter was like an echo of the thud that reverberated throughout the small shelter.

"Sis?" He called out once more, finally sitting up and looking towards Yume’s rocking chair. It was empty.

With a shudder and a shiver, Ishi got to his feet and analysed the shelter. He took care to avoid long glances at the mirror. But he did notice a new crack, and a droplet of blood obscuring his image.

That of a pale, meek boy, with short bed-worn hair, puffy cheeks, and brown eyes that hastily avoided the sight of their face’s softness— a contrast to other boys his age. The subtlety of his chin was a sore spot, his visible bindings too.

With a forced smile, he concealed his body with rags.

Between the warning signs of mould setting in, and the cracks on the cold floorboards, Ishi was certain, the mess he called home hadn't notably changed.

Safe for additional discardings of hair, clumsily brushed to the corners of the room.

Ishi wished he could help Yume as much as she helped him. She cut his hair nice and short and helped him bind his chest with lace and leather. She'd been working to buy fabric so Ishi could enjoy some comfort. But, she wouldn't let him join her for any of her work— not even the jobs that hurt her.

She was bad at hiding new bruises and sore spots, or the redness in her eyes. Ishi didn't get why she didn't ask for help. Yume always told him he was strong.

But the thought vanished.

He spotted blood by the door that was left slightly ajar. It was softly illuminated by a mix of distant village lamps and the moonlight. It evoked great concern.

"I’ll help this time." ishi promised, hoping to finally be of use to his big sister.

His decision was in spite of Yume warning him against staying up. She’d told him a journey awaited them tomorrow.

Yet, Ishi quickly set about the door and got onto the stone path anyway.

He was used to walking barefoot. He outgrew his last pair of shoes. Unfortunately, nightly walks were new, and Ishi struggled to avoid sharp pebbles that prompted his small feet to rise with haste.

The dancing luminosity of fire light was not as reliable as it was beautiful.

Though Ishi couldn’t help but ponder the fire that guided him as walked the arching path, seeking the village’s closed off river. One encased by trees.

The fire was pleasant and warm with a gentle hum. There was safety. It reminded him of Yume. But, to get too close, well, even such beautiful things could cause harm. Maybe that’s why Yume never let him help, he assumed.

“You wouldn't hurt me.” Ishi thought aloud as he reached his destination, only to be halted at the foot of the river’s opening. A light thud, followed by hushed whispers, took him from his thoughts. For what they lacked in mutual tone they made up for in synchronised intensity. A lover’s spat? A fight? Ishi wasn't sure.

Slowly he drew nearer the river’s opening, sticking to the side opposite the whispers, about 10 metres away. He oriented himself around the tree slowly, using it to shield himself while I leaned out and peeked.

The tree was less comfortable than grass or smoothed stone on his bare feet. His hands were reddened from his hard grip on the tree. There was no salvation in its holes either— but Ishi was thankful for that. Disturbing a bird nest wouldn't have helped him right about now. Though he wasn't sure what could help. When the first figure came into view, Ishi’s breath grew short and his throat tight.

A bearded man, noble by the looks of his cloak and the silk of his shirt. He was leaning over someone, a hand placed towards them, and another stretched towards the river, holding Yume’s knife.

At that moment, Ishi couldn't help but wonder if Yume had been helping hurt people. He feared that's why they had to leave tomorrow. But, he couldn't accept that thought— “she wouldn't,” he decided silently. Finally turning enough to bring more of the scene into view.

A slender girl, flat at her chest with bruised skin that was otherwise pale. She stood adorned in rags, now freshly cut at the waist where a dampness had begun to form. Her face was obscured by a hand that forced her head against the tree opposite Ishi’s.

The man kept her turned away— leaving only slightly torn hair in view. “You help me enjoy the night, and I give you money to fill your rotten gob.” The man hissed, before lurching her towards him. Kneeing her gut, and twirling to toss her closer. She landed in the middle, by the edge of the river bank.

“Trying to use a toy like this? Well, you can forget about the deal… Boy.” The man snarled.

As he turned to look upon the girl, Ishi’s heart ceased its rapid rhythm. He became a candle, extinguished by grief.

The girl’s brown eyes met Ishi’s in mutual recognition. Her pain heightened by the man’s last words, and her defeat spelled by the presence of kin.

An innocent brother, and his defiled sister. But Yume wasn't the only one to spot her beloved brother.

“You shouldn't have come here; you have ruined us both.” She whispered, trying to get to her feet and position herself between Ishi and the man. But her steps were unsteady, and she was quickly knocked down. Wetness and blood trailing her legs.

“Well, perhaps you can keep the welp’s deal.”

Tearfully, Ishi remained in place, struggling for air, to compose himself, or command his limbs. He knew this man.

“D-dad?”

🐈🐈🐈

Woof, woof, Bork, awoo.

Woof woof bork arf ruff ruff awoooo! *wag wag*

Maybe the sugar baby is a furry 🤯

is discord cat a furry thing or a sugar baby plz respond fast google isnt helping