selarina

[selarina]

i think one thing that bridgerton s2 does well is establish why kate and anthony gravitate to each other. so many romance stories flop because they cant convince you what the deal is but bridgerton is like well they are both eldest siblings they are both patronizing and overbearing they are both control freak know it alls. put them in a jar lock them in a room. haha

#i love romance when it's good? #i love romance when it's good

[selarina]

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader (Series Completed)

Summary: When a guy asks for your number, you sternly insist on a condition that leads to unexpected love.

Content Warning: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Canon-Compliant, Swearing, Social Media AU, Drinking

Author's Note: Trying my hand at social media aus because I had an idea. It's going to be a short one but these are fun to do. But also, they are so much work :/

Taglist: Closed

Character Profiles

Chapters

01) Girls Night

02) The Morning After

03) Pretty

04) Thrice As Pretty

05) Chess With You

06) Right Answer

07) Hoodie

08) Switching Sides

09) Ghost

10) Flowers

11) (Surprise) Birthday

12) Aquarium Date

13) Soft-Launching

14) Hard-Launching

TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @tenaciouswritersheep @90s-belladonna @alienvarmint @kodzuchim @themoonreflectsthesun @baramii @haruskatana @rukia-uchiha-98 @aimno256 @userwithlotsoftime @the-moonandthehermit @alldaladiesloveleooo @iluv-ace @noideawhothatis @vivian-555 @buggy-cj @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @cloudsvna @zukowantshishonourback @rory-cakes @shookykookie30 @2baddies-1porsche @thechaosoflonging @rntrsuna @ahnneyong @saiewithakatana @sukunasrealgf @reveusecherie @tkooooop @k0z3me @riiceandsoup @weird0o0 @toomanygoldfish @seiamor @thebrownemo @breakmyheartlater @xbl00dy-r0s3x @linmabbe @scarifiey

#!! #remember when i used to make smaus

[selarina]

“From the River to the Sea.” A Poem by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine

every street, every house, every room, every window, every balcony, every wall, every stone, every sorrow, every word, every letter, every whisper, every touch, every glance, every kiss, every tree, every spear of grass, every tear, every scream, every air, every hope, every supplication, every secret, every well, every prayer, every song, every ballad, every book, every paper, every color, every ray, every cloud, every rain, every drop of rain, every drip of sweat, every lisp, every stutter, every yamma, mother, every yaba, father, every shadow, every light, every little hand that drew in a little notebook a tree or house or heart or a family of a father, a mother, siblings, and pets, every longing, every possibility, every letter between two lovers that arrived or didn’t arrive, every gasp of love dispersed in the distant clouds, every moment of despair at every turn, every suitcase on top of

every closet, every library, every shelf, every minaret, every rug, every bell toll in every church, every rosary, every holy praise, every arrival, every goodbye, every Good Morning, every Thank God, every ‘ala rasi, my pleasure, every hill ‘an sama’i, leave me alone, every rock, every wave, every grain of sand, every hair-do, every mirror, every glance in every mirror, every cat, every meow, every happy donkey, every sad donkey’s gaze, every pot, every vapor rising from every pot, every scent, every bowl, every school queue, every school shoes, every ring of the bell, every blackboard, every piece of chalk, every school costume, every mabruk ma ijakum, congratulations on the baby, every y ‘awid bi-salamtak, condolences, every ‘ayn al- ḥasud tibla bil-‘ama, may the envious be blinded, every photograph, every person in every photograph, every niyyalak, how lucky, every ishta’nalak, we’ve missed you, every grain of wheat in every bird’s gullet, every lock of hair, every hair knot, every hand, every foot, every football, every finger, every nail, every bicycle, every rider on every bicycle, every turn of air fanning from every bicycle, every bad joke, every mean joke, every laugh, every smile, every curse, every yearning, every fight, every sitti, grandma, every

sidi, grandpa, every meadow, every flower, every tree, every grove, every olive, every orange, every plastic rose covered with dust on an abandoned counter, every portrait of a martyr hanging on a wall since forever, every gravestone, every sura, every verse, every hymn, every ḥajj mabrur wa sa ‘yy mashkur, may your ḥajj and effort be rewarded, every yalla tnam yalla tnam, every lullaby, every red teddy bear on every Valentine’s, every clothesline, every hot skirt, every joyful dress, every torn trousers, every days-spun sweater, every button, every nail, every song, every ballad, every mirror, every peg, every bench, every shelf, every dream, every illusion, every hope, every disappointment, every hand holding another hand, every hand alone, every scattered thought, every beautiful thought, every terrifying thought, every whisper, every touch, every street, every house, every room, every balcony, every eye, every tear, every word, every letter, every name, every voice, every name, every house, every name, every face, every name, every cloud, every name, every rose, every name, every spear of grass, every name, every wave, every grain of sand, every street, every kiss, every image, every eye, every tear, every yamma, every yaba, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, all…

#free palestine

[selarina]

I have a suggestion! What are your thoughts on the reader helping high school kento build a birdhouse?

"You know one of these days you'll have to actually help, right?"

"I am helping," you frown as you stare at your nails. You're not really looking. It's merely a shield, a way to avert your eyes from his piercing eyes.

"You're..." His voice trails off as he lifts the cumbersome goggles up from his eyes, to see you perched on the marble slab. A figure so idle and bored-looking and yet, you make no means to contribute. "You're sitting.”

He seemed clearly frustrated, but you're who you are, and so you giggled.

"I am. I am sitting while providing you moral support. I’m the pretty view that will keep you from going insane over that birdhouse. There is beauty in this world, Nanami-san. There is joy,” you beam as you wrap up your speech.

"We don't have time for this. We need to submit this birdhouse by Monday," he sighs, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. "That's only 3 more days."

“Oh, come on. We've got plenty of time," you say, waving off his concerns with a nonchalant flick of your hand.

But he's not easily swayed. "Plenty of time? We haven't even finished painting it, let alone adding the final touches. And we still need to figure out how to stabilise the roof so it doesn't collapse under the weight of the two birds."

You lean back on your hands, letting out a dramatic weary sigh. "Fine, Nanami-kun. If you're so worried, I'll try and help. But you have to promise me one thing."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What?"

"That you'll stop stressing out so much. It's just a birdhouse, not a spaceship," you tease, hoping to lighten the mood. "Oh, and that you'll buy me Mochi when we're done with an A+."

"I owe you nothing," he says, his arms crossed in defiance.

"Then I fear," you fake a frown. "I fear my legs just can't seem to reach the ground. You shall have to carry on without me." A tilt of your head, a pout on your lips. God, you're so annoying.

"I'll get you your Mochi," he concedes with a resigned shake of his head. "But only if we manage to finish this on time. And with an exemplary grade might I add."

"A+ and nothing less," you salute him as you hop off the counter. His eyes catch a glimpse of your skirt riding up before his eyes look away and move to the unfinished birdhouse.

---

Your heavy eyes threatened to lull, but you fought against it, you've slept for far too long. And it doesn't help that Nanami's hands are moving in soothing patterns against your back. Up and down, and a circle. Up and down, and a circle.

Your gaze strains to lift up, avoiding any movement that might disturb his lying form. He's already awake, so there's no fear of rousing him awake with your movement. No, your concern lies elsewhere — You're worried about moving, and having to start the day, and having to leave his arms. This is far too comfortable a moment to leave.

Your eyes drift across the room and settle on the red cage in the corner of the room. The cage seems to look a lot more lonelier in the dull light of this cold morning.

“I think he’s sad,” you murmur.

Your gaze remains fixed on the bird inside the cage. The love bird, now singular, was formerly a pair as they usually come. It's a horrible fate, you can't help but think.

“Obviously," came his terse reply.

You don't say anything, letting the silence join you both, you moved your hands on his chest. You repeat the familiar pattern. Up and down, and a circle. Up and down, and a circle.

“Do you think that’ll happen to you if I leave,” you ask, moments later.

“You’re not leaving," he says, quickly.

"No," you countered softly yet insistently. "No, of course not. I only meant if—"

"No," he cut in, his voice firm and resolute. Though his demeanor remained calm— as it often did— you felt his hand tighten around your waist.

You decided not to press further then.

"I think we need to pay more attention to it than usual," you suggested, redirecting the conversation to the love bird. "Else it'll die."

"Maybe that's better," he mused.

"Don't be silly," you chide gently. "He'll be alright. It's only been a week."

A week later, the love bird passed away, succumbing to a broken heart, as the veterinarian confirmed.

Three years have passed since, and you find yourself thinking back to that morning. He's the one who's gone now, his body finding the same soil as the two love birds.

You suppose you're the one who has to answer now.

#icymi <3

[selarina]

what's the opposite of feeling sand slip through your fingers because I feel this poem more and more as time passes

[selarina]

meow meow

#UM #jjk art

[selarina]

rina bb!! i am dropping by with a few things i find pretty bc april is so very pretty to me! 🍞🌻💭🌷☀️🫧✨🌱💗🍓 how are you?? i hope the month is lovely to you 🥺

i also come back with a curious sel question 🤓 a more technical writing one but, what is your anchor point to writing a character like gojo? what part of him do you like exploring and what quality of his stays the same to you across any universe you put him in? 🥺

hi bb!! i’m doing good, spring is being very lovely to me, the cherry blossoms are out 🌸🌸

tbh i’ve never really thought about it but i guess his sense of levity is something i include a lot, even if it’s a front for something deeper

i think i write a lot of canon compliant gojo actually but i also like the idea of exploring him being bigger than most — like an actor or a superhero but about how despite it all, he’s ultimately human or in touch with his humanity

wbu?? i’m curious and how’s spring treating you?

#moots: sel🌙 #i love your little check ins #you’re truly the sweetest person on here <3

[selarina]

Level 1: Porn with plot

Level 2: Porn with social commentary

Level 3: Porn with troubling philosophical implications

Level 4: Porn with maddening revelations of humanity’s place in the cosmos

Level 5: Porn with math

[selarina]

#and if i say he’s the prettiest boy there is #what then #jjk art

[selarina]

not the “gojo is racist” discourse making it onto my page😭

#rina rambles

[selarina]

–Palestinian poet and editor of Mizna, George Abraham.

[selarina]

Let’s not disturb them💤

#BABIES #let them rest #jjk art

[selarina]

He lose so he had to eat another of Sukuna's fingers😖

#he’s sooo baby #jjk art

[selarina]

"you're frowning. always frowning."

#oh #pretty #jjk art

[selarina]

goodnight everyone (:

do your daily click

spreadsheet of families in Gaza you can help today

donate to:

Buy an e-sim

Help diabetics in Gaza

The PCRF

Anera

UNRWA

Taawon

Help Gaza Children

Sudan Tarada Initiative

Help a Sudanese family escape conflict

Darfur Women Action

Ramadan for Sudan

Period products in Sudan

Sudan Emergency Appeal

[selarina]

They Do Not Exist (1974) by Mustafa Abu Ali (watch)

from PalestineCinema.com:

Salvaged from the ruins of Beirut after 1982, Abu Ali's early film has only recently been made available. Shooting under extraordinary conditions, the director, who worked with Godard on his Ici et Ailleurs (Here and Elsewhere), and founded the PLO's film division, covers conditions in Lebanon's refugee camps, the effects of Israeli bombardments, and the lives of guerrillas in training camps. They Do Not Exist is a stylistically unique work which demonstrates the intersection between the political and the aesthetic. Now recognised as a cornerstone in the development of Palestinian cinema, the film only received its Palestine premiere in 2003, when a group of Palestinian artists "smuggled" the director to a makeshift cinema in his hometown of Jerusalem (into which Israel bars his entry). Abu Ali, who saw his film for the first time in 20 years at this clandestine event noted: "We used to say 'Art for the Struggle', now it's 'Struggle for the Art'"

[selarina]

thinking about marrying crown prince!gojo and you're not naive on your first night. you made it a point not to be— you made your handmaiden sneak in some articles with illustrations that had rattled something within you. they were strange and some were even gruesome but you were prepared.

but when the night came and you changed out from your heavy wedding dress to your dainty sheer nightgown, the prince merely walked in and offered you his robe— baffled, you took it and covered yourself. partly, because you were cold but mostly because you felt insecure. maybe he didn't find you attractive enough?

but that night was the first night the two of you just spoke. he told you stories you'd never heard before— he was unlike any man with so many adventures to tell. it made you a bit sad for yourself, for your unlived life. so little and narrow, with nothing interesting to tell.

but he asked anyway— took such keen interest in your narrow world. he asked about the garden you liked, the colour of the swing, the flowers you picked, the first time you fell, the first boy you liked— it was all a bit too much for you — too genuine. you think you could actually love this man.

that night you didn't undress each other. you didn't have sex. you wouldn't for a long time since that day but you were strangely okay with that, despite custom.

that night before your wedding, the two of you just talked and talked and sipped on wine till you fell asleep next to each other.

some where in the middle of the night, your bodies would find each other, all clothed, but you wouldn't know since he'd be the one to wake up first. he would slowly find a way to leave your arms without waking you, and then he'd spend the first half of the early morning staring at who he thought was the most beautiful future queen this kingdom could've had.

#icymi <3