“Nu-uh! I’m not dumb!” Stubbornly, Luffy protested your statement, crossing his arms and puffing out his lower lip in a child-like pout. [E/c] gaze flickering back to the taller boy you quirked an eyebrow, but couldn’t stop a small smile.
“Oh yeah?” You responded casually, to which Luffy shot back a hardy ‘yeah’, placing his fists on his hips and leaning over a bit, as if to emphasize his argument. You simply hummed in response and turned to the ocean again, willing to let him have this one. You didn’t really think he was all that stupid anyways. A few moments of silence fell over the two of you, rare peace interrupted only by the gently babbling of the wa
Capitalization is bad for days like this. When the sky is grey, who needs grammar? Grammar is rules and rules are a box, a great glass box with no seams—seamless, faultless, perfect, unbreakable—like rules are supposed to be. Rules are what kill you. The words are like light; they bounce away from the glass and are lost.
But if you are content without the words then rules are what save you, because too far from that box and you are not safe anymore; you will be shot at, you are a target, and you will never run fast enough to hide from sound like bullets. The box is a cage and a shield. Both at once, like halves of a circle—impossible, unfathomable, like truth always is.
Sound travels at three hundred and forty-three meters per second, faster than you can throw something even as small as a memory.
To think that I can speak, one word, and before it has left my tongue behind it is already a lifetime away, too far to reach, too far to take back and c
X = 8 + 7
“Well, that’s unfair!” said +. “X is a complete unknown—it shouldn’t be getting higher billing than the rest of us!” + appeared a little cross. “You know, I’m considering walking out of this equation!”
The producer sighed. “Look, I think I know the solution: X, will you reveal your true identity, please?”
X whipped off its cloak and⸺
“You’re 15!” said +, trying to curtsey and bow simultaneously. “I’m a huge fan.”
“God, you’re such a snob,” muttered 8. It beamed over at the performer previously labelled ‘X’. “Just wanted to let you know, 15. Me and 7 always considered you our equal.”