#NO SCRATCH THAT. THE LAST PARAGRAPH AS A WHOLE.

[fujii-draws]

still thinking about your post about your dusknoir and how the option of doing Anything But What He Did was always available to him yet he chose to walk along a path that only ended up hurting himself and quite literally all that he held dear to himself.

I think he really beats himself up over it because there's something so gut wrenching over the idea that a safer, better option that wouldve guaranteed a good outcome to you and those you hold dear, yet your narrow scope of reality and the fear that crippling you if you had stepped out of your designed path (assuming he did not already do that when adapting to the father figure ruse that he tried to pull) had you by the neck to the point where even the option that 'things did not have to go this way' was already not possible, and you had no choice but to go on. and now, dusknoir had no one but himself to blame for the cracks and strains he forced upon the two kids who looked up to him. the option to be with them, to save them, to shield them from him, yet he took it upon himself to be the knife that stabs them in the back when they willingly embraced his shine and the venom that reeks into their bodies when he tells them how much they had meant *little*, if *nothing* to him at all. he could've raised their spirits high, yet he proceeded to slam them down into reality and teach them the harsh lesson that nothing good comes out of a stranger with good intentions, even when that stranger made you feel as though you deserved to be loved. that you did not need to be so afraid, and that there was no shame in who you are. he was their light, and he burned so bright that he left them tearing and weeping in the darkness.

Sinnoh.

[best-enemies]

Just watched S09E11 of CSI, 'The Grave Shift', after last night's 'One to Go'. I don't think I'll ever recover from Grissom, my favorite character, leaving the show, but his exit was still beautiful and so, so Grissom. Him just telling the team "Yeah so, I'm leaving" and having little moments with each of them, warmed my heart (the character that represented me the most was David, who had to bolt out of the room after Grissom said, "I'll miss you, though", barely managing to hold back the tears before leaving).

And oh my god. His reunion with Sara. They didn't even need words and it was absolutely perfect. Watching Grissom feel physical pain from his break up with Sara broke my heart -- you can see how much he loves her. I hate that they'll break up again; I don't remember how or why exactly, but it feels unnecessary, but I'm comforted by the fact that, ultimately, they'll end up together for the rest of their lives.

One of the things I love about this episode is how they all paid a little homage to Grissom and, near the end, Nick, who was offered Grissom's office, invited Greg and Riley to share it with him. Fits right in with Nick's sweet personality. I love how he says they need all the good energy from that place. He's really Grissom's n#1 pupil ♡

(Shout out to Hodges, one of my favorite characters from this rewatch, walking in and bringing the pig fetus saying it belongs there. I love how bitter he is after Grissom left and how he's not willing to get over it any time soon. Forget David, Hodges is the character that represented me the most, lol).

I need to say, my brain completely ignored the fact that, when Grissom offered Ray Langston a job as a CSI he said that it was an "entry-level job". Instead, I thought he'd get the job as the team leader and it was weird for me to see him being so inexperienced at a job. But all of that is because, one, I haven't rewatched CSI in ten years and forgot about like, 97% of the show and two, I have rewatched Hannibal way too many times and got used to Laurence Fishburne playing a boss, and a damn good one. I do like his character, though!

I'm not a fan of Riley though. I don't know why, she seems mostly competent at her job, fit right in, but at the same time it's not really like she fit in? I felt like maybe she could have had some adaptation into the team, after all she was replacing a long-time team member, Warrick (will talk about him later). Her introduction and adaptation into the team felt a bit sudden and "inorganic" and maybe that's why I don't love her sassy remarks and sort of 'cool girl' personality. Yeah I love Sara but I don't love Riley for the reasons listed above. That could change, though!

Warrick. Oh, man. For Gedda/For Warrick were the most painful episodes to watch and I stalled for months. Some of the team got to have a nice last moment with him, others didn't. It broke my heart how at peace he was in his last hours, hanging out with the work fam, feeling relieved for not losing his job, which was a huge part of his life. I do hate that it had to end like that for him. I get that his death represented the loss of innocence, and that that team wasn't going to last forever... but it's just really painful. To know that he didn't have anyone else, only his soon, which we don't know if he was able to see often...

Too many things happening at once, too many changes, and bumpy ones, but I hope we'll get into a smooth road once again.

[tardis--dreams]

Yes a painful sore throat is bad, but i cannot stress enough how much more i hate the ITCHING!!

[engineering]

Tumblr Hack Week, January 2024 Edition

Once again it was Hack Week (more than just a day!) at Tumblr! This is getting repetitive in the best way. A couple of times per year we slow down our normal work and spend a week working on scratching a personal itch or features we want as user and see how far we can get with our hacks. One thing from the last Hack Week in September made it all the way to a new experiment out to some testers: Tumblr Patio!

Here are some of the projects that got built for our most recent Hack Week in January. Some of these things you may also end up seeing on the site…

Spoiler text, spoiler blocks, and centered text!

This one is so obvious and amazing, it’s wild we don’t already have it. For Hack Week, Katie added the ability to select text in a paragraph to be hidden behind a wall of black that can be revealed with a tap. This can be super useful to hide spoilers. And even better: whole spoiler blocks. And while we’re here, the ability to center text!

A plethora of new default blog avatars

We haven’t updated our default avatars in several years. (Some of you may remember this one from 10+ years ago.) They’re feeling a bit stale to us, so why not update them? And while we’re at it… make a ton more variations! Paul from the Tumblr Design team came up with a suite of new default avatars, using our latest Tumblr color palette. Here’s a look at some of them, but there are actually many dozens more using different colors:

Notifications and emails about engagement on your posts

This one is for the folks on Tumblr who love numbers and their Activity page. Daniel, @jesseatblr​, and the Feeds & Machine Learning team worked on some new notifications and emails we could send out to people about how their posts have been doing lately on the platform, such as how many views they’ve gotten, and by how many people. We already have this available (and more) when you Blaze a post, but why not open it up to more people? It’s really useful to the folks who use Tumblr to help build an audience for their work!

A new way of navigating the web: the Command Palette

Some apps we use a lot have a “command palette” accessible via a keyboard shortcut for quick keyboard-driven access to different parts of the platform. For example, Slack and Discord have Command + K to access their quick switchers to hop around conversations. What if Tumblr had one? Kelly and Paul built one! Press Command/Control + K on Tumblr and you can use your keyboard to jump to your blog, Activity, your recent conversations, search, dozens of places!

As always, stay tuned to the @changes​ blog to see if any of these hacks make it on Tumblr for real!

[marypaol]

Poisoned Thoughts

Draco x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is drowning in the river of insecurities, and Draco is only the hand that’s pushing her further down.

Warnings: Insecurities, obviously, mention of suffocation, choking, strangling, etc. Bullying about weight, eating habits, mention of drowning, drowning someone, ANGST, crying, mention of blood, all that good stuff. :)

Note: This is very personal to me, and I was happy to write a story that kind of puts awareness out there about insecure people. Everyone has their own dislikes about themselves, and I don’t think it’s at all funny to make fun of someone that thinks bad about themselves. So please know to spread kindness and respect others, because you never know what they think of themselves. I’m here if anyone needs to talk, and remember that you are absolutely beautiful just the way you are!!! 🫶🏻

For the wonderful @maaaapara I hope you enjoy!

This is my first time writing full on angst, so it might be bad.

The feeling of hunger was over her, the long hours of studying finally catching up. She didn’t plan on doing the whole Charms essay, just a few paragraphs and she’d be done for the night. But her quill kept moving nonetheless, swirling the cursive letters against the parchment with soft grace. The soft scratching noises arising from the action were peaceful to her ears, and the cackling of the flames in the fireplace was another sign of calm.

Once she finished it, she rolled it up neatly, tying a thin piece of string around it that was worn out from continuous usage. She always seemed to use that certain one out of the millions she had in her bag, since not only was it old, but she liked the material’s feel against her fingertips.

She liked to think of the soft feeling as an award for finishing the work, letting herself know that she can feel the calming sensation if she completed what was asked of her.

The sun was sinking into the sky with such ease she couldn’t see it moving. The soft warmth was warmer than the daylight, glowing innocently into the green room, letting the world know it’s almost time for slumber.

Of course, the urge to eat after a long day was much higher than the desire to sleep, mostly because she felt like everyone, not just her, had an issue falling asleep if they were hungry. As so did she, but she knew she missed the feast far too long ago, too busy frying her brain out of her head to make the action to consume food.

So she sighed, trying to ignore the yelling of her stomach as it demanded something, anything. She had to set aside the want, knowing she had to go to bed and if a prefect caught her sneaking for food they’d think she was a freak, desperate for something to eat but in reality she was too busy doing school work.

The last thing she wanted was a person coming off that way so her tired legs carried her to her dormitory, all the way up trying to fight the want to eat.

She set her bag down on the ground as she got there, her roommates ignoring her presence as per usual, the feeling settling in her chest a long time ago.

Thinking about it now, her brain took her as she went into bed after changing into pajamas, the soft sheets relaxing on her skin, she’d never fit in as easily as the other girls did.

She’d always be the one who was too shy to talk, too shy to interact with people, instead taking place in a corner where she’d watch act unfold. The corners seemed to be the only place that accepted her, the curve of the wall as they both merged together taking home on her back as she sought for warmth that wasn’t there.

The line going from the floor to ceiling basically fit her quite well. She liked to think of it this way. Everyone was the walls, either side of her nice and flat as they lived life. They were smooth, beautiful, and simply flawless as you walked into the room, admiring the wall pattern in the space. But, she, however, was different. She was the corner, where all the webs built up and all the dust formed that wasn’t wanted; the corner wasn’t wanted. The person who lived in the room doesn’t attention to the corners, too busy admiring the wallpaper full of beauty and elegance to care. They don’t bother cleaning the corner while polishing the room for guests, knowing they’re blocked by furniture so the people won’t notice. No one noticed her, it seemed. Why exist, she thought, head turned to the left, staring right at the floor corner of the room, the darkness making it barely visible but she knew that was just her trying to look into her chest.

When she woke up, the room was empty and there was a cold absence in the room, floating in the air. The beds of her roommates were made, the neatness seeming to mock her, the sight of the smooth blankets making her twist in her bed sheets.

The sight was unsettling for an unknown reason, feeling something off. She looked out the window, rubbing her eyes and seeing the sun quite high within the clouds, shining upon world with such grace.

She yawned, grabbing her watch of the table beside her bed and snapping it on her wrist, looking down at the time lazily.

She gasped, lips parting and chest squeezing. It was almost time for her first to class to start, and she was still in bed, yawning like it was nothing that she forgot to set an alarm the night before. Too busy thinking about food, the thoughts in her head grumbled to herself, feeling hot anger flush in her blood. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She scrambled out of the bed sheets, feeling more suffocated every second.

She wondered why her roommates didn’t wake her, but the thought only lasted for a second. They didn’t care, was the truth.

While she was putting on her robes, the sleeves being extra irritating that morning, she felt an unexpected sensation of anger brewing in her emotions. She felt angry with herself, disappointed. She wanted to feel normal, not having these never ending thoughts swarming in her mind.

She scoffed the clothes on, standing in front of the mirror, looking at her pathetic tired self standing there, wanting nothing more than the day to end. Right then and there, she wanted it all to end. She wanted her brain to shut off, like a light switch, flipping from emotions felt to nothing at all. She pulled at her hair strands, feeling deep annoyance and irritation building in her heart and stomach. Her hair wasn’t corroborating in the way she wanted it to, and her robes seemed itcher than usual. The fabric seemed to be choking her and the more she tugged at the collar the more it seemed to be strangling her neck.

She felt tears prickle her eyes, nose burning at the want to sob.

She went close to the mirror, not wanting to ruin the makeup she put on her eyelashes, carefully wiping the forming unwanted tears. She still looked horrible despite her attempts to make her look more awake, but it was good enough compared to what she saw when she first got out of bed.

She quickly made her way down the stairs to the Great Hall, hoping to at least grab a piece of toast before class.

She raced to the Slytherin table. The students had that sense coming off them, the feeling that they’ve been content and full, ready for the weekend as it quickly approached. Her stomach wasn’t happy, so she grabbed a piece of toast cut diagonally and spread butter with jam, trying not to combine the two condiments.

She bit into it kinda quickly, already seeing a group of Ravenclaws leave the Hall. She knew it was just because they had a habit of being prepared and responsible, but she did have a couple traits from that House, and being persistently on time was one of them.

“What’s the matter with you? Trying to gain weight, I see.” She heard a snicker, boys around her chuckling and girls giggling. She looked up, confused on who the person who spoke was talking to.

She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy, silver eyes staring right at her with lips turned up into a smirk.

“W-what?” She pathetically squeaked, pausing mid-chew. The toast’s texture felt weird on her tongue, the urge to just chew it was getting greater as it got wetter with her spit. She suddenly felt like throwing up.

“Are you deaf? And how are you eating another one?” He snarled, looking disgusted. “We just ate.”

Th laughter seemed to get louder in her ears, echoing in her head. The toast didn’t seem so appealing anymore, her stomach feeling sickening. She felt like throwing up.

She cleared her incoming dry throat. “I-I was-”

“Was what? Gaining a million pounds in one meal?” Draco interrupted her attempt of explaining where she was the previous night. He snickered, smirk widening at the rising laughter at the table. She couldn’t help but notice some yellow robes joining them within the green, a few Hufflepuffs finding interest in the occurrence.

Her cheeks warmed, heated, even, and she stood on wobbly legs, eyes burning with liquid that she desperately wanted to go away. She picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with great effort. She couldn’t seem to carry things like she usually was able to, the tears decreasing her ability to use her muscles.

She didn’t want to scan the people there, just in case she spotted one of them in future classes and have to experience awkward eye contact, but she did anyway; specifically Malfoy.

His sliver eyes met hers and the differences were clear. Hers was full of see-through gloss, folded with innocence and gentleness. His, however, full of hardness and hatred, looking at her as a way to challenge her to see what she would do.

And she did something. The gasps that were heard from the girls, the chuckles and soft curses from the boys were ignored, she just did it.

She had grabbed the spoon from the jam she used earlier, scooping an abnormally large amount of the spread and aggressively flung the scoop right in the middle of Draco’s chest. The jam splattered on his spotless ironed robes, green and black replaced with stained strawberry jam. His pale face finally was given color, chunks of strawberry on his cheeks.

Draco practically growled. “You little-”

She huffed, breaking through her nose as she broke her eyes away from his face after glaring.

She stormed out of the Hall, tears in her eyes that she harshly rubbed away.

“My father will hear about this!” She heard him holler after her. Her anxiety rose, not wanting to get in trouble with Mr. Malfoy, but the burning in her eyes distracted her. She doubted he would actually do something to her, his father, but the lingering thought of being expelled was in the back of her mind.

I’m in so much trouble, she thought, rubbing her cheeks that now had thick streaks running down them.

“Hey!” She heard, the voice the one that she heard yelling at her just moments before.

She walked faster, not wanting to encounter him once again.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He said, suddenly grabbing her shoulders and forcibly turning her around so she faced him. A gasp escaped her lips, not having enough time to wipe her puffy eyes so he saw it all. Her face was red, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment he caused her and from rubbing the continuous tears. The once was whiteness around her eyes were no more, they were now red and almost bloodshot looking. Her eyelashes were wet and her body shook as she looked at him. He still had the jam on his robes, the red for sure going to stain. His face was clean though, like he wiped it off before he went to make fun of her more.

“What’s this?” He sneered, chuckling at the sight of her tears. “Crying about the truth, are we?”

She shoved him off her, his hands coming off her shoulders leaving a not so satisfying sting behind. “Shove off, Malfoy.”

He laughed. “What’s the matter? Not my fault you’re fat.”

Her breathing stopped, the breath in her lungs pausing mid-way as she looked at him, a moment of silent bracing between them.

“I’ll have you know,” she started, voice wet as the tears seemed to flood her throat not just her eyes. “That I was studying last night and missed dinner.”

Draco was smirking at her reactions, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Missed dinner? Studying?” He scoffed out a laugh, not believing her so called alibi. “That’s your excuse for stuffing your face?”

The girl stared helplessly as he laughed at her, eyes showing nothing but satisfaction as he watched her fall apart in front of him. She was drowning, and he was above the surface waiting for the bubbles to stop.

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” She spat through a clogged throat, turning away and starting to walk away towards the bathroom; her first class was the last thing on her mind.

“Oo so threatened!” He called after her, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “Don’t forget to miss lunch too!”

His laughter and calls faded out as she stormed into a girls bathroom, the cold space abandoned as everyone was probably just about now getting to their lessons.

It felt like her tears were a river, and her eyes were the dam, the bricks breaking as soon as she entered the bathroom. The water came flooding out, killing whatever there was in its path.

She sank to the floor, green robes and sniffles, her hand held high, fingertips grazing the surface of the water’s depths, waiting desperately for a hand to reach for hers and pull her out.

The bubbles of screams and pleads rang within the water, no air inside for it to be heard.

Her brain took over, wanting nothing more than to escape and be free again.

She sat there for a while, bottom getting numb as her eyes felt like they would fall out after all that hard labor.

She got up, legs wobbly as she had a horrible flashback of when she stood up from the table of the Great Hall.

Leaving her bag disfavored, she arrived in front of the mirror and gazed reluctantly.

What she saw displeased her very much so. Her hair was a representation of the word ‘mess’ if it was alive and breathing, as well as her eyes being redder than before.

She scanned her reflection. She’s always hated her face. Her nose was too big for her liking, her lips were too plump, and her eyes were small. She liked the color but wished they were bigger so they could be seen better. Her hair didn’t have volume despite the constant Charms she casted to make it look more full.

She looked gross.

She turned away, brain already taking a mental image of her appearance, labeling each flaw of her face until she couldn’t see the image anymore. She dug her hands into the hair she hated, tugging at the strands and yelling inside her brain to shut the hell up.

But as usual it didn’t, it just smirked at her as it re-read the list of things wrong with her. She would die before it was finished, the never ending enumeration lasting centuries.

Fat

Stupid

Worthless

Stupid

Dumb

Weird

Stupid

The tears flowed senselessly, her cheeks so raw she couldn’t feel them falling anymore.

“You again? You do know this is the boys bathroom, right? Or are you just dumb. Honestly, all that food going to your head?”

A dark chuckle followed the remark, making her hold her breath at the cold voice behind her. She looked around, noticing it was the boys bathroom, and she didn’t realize before since she was too busy trying to breathe.

She turned around, puffy red teary eyes meeting his.

The smirk seemed to wipe off his face. He took a small step forward, his robes coming into the soft light that was on, causing her to once again see the jam stains. He tried to chuckle nervously to break the tension but he failed miserably.

“Woah, you oka-”

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” She spat, wet lips feeling like she didn’t just lick them, but like water was flowing out of her mouth. Like her lungs were full of water, gurgling her voice as she tried to breathe. Her feet were touching the sandy bottom now, the coldness of the water that never saw daylight chilling her skin in the most intense way. Her toes tried to hopelessly kick off the rocky bottom but she just sank back down, limbs pathetically moving in the liquid around her.

She picked up her bag in her hands, it feeling like a weight in the river that was flooding her body at the moment. She exited the bathroom with quick yet shaky legs, lungs still swollen with pain and the strong desire and need to take a breath.

The Slytherin that was left behind, the boy above the surface and constantly seeing the sun, stood utter less. His feet felt cold on the tile beneath him and his lungs took normal full breaths.

He wanted to walk and rush after the girl, he wanted to bend over the river and touch its surface, hand wanting to feel she desperate fingertips. But she was already at the bottom, so sticking his arm in wouldn’t be of any use.

He wanted to jump in and swim to the bottom, limbs moving as the water got colder against his pale skin, turning it even whiter, but he wouldn’t be able to make it that far down without coming up for a breath.

But he was the reason for her being in the river in the first place, or at least going from being foot deep to being at the bottom, feet grazing the sand.

And yet his feet were glued to the ground, silver eyes dulled over with a light grey, fading his eyesight.

His lips parted for a gentle breath, one he knew she couldn’t take, and picked a spot on the tile to stare at until his brain started up again.

The thorns were piercing his hands, blood already flowing down his wrist, the red looking bright as ever in his pale skin.

His black dress shoes took him through the huffing grass, the air kinda breezy but the colors of plants were nice for his grey eyes. The cement was evermore, row after row in the grassy ground. He knew which one he was looking for, yet not quite the place.

The name in stone was bright and noticeable, for he could recognize something like that from centuries away.

He bent down, knees crackling and elbows resting on the end of his thighs. He first set down the jar in his hand, turning it so he saw the picture of the strawberry to represent what flavor jam it was. He then set down the roses, deep red in color that set free the pain in his hand that he was doing a good job at ignoring.

He huffed before taking a nice long full breath for her, giving her a taste of crisp air that she wasn’t able to experience.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispered, gesturing to the flowers that he set down, the black ribbon around the stems mocking him. “Just like you, loves.”

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!🫶🏻

[hereghostslive]

situations

i was looking through all my wips for the wip word game and found this one i had started writing immediately after 7x04 aired but never finished. said fuck it, and wrote the last few paragraphs just now, and posting it. lol. it's silly.

--

He starts googling immediately. 

He’s not freaking out. He thinks he’s surprised by how much he’s not freaking out but there’s not much time between Tommy closing the door and Buck pulling up the internet to really think about it.

He’s not sure what to type, though. Enters what does kissing a guy mean then deletes. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He knows what it means, obviously. He just doesn’t know what it means. 

Enters can you kiss a guy even if youve dated women. God, of course you can. He’s seen Brooklyn 99. He deletes again. 

He paces. It takes only a few trips back-and-forth across his kitchen when he remembers: Right, the acronym. 

He types lgbt and clicks search. 

Scrolls until he finds wikipedia. And like, he knows wikipedia only scratches the surface, but also, this revelation calls for quick reading. No time for his usual deep dives; his mind is moving fast, too fast to get lost in random facts and trivia. 

The first paragraph reads: “LGBT is an initialism that stands for "lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender". It may refer to anyone who is non-heterosexual, non-heteroromantic, or non-cisgender, instead of exclusively to people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender.” 

Okay … a lot of words he recognizes but nothing that explains his … situation. Is it a situation? Calling it a situation sounds like he’s undermining the experiences of LGBTQ people, and as an ally, he’s not about that.

Still feels like he’s in a situation though. 

There’s another knock at the door. 

Buck’s heart rate picks up even more. What if it’s Tommy again, come back to say he regrets the kiss and that he’s actually busy on Saturday. Oh, god. What if it’s Tommy and he wants to kiss him again? 

Buck thinks he’s okay with that, actually. 

He gulps. Sets his phone down on the counter, and heads to the door, and pulls it open. 

It’s the pizza guy. 

Buck’s caught off guard, having expected Tommy again, and the pizza guy seems frozen, too.

“Do I have the wrong address?” The pizza guy asks.

No, he doesn’t. Buck had ordered pizza before his whole life flipped upside down. But, again, and Buck can’t stress this enough, he’s in A Situation. He’s now forever going to think of this pizza as the pizza he ate after. After the kiss that changed his whole life and made Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy run on a loop inside his head.

He’s about to respond but then he notices the guy wearing a rainbow pin on his jacket. Just his luck.

“I’m having a situation,” he tells the pizza guy, who definitely doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

[viviennevermillion]

With an s/o who is a writer

notes: so we have this now

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia

warnings: none

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.

Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.

He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.

If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.

He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.

If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"

If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"

Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off

You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.

He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.

But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.

"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.

He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.

He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.

He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand. 

He’s not kidding, btw

He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”

Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.

Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.

You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.

Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"

He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.

He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.

Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????

He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.

"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.

He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.

But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.

Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.

Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.

Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion. 

Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter. 

He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though. 

“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.

He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want. 

If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.

He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.

Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day. 

[toxicanonymity]

2024 bookends

Rules: Post the first and last line/paragraph/section/gif/artwork you created 💖

ty for the tag @milla-frenchy . I'm excited to see a tag game that I can't overthink 😅

the narrative (darkish Javi G)

When you show up to Javi's home in the Hollywood hills, you're mildly surprised the car is stopping. It looks like any other skyrise. It's not his main residence, but he has the whole top floor to himself. You’ve refreshed yourself on the task during the ride – Javi Gutierrez is a PR nightmare lately, and he needs to be reminded how to handle press, especially questions about his recent run-ins with the law and ties to his family business.

the air cools (raider Joel)

“Oh. One more thing,” Joel said. “Can't forget the big guy.” Joel eased you off of his lap and stretched before going to the supply closet and retrieving the cushion with the little dip in it. He plopped it onto the floor and bullet came over and sniffed around it, then scratched at the fabric before settling into it. “And,” Joel interrupted himself with a weak sigh. “As long as he don't get on the bed, when it’s rainin’ ya can bring it..” he nodded toward the bedroom. You wrapped your arms tight around Joel and he cradled your head. “Alright,” he said. “I'm gettin’ hungry.”

slasher/horror bookends

Prescott house B&B (ghost Billy Loomis)

For more than 25 years, the old Prescott house was empty and rotting. The last thing the City of Woodsboro wanted was to sensationalize the original murders with a tourist attraction that could inspire copycats. The house changed owners a few times, but the city would never grant permits for renovation, until a charming older couple from out of town bought it with plans to open a bed & breakfast.

Murderbait (landlord Billy Loomis)

He takes his hand from your neck and cups your cheek to whisper, “Good girl.”  He gives your chest another look and drops his hand, incidentally brushing his wrist against your breast before he pulls up his jeans. He bites the aluminum tab and turns to leave without another word. As he walks away, your eyes are drawn to a glock sticking out of the back of his pants. He looks back at you and winks before shutting the door behind himself.  

tagging @dark-scape @iamasaddie @romana-after-dark @thesummerpetrichor @quaritchscupquake @justagalwhowrites @boydholbrook-fan @ilovewhiteroses @toxicbrothel

[braidlottie]

copycat

pairing: professor!matthews x transmasc!student!reader

summary: after your english professor catches you plagiarizing on your latest essay, she gives you a punishment you'll never forget.

tags: smut, nsfw, 18+ (minors dni), BIG age gap (reader is 19, lottie is 40), professor matthews and reader secretly dating!!! this is not just a random hookup lmao, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, handjob/blowjob, professor matthews being mean :((

word count: 1k

"any more questions?" your professor turned around to the class after wiping the board. she got no reply, shrugging and putting her glasses on her head, holding her hair back. "okay! have a good one, everyone!" she excused everyone, watching them put on their backpacks and walk out.

this being your last class today, you were so happy to get home and relax. you can do your homework tomorrow. "hang on, honey. can i talk to you really quick?" professor matthews touched your shoulder, pushing you back down into your seat. "uhh- of course. is everything okay?"

she shut the door, and drew the curtains on the windows. she sucked in a hard breath, sitting back down in her chair. she gestured a "come here" with her fingers, slipping her glasses back on. she pulled out another chair from behind the desk, and you walked over to her. and as you sat down, you saw multiple paragraphs highlighted red. "does this look familiar to you?"

you began to read the hook of the essay, your stomach dropping when you realized it was yours. you turned to your instructor with wide eyes, the feeling finally settling in that you were caught.

"wait! it's not what it looks like." you tried to save yourself, but there was no hope. "it's exactly what it looks like, sweetheart." her hands were crossed, giving you a serious but sympathetic look. "would you like to tell me why you would copy an article and think that you would get away with it? and don't lie to me."

you had never seen this side of lottie before. she was always so kind to you and seeing her so hostile and you being the cause of it, was a little intimidating.

"i-i couldn't think of anything to write, so- i don't know, i just copied that last minute and turned it in." you answered with a pitiful look, and she hummed. "i see. so what you're saying is, i gave you a whole week to write a two page essay and you forged it?" you nodded shamefully.

“such a naughty boy.”

something about that made your cock twitch.

"please don't tell anyone, can you just pass me like you always do?" you were pleading, knowing that plagiarism this serious could get you kicked out of school. "if anything, i should tell someone! i should drop you from this class right now."

regretful tears of shame began to well in your eyes, lottie noticing and sighing. "'m really sorry, lottie. just- don't drop me, please."

she tsks, standing up and holding your chin up. "fine, i won’t say a word to anyone. but i’m not letting you get off scot-free.”

she pulled you up by your shirt, one of her hand on your ass cheek and the other on your belt buckle. she slowly held up your shirt, marveling at your chest. you couldn't believe how fast she loosened your belt with one hand, the buckle jingling as you whined when you realized how embarrassing your boxers were.

"spider-man? really? god, you just get cuter and cuter, don't you?" she shook her head. "i want you to bend over, so i can spank that little ass. you deserve it for being such a bad boy." she forces you over her desk, pulling down your boxers teasingly slow. "lottie.. please..." you looked back at her, squirming when her nails scratched your ass. "you don't have to do this."

"oh, but i do." she smacked your right cheek, getting a loud groan out of you. "and you better stay quiet." lottie noticed how your groans got whinier and desperate after each spank. "i think you actually like this, hmm? you like it when your professor spanks you for being so naughty?" her voice got deeper, her rhythm not skipping a beat. you whined, shaking your head against the wood.

"then, what's this?" her hand swipes up your thigh, collecting the slick dripping into your boxers that you had no knowledge of. "i bet you're hard right now, hmm?" you couldn't even answer, groaning into the desk. she turned you around, your tdick rising from the surprising gust of wind. "aww, look at that," she lifted you up by your thighs, sitting you on the desk. she lifted up the hood, finding your throbbing, pink head. "fuck." you squirmed in her hold.

"ah, ah, don't curse. bad boy." your dick was held in-between her fingers, stroking you up and down. “fu-ahh!” you felt her hand slap over your mouth.

“am i going to have to gag you? be. quiet.”

now that you think about it, you were kind of glad you plagiarized.

you were trying to say something, but your mouth was still covered by lottie. “what was that, sweetie?”

“i want your mouth. please.”

“you want my mouth? where, sweetheart?”

you hated when she made you describe everything so literally, especially during sex.

“c’mon, tell me, baby.”

“you already know.”

“but i want you to tell me.” her hands squeezed around your waist.

“mm- i want your mouth on my cock, please.” lottie grinned at your shyness, soaking up all the adorableness from your embarrassment. “good boy. since you asked so nicely…”

she crouched down, tongue swirling about on your twitching cock, your cunt clenching onto nothing so needily. “lottie…”

“you know that’s not my name here, sweet boy.” she watched your face scrunch up in desperation. “professor… ‘m gonna cum,” you choked out, your thighs trembling from the wet, warm feeling of lottie’s lips sucking you.

“oh, i bet you are. cumming in your professors mouth on her desk? such a dirty little boy.”

you whimpered, so close to the edge.

then all of it just- stopped.

“nononono, please, please, lottie-” you shook your head, crying from the denial. “you didn’t think i was really going to let you cum, right?”

a tear flung from your eye and lottie scoffed, brushing it away with her thumb. “you’re still on punishment, darling.”

she pulled your shirt down and helped you off the desk, pulling your boxers and pants back up. “you better go home, and write that essay, the right way, and have it on my desk as soon as class starts monday. and you better not touch yourself. understand me?”

“yes.”

“yes, what?” she zipped up your pants, kissing your neck.

“yes, professor.”

“there’s my good boy. now run along.” she spanked your stinging bottom once more to send you on your way, watching your legs wobble as you scrambled out of the room.

taglist: @t4tnat @jaywritessometimes @girltwinklater @kessellluvr @lotties-ashwagandha @shipmanisms

[verdicloud]

hello everyone!! happy feburary and welcome to my “jellicle ball appreciation posts” series where i discuss my favourite part of the whole musical! specifically about the 1998 version because, oh boy, my love for this recording of a 10 minute dance break knows no bounds. refer to this video for the names of the different sections of the jellicle ball aaaand let’s begin!!!

jellicle ball appreciation posts :

perfect timing

anyone who’s danced before knows that doing all those moves, especially for more fast paced dances, takes exceptional strength and control to execute them well. in order to have that control, and of course because moving your limbs and getting from one place to another takes time, you sometimes have to sacrifice one extra second to perform the last move before moving on to the next one. for example, watch bombalurina after “arabesque” as she’s getting into place for “warsaw (ecstasy)”. unlike most others, she raises her arms a little late because she has to run into position from the back. although it’s a pretty minor issue, when this happens your performance can appear delayed and you often end up rushing the following move.

so one of the most satisfying things for me to watch as an ex-dancer (besides straight up satisfying dancing which we will talk about in the future) is someone hitting their mark on a dance move perfectly or even a little early. one example of this is, during “slow paws” jemima’s arm movements are completely in time with the music, and she raises her arms perfectly on cue during “arabesque”.

but absolutely nothing scratches this itch more than watching tumblebrutus, or fergus logan, dance. seriously, who gave this man the right to be THAT graceful???? i cannot even express how euphoric it is to watch him during the jellicle ball and i sometimes open the film just to watch him. i genuinely love the “boys ballet” section so much because of him and fergus logan has become one of my favourite dancers in the show, or ever, if not my favourite. and for the same reason (but not the only one) tumblebrutus is also one of my top favourite cats.

when tumble and misto stand up and do their windmill thing during “spikey”, fergus is completely focused on dancing. you can see it on his face. as a result, tumble is eager and ready to do the next move, and it shows because he hits the mark perfectly and my gosh, i hope you guys know how much i wish i could absorb that moment into my soul. and the way he “windmills” is just like, he swings his arms so freely and effortlessly and elegantly and so in time with the music, it’s just so pleasing to watch. compared to jacob brent, who’s more focused on staying in character, which i absolutely don’t blame him for since he has a very important role, but as a result he ends up windmilling a little bit late and rushes the next one. mistoffelees’ dancing has more of his flavour and spark, but tumblebrutus’s movements are just so freaking refined and graceful and everything, and i highly doubt this will be the last time i talk about fergus logan in these posts.

as much as i love these “perfect timing” moments though, i also happen to care a lot about the moments like i mentioned in the first paragraph, because there’s something beautiful about seeing the humanity behind a piece of art, especially in the case of dance and professional dancers. it shows that no matter how fantastical this world is or how impressive the cats’ feats are, these are still actors, human beings, and they make mistakes on stage sometimes too and that’s ok. it just shows how much effort is needed to pull this off and put on a successful show. cats the musical is one of the only pieces of media that i know of, where it can break the immersion in a serious manner (or even unintentionally) and have it make the experience even more magical.

part 2~~

[oneknightstand-if]

As has been mentioned, I've been using it since the very beginning and it's come up in discussion several times on this blog at this point, so I'm giving my current opinions on it as a coding function.

Some parts of the game used it heavily while some parts used it lightly as I tried to determined which way of coding was more time efficient. After using it for two years, I've pretty much come to the conclusion that outside of certain circumstances, widespread use of multireplace is a waste of time for me.

There may be people who can easily parse the wall-of-text paragraphs that multireplace tends to create...

"In some of my worst dreams, I'm stuck in a memory of @{trauma the children of our band being dragged off to the Harrower|the children of our band starving last winter|a dying child|my followers, when…when I failed them|my followers dying|an old comrade dying|someone I had to kill|an old friend trying to kill me|a friend being Harrowed|a helot girl being Harrowed|being inside a Harrower|Plektoi coming for me|Theurges raining fire down on us|being locked in a dungeon|being poisoned|being speared in this arm}."

But those people aren't me.

I end up introducing a butt-load of typos and errors using multireplace that seriously slows down my editing phase (and is also more likely to get past me into the public beta). Most reported spacing issues (missing a space, a space where it shouldn't be) were caused by multireplace.

I also end up wasting time if I start using multireplace as a simple if/else replacement and then decide, no, I actually want to add in more conditionals/flag variables/do something more intricate that multireplace can't do, so have to go back and redo the whole coding from scratch again.

It also hampers the function of Random Test, that if you set up an if/else conditional that's impossible in the game, Random Test can let you know that line is never reached. It can't do the same with multireplace.

Since multireplace only saves vertical space (which is only going to save you a couple kilobytes per file if that) and line length isn't something that's advertised in the published games, time/bug efficiency > spacing efficiency for me.

So outside of preset macros such as pronouns & bond levels for characters, I've been mentally slapping myself to try and get out of the habit of using it over if/else statements at this point.

[possibly-a-table-or-just-gay]

You'll Be Okay Kid, I Swear

Darius barely lifted his gaze enough to see that it was not in fact some insufferable fellow teacher teetering at the threshold to his room but a student, although not one of his own. He recognised him though, the mop of blond hair and black face mask not quite clicking into place until he saw the shiny silver badge pinned to his shirt.

Head boy. That was it.

"Can I help you?" Darius drawled out, his disinterest evident in his tone.

"Um. Well, uh, I can't do this French assignment and Luz has you for Spanish and she told me to come to you-"

(Human Au where legendary lawyer turned French and Spanish teacher Darius Deamonne (no he doesn't know how he made that career change either) becomes attached to a blond traumatised student who is absolutely awful at languages.)

---------------------------------

I wrote most of this in one sitting after reading Mon Horrible Chéri by ghostrat on ao3 and getting really attached to the idea of a teacher Au, so here we are!!!

I have ideas for more chapters, but right now this is all I got. Hope you enjoy!!

----------------------------------

Darius's head was pounding, the scratch of his pen ticking, circling and underlining never-ending lines of I woke up, I brushed my teeth, I ate my breakfast  not aiding his headache in the slightest. His fault for assigning three paragraphs from every student, he supposed.

A hesitant knock on his classroom door sent his train of thought grinding to a halt, being replaced with a haphazard tornado of insults for whatever colleague thought it appropriate to bother him after hours.

"You can come in."

Darius barely lifted his gaze enough to see that it was not in fact some insufferable fellow teacher teetering at the threshold to his room but a student, although not one of his own. He recognised him though, the mop of blond hair and black face mask not quite clicking into place until he saw the shiny silver badge pinned to his shirt. Head boy. That was it.

"Can I help you?" Darius drawled out, his disinterest evident in his tone.

"Um. Well, uh, I can't do this French assignment and Luz has you for Spanish and she told me to come to you-"

Ah yes. Luz Noceda, 2C, third row. He liked her mother, the woman knew how to pick a good bottle of wine (he thought fondly of the bottle of Pinot Noir he received after Luz got a perfect exam result last Christmas).

Darius refocused his attention back to the student in front of him, and the well thumbed sheet of paper in his hands.

"I'm not a tutor."

The boy's face dropped as he began fidgeting with the corners of the page.

"Right. Yes, I know that, it's just- well if I fail another foreign language exam I can't be Head Boy anymore a-and if I lose my position my uncle-"

Darius noted the way the kid picked at the seams of his jumper, his face ashen with dread in a manner he had seen many times before in his students the morning of exams, although this kid in particular looked like he might crumble into a thousand pieces at the drop of a pin. He was studying the floor as though if he looked hard enough, it would swallow him whole.

Christ almighty. He sighed, shuffling the pages off the table and held out a hand expectantly. He wasn't going to finish grading all of those now anyway.

The kid shifted his gaze to Darius's outstretched arm, staring at it like a deer in headlights for perhaps a second too long before snapping out of it and handing him the assignment.

Darius examined the paper for a second, immediately recognising Mrs Hallsted's illegible handwriting. The old bat still hadn't figured out the printer, instead continuing writing out 20 worksheets by hand.

Beneath the other French teacher's scrawled instructions, it was clear the student had written, crossed out and rewritten his answers about fifty times, explaining the paper's condition and rendering it unusable.

Pulling out a fresh sheet from a drawer in his desk, Darius picked up his pen and began writing the assignment title and date in impeccable cursive, pausing for a second when he remembered he had forgotten a rather crucial detail.

"What's your name?

"Hunter."

Darius resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hunter what?"

"Oh, uh, Hunter Wittebane."

Wittebane. Hm. The name was familiar, and not from the boy it was attached to. No, Darius felt like he had heard that name before, in a past life. He shrugged it off, adding Hunter Wittebane to the top of the page.

"Right, so this all looks fairly manageable, if a bit cryptic. Where are you getting caught?"

Hunter leaned over the desk, his brow furrowing as he attempted to read the paper upside-down. Darius waved a hand over his shoulder, indicating for Hunter to move behind the desk. He followed suit, pointing hesitantly at the first question, the letters barely distinguishable from eachother in Mrs Hallsted's poor penmanship.

"I didn't know how to format the answer."

Clicking his tongue, Darius rewrote the question again, explaining as he went.

"So since the question is asking for an account, you can leave out the name, date, address etc," he began, tapping a crossed out scribble on Hunter's page with the end of his pen. "What you'll need to start with is a general statement, remember you're trying to show off your ability to understand tone as well as your grasp on the language."

Hunter nodded, taking it all in as Darius described the difference between formal and informal vocabulary in clear detail.

"You should be able to figure this all out with a good set of notes, Mrs Hallsted did give you some, right?"

"Yes, she did, I don't really understand them though."

Darius nodded, reaching into his desk drawer to retrieve a fresh set of notes. Pulling out a highlighter, he gestured for Hunter's attention and started marking out sections of text.

"This is all stuff I recommend just rote learning, it's not ideal but you're better off just having it memorised. Here," Darius continued, circling a title in purple highlighter, "are the grammatical rules, and the exceptions which again, I would just learn off."

He noticed Hunter nodding along in the corner of his eye, his eyes gleaming with new-found understanding. The clear explanations were definitely doing something for his demeanour, his fingertips tapping on the desk in excitement rather than anxiety.

"These are just examples of formats, and here's just a worksheet if you need it when you're studying. The front is all short refresher questions and the back has the complicated stuff that needs lengthy answers," Darius finished, stapling the pages together and handing them to Hunter with a flourish. "Is that okay?"

Taking the notes from his hands, Hunter did one last flick through before nodding again, his thank you muffled by the face mask.

Darius waved him out, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh and Hunter?"

The student in question paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Tell me how you got on, when you get the chance?"

Hunter's expression changed, a lopsided smile forming under his mask from the way his eyes crinkled. He gave one last awkward wave before disappearing into the hall, leaving Darius to the pile of papers on his desk, which he was debating putting off just one more day.

--------------------------------

:DDDDD

Take none of the advice I wrote here to heart by the way, I made all of it up on the spot.

This was mostly written to lament about my hatred for French and unclear instructions but instead now we have my first ever published Dadrius fic!!!!!

If you liked it please let me know, I am but a simple lad that needs constant attention or I explode/j

---------------------------------

[wanderingaldecaldo]

2025 Writing Resolutions

I'm not usually one for resolutions but I've been kicking around the idea of having some writing goals after the post I shared last week, and came up with a few that are feasible:

Finish the first draft for one (or both!) of the stories I started last year in new-to-me fandoms

Edit and post the Presidential PWP

Finish the DA:I Blackwall fic that's been 95% complete for years

Daily 15min sprint

Some personal musings about writing (and reading) and WIPs under the cut.

Last fall I lost my Cyberpunk hyperfixation but, after three years of nonstop Val and Mitch (and Rosalind) through VP and modding, it's been a boon to my writing, and once more I'm reminded why I love hate one of my oldest hobbies. I really wish I could reassure my younger self that actually, no, I'll never run out of things to write.

Over my tumblr break, I rewatched the whole Daniel Craig Bond series, all because I really wanted to watch Skyfall, my fave of the entire franchise. Something new happened this time around as I watched the films — Judi Dench and Daniel Craig's chemistry gripped me by the throat and wouldn't let go.

I'm not generally one to visit AO3 (or ff.net back in the day) after consuming a piece of media; I could list out the ones that have on two hands, and still have several fingers left over, even with including the new ones mentioned here.

This time, I was lucky to have found a ship with a backlog of fics to work through. For weeks I read fics, and rewatched their scenes ad nauseam, ever thankful I'd bought the 4-disc set and wasn't reliant having the correct streaming service. Eventually inspiration struck and I started what I thought would be a oneshot. But where there's a WIP there's always more ideas lurking around the corner, and suddenly the oneshot developed into two chapters, with the second spinning quickly into a third.

Over the course of a two-week head cold that knocked out all writing aspirations, I binged all of Ted Lasso and became enamored with the characters and themes, but especially the relationship between Ted and Rebecca. As I watched, I didn't know the status of the show; in fact I had assumed season 4 was in the works. :sad trombone: No slow burn for me. After I finished it, I wanted to rewatch it immediately but decided not to; I wanted to sit with it first, to let it digest. I really didn't think I'd reach the AO3 stage — usually it's like the proverbial bolt of lightning that strikes quickly — but this time, appropriately, it was the friends-to-lovers trope that I adore.

Again, I was lucky to find a veritable treasure trove of fics. I wasn't the only one who wanted more of those two, and again, I found myself inspired with an idea that was two lines of dialog and half a scene held together with spit and twine, and since then it's spaghettied into —yes, you guessed it — three chapters.

Neither of them are anywhere close to being shitty first drafts; they're hand-scratched pages written over consecutive nights where I wrote seven sentences, or maybe seven words or even paragraphs, before nodding off over the notebook. The 00M fic has 2k words transcribed, and that's just the first half of the first chapter, while the rest is mostly vibes and smut, and now there's a fourth chapter, because of course there is. The tedbecca has less than a quarter of that, but it's at least all transcribed now.

Enter Cyberpunk 2.2 and remaking Val and falling in love with this stupid kleptopunk streetrat all over again. Glory shared a "what AO3 tag are you" quiz and I got "only one bed" and said it was ironic since I'd never written one, and she jokingly (???) challenged me to change that. Welp, friends, my brain couldn't stop poking at that and now I have an idea for a new fic featuring fan fave "only one bed" trope, and also a fix-it, another first. Usually I am content to leave canon as is and play within the margins and behind-the-scenes of what we're given, though maybe I will add my own touch to scenes; but I always felt that Driss's death was cheap and easy to avoid. Maybe if we'd been given an actual RPG with real choices, it could have been, but that's a topic for a different rant.

And with the reignited love for Cyberpunk, plus the desire to mark things off my to-do list, I opened the Presidential PWP tonight when I was going through my folders, and my god, it happened — I'd forgotten it! I read a few paragraphs and decided I need to save the reread for another night when I can read it uninterrupted and take fresh notes on it. Probably should recruit a beta, too.

Another very long standing to-do is the Blackwall fic. I started it in maybe 2015, and worked on it off-and-on for a couple of years alongside a ME Shakarian/Shaeed love triangle (don't at me), trading off between them as the hyperfixations switched back and forth. The Blackwall fic is a true oneshot and has been waiting on an ending for for 6+ years now. It's literally 95% done, and I fucking adore it so much, and just need to Write It, and get that draft out the door (and maybe to a beta? idk, we'll see).

So that gets to the last resolution — this is the one that I know I'll fail in that I won't do it daily; I will miss days. But it's an aspirational goal, and I know firsthand how beneficial writing daily is, even if I only get a few words out of it. It still gets the ol' compost bin in my brain going in the background, churning all those ideas and thoughts into more WIPs.

I've also been thinking about the why. Writing is one of my oldest hobbies, following reading and video games. Returning to the Cyberpunk setting runs the risk of me picking up VP and modding again, newer hobbies that offer faster and more immediate feedback from other fans; hobbies that I know will cut into both my desire to write and my free time. By writing out my... writing resolutions, it will be easier to remember my priorities for the year.

Rat asked about our writing accomplishments in 2024. I answered that I wrote four new characters in two new-to-me fandoms, and that I let myself move from projects as did my interest without guilt. Now, it feels freeing to have four fandoms and a dozen stories to choose between when I want to write, but I will say the color-coded notebooks are getting hard to keep track of.

[neovillains]

omg wait incoming rant talk

your level of coolness is actually so unreal, and i need you to know that. like, first of all, i GEEKED out on the fact that you made a catnoir!gojo x reader series??? you executed it SO PERFECTLYY HELLO??? but it's not even just that series ! all of your series hits so hard. all of them are just so alive ! it goes from making me giggle and kick my feet to absolutely CRUSHING me in the span of a few paragraphs. it's deadass witchcraft or something

and don't even get me started on your graphics OMG the writing alone is already tough asf but then you add visuals on top of it and it looks soosoo good

LIKE everything in general wowhwee ! your pinned, your banner, your series, i'm tired i forgot i was gonna say BUT YGM

your whole ass blog and masterlist in general is soo cool i'm dead on the floor btw

wait i was gonna add more but i'm about to fall asleep i forgot everything i was gonna write SORRY HELP you are very cool in general

do you want to... perhaps... rub tips together ??? no because i read this last night and just had to hoard this for a little while because this is so sweet ??? i take so much pride in my work and writing that this really just makes me tear up every time i go back to read this. thank you so much !! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH !!

im really glad u like the chat noir series so far because i worry that im not executing it right and im so happy that youre enjoying it 🥺 after i finish the gilf series and get halfway into this android gojo fic im writing imma start on part two uwu illeesum so bad !!

and gosh i love to toot my own horn on the edits i make from scratch. my blog theme and my virgin nanami wiki banner are my babies fr and i take a lot of pride in them so thank you so much !!

[tumblezwei]

Bear with me I'm about to go insane for a few paragraphs.

Actually scratch that I meant a lot of paragraphs, because this became so much longer than I intended.

A thing that Honkai Star Rail is utterly obsessed with doing is masking the involvement of Aeons in certain events or encounters with their own personal symbolic language. If you read a piece of text and it mentions amber or constructing walls, for example, you can be pretty confident that it's referencing Qilpoth. Similarly, mentions of flapping wings, multicolored material, or things smelling of fruit is likely in reference to Tayzzyronth.

The Swarm Disaster in particular is rife with this shit. You can drive yourself insane reading through Trailblaze Secrets trying to parse through whether this line is meant to refer to something, or if you've been staring for way too long and need to slow down. In particular you can drive yourself insane looking for references to Terminus the Finality.

Terminus in kind of annoying because they don't have an entry in the Data Bank, but they are referenced well enough that we know a decent cursory amount about them. The main facts being that they somehow exist and move backwards in time, they are currently asleep and murmur prophecies, and they have two factions: the Omen Vanguard and the Creed Exequy.

The symbols we can generally look out for when it comes to Finality are concepts of time moving backward, prophecies, and, of course, references to "finality."

And to add more context to what I'm about to say, I have to mention that the Finality is all over the Swarm Disaster (so is HooH the Equilibrium but I don't care about them right now). In one of the Trailblaze Secrets we learn than an Omen Vanguard managed to hear and decode part of the prophecy murmured by Terminus and tried to spread that prophecy to members of the genius Society, but all who learned of it were killed by Polka Kakamond along with the Omen Vanguard. And like, the same part has Finality prophesying Tayzzyronth's death, which maybe implies that this prophecy is what caused the whole Swarm Disaster in the first place. But I'm also not a great theorycrafter so take that with a massive grain of salt.

The point for this post being, Terminus is connected to Tazzyronth in terms of their possible role in the Swarm Disaster.

Why bring all of this up? Because I watched "the "Fables About the Stars" again.

This trailer is unique among the many Hoyo have put out because it's one of the best jumping off points we have to sorting out the different symbols and motifs used by the Aeons featured in it. One of whom is mentioned three separate times without being explicitly shown. And I bet you can guess who.

The final minute of the trailer, after the Harmony, we get a rush of lines and images about the unplayable Aeons that are likely important to HSR's story. The images and titles that flash by are, in order, Aha the Elation, Ouroboros the Voracity, Idrila the Beauty, Tayzzronth the Propagation, Mythus the Enigmata, HooH the Equilibrium, Fuli the Remembrance, and finally, Akivili the Trailblaze.

"But that's weird," you think. "Where are those mentions of the Finality you talked about?" And that, my fellow mentally ill friends, is where this gets fun for me. Because when you turn on closed captions for that video, almost each reference to an Aeon that Black Swan says is accompanied by another phrase in parenthesis. No other Aeon earlier in the video gets this, it's just the Aeons in that last minute.

Now, some of these are in reference to the Aeon that the line in Black Swan's poem is referring to. But others, in my opinion, are referring to one Aeon in particular.

Aha -

Ouroboros -

Tazzyronth -

Mythus -

The first reference to Finality I think appears is right after "the mariner's intemperance" with this line:

"End of All Things" seems pretty Finality-coded to me. Why they are referred to as "the infant" I can't tell you. maybe something to do with how they exist backwards in time. Much like the prophecy given on Tayzzronth, perhaps Finality's existence predates their birth. Another strange aspect of this line is it's transition into Idrila, who doesn't seem to get a reference at all. The glass shattering into their title might imply that they are "the mirror," something suported by the fact that one of The Beauty's factions is called the Mirror Holders, but I don't really know enough to be confident about that. Considering Idrila is one of the missing Aeons, we can maybe take this line as a hint that Finality also had a role in Idrila's disappearance.

The next reference I've already shown. Just after Idrila we have the line introducing the Propagation, and the phrase (as they enter the dream (Consciousness)." If my ramblings about the Swarm Disaster previously were coherent enough, you might have already connected the dots on this one. If Terminus was indeed responsible for Tayzzronth's ascent to Aeonhood, then this line can be ready fairly literally. To put it in less flowery words: "Listen to the Propagation as it spawns into existence."

The third reference is thus:

Now, "the shapeless prince" is a reference to HooH, of that I'm....mostly certain. And what makes me the most certain is the next phrase "Against the Current." The concept of "currents" being another fun little symbolic reference to Terminus.

Reading more into the Swarm Disaster, you can also begin to see that HooH, alongside Ena the Order, is greatly involved in the Propagation's demise. Tayzzronth's appearance disrupted the equilibrium of the universe, and obviously that's HooH's whole shtick. So Terminus (who flows backwards in time) murmurs a prophecy that spawns Tayzzronth into existence, and HooH (Against the Current) participates in Tayzzronth's destruction. You see what I mean?

And that's. Really it. As a closing note, you know what else is fun? Outside of Idrila (maybe, neither I nor the other lore enthusiasts I follow have quite parsed that out), each Aeon mentioned in that last minute of the Fables About the Stars trailer has a role in the Swarm Disaster. Aha, of course, was one of the key players who was brought on by Ena and further recruited Akivili for help. Ouroboros was created because of the Swarm Disaster. Followers of the Enigmata are mentioned creating false histories of the disaster (this one is my personal theory). HooH as previously explained. And Fuli because of this one particular Trailblaze Secret which might have been about Akivili falling into IX and Fuli grabbing their memories before they were consumed, but honestly this post is long enough and I'll explain that one later if people are interested.

But uh, yeah. The Swarm Disaster has made me go a little nuts and so has the Finality.

[celeluwhenfics]

How I got over an epic description block

Okay, so I wanted to write more about how I got over the massive writer’s block that held me back when I was working on chapter 2 of pHORSEuasion - I’m squeezing in this last bit of thoughts about chapter 2 before chapter 3 comes out later this week! I don’t pretend in any way to be in a position to give writing advice, but I struggled so much with this, and had such a satisfying “aha!” moment when it finally came together, that I thought, well, maybe it’s worth a little author note! So here we go. I had long agonized over, and procrastinated, writing the whole moment when Rowena is seeing the Golden Hall in Edoras for the first time. I struggled and made a million notes and outlines and drafts. I’ve probably watched every gif from those scenes in the movies a hundred times, taking note of every detail, and researched all the pictures from the set and fanart I could find. I drew little plans of the hall, tried to visualize walking there, banged my head, wrote bits and pieces, banged my head some more, etc. I also kept going back to Tolkien’s paragraphs describing Meduseld when the Three Hunters and Gandalf arrive. How could I convey the beauty shown in the movie? And how could I wrote what Tolkien already described so masterfully, without just giving up and copy-pasting the paragraphs in question? But also, every single one of my readers knows what it looks like, so why bother, why not just jump right into the action? Furthermore, Austen never describes anything at length, so why torture myself so when there are so many ways to go around it? But I had a gut feeling that there was something to say about that place, and I couldn’t just skip over it. I spent several weeks of agony tweaking over and over all the bits of dialogue that had been ready for months (and the FUCK HE’S HOT passage, let’s be honest), while leaving the whole introduction part blank or just in a state of word-vomit. @emmanuellececchi took a look at it at that point (I’m really sorry about the state of things she had to endure), and basically told me, make sure you don’t just info-dump in that part of the chapter! Which was a very fair critique, and left me scratching my head even more. Description can be so boring and lifeless, and nobody wants to read that.

It turns out that I was thinking about it entirely wrong, in trying to write something artificially “original” and different from Tolkien’s paragraph when describing what we all know Meduseld looks like. The objective looks of the place don’t matter at all.

We have to see the hall through Rowena’s eyes.

Description has to come from an emotion.

🤯

When we get Tolkien’s description, it’s from a very detached, disinterested point of view: Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli. They’re busy, they’re exhausted, they’re in a hurry. Aragorn and Gandalf have been there before and know some of the lore of Rohan. Legolas and Gimli are, uh, more or less clueless tourists. They do notice a tapestry depicting Eorl and Félarof, and Aragorn even takes time to explain who it is.

Therefore we get a paragraph of MAGNIFICENT prose, from the point of view of four people entering a very nice building, but they don’t relate to it on a personal basis. There is a sense of foreigness, of curiosity for a deep history of which they’re just scratching the surface. Which is what it’s supposed to convey! But Rowena is in an entirely different position, therefore even if it were an acceptable thing to do, and even if she enters and sees the exact same thing as the Three Hunters and Gandalf a couple months before them, copying the Tolkien's paragraph wouldn’t have worked.

Although she’s a Rohirrim born in a higher class, Rowena has never been to Edoras. She was raised in Aldburg, travel distances are long, there are troubles in the country, and with her family disgraced just as she was coming of age, she never had the opportunity to visit and be introduced at court. But even though Rowena is also stepping in the hall for the first time, unlike the Three hunters, she already has a rich relationship to the hall: she grew up with songs, tales and legends about it, and many people she knows have been there and told her about it.

Realizing this crucial difference in point of view, I was able to ask myself: what does she see when she walks in the hall? How does she feel? What does she notice? How does she relate to that mythical place? How does it meet her expectations? What surprises her?

I thought of my first visit to Paris at 17, after having read Molière, Victor Hugo, Balzac, Berlioz, Gautier, and heard Trenet, Piaf, Lully, Pérotin, Satie, Debussy, and so many others, for as long as I could remember. What does it feel like to finally see for the first time the very centre of the culture you’ve been soaking in for your entire life? (Although admittedly I was just a gawking tourist in very well preserved historical monuments.)

And that’s how I came to what is her train of thought as she walks in, and looks around. In the tapestries, she sees the glory of the heroes of all her favorite stories yellowing and gathering dust. Dust she also sees in the cracks of the floor, where there has been so many legendary balls. Bottles of medicine cover the famous table of the old kings. She’s looking for reassurance of the standing her family used to have, and she finds none.

Lines of songs are coming back to her in quick succession, and I tried something to that effect in the form of the writing and syntax (you tell me if it worked…) In this sentence at the end of the passage: “The hustle of crowds, the songs and laughter, the hollers of victory, the challenges, the jest, the dances and war cries, the hands on the harpstrings, the great red fires glowing, they all had passed like rain on the mountain.” I’m very closely echoing the famous Lament of the Rohirrim “Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?/(…)/They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow”. The goal of this referencing a song that the reader knows, is to make them suspicious that other songs from the deep past of Rohan, which have not made their way into LotR. For example these sentences a bit earlier: “He had called for it to be blessed by the winds of the prairies, the snows of the summits and the rays of the raising sun every morning until the world would sink.” “She had pictured the famed beauty of Lady Léofaen, daughter of Brytta King, dancing on the hall's dais in skirts of gold and green, laughing before her many suitors, until one of them, a humble shepherd blessed by Béma, offered her a horse like the wind, a sword like lighting, a shield like the full moon, and a kiss sweet like the first fruit of summer.” I normally wouldn’t write such long, somewhat choppy and repetitive sentences! Perhaps because Rowena is recalling lines of a song and mixing them vaguely in her thoughts? I’m nowhere learned enough to play incorporating with meter and rhyme into prose like Tolkien did on many occasions, but I would have use that tool if I had it in my toolbox in this case!

As some commenters have noticed, a key idea of the whole scene is the contrast between her memories, imaginations and expectations (a glorious past, heroes, crowds, noise, splendour) and the current reality (silence, dust, emptyness, decay).

Once these simple concepts were clear to me, I literally sat down and wrote the 950 words of her entrance in the hall (including all the queens and ladies discussed here!) in one shot, by hand. What appeared on the page then was just lightly edited to become what you read in chapter 2.

Description had to come from emotion. I had to describe the setting through Rowena’s eyes.

It’s quite simple and perhaps obvious to more experienced writers, but I wish I had understood that earlier, but better late than never!