#there's a third thing i was going to add to this but i don't remember what

[galaxiasgreen]

⛅💗Nippy

Fluffy Ominis x F!Muggle-born!Reader [T-Rated, 1.5k]

He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.

It's cold on the way back from Hogsmeade, and you forgot your jumper.

A/N: This is a scene from Troublesome and Unladylike Chapter 2, but it’s edited to work standalone. Jumper-sharing trope, Oh No He's Hot, banter and fluff ahoy. Reader is Gibby, but no prior reading is required. Enjoy <3

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

It was during third year that something about Ominis changed for you.

It wasn't a particularly warm day that March weekend, so it was a mistake on your part to go to Hogsmeade with him and Sebastian, late that Sunday without a proper cardigan. The afternoon had deceived you, the sun whispering against your skin, and by the time you'd bought everything but your usual stash of sweets, a swathe of clouds had rolled in, a grey ribbon across the sky.

"What do you mean, the essay was twenty inches?" Sebastian crossed his arms. "You're pranking me."

"It was twenty, Sebastian," said Ominis, exasperated. "I told you it was twenty."

You nudged your head towards Honeydukes. "Okay! Just to replenish my midnight snacks—"

"You said it was ten!"

"I specifically remember saying add another ten."

Sebastian said a word you could not repeat. "It's due first thing in the morning. Blast it. I better go back. Can I take a look at yours?"

"So you can copy it? I don't think so."

"I wouldn't copy it. Just... take inspiration from it. Verbatim."

He made the approximation of a glare, and Sebastian, wincing, turned to you with a desperate gleam in his eye.

"Gibby? Please?"

"Sure!" you chirruped. "But only if you're okay with a mediocre-to-dreadful Potions score!"

Sebastian threw up his arms in exasperation. "You two, honestly. I'll ask Anne."

When he hurried off, back to the carriages, Ominis snorted. "You're very secure in your mediocrity."

"It's one of my best traits."

To that he laughed. "Very well then. Honeydukes?"

By the time you came back out, armed to the teeth in your weekly supply of cherry pops, Fizzing Whizzbees and rock, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and a sharp wind sliced through the village. It only exacerbated by the time you stepped out of Hogsmeade.

Where there were no carriages.

"Fiddlesticks," you muttered. "We must have missed the last one."

His lips buttoned in displeasure. "Makes sense. You took a profoundly longtime deciding between cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties."

"It's a hard choice to make."

"Well, now we're going to have a hard walk."

About an hour, down the meandering path back to Hogwarts. Ominis gathered his belongings and headed off, wand drawn for navigation, and you scrambled to catch up.

As the chill deepened, the canopy snuffing the coming rays of the moon, you kept close to his side, aware of his warmth.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"For taking so long in Honeydukes."

He scoffed, not seeming particularly annoyed, albeit a little inconvenienced. "I know you well enough now to know you cannot be rushed in there. And I could've left you if I wanted. I just decided not to because I am a good person."

"My papa says if you have to tell people you're a good person, then you're not a good person." Teasing filled your voice. "I guess that makes you really quite terrible."

"Oh, yes, waiting for you. How rotten."

"Suppose I could give you the Good Person award. You just have to admit how amazing I am."

"Only a Good Person can bestow the Good Person Award, so I'm afraid you don't qualify."

"I take offence to that. I'm spectacular."

"Incredible how you manage to be simultaneously spectacular and mediocre."

"Hey!"

He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.

Your gaze unwittingly travelled down the column of his neck. He'd grown taller since you'd known him too, lean in the way a river meanders, lazy in its strength. Sturdy biceps were hidden within woollen sleeves – not muscular, but not flimsy, either, you knew from when Sebastian cast a Shrinking charm on his shirt once. The Gaunt family were all inbred, generations of parents and grandparents that were cousins, so Ominis was a product of centuries of incest – but aside from his eye condition, and his somewhat ropey gait, there were no physical indicators of poor health.

He was... arrestingly exquisite.

Oh. You blinked. Why am I thinking that?

"What's the matter?" he asked suddenly.

You flushed. "Hmm? What? What do you mean?"

"You're quiet. That's never good."

"I— can be quiet," you said, a little breathless. "I'm... thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

You swatted him, and he smiled lightly.

"Dare I ask what occupies your mind?"

How good-looking you are. "Sweets."

A tsk. "I don't know what else I expected."

You fell into companionable silence, but now something had shifted in your stomach – something that drew your eye back to his profile again, drinking in the details, the beauty marks, the even jaw, finely slashed, the quirk of his smile—

You stumbled suddenly, toe hitting a jutting rock. You flailed your arms, bags rattling, before you managed to right yourself – and noticed how he'd reached out, ready to catch you if you fell. Ever the gentleman.

"Careful," he warned.

"Yes, sorry, too busy staring at— the view."

The view being you. You forced yourself to watch your feet, frustrated. Stop staring. It was terribly perverse to take advantage of him when he couldn't see, not to mention impolite and very unbecoming of a lady.

"You're quiet again."

"Sorry, sorry," you said automatically. You hoisted your bags to wrap your arms around yourself. "Just— trying to stay warm."

"You're cold?"

"It's a little nippy."

"Nippy?"

"Sorry, Muggle thing— I mean chilly."

More than that now. The sun had dipped, leaving a paint stroke of indigo in its wake. Hogwarts was in view, but it seemed no closer, the path winding and long. You hadn't even passed the balcony yet, where all the older students hung around to do lewd things... like holding hands (that had been quite the shock when you first got here).

Ominis sighed. "You should've brought a jumper."

"I know. I'm silly."

"Tell me something I don't know."

You halted to put your bags down and pull your shirt sleeves over your hands. "I'll be okay. I'll jog it!"

A ruffle of fabric pulled your head back up. Ominis had pocketed his wand, sticking out of his trouser leg, and was shucking his jumper. The shirt beneath it caught, flashing his midriff when he pulled the wool off – you flushed an even deeper colour when he offered it to you.

"W-What are you doing?"

"It's cold," he said, like it was obvious. "You can borrow this."

"But— then you'll get cold."

"I'll be fine." He shook it again. "Take it before I change my mind."

The wool was coarse, a dark green with the Slytherin insignia emblazoned on the breast, but warm – warm from his body. Great Scott. You scrunched it before sliding it over yourself, and of course it was too big, drowning you, but it was the scent that disorientated you worse than a Confundus charm. Ominis never bothered to use cologne, preferring some scentless soap, but still it smelt of him. Sweat and wood and an oily lotion. When you finally pulled your arms through the sleeves and your head through the neck hole, glasses askew, you were dizzy with it.

Lord have mercy. Your gaze flickered to him – he'd picked up your bags of sweets with one arm. One well-defined arm.

"Let's go."

You could barely swallow. What on earth is wrong with me? But your heart was pounding, your ears ringing. He turned away to go, but he was also surrounding you, invading your thoughts with zero intention to leave.

If you were a Muggle, your mama would've thought to bring you to church with an agenda by now, introducing you to boys of similar age in hopes that later in life you'd find a match, marry, and start a family. When you were younger, the local baker's son Timothy liked to joke you could marry each other, an easy escape from the societal obligation to court. You'd agreed as all children do, appalled at the idea of parading around to search for a husband.

Magical folk didn't follow those same customs – strange as it was to adjust – but that didn't mean you didn't think about the future, about marriage. That, one day you might like to have a family. That it would be nice to marry someone of your choosing, someone both handsome and kind.

Someone like Ominis Gaunt.

Oh no, no, no, you thought. Please do not take a fancy to your best friend.

But by then, it was too late.

"Thank—" your voice came out as a croak, and you tried again. "Thank you for this."

He slowed about two strides away. "Bring a jumper next time."

"I will."

"Mean it."

"I do mean it!"

He smiled again, and your heart bounced. "We'll see."

Please reblog/ share if you enjoyed <3

[read Troublesome and Unladylike on AO3, Wattpad] [Divider credit]

[giantkillerjack]

Anastasia the Musical sucks so bad. They really said "We're gonna cut the best song from the movie - just axe the absolute banger that is 'In the Dark of the Night' - because we are being SERIOUS and GROWN-UP now. We are A Big Historical Realism Musical Now. This is FOR REAL, okay!? We don't have a SILLY villain like Rasputin! We have Gleb! [Please Just Clap.] We are HISTORICALLY GROUNDED. -- Anyway, here's a musical unironically glorifying the Russian monarchy~~ 💖😌💖😌💖😌💖"

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

Listening to Maintenance Phase and hearing over and over, paraphrased:

This drug/diet/etc doesn't work unless you literally commit to it for the rest of your life

Once you go off the diet, your body will regain the weight because it's trying to not starve

The science behind this drug/diet was backed by drug/diet companies to make it seem like it worked better than it actually did

There were extreme side effects to using [insert drug name], but people used it because they feared being fat so badly

The [low calorie] food was marketed as such so that people wouldn't feel "guilty" when they ate more of it (and therefore bought more of the food to overcompensate)

The cost of the diet and healthcare industry being so fatphobic and fearmongering is much more expensive (and generates so much more money for the above industries!) than more helpful, universal solutions (covering health care for everyone, having free food for kids at schools, accepting that some people are just naturally fat and that's okay and normal, etc)

The data of [diet or weight loss drug] was not accurate and/or overblown and/or a bad sample size and/or proven to not actually work and they sold it anyway

and re-reading Thick and thinking about these passages:

“This is the violence of gender that happens to all of us in slightly different ways. I am talking about a kind of capital. It is not just the preferences of a too-tall boy [who prefers Olivia Newton-John in Grease], but the way authority validates his preferences as normal. I had high school boyfriends. I had a social circle. I had evidence that I was valuable in certain contexts. But I had also parsed that there was something powerful about blondness, thinness, flatness, and gaps between thighs. And that power was the context against which all others defined themselves. That was beauty. And while few young women in high school could say they felt like they lived up to beauty, only the nonwhite girls could never be beautiful. That is because beauty isn't actually what you look like; beauty is the preferences that reproduce the existing social order. What is beautiful is whatever will keep weekend lake parties safe from strange darker people.

Whiteness is a violent sociocultural regime legitimized by property to always make clear who is black by fastidiously delineating who is officially white. It would stand to reason that beauty's ultimate function is to exclude blackness. That beauty also violently conditions white women and symbolically precludes the existence of gender nonconforming people is a bonus. Some of the white girls I went to high school with may not have been beautiful. They may be thin when they should be fit or narrow of jaw when it should be strong. But, should power need them to be, social, economic, and political forces could make those girls beautiful by reshaping social norms. As long as the beautiful people are white, what is beautiful at any given time can be renegotiated without redistributing capital from white to nonwhite people.

As others have noted, Wolf does not do much work on how economic and political conditions produce a white hegemonic body as the ultimate expression of beauty. More precisely, Wolf demonstrates that as the sociopolitical context of whiteness—the political, state-sanctioned regime— tussles with historical forces like falling stock markets, mass media, suburbanization, and war, it will reshape an acceptable beauty standard for women that adjusts for body types, but never for body color. That was not Wolf's argument, but the absence of such a critique rather proves the point: beauty is for white women. It is a white woman's problem, if you are a feminist, or a white woman's grace, if you are something else not feminist. Beauty, in a meme or in the beauty myth, only holds as a meaningful cultural artifact through which we can examine politics, economics, and laws, and identity if we all share the assumption that beauty is precisely because it excludes nonwhite women.”

[alltimefail]

ATTENTION DEAD BOYS FANDOM:

We have some unfinished business and a case to solve: The Case of the Curious Cancellation! 💀🔎

Here are the ways you can help (be sure to read until the end).

I'm not sure how many people here on Tumblr are also over on DBDA Twitter, but there have been MANY developments in the last 24 hours and it's important for all of us to be on the same page if we're going to have a chance in hell of saving our show.

First and foremost, we need to get Dead Boy Detectives in the Netflix Top 10 again. This means running it as much as possible. Read about that below:

(SOURCE x)

As the graphic says, the goal is to have it running on a loop constantly, as much as you physically can. Be sure to have some level of volume on or else it won't count. If you're on Twitter be sure to post your rewatch (photos of your tv, commentary, etc.) with the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives !!!

Also, there's no better time to do this: the Tweet below brings up a great point! 👍

(SOURCE x)

Second, and easiest thing: KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE SHOW AND CREATING CONTENT ABOUT THE SHOW. Analysis, fics, fanart, shitposts, gif sets, memes, tik tok videos, so on - do not stop! Reblog other people's stuff and talk about it! Give fics kudos, comment, make fic rec lists and post that WIP or sketch! The most important thing to remember is to TAG YOUR POSTS AND CREATIONS. We need to trend!!! On Tumblr make sure you continue tagging your posts as you probably already are (look at my tags on this post if you need help, and remember not to use "DBD" on here because that is another fandom! We use DBDA here). On Twitter you want to use the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives for the rewatch and #SaveDeadBoyDetectives is a popular one, too. You can also use #DeadBoyDetectives. Hell, I usually use all three if I can! Hashtag every post you make about Dead Boys, no matter how annoying or "cringe" you may feel. Flood the fucking tag and do not stop.

Third, everyone needs to sign and keep circulating the petition. We've surpassed 5,000 signatures in a day which is fantastic, but we need more. Get everyone you know to sign it; tell them it takes no more than 15 seconds. Be annoying until they do it just to shut you up.

Fourth, request "Dead Boy Detectives Season 2" through Netflix's support website. It's a small thing but if we all do this a couple times a day it will get their attention. They really do vet these suggestions, and an influx of requests for a canceled show will raise eyebrows.

Lastly, if you decide to write Netflix (via email or a letter - their office address has been floating around) please remember to stay concise and professional. Don't curse at them, don't call names. State that you are disappointed with the cancellation of the show, maybe add an anecdote about what it meant to you, and I would even recommend attaching some articles that emphasize people's displeasure with the platform abandoning shows on a whim and Netflix's flippant attitude toward queer shows in particular. Dead Boy Detective Agency on Twitter has retweeted every article on this topic so far, you can find their page here.

You can also use graphics such as the ones below to affirm that the cancellation was unjust.

(Source 1, Source 2)

I know this feels like a lot: know your limits and take care of yourself. Whether you do every single one of these things or just a few of these things, every llittle bit helps!

Even in the worst case scenario where nothing changes, this gesture will mean so much to everyone who made this show. We owe it to the writers, cast, crew, and each other to TRY. We can all agree that this show deserves at least another season and if Netflix isn't going to do it, they need to be open to selling it to someone who will. We cannot keep allowing them to axe these queer and diverse shows with little regard for their customers and their employees, but also because it sets a harmful standard in the industry that is destroying television.

Let's crack this case and bring our agency back! I truly believe in this community!! 💜 We can do this!!

If there are any spelling errors or issues with links let me know! I did this on mobile because I want to mobilize this information as quickly as possible! I'll be adding on to this with new developments and can answer any questions you all might have. Lets save our show!

[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. GOJŌ SATORU┊ "Doesn't the idea of not wearing panties in front of strangers turn you on?" he plans the seed.

tags. (18+), husband gojo, he hm smells your panties and other things (he loves you believe me), lowkey (highly) exhibitionism, reader with female anatomy (she/her pronouns).

You check Satoru a second time, only to realize that your eyes weren't deceiving you and that he really was smiling at nothing, his long fingers clapping the steering wheel every now and then to the rhythm of the song playing in the background on the radio and the third time your eyes land on him your back stiffens, with the seat belt still hugging your body you turn to see him, though the pressure of the belt doesn't allow you to move freely.

"Why are you smiling?" you ask, mimicking the same smile, like a mirror.

"I can't smile when looking at my beautiful wife?" Wife. Ever since you got married Satoru hadn't stopped calling you that, and even though you liked it and it always made you feel warm inside....

You obviously don't believe him. Not this time. The smile you still possessed paired with a furrowed brow, examining him in a way that would help you verify if he was telling the truth or not.   

You didn't believe him one bit. "What are you planning?" you insist again, still admiring his profile, Satoru hadn't bothered to look at you, busy not missing a green light.

"Remember the other day when we were playing uno and I won..." ... okay?

"You cheated," you reproach almost immediately, crossing your arms. You had the same posture as that night when you caught him with four cards hidden inside the joggers. 

"Whatever you want to believe, baby, I did not." You click your tongue and roll your eyes going back to your initial stance, you weren't going to argue with him again, that day you only let him win because Nanami and Geto decided not to fight and let him win.

"Whatever," you say. Fixing your eyes on the road you realize that you were a few corners away from reaching the restaurant.

"Anyway..." Out of the corner of your eye you notice the lopsided grin adorning his face. "It's time to pay."

"What do you want? For me to admit I'm a sore loser?" You turn your attention back to him, his finger with the gold wedding ring gleaming under the streetlights.

"I want your panties," he commands, claiming his prize (prize he won by cheating, you want to emphasize).

You blink, trying to verify that you just heard what you think you just heard. "What. No."

"A deal is a deal..."

"You cheated!" you accuse him again, and satoru's lopsided grin turns into a full-on grin showing you his fangs. "You're going to pay for this."

Satoru parks a few feet outside the fancy restaurant, the colors of the restaurant inside splashing all the way outside. Only when the car's engine dies does he tilt his body to look at you, you see determination and temptation in his face, those blue eyes are bathed from the street lights and the darkness inside the car, bringing you the details of his incomplete features.

"Doesn't the idea of not wearing panties in front of strangers turn you on?" he plans the seed. "In front of Suguru, in front of Kento..." satoru adds. "Because it turns me on a lot to know that only I know that you have a naked pussy, probably dripping on the chair."

You stand still for a moment, processing everything he just said as the birth of a smile stretches his lips slowly and an uncomfortable warmth creeps from your chest, face and ends in the form of a rush in your pussy.

You curse yourself because you can feel how the idea makes you wet.

Satoru laughs at your reaction knowing he has won, he stretches out his hand waiting for his prize.

You curse again, now out loud. You lift your ass off the leather seat to help you slide your underwear off with ease, you slide them down your legs and embarrassedly hand them into his hands, by which time Satoru was forcing a wicked smile to disappear.

Without any hesitation he brings them to his nose, inhaling until his lungs remember the scent of your pussy. Then he pushes them into the pockets of his pants. You stand there, still at the scene. It's not the first time he did it, but you were forced to check the street to verify that no one else had seen what had just happened.

"You're so fucking hot, you know that, don't you?" he looks down your body, focusing especially on your thighs. "I love the way that dress looks on you, I knew it was made for you as soon as I saw it."

Within seconds Satoru leaves his seat and walks across the short walk to your door, opening it for you. You realize he planned this all along. The dinner, the dress he bought especially for you (that barely comes down across your thighs and if you're not careful you might show your pussy)....

Satoru reaches out and feigning indignation you take it, stepping out of the car as you arrange your dress down, the fresh breeze caresses your slit and hits your clit. Satoru squeezes your hand, the coolness of the ring sending shivers down your back, into your abdomen.

"It's going to be a fun night," Satoru says.

[chongoblog]

HOW TO READ BINARY MESSAGES

Hey there all you gamers out there! Have you ever seen a bunch of ones and zeroes in a television show and wondered "Huh. I wonder if this binary here is some sort of Secret Code?" and instead of googling it, you wanted to try to figure it out yourself? Well I know how to do that, and people always go "WHOA" when I tell them that, and I figured I would teach you all as well!

Now just a warning ahead of time, translating binary yourself will take some time and require a little bit of math, so don't say I didn't warn you.

So let's take a binary string like this frame from the Gravity Falls episode "Soos and The Real Girl" (which, spoilers, IS a secret message)

So the first thing you're gonna want to do is divide the binary into groups of 8. If it is a secret message, then each group of 8 bits will represent as ASCII value (or, for the sake of this explanation, letters). So let's divide them up.

That gives us: 01010011, 01010000, 01000001, 01000011, 01000101, 01001010, 01000001, 01001101, 01010100, 01010111, and 01001111. Now, you might have noticed that all of these binary strings have something in common. They all start with "010"! That's gonna be your first tell that you've got a secret message on your hands. Every letter in ASCII starts with either 010 or 011 for lowercase letters. So if you see the groups don't start with either of those, then it's just random gibberish binary that someone just keysmashed 1 and 0 for. So now we know we have a message, so we can begin translating. And to show off how that works, we're going to translate the first set together!

The way binary works is that each digit from the right to the left represents a power of 2. The farthest right digit represents 1. The second to last digit represents 2. The third to last digit is 4. Then 8. Then 16. When reading more complex binary stuff, you go further than that, but for reading ASCII letters, we only use 5 digits. For each of those digits, if the digit is 1, then you add the value that the digit represents. If it's 0, then you don't. From there, you add up the numbers you've got, and then run the sum through the handy dandy a1z26 cipher (A = 1, B = 2, C = 3, and so on)

So again, let's have a look at that first string: 01010011

And there you go! Now you just need to repeat this for every letter! It sounds harrowing at first, but over time you get the hang of it to the point where you can do it in your head. Feel free to give is a shot yourself and decode the rest of the message from the Gravity Falls episode

Now obviously there are a few exceptions. For example if you have a number or punctuation it will start with "001", and from there translating a number from 0 to 9 is easy since it's the same thing but without the A1Z26 cipher, but with punctuation you have to remember specific values, which is a pain in the ass, but if you're translating a decoded message, you don't really need to know the punctuation.

And that should do it! Hope you enjoyed this little explanation.

[amongemeraldclouds]

"if you're going to stare at me like that, at least buy me dinner first" | theodore nott | flufftober masterlist | 835 words

"Let's divide the project, do our part separately, and leave it at that," you stated, dropping your books on the desk beside Theo as if to punctuate your statement.

"Why hello to you too," Theo grinned, unperturbed by your stormy mood. Mostly because he knew it would further annoy you, and partly because he thought you were cute when you were annoyed. You may have been rivals who had the misfortune of being paired together for an important project, but he was not blind.

You settled yourself in the seat beside him, ignoring his sarcasm. Opening your book, you took out your pen to write down the project steps when Theo gave you a page he prepared that contained a detailed breakdown of what the project entailed and different steps you could take.

You reached in your bag to fish out your pair of reading glasses. Theo tried to ignore how adorable it made you look. He was already hyper aware of everything about you and the way you made him feel, he did not need to add more fuel to that flame.

You read the document and you hated to admit it, but it was excellent. It was another point he had won against you. Embarrassment crept up your cheeks as he managed to be a step ahead of you. "Well, this is certainly helpful," you said, trying to keep the neutral tone in your voice. You tried to hide how it ruffled you, except your blush revealed it all.

Theo reacted with a cocky grin, "stick with me y/n and you may learn a thing or two."

"I do just fine on my own," you narrowed your eyes.

"Except we do have to work on this project together. See that," he said, pointing to the third step he outlined in his document. You leaned in to read the section he indicated, your shoulders pressed together. The scent of his woodsy cologne invaded your senses and it took you by surprise.

You shifted your gaze from the page to his face. You blinked in surprise, he was so near. For the first time, you noticed his long lashes. The way his wavy hair fell near his eyes and you were tempted to brush it back. Suddenly curious how soft it would feel between your fingers.

Then he turned his gaze to you, piercing blue eyes stared intently into yours. It took your breath away. He often had a bored expression that you had no idea he could be this focused.

Your lips parted a few centimeters as your mind tried to snap you out of it. You were keenly aware this stare was longer than what was polite, but you couldn't find your way out of this maze.

It achieved the opposite effect as Theo's eyes shifted to your lips. From this close, he noticed how full they were. They looked so soft, he wanted to reach out with his lips just to confirm he was right. Heat bloomed within you as your heart pounded faster in your chest.

Seeming to catch himself, he looked back up, a secret desire swirling into ocean blue of his eyes. He cleared his throat, the spell of the moment over. Your eyes snapped back to the page as he took a second to remember his words.

"We need at least two pairs of hands to complete this step," he finished his sentence from earlier.

You sighed, deflated. There was truly no other way. "You might be right."

"What's that?" Theo leaned in, "you think I'm right?"

You scoffed, "don't get used to it.

He lowered his voice as he whispered in your ear, "but you know, if you're going to stare at me like that, at least buy me dinner first."

Your eyes widened as you opened your mouth to speak then closed it a few times, the words lost in the recesses of your mind. You stopped when you realized it made you look like a fish out of water. "You can't tell me what to do," you countered.

Theo continued, "pretty girl like you, I wouldn't say no."

You blinked, "you think I'm pretty?"

"I have eyes, y/n. I know you think you're better than me but come on. I'm not blind," he replied, waving his hand to dismiss the topic.

He brought the conversation back to the project, dejected by your horror at the thought of going out with him. But with the way you looked at him earlier, he could have sworn you felt the same way he did.

Theo was uncertain and he hated not knowing. Part of his academic prowess lent itself to his innate curiosity about things. He shifted slightly in his seat so his leg brushed briefly against yours and he enjoyed the electric rush from the contact.

As you both wrote down your plans, he made a mental note of another one. You were a question he was going to answer before this project was over.

[theliteraryarchitect]

A Word of Advice About Critique Groups, Beta Readers, and Other Peer-Based Feedback on Your Writing

In my time as a professional editor, I've had many writers come to me with stories they've been trying to improve based on suggestions from critique groups, beta readers, or other non-professional feedback sources (friends, family, etc.). The writers are often frustrated because they don't agree with the feedback, they can't make sense of the comments they've gotten, or they've tried their best to implement the suggestions but now they've made a big mess of things and don't know where to go from here.

If this happens to you, you're not alone. Here's the deal.

Readers and beginning writers are great at sniffing out problems, but they can be terrible at recommending solutions. For that reason, critique groups can be a disastrous place for beginning writers to get advice.

Here's a good metaphor. Imagine you don’t know the first thing about cars. Someone tells you, “There’s oil leaking onto the driveway. You should cover the car with a giant garbage bag.” Alarmed, you oblige, only to be told the next day that “now the car smells like burning plastic and I can’t see out the windows.”

A mechanic would’ve listened to the critic’s complaint and come up with their own solution to the leaking oil, ignoring the amateur’s ridiculous idea, because they know how to fix cars and can use their skills to investigate symptoms and find the correct solution.

Critique groups actually aren’t bad places for experienced writers, because they can listen to the criticism, interpret it, and come up with their own remedies to the problems readers are complaining about. Beginning writers, on the other hand, can end up digging themselves into a deeper hole.

There's a great Neil Gaiman quote about this very conundrum:

Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

So what to do?

First, try to investigate the reader's complaint and come up with your own solution, instead of taking their solution to the problem. Sometimes, in the end, the reader's solution was exactly right, which is lovely, but don't count on it. Do your own detective work.

Second, take everything you hear with a huge grain of salt, and run the numbers. Are 9 out of 10 readers complaining about your rushed ending? It's probably worth investigating. Does nobody have an issue with your abrasive antagonist except your cozy mystery-loving uncle? Then you might not need to worry about it.

Third, give everything you hear a gut check. Does the criticism, while painful, ring true? Or does it seem really off-base to you? Let the feedback sit for a week or so while you chill out. You might find you're less sensitive and open to what's been said after a little more time has passed.

Lastly, consider getting professional feedback on your writing. Part of my job as an editor is to listen to previous feedback the writer has gotten, figure out whether the readers were tracking the scent of legitimate problems, and offer the writer more coherent solutions. Of course, some professional editors aren't very good at this, just like some non-professional readers are amazing at it, so hiring someone isn't a guarantee. But editors usually have more experience taking a look under the hood and giving writers sound mechanical advice about their work, rather than spouting ideas off the top of their head that only add to the writer's confusion.

Hope this helps!

[rhenuvee]

Pretty Privilege [Alhaitham x reader]

A/N: not Alhaitham managing to sneak his way into my drafts for a third time, reader is from Kshahrewar, lovesick!Alhaitham (Alhaitham's a jerk to everyone but you, might be ooc), lowkey could connect to my other Alhaitham fics

Warnings: drinking mentioned but not alcohol, reader gets a little emotional if you squint (not used to affection)

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Your boyfriend Alhaitham was... something else. You were new to the whole relationship thing, so adjusting to the dating life was something you had to get used to. What you still couldn't fathom were the "perks" Alhaitham has granted you, as his partner.

"Alhaitham, what is this?"

His roommate Kaveh stood with his arms crossed, looking at the scene before him: You were sitting on the couch, meticulously making your model of your project due soon. It was clear from your eyes that sleep wanted to overtake you, but of course you couldn't give in. But the worst part was Alhaitham, who was sitting next to you- though it was more like behind you by the way he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Kaveh is all for supporting your relationship, and on a normal day he'd treat you guys like friends (he'd never say that to Alhaitham). But in this situation, there was something particular irritating.

"...what do you mean." Alhaitham asks in a bored manner.

"It is almost midnight and you're still up."

"So?"

"So, you're usually asleep by at least two hours ago."

"And?"

"...You- You'd usually complain about something like this! How many times have you bashed me for working on my projects this late, and now you're here with (y/n) staying up! Nothing against you (y/n), you know I'd understand." Kaveh adds in the last part quickly, seeing as his complaint might seem directed towards the wrong person.

"All good." You reply robotically, yawning right after.

"Remember what you said a few weeks ago about the lows of Kshahrewar? I sure hope you have something to explain that and the spot you're in right now, particularly taking back what you said."

"Mhm, Kshahrewar is the best darshan..." Alhaitham mumbles halfheartedly in a monotone voice, almost nuzzling his head closer into your neck.

"...Somehow I don't feel satisfied with that." Kaveh sighs, arms loosening from their crossed position. It was clear that the Scribe didn't actually mean it, or at least was occupied with other things that made his answer seem insincere. The architect leaves, not finding any solution to the issue.

However, the obvious bias doesn't end here. Something similar happened the next week, except the victim wasn't Kaveh (for once). You were waiting in line at a restaurant near the Akademiya.

It sure gets busy during lunch time... You think. And even busier because of the special gift they were giving away…

"(Y/n)." A familiar voice calls to you. You look up from your daze and realize it's your boyfriend.

"Alhaitham, what are you doing here?" Suddenly, you start to feel pairs of eyes drift to your conversation.

"More like what are you doing here." He replies sharply. You internally giggle at your boyfriend's sassiness, but don't fault him because there is an abnormally long line this time.

"Well... they're giving away a free TCG card with their new sandwich." You say shyly. You feel a sigh coming from him for lining up for a little thing, but...

"Why don't you just ask the owner? I know him." He replies.

"...What do you mean, ask the owner? You mean just go up to the front?" You ask.

"Yes."

"-Alhaitham. I can't just do that, I can't cut in line." You stammer. You can't believe your boyfriend would actually condone this type of behaviour. He shrugs and walks off. You huff, thinking how sometimes you can't read him.

A few minutes later, you see him walk back with... a sandwich and TCG card in hand.

"Alhaitham." You cross your arms and look right at him. However, of course it doesn't intimidate him, as he just stares right back with the same deadpan eyes.

"Yes?"

You walk out of line, quickly pushing him until you both reach a less crowded area. Because you're behind him trying to shove him by his stupidly large torso, he secretly smiles at how cute you are, trying to take control of the situation and how you puff your cheeks out because of it.

"Alhaitham, you did not just go to the front and ask for the sandwich." You say, starting to scold him.

"I got the card too." He says, waving it. You tsk, snatching the sandwich and card out of his hand. He snorts at your slight frustration in his literalness.

"Alhaitham, you didn't have to. I could have waited in line like a normal person." You pout, trying to make him see the bad sides of his actions.

"The owner would have kept one for me anyway. And I wouldn't let you stand outside for so long. Especially with how heavy your bag is- don’t Kshahrewar students carry bricks?" He explains, sitting down on the stone.

"That's not really the problem..." You say, even though that last part was quite true. "Even though the owner kept one aside, the people in line who saw that would have felt really mad at you for cutting."

"Why should I care about what they think?"

"Alhaitham!" Sometimes you hate how quick and blunt his responses are. You sigh again. By now you already knew about your boyfriend's habits and how straightforward he thinks- and most of the time he is right. At least you know he had good intentions.

"Don't do it again, please?" You say, sitting and putting your hands on his chest. "At least not without asking me first."

"Okay, fine." He's willing to make compromises, especially when you look at him so dearly. You eat your sandwich in peace, giving Alhaitham a few bites here and there, and talk about things that happened today.

Buuttttt, it still doesn't end there. A couple months later, the semester ends and you decide to go out and have drinks with your friends. Alhaitham also mentioned he was going to be there with his friends, but he'd be at another table. It's a win-win, plus it's good to have him there for safety.

"And then, he just brushed everyone off! So I don't think I'd ever have a chance with him." Your friend says sadly.

"I don't think anyone has a chance with him." Another chimes in. You and your friends laugh at the wittiness, happy to be enjoying each others presence after a long semester of working and studying.

"I've seen him carry an anemo vision." You say from passing by him a few times.

"I've seen that too!" Your friend remarks, and the rest nod along. "He's probably very strong."

"I hope you guys have been enjoying your night!" A waiter says as he comes to the table. "Here are your bills."

The waiter hands your friends their bills, but doesn't hand you one.

"Excuse me! You didn't give me mine." You say quickly, before he leaves again.

"Oh! Your boyfriend has already paid for yours." The waiter says, pointing to his table, then heading off. Your friends coo at how sweet you guys were, and suddenly you have a sense of deja vu. After your friends pay their bills for the night, you immediately walk over to Alhaitham's table.

"Alhaitham."

"Yes?" Once again, you're hating how deadpan he sounds when you know he knows what you're about to say.

"You didn't have to."

"I did." You frown again.

"I'll be outside, saying bye to my friends." You say after sighing. Alhaitham nods, and his friends can only smile when they see another occurrence of him spoiling you.

"Why is it that (y/n) gets much better treatment from Alhaitham, yet also doesn't approve of it?" It's Kaveh's turn to pout now.

"I think it's more of 'acceptance' for them, and let's be honest I'd have a hard time accepting kindness from Alhaitham." Cyno says matter-of-factly. Tighnari's ears perk up at Cyno's blunt yet witty remark, while Kaveh can only grumble in agreement. Alhaitham, surprisingly has a small smirk on his face despite the little jab from Cyno. Kaveh's frown deepens.

"I need another drink." Kaveh crosses his arms. Tighnari and Cyno look at each other confused.

Alhaitham abruptly bids his goodbyes, walking off with a satisfied smile. He joins you and catches up, hearing that you've just said goodbye to your friends as well. After a few minutes of walking, Alhaitham breaks the silence.

"The boys think I've been treating you a lot better than them." He says. You turn and look at your boyfriend, a little surprised that he's starting the conversation this time. Usually when you have time alone, you're the one who starts talking. But you close your eyes and smile, taking this as a sign that he's had a good time- even if he won't admit it.

"It's because you do." You say. You’re surprised he brought this up. You're aware of Alhaitham spoiling you since your relationship started, and it has pushed you into a realm of affection you didn't know of. It's still hard to grasp for you, since it is your first relationship, and he makes you happy.

"Is there a problem with it?" He asks.

"...no." You say shyly. The question he asks has a bit more of a unsure 'no' for an answer than you say, but Alhaitham seems to catch on. "It's just hard to get used to."

"Hard to get used to? You deserve it though." Alhaitham says. And you almost want to cry the way you know he's being genuine, but the words feel foreign to you. He senses your emotions, and brings you to a stop, just a few steps away from his house.

"Alhaitham..." You can barely croak out a sentence. He gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, running his fingers near the spot, soothing you.

"And besides, what they don't know is that I do treat everyone fairly. Including you." He says. You cock your head in confusion. His statement sounds normal, but you can't help but think he means otherwise. "Remember your overdue library book? I did hold you accountable that time."

You quirk your head in confusion. You do remember that, and how panicked you were when you realized after he pointed it out. But you were certain he did not hold you accountable, which was terrible especially with his role in the Akademiya now.

"No you didn't." You remark.

"I did. I told you to give me a kiss."

"Wh- a kiss is a romantic thing, not transactional! You mean to tell me that was conpensation?" You sputter in disbelief. He nods, and you can't stay mad to him. "Alhaitham, you're so mushy-"

"I agree. Add insufferable to that as well." A voice interrupts. Your head snaps to the source, which is of course a mopey looking Kaveh. "Also remind me next time, to walk twenty meters behind you guys instead, when walking home."

You open your mouth to say something, but end up staying silent when you watch Kaveh drag himself inside your shared home. You frown, and Alhaitham looks at you, knowing what you're thinking- the same you've thought several times by now.

"Do not." He says abruptly.

"I will buy Kaveh a cake." You say, not paying attention to your boyfriend. You were aware of their bickering, but a lot of times you can’t help but feel bad for Kaveh. Since you’re in the mix now, you feel partially responsible for the privilege you get from Alhaitham- even on his good side, it’s hard to watch others get ignored by him.

"No."

"And a coffee."

"No."

"Yes." You childishly protest against your boyfriend’s lack of empathy (which he does on purpose) towards who’s supposed to be, his best friend. “Tomorrow I will go buy him a cake and a coffee.”

“He can get his own cake and coffee.” He says sarcastically.

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll make him much happier if he received it as a gift.” You explain.

“You don’t have to.” Alhaitham says, this time with a little bit of softness. You smile, recognizing his efforts to try and persuade you because you know he doesn’t understand why you care about these things. But this time, you won’t waver.

“But I will.” You retort, walking towards the entrance and grabbing the doorknob. “Besides, you said you hold me accountable, won’t you?”

Alhaitham smirks at your cheekiness as you sway your hips when you walk to leave him standing by himself, a satisfied look on your face after referencing the past conversation. He sighs and shakes his head, thinking of how bold you’ve become. He likes it.

“Of course I will.”

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Me: I love Diluc, he is my husband.

Also me: *writes 3 long ass finished fics on Alhaitham*

[messenger-of-babel]

Fragile Stability

Summary: Very few things could make Dick this scared, but patching up his younger sister is one of them . (Nightwing x batsis!reader)

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: Back with Nightwing and part of this got deleted but I cannot remember where so it mustn't be that important. (On that note: I might redo and reuse this concept for some of my other works in the future with different characters, or try again if I remember what I wanted to add). Warning for blood and mentions of needles, I don't think there's any language warnings. Enjoy! xx

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"Stay with me birdie, please stay with me." Dick grits out, feet thudding against the pavement. It had been a while since Dick had needed to outrun a villain, normally grappling away and flipping over the rooftops like he had been made for it.

Except this time, he had you in his arms, tears streaked down your face as you sob at every rough jostle. "It's okay, I'm getting you to safety, just hold on. Just a little longer, sweetheart." he panted, eyes scanning for the entrance to the nearby safehouse. If he just took a few more turns and twists he could make it, getting well out of range of Black Mask's men. When he found it, he veered heavily, slipping into the abandoned warehouse and pulling the sliding door shut.

"Nightwing, reporting in." He says tensely, activating his commlink the moment he deems it safe enough. It crackles to life, the rough voice of Batman replying.

"Copy Nightwing, report."

"Birdie's been hit." he pants out, manoeuvring to the third to last shipping container at the back. punching in the code with bloodstained fingers, he frees the lock that hisses open, pulling the doors open.

"Their status?" Batman's voice grunts, but even Dick could tell the hint of panic that sat underneath. He unloops your arms from around his neck, stepping into the hidden field surgery set up. A weak LED strip light flickers on above, casting shadows over the walls as he lays you into the surgery chair. There's very little else, a few rolling drawers of medical equipment, a fridge in the back with more supplies.

"Not good." he replies, sitting on the stool beside the chair and dragging a set of drawers closer to him. "She's-she's bleeding badly. Puncture through the thigh from the explosion, a piece of rebar." he swallows thickly, mind replaying the horrid sound of your screaming filling the air once his ears had stopped ringing. "Another in the shoulder, serrated stab wound."

His hands shake as he presses on the puncture on your upper thigh, making you scream out. He winces seeing the way your face is scrunched up, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. "I'm sorry birdie, I'm so sorry." he murmurs, heart twisting painfully.

"We're sending help to your location. Red Robin is headed there now with the car, get her stable in the meantime. We'll prep the ward immediately."

Dick's head felt light, darkness floating at the edges of his sight. He swallowed, cold sweat beading at his hairline. "We…we were ambushed by Black Mask's men. This was a set up, they were ready. They're still nearby, if they find here-"

"We'll worry about the Mask." Batman cuts him off. "You know your job, keep her stable."

"We?" Dick replies, voice closing up more and more.

"Red Hood and Myself are going to pursue Black Mask. Spoiler and Robin are going to take out the rest of the men from the hideout."

Dick swallows, blinking rapidly. "I-It was just supposed to be a minor drug bust." he manages to get out. "Just get the Mask, send more people here not out there-"

"Everyone has their orders."

The tone of Batman is cold and hard, making the words Dick wants to say die on his tongue momentarily. He hesitates before speaking again. "Why are you sending everyone?" There's a small silence, before Batman's voice crackles back over the line.

"I didn't. They left before I could say anything. Now stabilise them."

Dick's well aware of the warmth on the underside of his palm, seeping into the material of his suit. His non bloodied hand comes up to stroke your face gently, wiping away the tears coming from your puffy eyes. "It hurts Nightwing," you say, voice choked with a sob. "It burns."

His heart wrenches and he nods. "Yeah, yeah its gonna burn birdie." he says. "I'm…I'm gonna make it burn a bit more, okay?" he offers you a weak, apologetic smile, hands shaking as he goes for the first drawer, pulling out a surgical needle and sutures. "We need to close it, I need to stop the bleeding." he chokes out, tears burning at his eyes as your hand grips his wrist, hearing you whine as you try to pull his hand away from the uncomfortable pressure. He folds his hand over yours, making your hand press on the wound instead. "Hold down on this." he instructs softly. "I'm going to go get something from the fridge. Nice and tight, there we go." he murmurs, getting up from beside you to hurry for the fridge.

Pulling it open he rummages around, cursing under his breath as he doesn't find what he needs and pressing his earpiece to contact Tim to bring it. He comes back to your side, face lined and worried. "Okay, bad news, sweetheart." he says, grimacing. "I don't have anything to take the edge off. We've got no painkillers left." your eyes look up at him, glossy and scared.

"It hurts Nightwing." you cry, voice trembling. "It hurts, please don't make it hurt more."

He tries to ignore the heartbreaking gaze you send him, leaning over you to tie a bandage tightly around your stabbed shoulder. You cry out, body bucking upwards. Thankfully the stab seemed to be less urgent, the knife doing less damage than it could have with the serrated edge. He searches around a little more, a flat, wooden utensil set up by the sink.

"Bite this." He says softly, coming to your side once more and slotting it in between your teeth. He hates the way that your eyes look up at him all glassy, brimming with unshed tears. You shake your head, making him bring his hands up to cradle your face. "Hey, hey sweetheart, shhhh. shhh..." he tries to soothe, your chest beginning to tremor with muffled sobs. He plasters a fake smile onto his face, hoping that you can't see his teeth clenched tight.

He sits on the stool next to you, moving your hand over the thigh wound so he can look at it. His hands feel numb seeing how much blood you've lost, and he has to snap himself back into it. He peels off his gloves, shake in his fingers now prominent as he grabs tweezers and the sutures.

Stabilise you. That's all he has to do. Till he can get you back to the infirmary.

Despite the steady breaths he takes to calm himself, they're ripped from his throat the second the needle pierces your skin. The wooden spatula falls from your mouth as your mouth splits impossibly wide, eyes scrunched up as you scream. He has to lean over you, forearms keeping you pressed to the chair while he desperately pleads for you to stay still. He can see how much it burns, the way you hiccup after every breathless sob. He hates it, hating how after each pull of the suture through your skin your face ripples with pain. Each stitch he makes stabs at his heart.

It was supposed to be simple.

He grits his teeth, trying to not let himself cry. This was supposed to be an easy mission, it was your first after all. Sure, Bruce was hesitant to let his daughter run around in a costume fighting bad guys. He had wanted you, his unspoken favourite, to live a peaceful life. However, when you expressed interest in the night life, Dick had vouched for you. He offered to be the one to take you out on your first mission, spent countless hours with Bruce in the cave training you. You were meant to come home with scrapes on your knees and a rip in your suit. Not here in a dingy downtown shipping container having a needle shoved through your skin repeatedly.

This was his fault.

Your screams ring so loud in his head that he forgets what the sound of your laugh is like, the irritated huffs you make when you and Tim discuss entrance exams. "D-Dickie..." you sob weakly, hand pushing lightly against his. "Di-Dickie. St-stop…please. Puh-please stop…" you sob, a wispy sound as your eyes scrunch up again. He doesn’t care that you called him by his real name. After all, it was Dick Grayson that had failed you as an older brother. Not Nightwing.

His vision tunnels as he continues to stitch despite your whimpers and sobs, hands shaking so badly it takes him twice as long as he expects to even get halfway. Right now, you weren't just the next Batgirl. You weren't just another spandex clad orphan standing next to Bruce. Right now you were his little sister, the same one he'd spend movie nights with and let hide in his room to cool off when you were mad at Bruce.

When he finally finishes and ties it off, the tools clatter from his hands. He leans forward on to his knees, breath struggling to make it into his lungs. He felt lightheaded, everything feeling like it was burning. His hand managed to feel for your limp one, thumb sliding over your wrist to feel your slow pulse. His other hand pinched the domino mask from his face, letting it clatter to the floor as he wiped his eyes. he didn't even pay attention to the calling of Red Robin through the com, letting him know that he was pulling up right outside. He let himself take a few shaky sobs, fingers digging the tears from his eyes and splattering onto the discarded mask under him.

He wasn’t Nightwing right now.

He was Dick Grayson, the older brother who put you on death's door.

[senblades]

I've had a realisation,

So, we all like to dunk on Akechi for having a stupid plan- which, well, yeah; but I think that a lot of people (whether they like Akechi's character or not) tend to miss the point:

That being, that the holes we all poke in his plan; "Why didn't he just kill Shido at the start?" "There's no way he'd live/be free after that," "His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," are actually far more revealing as to Akechi's priorities, than they are of him just being 'stupid'.

For starters, "there's no way he'd live/be free after that." -as a fandom I think we've all already come to the conclusion that Akechi's regard for his own life is spotty at best. I wouldn't necessarily say that he wants to die by the time of the third semester, which really just adds to the tragedy of the whole situation, but I digress. Point is, the kid needs therapy, moving on.

"His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," Ah, now this is where I think some cultural differences start to come in to play- I won't say much, since I'm relatively uninformed, but by the sounds of it, revealing that Shido has an illegitemate child is actually the kind of thing that would make a lot of people raise their eyebrows. And, more importantly, the kind of thing that would really throw his "easy election win" into some serious jeapordy. (AND, it's never exactly stated that "revealing himself as an illegitemate child" was Akechi's tactic to ruin Shido- more of a "hey, Shido, guess who it was that ruined you, you piece of shit?"- which, well, more on that mindset later)

Next, "Why didn't he just kill Shido from the start?" This is where I think a lot of people get tripped up. To my memory, there is not a single point in the engine room where Akechi says that killing Shido is the cornerstone of his plan (localisation differences notwithstanding. I'm sure someone will come yell at me (/lh) if this is the case). Now, to be fair, Akechi in the engine room is really just him giving a very desperate powerpoint while he sharpens his sword- so I don't doubt that he's skimming over a couple points. But, you'd think that Akechi would remember to mention that if that really was his main goal.

Okay, so Akechi doesn't want to kill Shido. Cool, follow-up question, "Why didn't he just give Shido a pshychotic breakdown from the start?" That's the kind of thing that would have ruined Shido's reputation, too, right? And, it would have been before he would have had the means to try and cover it up. Well, finally, I can get to my point:

Akechi needs Shido's disgrace to be loud, because he needs everyone else to care, too. Akechi's revenge isnt just against the man who left him and his mother for dead, but also against the society that continued to leave him for dead, again and again; the society that only lauded him as something special if he slapped some pretty wallpaper over the past he had absolutely no control over.

Looking at it like this does a lot of things:

First, it really amps up the whole "the PT's justice and Akechi's justice foil each other". Akechi's revenge is also a vehichle for revolution, since it is, in essence: "Look! Look at the man who you lauded as a saviour! Look at me, the man who brought him down. Aren't we both disgusting, in your eyes? Take a look at yourselves. Aren't we all the same?"

That leads pretty nicely into Akechi as a pawn for Yaldabaoth, too. Akechi wants to make sure he and Shido go out with a bang, and leave a shitshow in their wake. That's prime God of Control real estate! It's also prime "metaphor for Ruin" real estate; you get the point.

And, finally, an interesting point comes from all of this. That being, that, well- the only reason that Akechi's plan wasn't going to work, is that he placed too much stock in the idea that Shido has any concept of loyalty or gratitude. Shido, as we all know, is an absolute piece of shit- and still, Akechi had believed that maybe, just maybe, his father would feel bad for being terrible to his son.

(I'm not going to go on too big of a tangent, but that is an interesting insight into Akechi's idea of Justice, and into what his personas might represent. Contradiction, as ever, is the name of the game, and Akechi simultaneously believes that there's no way to get anywhere in life without force and violence, and that there is also a fundemantal truth of what is good and fair within human hearts)

The message of this, I'm pretty sure, is not: "Akechi failed because of that lingering belief in humanity" (wouldn't that be one hell of a heel-turn lmao), but rather: "Akechi, with his distorted (ha) priorities, was never going to be happy in any quest for vengeance, even if his plan succeeded entirely"

tl;dr, Akechi needs therapy. Wait- Maruki, no! Not that kind of therapy!

[bloomzone]

GLOW UP DIARY:#3 the power of self-care

"If you don't have a dream, that's okay too. It's possible not to have a dream. If you're happy, that's all that matters"

-Suga

heyy sparkles...so today it's the third part of the glow up and thank you so so much T-T for the support in the second part

Edit: haircare,nail care is for apparence part I focused on routines,skincare,body care in this part (I'm so busy these days T-T<3)

© bloomzone

#3 SELF CARE

✉️ : Self-care includes activities like eating well, exercising, and relaxing to maintain physical, mental, and emotional health. It's essential for managing stress and enhancing overall well-being.

Self-care is essential for maintaining balance

﹙ ✿ ﹚Taking care of yourself is about finding simple, comforting routines that make you feel good. Start with small steps, like taking a relaxing bath,do ur skincare , journal...Prioritize these moments and remember that they are just as important as anything else on your to-do list. Celebrate your progress, no matter how small, and choose activities that genuinely make you happy. Listen to your body and give yourself the rest and care you need. By focusing on what brings you comfort and joy, you'll create a self-care routine that feels natural and rewarding.

HOW TO START SELF-CARE ?

Have a routine: It is really important to have a routine because if not you could have bad sleeping, be tired all day, get boredeasily, won't be able to finish responsibilities, it can bring you bad self esteem, unmotivated and in general is a complete mess.

Example of a routine (by me)

summer version.

⏰( wake up at 4:30am to pray ifajr if u are a Muslim :) )

♡ ﾟwake up at 9:30am

♡ ﾟmake bed

♡ ﾟdrink water

♡ ﾟmorning stretch 15min

♡ ﾟskincare/quick shower

♡ ﾟbreakfast

♡ ﾟhelp mom if needed

♡ ﾟphone time

⏰(pray duhr if u are Muslim:) )

♡ ﾟlunch time

♡ ﾟnap

♡ ﾟfull workout

⏰(pray asr if you are Muslim:) )

♡ ﾟstart learning a language,see friends or simply watch a movie

⏰(pray Maghrib if you are a Muslim :) )

♡ ﾟhelp mom cooking dinner

♡ ﾟwash dishes

♡ ﾟcheck social

♡ ﾟskincare

♡ ﾟget ready for bed

♡ ﾟsleep at 10pm

Things u can add to your routine :

cleaning ur room

- wardrobe

- desk

cooking

- I will share my fav recipes in next blogs 🤫

set goals for next year

- academic goals

- life goals ( saving money,body goal ...)

sunday self care day routine

summer version

⏰( salat al fajr + reading Quran for Muslims)

♡ ﾟwake up at 9am

♡ ﾟdo ur bed

♡ ﾟmeditation

♡ ﾟskincare + face mask

♡ ﾟjournal/affirmations

♡ ﾟice coffee/tea

♡ ﾟmorning stretch 15min

♡ ﾟbreakfast

♡ ﾟhelp in cleaning

♡ ﾟwear ur fit

♡ ﾟgo shopping

⏰(pray duhr in masjid if u luv to :) )

♡ ﾟlunch

♡ ﾟfull workout

📍everything shower time

- hair mask

- shave

- body care

📍after shower

- dry your hair

- clean/paint ur nails

- wear ur comfy pyjamas

♡ ﾟwatch a movie

⏰(pray Maghrib if you are Muslim)

♡ ﾟquality time with ur family/friends

📍get ready for bed

- write down what u achieve this week

- affirmations

⏰(pray Isha if u are Muslim)

♡ ﾟskincare

♡ ﾟget ur beauty sleep at 10pm

SELF-CARE BODYCARE AND SKINCARE

1.skincare

﹙ ✿ ﹚ I know that we all love shopping and buying things because it's pink or aesthetic or it's just because it's a famous products NO NO this wroong u don't need to buy a whole truck of innisfree products because it's pink or glow recipe buy products that will work for u if u have acnes and ur face hurt everytime u try to sleep or u wanna just wash it,visit a dermatologist he will give the product that ur skin need to heal again. (As a girl with strict parents hhh they didn't let me go I'm 16yo btw),so I start to buy random products until I found the perfect one for my skin (I have a terrible TERRIBLE oily skin)+ if u are 12-18 don't use serum's without permission of doctor u will just broke ur skin texture I bought ordinary serum and it just make my skin worst + it's an expansive sht ☠️

How to get rid of acne ?

♡ ⠀skincare secrets !

⊹ ‧avoid junk food

⊹ ‧fresh vegetables and fruits

⊹ ‧icing your face

⊹ ‧clay mask (recommended by me)

⊹ ‧avoid using a lot of skincare products

⊹ ‧ simplify ur skincare routine ( cleanser,toner, moisturizer)

⊹ ‧get 7-8 hour of sleep

⊹ ‧rice water

⊹ ‧don't sleep with ur make up

⊹ ‧stay hydrate

⊹ ‧change ur pillowcase (one in a week)

⊹ ‧ cucumber slice as a mask

⊹ ‧don't touch ur face

♡   Item you need

⊹ ‧pimples patches

⊹ ‧silicone facial cleaner (for deep cleaning)

⊹ ‧headband (keep ur hair up always)

2.BODY CARE

﹙ ✿ ﹚ Taking care of your body is a vital part of feeling your best, both inside and out. A good body care routine can boost your confidence and help you embrace your natural beauty. Body care is also about self-love and taking time for yourself amidst a busy schedule remember girlie every skin type is beautiful, and finding the right routine can enhance your natural glow.

♡   Body care secrets

⊹ ‧ don't shave (ur body)early until u are in the right age (+17) , if u are not a hairy girl no need to shave :)

⊹ ‧ shower everyday (don't wash ur hair )

⊹ ‧ choose the right body wash (nivea,vaseline >>)

⊹ ‧ stay hydrate avoid junk foods to protect ur body skin from pimples

⊹ ‧Exfoliate your skin 1-2 times a week to remove dead skin cells and promote cell renewal. Use a gentle scrub suitable for your skin type (coconut oil brown sugar >>)

💌 : How to shave ur leg and have a smooth soft skin

1- soak ur leg in warm water for (3 to 5 min) to make ur skin ready

2- use ur fav body scrub and exfoliate your body from death skin

3- use something like body oil or shaving cream and find a good razor at least 3 blades (venus Gillette is on top)

4- shave with slow don't be harsh,long strock and don't forget to wash the razor everytime

5- after drying ur legs use any lotion u like to give the skin the extra moisture + using baby oil to avoid strawberry legs

⊹ ‧ Choose body care products that are free from harsh chemicals and fragrances Opt for natural and gentle ingredients stay healthy girlie

⊹ ‧ avoid very hot water

⊹ ‧ Use natural oils like coconut oil, almond oil, or jojoba oil for deep hydration. Apply them after a shower or use them as an overnight treatment for extra softness.

♡   item you need

⊹ ‧ dry brush

⊹ ‧ loofah

⊹ ‧ natural soap (for ur 🐱)

⊹ ‧ razor pack

⊹ ‧ body scrub

⊹ ‧ body wash

⊹ ‧ africain exfoliating nets

⊹ ‧ body moisturizer

⊹ ‧ Shea butter

⊹ ‧ Epsom salt

ıllı ⠀ : ⠀Self-care is essential for every girl to nurture her mind, body, and spirit. Taking time for yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. Whether it's indulging in a relaxing bath, practicing mindfulness, or simply taking a break to read a good book, these moments help recharge your energy and boost your confidence. Remember, you deserve to feel good and be happy. Prioritizing self-care allows you to show up as your best self in every area of your life. So, take a deep breath, put yourself first, and watch how everything else falls into place. Ilvy sm ⠀ ♡ ⠀ !!

© bloomzone

[dedalvs]

Translation request: "I hate the ocean, all my enemies are across it" in Zhyler. Like the meme of the cat saying "I hate my puter, all my enemies are inside it"

You're really going to make me pull out not just one of my old languages, but my language that had 57 "cases", and then make me translate something that specifically uses a meaning I don't have a case for? And also requires a verb I don't have? (Everyone knows Zhyler has the verb astal which means "to love and hate" but no verb for "to hate".) Have I been made the object of a troll?

You better actually want this. This better be a damn tattoo.

First, you I had to, of course, create a word for "to hate", which meant having to relearn my stupid alphabetization system, since I alphabetized by the Zhyler orthography, not the romanization. Rather than go with something I felt in my bones I went with something that I knew I could alphabetize correctly, so zirel is the word for "to hate". I think it works, because I hate it.

So zir is "hate". Might as well add a -jÿr on the end to make it intensive (ÿ is [ɯ]). A first person subject makes that zirjÿrum, which, good gravy, if you know that this language is supposed to be a vowel harmony language and that is the result… What a disaster.

Now we need the ocean. Also, how dare you make me translate this. I LOVE the ocean! It's one of my most favorite things in the entire world! You miscreant! You villain! But that comes later.

There are two words for "ocean". One is ishþe which is just a place of water, but it seems like the word needed is naredðe, which is the great blue-green, the gathering of all waters.

The whole sentence, then, is Naredðer zirjÿrum. Now for the other.

The word for "enemy" is vedga. The word for "all" is las. Both of them will need to be plural, but, mercifully, nominative, so I don't have to remember what the adjectival cases are. Thus "all enemies is " laslar vedgalar. Then "my" is laslar vedgalarum. That's "all my enemies".

In locational phrases no verb is needed, which is nice. There isn't a single third person pronoun. Instead, the source of the noun class suffix is used as a third person pronoun. For Class XI (the class of naredðe), the pronoun is ða.

Now for the case, you are correct: I did not specifically create a case for "across" in this sense (the "beyond" sense). The one I would probably uses is the postessive case, which I think is supposed to mean "behind". In other words, all your enemies are behind the ocean. I believe the form is ðamej. And so, the full translation is:

Naredðer zirjÿrum. Laslar vedgalarum ðamej.

But didn't you mean "all my friends"...? Seems like the ocean is keeping your enemies away so you should be grateful for it. If you wanted to do that it'd be:

Naredðer zirjÿrum. Laslar širkÿlarum ðamej.

Either way, here's what it would look like in the orthography, which was redesigned by my cousin Claire Ng. My original font was garbage. This one is lovely. I had originally planned to redesign Zhyler and use it for the board game I'm creating (Sovála) featuring kingdoms of darling little animals battling each other. It was going to be the language for the cats. In fact, though, redesigning Zhyler is what led me to decide to create new languages. I got to the noun classes and realized the first one was for humans, and then there were several others for different sizes of animals, and this just didn't make sense at all for anthropomorphic cats in a world without humans. Thus, indirectly, it led to the creation of LangTime Studio (streaming in half an hour!).

All right, here you go. All my enemies:

And all my friends:

Now I banish you!

[idyllic-ghost]

title: Delicate pairing: idol!hoshi x non idol!reader genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers warnings: just two little goofs finally realizing they like each other, it takes them some time, not proofed synopsis: You've been friends since he could remember, and since that summer night last year it's been different - you can both feel it. So why is it so hard to just say it? wordcount: 2.3k taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303, @lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz,

rating: PG 13

a/n: inspired by Delicate by Taylor Swift because i currently have it on repeat

join my taglist

masterlists

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The rain is falling heavy as Soonyoung all but sprints up to the door of your apartment complex. A pair of dark sunglasses pushed up on his nose cover what his hoodie and cap can't, despite the fact that it's dark outside. It's late, but he knows that you're still up because he can see the light coming out of the window of your third-floor apartment.

Soon enough, he's shielded from the rain by the small roof that covers the entrance to your apartment. With shaky hands, he pushes the digits into the keypad; four-one-six-five has become his favorite number combination. A smile plays on his lips as the lock clicks open and lets him push the door open.

Your apartment doesn't have an elevator - and if that isn't enough of a giveaway that it's old, the smell in the stairway makes it even more clear - but Soonyoung doesn't even think about complaining as he jogs up the stairs to the third floor. He's just thinking about you, what you would look like when he finally got up the stairs, what you would say to him, and, more importantly, what he would say to you.

He takes a moment to catch his breath once he gets to the door to your apartment - silently thanking Jihoon for taking him to the gym so much, and the choreographer for working them to the bone until they knew each step perfectly. After he fixes his clothes - pulling at his jeans, fixing his jacket, and taking off his sunglasses - Soonyoung finally knocks on your door.

It takes a few seconds, and he can hear you shuffling around on the other side of the door. You slide open the cover to the peep hole, he can hear the little squeak it always makes, and he waves right at the hole. A soft laugh echoes from the other side of the door, pulling at Soonyoung's heartstrings. The latch comes out of it's place, the lock turns, and then you're there in front of him. You're a vision in one of his "stolen" t-shirts and the heart-print sleep shorts he gave you - a big grin is painted on your face, which is glowing from the skincare you had probably just gotten done with.

"Soonyoungie!" You throw your arms out to him, and he engulfs you in a big hug.

You don't care that he's wet from the rain, or that his "outside clothes" are touching your "inside clothes" right now - as you usually would. You can't think of the last time you had seen him, mostly because you don't want to think about the months you have spent without him. Soonyoung spins you around in the air as he gets inside your apartment, knocking over something on the table you keep in your hallway. But you couldn't care less about your things getting knocked over, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek before he sets you down.

"When did you get back?" you ask, your hands still on his shoulders and unable to fully let him go.

"An hour ago," he says.

"I just needed to see you," he wants to add, but stops himself. It isn't the right time. You invite him to take off his jacket and come inside. While he gets rid of his wet clothes, you pick out a few things of his that he had left from last time he was here. You don't have to tell him that you knew it would be good to leave a few things at your place, he already knows.

Once Soonyoung has changed, he goes into your bedroom where you're lying with your laptop in front of you. When you see him, a giddy smile appears on your smile and you immediately get up to prepare a spot next to you. He would never get tired of seeing your face light up as he walks into the room - for a moment, he can pretend like you're his.

As soon as you move the covers to reveal your comfortable mattress, Soonyoung practically jumps in next to you. You groan and complain - grumbling something about how he spends an awful amount of energy arguing that he's a tiger, when he acts like a kangaroo - but Soonyoung doesn't listen. Your computer almost gets knocked over as he snuggles closer to you.

"Hey, watch it!" You push your computer further into the bed with your foot.

Soonyoung doesn't heed your threatening warning, he doesn't even hear it. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, pressed up against your warm skin, and his arms are wrapped around your torso. Yes, this is home. He notes that you're still using the same scented lotion, but that your laundry detergent may be different. Maybe it's creepy to remember those things - but Soonyoung is clinging to each and every detail of you as if his life depended on it. Once your nagging stops, he finally gets to feel you hug him back. Your arms wrap around him, one of your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, and Soonyoung finally feels complete.

He can't tell you this, but he's madly in love with you. Everyone else seems to realize but not you - or maybe you're just pretending to not to know. However, Soonyoung can't lie to himself no matter how much he tries. He's been in love with you since last summer - or at least that's when he realized his feelings. His friends told him that they could tell he's liked you for longer, but Soonyoung can't confirm that theory.

Either way, you can't know... is what he used to think. After that time last summer, where he had kissed you in a drunken game of truth or dare, he decided to keep his feels secret. It was only when he wasn't able to see you for months on end that he realized he can't keep it up. He missed your touch, your scent, your voice, your everything. Too many nights were spent complaining about not being able to see you, to the point where Jeonghan had almost called you to tell him of Soonyoung's feelings himself.

Now he's with you again, determined to confess... at some point. This situation was just too delicate.

"Do you want to watch a show with me?" you ask. "I already started it, but I'll catch you up on the details."

"Sure." Soonyoung didn't care what you two did together, as long as he got to be with you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You're sitting on your bed with your computer on your lap. The episode is at it's end, and you're planning on going to sleep right after it did - unless it ends on a cliffhanger, of course.

When the doorbell rings, you all but jump out of bed. It's late, and you aren't expecting anyone. You know better than to open the door to a stranger, let alone pay any attention to a late night door bell without anyone telling you they're coming over first. However, the annoyingly curious part of you forces you to make your way to the front door. You quickly slide away the cover to the peephole and lean in to look through it.

To your surprise, it's not a scary stranger standing on the other side of your door. It's your Soonyoung. A giddy feeling spreads through your chest as you watch him wave at you through the peephole. With hands shaking from excitement, you fumble with the latch before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

"Soonyoungie!" You hold your arms out to him, and you're quickly swept up in a big, wet hug.

Right, it's raining outside. He lifts you up off the ground and gets both of you inside the apartment. You hear him knock something over, but don't even look to where the noise came from. He was finally home - as of an hour, he tells you. He came to see you immediately, you can't help but think. You try not to think about the fact that you're wearing his shirt and the heart-print pajama shorts he gifted you for a joke. If you didn't think about them, maybe he wouldn't notice. The proud look in his eyes says otherwise.

You end up getting him new clothes before going back to your place on your bed. At this point, your heart is in your throat - pounding so hard that you're scared it's going to come jumping out if you speak. It was your friend's fault - the ones who dared Soonyoung to kiss you. If they had kept to themselves, if they hadn't mocked you by basically showing you what you would never have, then maybe it wouldn't have gotten so difficult to talk to him.

It only got worse when Soonyoung came back. You moved around, making space for him to lay next to you, and he came running to your side. You let out a groan as Soonyoung crashes into you, his body molding so perfectly against yours.

"You know, you talk a lot about being a tiger but you seriously act like a kangaroo." Your comment falls on deaf ears, and it's partially because your voice is so quiet seeing as Soonyoung is suffocating you with his weight.

At Soonyoung's dramatic movements, your laptop almost falls off the edge of the bed. You yelp and reach for it with your foot, seeing as the rest of your body was stuck thanks to the man beside you. His face was in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your sensitive skin. You don't press him harder against you, despite desperately wanting to. Instead, you shuffle around until you're somewhat free and pick up your laptop.

"Do you want to watch a show with me?" you ask. "I already started it, but I'll catch you up on the details."

"Sure," Soonyoung mumbled.

You're not sure if he actually heard you, but you put on the show anyway. Whenever the characters bring something up from a past episode, you mutter an explanation to Soonyoung - who only hums in response. His arms stay wrapped around your middle, although you wish that they wouldn't. Having him hold you like this almost makes you believe that he liked you back. He has been different ever since that summer evening, but you always brush it off as him feeling weird about kissing a close friend.

"Who's that?" Soonyoung pauses the episode to point at a character.

"Oh! That's my favorite character!" You tell him the character's name and the backstory that has been revealed so far.

Soonyoung's eyes stay on the screen, practically glued to the character. At first you think nothing of it but as you keep talking about him, Soonyoung holds you a little tighter. The actor is very attractive, no one can deny that, and so you may or may not start gushing about it.

"Hey," Soonyoung interrupts your rambling and finally looks up at you. "Why don't you talk about me like that?"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The words pour out of Soonyoung's mouth before he could process them, and he instantly regrets them. "Why don't you talk about me like that?" Who says that? But Soonyoung can't hide now. He can't look away from you when he's said something like that. He keeps his eyes on you, despite wanting nothing more than to look back at the stupid character on the stupid screen.

"What?" Your voice is laced with a suspectfull humor - as if you aren't sure if he's being sarcastic or not.

"I just..." He finally looks away. "It's nothing..."

"Tell me," you whine as you shake his shoulders. "You can't say that and then not explain yourself!"

A part of him wonders if you want him to say it so badly because you already know. Because you're in love with him too. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but Soonyoung is willing to take his chances.

"The way you keep complimenting this random guy..." He motions to the screen with a nonchalant flick of his hand. "It's like you don't even see that I'm laying right next to you."

"You want me to compliment you?"

"I want you to see me."

Soonyoung meets your gaze again. The playful smile on your lips falters as you see the serious look on his face. He's close to you, your lips are right there, and he can feel your breath fan his skin. When you don't respond, Soonyoung grows anxious. He looks back to the screen, ready to make a joke to relieve the tension, when you take his jaw in your hand and force him to face you again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your lips smash against his in a messy and passionate kiss, so unlike the shy and timid kiss he had given you that summer evening. This was coming from the cave in your chest, where your heart had been spinning threads of want and need for the past few months since then. You're not just his friend anymore, not after this. You couldn't bring yourself to. The pounding of your pulse was drowning out all noise - so when he pulled away and mumbled something to you, you couldn't hear a word. Your half-lidded eyes lingered on his lips, you could see them move but not a word processed in your brain. That was, until he smiled and his laugh made it through the mental barrier you had put up.

"Answer me."

"What?"

"What was that for?" he asked, probably for the umpteenth time.

"I just wanted to kiss you again," you admit without thinking.

"Good." He all but beams as his eyes glances at your lips, and shyly asks you, "Could you do it one more time?"

[yanderefarm]

Ok there's vampire ares, but what about vampire or even pet Achilles, sadistic vampire reader who holds very popular "parties" where all the guests drink, have sex, and watch reader torture humans and vampires alike, maybe even add a casino element with people placing bets on who will scream loudest, last the longest without passing out, etc

cw;; blood drinking, blood, dehumanization, torture, needles, drugs

i was possessed to write this. i love this whole concept so much.

some vampires are kind to humans, they remember their own humanity and treat humans with care like domestic animals. some vampires have either forgotten or abandoned their original humanity in favour of making the weak suffer. and with modern technologies it's easier to push these humans to the absolute breaking point.

you're not so cruel as to hate humans, they make you money and entertain you after all, but you do enjoy hearing a human's will break. that's why you have your nightclub, an underground place where deranged perverts go to torture humans. human pets who were abandoned, human uprising activists, a greedy blood bank employee, a misbehaving human cattle, anything you wanted could be found right here. it was a demon's slice of heaven and the humans pit of hell.

you were enjoying the screams of the damned from your vip seat, blood wine in hand and two of the most sadistic female vampires you knew on your arms. they knew staying near you would mean they got a taste of the best humans to break. one of your usual suppliers approached your seat with 3 humans following behind him. two of them were clearly pets, numbers written on their faces to signify lot numbers, while the third and most beautiful wasn't marked or scarred he looked out of place.

"this was their last day on the auction. no one wants em so-"

"what about him."

the other vampire looks back at the pretty boy and sighs.

"he's a return. his owner complained he doesn't talk, doesn't scream, doesn't even get afraid."

your eyebrow raised in curiosity. you took his chain from the man, yanking the beautiful man closer to you.

"what's your name?"

"i told you he doesn't talk, sir. dunno how mu-"

"achilles."

his pretty voice was like honey. your supplier looked at him shocked while a smirk crossed your lips. you sat up fully intrigued by your new beautiful guest.

"achilles~ how come you're here and not being pampered and adored by one of the nice guys?"

"because I'm too beautiful to waste on them."

you laughed at that, the other vampires sheepishly joining in. as your laughter died you pulled him down to your level by his chain. your cold fingers gently brushed some of his pretty red curls out of his face.

"is that what the one who abandoned you said? or do you really believe it?"

it was amusing how naturally his stoic face leaned into your gentle touch.

"he told me that. he also said beautiful things, like me, look best when we're screaming and crying."

as if to punctuate his cold delivery you could hear a harsh thwack followed by a human's sobbing screams. you ran your thumb over his soft skin down to his pretty lips.

"that's why you didn't scream for him right? wouldn't make a noise, wouldn't cry. no, not you. you won't let these sick vampire bastards win. am i close?"

"i need to get home to my family. nothing he did to me was so unbearable that i couldn't endure for them."

your sadistic smirk turned to a genuine smile as you looked him over.

"... I'll make you a deal. you show me your worth and I'll protect your family."

he remained quiet contemplating it for a minute.

"if my worth is screaming and being in pain i don't know how well i can preform."

you let out a huff in amusement.

"don't worry I'll take care of your suffering if you agree to this."

"i would like to talk more about the terms but i just have to prove to you i have some value? is that correct?"

"that's correct."

"will any value be sufficient even if it's not what you're picturing?"

"hmmm... yes. even if your only value is your blood or your good looks. i still hope you'll endeavor to show me more than that, though."

"so i succeed by simply agreeing. you just hope to motivate me to be pushed to the edge?"

"yes. that's right. so, do you agree?"

"i agree."

you paid the supplier for all three of them, leaving the lesser two to the female vampires by your side. they both went about feeding on their new toys first while you sat achilles in your lap.

after a short while of just sitting there a waiter came up to you with a silver platter. in the middle of the platter was a syringe filled with a hot pink liquid. achilles eyed it, clearly intimidated by the sight but there was nothing he could do to stop you from picking it up. your other hand grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing his lips to purse.

"open."

he hesitated before he opened his mouth.

"tongue out."

his pretty wet tongue slipped out of his mouth giving him a slutty look there in your hands. pretty boy. you released his jaw but he kept his mouth open like a good boy. you tapped the syringe twice before bringing the sharp tip to his outstretched tongue. you didn't hesitate even as he flinched, plunging the whole thing into his tongue.

one of the girls looked at you both with wide eyes. "the whole thing??"

you gently removed the needle and placed it back on the silver platter, dismissing the waiter.

"what was it...?"

"if he's going to be amusing he'll need the whole thing. now get up and strip."

achilles hesitated again, his body actually frozen as he stood there brow furrowed. you let out a heavy sigh and began to unbutton his shirt.

"what... was it...?"

"it was something that will make you feel good. it makes your whole body sensitive."

you pulled his shirt down over his shoulders and discarded it to the side.

"is it dangerous to use all of it..."

"no. it'll just hit you really hard. it's ok, I'll take care of you but you do need to do exactly as I say. now take your pants off."

he stood up doing as you ordered with his cold face. he went to sit in your lap again but instead you lead him to the side of the couch and told him to stand there with his hands behind his back. he could feel everyone in the club staring at his naked body and you noticed his soft cock twitch slightly. you smirked before giving him a quick kiss and returning to your seat.

it took about 20 minutes before you finally heard a sound from achilles. you'd just been sharing one of the other pets, indulging in the free blood, when you heard the softest sluttiest whimper you've ever heard. you looked over to see your forgotten game with his entire body flushed and his cock stiff and leaking. he was clearly trying to stand still but even the slightest bit of breeze made him squirm and flinch. your eyes widened and your hunger that had been successfully satisfied so far tonight was like a fresh tidal wave. you needed to sink your fangs into him. you needed him screaming.

you got up abandoning everything too transfixed on your pretty toy to care. your breath was hitched when you reached inches from his wanting body, your fingers hovered over his skin. he looked over at you his stoic face now red and his eyes had hearts in them. he was like a masterpiece of want and desire you didn't even want to touch him for fear of ruining his perfect body. you hesitantly ran your fingers over his soft pink lips and a sultry moan flowed from his lips like honey.

everyone in the club was staring at you both now. everyone wanted this pretty piece of ass. you felt an odd twinge of jealousy and possessiveness strike. you pulled your hand away from your toy's lips instead grabbing his wrist roughly. god he let out another slutty moan. you couldn't stand that everyone could hear him. you started dragging him forcefully to your private room. as you did you noticed his feet struggling to keep up with your quick steps. you surprised yourself when you slowed down and matched his pace.

god you were already whipped for this pretty human.

as soon as you were in the private room you shoved him into the door, your mouth swallowing his slutty moans with a passionate kiss. his whole sensitive body twitched and jerked as his cock spilled cum onto his stomach. fuck. you pulled away to look at his mess leaving him gasping for air. he looked down as he tried to compose himself and the sight of his stomach covered in cum made him whimper. fuck.

you slammed your hand over his mouth hitting his head against the door.

"you're gonna fucking scream."

[scribblesofagoonerr]

September Love | Never Grow Up

the third and final installment in the mini series - this is the second version, more sadder so that's a heads up there

summary: remi starts her first year of school and there's a new arrival in the williamson family

pairings: leah williamson x reader

warning: talks of death.

alternative ending for this one - please don't hate me for it, i'm sorry in advance!

based on the reactions to this one, is how i am going to figure out the next mini series!

“I can’t believe it’s this time already,” Leah says, a frown etched on her face as she stares at an old photo of Remi at 5 weeks old that she had saved in her phone, “Where has the time gone?” She murmurs.

It only felt like it was yesterday.

“We blinked Le,” You tell her, your eyes softening, “And just like that, she’s off to big school.” You add.

“But she’s still too tiny for big school, isn’t she?” Your wife exhales a sigh and continues to stare at the photo on her phone with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Le, she’s 5 years old now. We have to let her go now,” You say gently, reminding your wife that your eldest girl was indeed not a baby now.

“I still don’t like it though,” Leah admits quietly, shaking her head in disagreement.

You can’t help but chuckle heartily, “She’s only going into her first year of reception, it’s not like she’s moving out the country,” You tease your wife, which you’re quick to be on the dirty end of a scowl, “Come on Le, you know what I mean.”

“Don’t even joke about things like that,” Leah murmurs, continuing to frown at you, “You don’t get it though, it’s her first day of big school… which means she’s not a baby anymore.” She adds.

“No she’s not,” You reply quietly in agreement.

Your wife bites her bottom lip and shakes her head vigorously, “I don’t like it. Why can’t we just turn back the clock?” She asks.

“It doesn’t work like that,” You laugh humorlessly and shake your head.

“It’s just,” Leah begins to say as she finds the right words, “She was our tiny little baby at one point and now… now she’s just growing up so fast.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve still got time to go through all this again, remember?” You tell her, gesturing towards your swollen belly as you are ready to give birth any day now, “Twice.”

“I know,” Your wife’s eyes soften as she crouches down and rests her hands on your baby bump, “I can’t wait to meet you baby boy.” She whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

“And he can’t wait to meet his Mummy either,” You tell her, genuinely smiling at the blonde, “Any day now.” You add, hopeful that he does make his appearance sooner rather than later after getting to the stage of being uncomfortable, and pregnancy during Summer is no joke.

“Why’re you sad, Mummy?” Remi’s voice pipes up out of nowhere, all ready for school wearing her brand new school uniform that you have to admit looks massive on her, her hair done up in a loose ponytail with a red ribbon attached while she wears her new black shiny shoes that you had the absolute misfortune of having to experience standing in a queue to just to get into the busy shop – that is something that you can definitely say you’re not such a fan off.

“Oh I’m not sad, baby Gooner,” Leah immediately plasters a smile on her face, “I’m just… I’m really proud of you, you know?” She adds, wiping away the stray tears from her face.

“But you’re crying though,” Remi frowns in confusion as she tilts her head to the side, “You only do that when you’re sad, like when you watch them really sad films about the puppies or when you’re on the pitch sometimes–”

“Okay, okay, I think we get it,” Leah interjects, before your daughter has any further chance to expose your wife for the softy that she really is, “I’m not sad, baby Gooner. I’m just so excited for you that you’re starting big school today. Are you excited?” She questions.

“Uh huh! I am so excited, I can’t wait to make lots of friends like uncle Jacob told me about!” Remi is vibrating with excitement, which is more than can be said about your wife.

“You’re going to make so many new friends!” You reassure your little girl with a proud smile on your face, “Alright, how about we take a picture for your first day of big school, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Remi jumps up and down in delight at the idea.

“Big smiles, Remi Roo!” You encourage as your daughter flashes you a gap-toothed smile from the tooth that she lost just the previous week.

You make it a whole family occasion with Esme toddling in to join in the photo opportunity and many snaps are taken amongst your little family of four, soon to be five.

“Perfect, baby girl!” You tell her, taking lots of pictures as you stare at them with a sense of nostalgia as all the sudden memories come to light of the several milestones Remi has achieved over the last 5 years, “You really are growing up, Remi Roo.”

“I don’t like it, it’s too many milestones at once,” Leah cracks under the pressure and shakes her head, wiping another stray tear away.

“Le,” Your facial expression softens as you wrap your arms around your wife to comfort her.

“It’s okay, Mummy!” Remi wraps her small arms around Leah’s legs, “Don’t be sad now! It’s gon’ be okay!”

“Me join!” Esme, not wanting to be left out, holds her hands up in the air for you to lift her up, “Mummy sad?” She asks, confused.

“A little bit,” You answer your youngest honestly.

“I make it better,” Esme declares, pressing a sloppy kiss on Leah’s cheek, “All better?”

“Much better, thank you Essie Bear,” Leah coos, returning a gentle kiss to Esme’s cheek.

“You can still cuddle me, even when I’m at big school!” Remi points out, peering up to look at your wife from where she’s stood, “It’s okay!”

“Oh, well in that case then I am definitely holding you to that,” Leah grins and scoops Remi up into her arms, “I’m gonna get in all the snuggles in that I can!” She says, squeezing her tightly.

“Alright, alright,” You break it up jokingly, “Let’s not smother her before she even makes it out the door for her first day.”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” Leah tells you, pointing her index finger in your face, “This is a big moment today.” She adds, placing Remi back down on the floor.

You snicker in amusement at your wife’s expense, “Oh don’t I know it? Big bad scary Leah Williamson crying over her little girl’s first day at big school,” You pause, the smirk not leaving your face, “Gosh, what will the world think?”

Your wife glares at you and gently swats you, “Shut up, I’m allowed to be emotional today.”

“Uh huh, and what’s the reason for every other day then?” You can’t help but wonder with a shit eating grin on your face.

“You’re lucky that I love you,” Leah murmurs, rolling her eyes at your antics to wind her up.

“And I love you too,” You reply, pecking her on the lips, “You’re the lucky one that I put up with you being a blubbering mess every time Remi does something that’s deemed ‘too grown up’,” You remind her, amusedly.

“I’m emotional, okay?” Leah exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “She’s our eldest, our baby… Our baby Gooner!”

“You can’t call me that anymore, Mummy!” Your 5 year old points out, “I’m not a baby!”

Your wife pouts at your daughter's words and shakes her head, “You will always be my baby, no matter how old you get,” She pauses, “Even when you’re 30 and you have your own family.”

Remi wrinkles her face up in disgust, “Boys are yucky, I don’t want a boyfriend.” She states,

“And you’re definitely right to think that,” You chuckle amusedly as you gather your small family out of the door and make your way to your wife’s BMW, “I think if Mummy had her way, she wouldn’t let you date until you’re 25 at least.” You joke.

“I’m ready to go in!” Remi announces, standing outside of the school gates in a tone that sounds far more grown up than her 5 year old self, “I’m not scared.”

“It’s good to not be scared, you’re going to have so much fun!” You tell her, holding her hand and guiding her through the gates of the school while Leah follows behind holding Esme’s hand, “You’re going to smash it, baby girl!”

“And we’ll be right here to pick you up when the day is done, okay?” Leah reassures your daughter, catching up with your toddler, who likes to walk at her own pace.

“Okay!” Your eldest nods in agreement, bouncing on her toes as she carries her backpack that looks way too big for her.

“Rem! Rem!” Esme shouts to get her big sister’s attention, “Rem!”

“I’m going to big school, Bear,” Remi crouches down and wraps her arms around her little sister, “But I’ll see you when I’m home and tell you all about it!”

Watching the exchange between your daughters, makes your heart swell with pride and a touch of bittersweetness.

“Miss ‘ou, Rem,” Esme pouts, a little frown forming on her tiny face as her voice wobbles, as if she’s on the verge of tears.

“Miss you too, Bear,” Remi continues to squeeze her little sister tightly, “I’ll be back later though, don’t worry!” She adds with a smile that reveals her recently lost tooth.

“Come here, you,” Leah crouches down to your daughter’s level and wraps her arms around her, squeezing her tightly as if to not let go and hold on to her forever, “I’m so proud of you, here at big school, eh?  You’re going to make so many friends and learn so much! Oh, and have a lot of fun as well!” She tells her.

“Mummy,” Remi attempts to wriggle away from your wife’s embrace, “You’re… You’re squeezing too tight.” She whines,

“I’m just soaking up the moment until you’re home from school,” Leah admits, pulling back and brushing a loose strand of hair behind Remi’s ear, “Big school, eh? I wish you would stop growing up so much on me, I don’t like it.” She jokes with her.

“You have to let me grow up, Mummy,” Remi’s giggle is infectious as she squeezes your wife again tightly, “I gots’ to go in now, but I’ll see you when you pick me up, remember?”

“We will be right here waiting for you,” You tell her, unable to crouch down properly with your swollen belly in the way, “We’re so proud of you, Remi Roo!” You add, kissing the top of her head.

You spot your daughters’ teacher making her way over to your family as she gives you both a kind smile, “Hi, Remi. Are you ready to go in?” She asks.

“Yes!” Remi excitedly replies, giving you both a final hug goodbye before she takes hold of her teachers’ hand and begins to walk in the building, “Bye, Mummy! Bye, Mumma! Bye, Bear!” She calls back, her voice ringing with excitement.

“Bye, baby Gooner,” Leah waved back, her voice catching slightly as you see the glimmer of tears threatening to spill over again.

You can feel your own chest tightening as you force a smile and wave, “See you later, Remi Roo. Have the best day!”

“Bye-bye, Rem! Love you!” Esme clings to Leah’s leg, waving frantically.

“Save your tears for the car, Le,” You tease, taking note of your wife’s eyes, the tears are a lot more visible now, “I know it’s hard to watch her go in there, but it’ll be 3 o’clock before we know it.” You add, hoping that helps things a little better.

“I know,” Leah murmurs in agreement, walking round to the pre-school that Esme attended next to the school.

You can say that dropping Esme off to pre-school wasn’t too hard, although there were extra tight hugs given before your youngest daughter ran off inside without a care in the world.

Much to your wife’s disappointment, and you swear the tears threaten to spill again.

“At least we know what your weakness is now,” You joke, climbing back into the passenger seat of the car after dropping them both off, “It’s only a few hours, remember? It’ll be here before we know it.” You tell her.

Leah tries to laugh it off and shake her head as she climbs into the driver's seat, “Yeah, and to think I still have to go to training,” She pauses as wipes a visible tear away as she buckles her seatbelt in, “I wish I could just tell Jonas that we have a family emergency.” She tells you.

It’s at that moment, you completely freeze as you feel a sudden wet patch on your leather seat.

 “Um, Le,” You mumble, getting her attention as she fiddles with the dials of the car to find the right music playlist, “I think you might need to call Jonas and tell him that there’s a family emergency.” You say.

Leah turns towards you and looks confused, “Why’s that, love?” She wonders.

“Well, because I’m 99% sure that my waters have just broken,” You admit, gazing down to motion to the seat.

It takes literal seconds for your wife’s eyes to widen in shock, “What? Here? Now?” She rambles in a clear panic, “Seriously? Oh my God!”

“Don’t panic,” You murmur, trying to keep the situation calm despite your best efforts – Your wife is very much in a complete panic over this.

“I’m not… I’m not panicking,” Leah stutters her words as she runs her hand through her hair, “What'd we do? Do you feel like you have contractions? We need to get the hospital bag from the house!” She continues to ramble.

You shake your head in disagreement, “I don’t feel like there’s any currently,” You pause, “We’ll go home, stay there until they start and head to the hospital when it’s time, yeah?” You suggest, trying to keep calm in the situation despite the one being hours away from giving birth.

“O… Okay,” Leah swallows the lump that’s formed in her throat, “We’ll go home, we’ll wait there– I need to call my Mum, she’ll need to pick the girls up.” She notes in realisation.

“Yeah, I somehow don’t think it’s going to be possible to be there for the 3 o’clock pick up after all,” You murmur, exhaling a sigh, “Little man has decided today’s the day to make his grand entrance into the world.”

Plans don’t always go as expected. You certainly didn’t expect to go into labour on the very same day that your eldest daughter started big school, but sometimes life takes you by complete surprise.

That day, life had a far bigger surprise than you or Leah could ever have imagined.

“This doesn’t feel right, you should be here,” Leah speaks aloud a few hours later, cradling your newborn son, Archie George Williamson at home  in her arms, knowing that you should be here to see this moment as well. 

His tiny breaths, soft and slow, his fingers curled into little fists – You’re not there to hold him yourself.

The labour had been far more complicated than anyone could have anticipated and you lost too much blood, and though they tried to save you, you never woke up after your son came into the world.

Leah's eyes are red from crying, but she’s holding herself together for the sake of the baby – For the sake of the three children that you’ve left behind while she strokes Archie’s head softly, “I hate that you aren’t here, I hate that my Mum had to pick Remi up on her first day," She murmurs, almost to herself, “We promised her we would both be there.”

The room feels empty without you, a hollow space where your laughter and warmth should be. Leah feels the ache of your absence in every corner, in every breath she takes.

“I hope you know how much your Mumma loved you already, little man,” The blonde whispers,  her heart breaking as she looks down at Archie, whose little face is scrunched up while he sleeps, “Believe me, she loved you so, so much from the minute we found out we were expecting you.”

As she takes a deep breath to steady herself, she continues to speak, “Our family might not be complete now, but you’re here, Archie Bug and we’ll make sure that you know all about her.”

There’s a quiet knock on the door and the sound of little feet thundering down the hallway as Amanda has brought Remi and Esme back from school. Leah wipes her eyes quickly, trying to put on a brave face as the door flies open.

“Mummy!” Remi shouts, her voice full of excitement, her hair now wild and free from it’s ponytail, running into the room with wide eyes, bright and full of curiosity, unaware of the loss that’s waiting to be explained.

“Mumma! Mummy!” Esme echoes, hot of her sister’s heels, her usual energetic self completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“Shhh, girls,” Leah gently admonishes, holding up a finger to her lips, “We have to be quiet and use our inside voices.” She reminds them softly, her heart aching as she realises she’ll have to tell them soon.

Remi, always so observant, stops short and notices the bundle in Leah’s arms, but frowns when she doesn’t see you on the sofa like she thought she would, “Where’s Mumma?”

Leah’s smile falters, the weight of her grief momentarily overwhelming as she struggles to find the words, “Mumma… She’s not here anymore,” she says softly, her voice quivering.

Remi’s head tilts in confusion, not able to understand your wife’s words so much, “What do you mean, Mummy?” She asks as her eyes fix on Archie as she tiptoes over to Leah with exaggerated caution, “Is this him?”

“It is,” Leah responds, her voice trembling, “Girls, this is your baby brother, Archie.”

Esme’s face lights up with delight, “Baby?” She says, her voice high-pitched and curious, “My baby?” She asks.

“Your baby brother,” Leah corrects with a small, sad smile as she continues to hold Archie in her arms.

Amanda, who has walked through the house with Jacob, peers over to look at her new grandson, “He’s perfect, Bubba.” She says, sharing a sad smile with her daughter.

Jacob scoops Esme up into his arms to give her a better look at your newborn, “He’s very little still, Es, so you have to be very gentle with him.” He tells her.

Remi leans in closer, her little face filled with wonder, “He’s tiny, Mummy,” She reaches out, carefully touching Archie’s tiny hand, “He’s smaller than my dollies.”

Leah laughs softly, tears threatening again, “He is, isn’t he?” She pauses to settle Archie down in his Moses basket, “But he’ll grow up to be big and strong, just like you.”

Jacob sets Esme down next to Remi, watching the two girls stare at their brother in the Moses basket as Amanda takes the moment to wrap her arms around her daughter to comfort her.

Wanting to be brave for her children, Leah wipes away any visible tears and plasters on a fake smile as she looks in the direction of her daughters, “What do you think, Essie Bear?” She asks, catching the moment that Esme tries to reach out and poke Archie’s cheek gently, “Gentle, Essie.” She reminds her with a soft smile.

Archie just lets out a soft sigh but still remains asleep, already learning to find comfort in the noise around him.

“He likes it, Mummy,” Esme declares confidently, trying to reach out and poke him again.

“We have to be gentle with him, Es. He’s only little,” Leah tells her softly, her voice catching in her throat.

Remi glances up at Leah, “Mummy, will he like Arsenal, like you do?” She asks, curiously.

“I mean I hope so, but if not then that’s okay too,” Leah answers honestly, pushing past the weight in her chest, “Just as long as he doesn’t follow uncle Jacob and support Spurs.” She jokes, trying to make light of the situation despite how heartbroken she feels inside.

“Of course you just had to get in there, didn’t you?” Jacob rolls his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.

“What? We’re a family full of Gooners in this house,”  Leah shrugs, trying to hold onto the joy in the room, “Just as long as all 3 of my kids are happy then that’s all that matters to me now.”

“Can I hold him, Mummy? Please?” Remi leans in closer, looking at Leah with those big, hopeful eyes that match her own.

Leah nods with a smile that almost feels real, “Okay, Rem, but you have to sit down and be very still, okay?” She instructs gently.

Remi eagers nods and hops onto the chair beside the bed, her little legs dangling off the edge as she waits in anticipation to hold Archie. Leah gently lifts the sleeping baby from his Moses basket, cradling his body with steady hands, though her heart feels anything but, as she slowly places him into Remi’s waiting arms.

“Hi, Archie,” Remi’s face lights up with pure delight, her grin stretching from ear to ear as she cradles her baby brother with such tender care in the world, “I’m Remi, I’m your big sister and I love you lots!” she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

“He loves you lots too, Rem,” Leah whispers back, her voice breaking just a little, how she wishes you were to see this, to be part of this moment.

“My turn next!” Esme declares, standing on her tiptoes, trying to peek over Remi’s shoulder, “My turn!” She repeats, a little too loud as Leah quickly hushes her with a finger to her lips.

“Soon, Essie Bear,” Leah promises, brushing a hand through Esme’s curly hair, “Remi’s just having a cuddle first, see?”

Esme nods eagerly, her face scrunched up in concentration as she watches her sister carefully, “Okay, I wait,” She whispers, “He’s cute, Mummy.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Leah agrees, her smile wobbly but genuine as she looks down at Archie before leaning down to kiss the top of Esme’s head, “He looks just like you when you were born as well. Tiny and perfect.”

As Leah watches her three children, she feels the weight of your absence, an ache that will never fully leave but she knows that no matter what, she needs to be strong for them now. Making sure that they never forget you, she will keep your memory alive in every way that she can.

Because even though you’re not here, your love is and Leah will make sure that’s enough.

© scribblesofagoonerr