#too bad if it doesn't work for you but i'm built different and spray on sunscreen saved my life one gorjillion times

[telluricdog]

"sunscreen is just a cancer causing product and does nothing to stop sunburns 😤😤😤" guys would change their tone real quick if they were naturally ginger bc to me it's my greatest ally during my favorite season

[quirkwizard]

I am planning on making quirks that represent typical school cliques so I will be asking a couple quirks( not in the same post but as a series) These are for the musician/rocker, the geek, the punk/criminal, the goth, the stoner, and the cheer leader.

Quirk: electric guitar-the user forms electricity with the same shape, length, and weigh as a guitar. The guitar has the same voltage as a taser and the same loudness as an electric guitar. The user can strum the strings as normal. The user has a built in electrical and sound resistance. The true power comes from destroying it. By guitar smashing it, it becomes a wave of sound and electricity greatly disorienting enemies. Though this does completely destroy the guitar. The user also suffers slight recoil such as ringing ears and a slight muscle twitch. The user can only create - insert appropriate number here- per day with creating too many results in external exhaustion/ tiredness and needing lots of rest and electrolyte replenishing.

Quirk: dragon summon- user can summon 6 dragons with sharp claws, teeth, can fly, and breathe fire. The dragons are the same size as a pencil and their flame has the same range and heat level as a lighter. 6 is possibly too many so I’ll leave it up to you to make the appropriate number though I would like it to be at least 2 minimum. This represents geek because they are stereotypically into summoning monsters and mythical creatures. I was originally going to make it summon other things like a Minotaur, unicorn, and phoenix but I think that would be too strong. This quirk is already pushing it on the OP level

Quirk: pray paint- user can spray a paint like substance from their pointer finger with the same range as a spray can. It can be any color including glow in the dark. The paint will cause irritation if breathed in or got in someone’s eyes though no lasting damage unless someone constantly got it in them. The paint also tastes bad like one of those game cartridges to prevent babies from eating them. It is somewhat hard to wash off a person( same level as a permanent marker) but on inanimate objects it’s permanent. Weaknesses- no reliable damage. User has a limited resistance to it.

Ghost companion- user has a small ghost friend that is completely intangible, can go invisible, levitate, and has a telepathic connection to the user. Weaknesses- due to being completely intangible, the ghost can’t physically do anything. So no pushing things over, picking up objects, or hitting someone. Essentially this quirk is only good for scouting and always having a friend. Quirk- marijuana ( best I could come up with). Basically just sloshed but instead of making people drunk it makes them high/ tripping out

Finally is the cheerleader. Pep-talk: when the user gives a genuine complement like “your hair looks nice” or “hey I believe in you” the persons strength, stamina, fatigue, and durability is increased with the more nice/ pepped up the better results. They cannot use it on themselves and using it on multiple people at once divides up the boost. Basically it’s incite but isn’t dependent on if the people believe them to be a worthy leader or not.

I'm just going to do all of these together since they all fit this theme and there really isn't a lot to say about them on there own.

I really don't think any of these can work. "Electric Guitar" doesn't have a strong central idea to make a Quirk around, "Dragon Summon" seems way too weak with how small and few they can make, "Ghost Companion" is way too powerful with how good it can scout around, "Marijuana" has so little details that there isn't much to comment on, and "Pep-Talk" is just a slightly different versions of "Incite". The only exception to this is "Spay Paint", which could work as a civilian type Quirk, like what I did with "Spray Hands", but that is about it.

[atsunflower]

Semi Eita x Reader

Rated: SFW — Angst, cursing, traffic accident, injury descriptions, slight mentions of anxiety and post traumatic stress. 

Word count: 2070

Author notes: and here is the second part of our F.L.Y collab. I want to thank all the girls from Knights of the coconut and in particular, both @mooshua and @neonghxst who were pretty patient with me and helped me a lot throughout this process. You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough. I guess that's all. Please enjoy your reading!

F.L.Y Masterlist

If this can no longer resonate/ No longer make my heart vibrate/ Then like this may be how/ I die my first death

He felt suffocated as the breath hitched on his throat.

Staring at his hands, the male recalled how said limbs brought the best time of his life:

A setter position at Shiratorizawa Volleyball club.

A desk job at the public department.

A promise as a rising star along his band, under a label with a contract too good to be true.

Roaming through his memories, he remembers that every single one of his  achievements were accompanied by lights:

The reflectors on the court.

The white lamps from his office.

The blinding lights from the stage.

Once had he everything he wanted. Now it was all out of his grasp — And lights, very similar to the last ones, now plagued his thoughts.

After all, he remembers when they blinded him before the car came crashing onto his body. Chills ran down his spine every time he recalled how the headlights of the vehicle were the last thing he saw before blacking out.

All it took was one second and then, a month at the hospital that turned into a lifetime of pain — it took only an accident for his life never be the same again.

"Maybe this is what they call first death" He muttered to himself, the words tasting bitter in his mouth as he took on his surroundings.

The constant tapping the secretary made on the keyboard left his nerves on edge and, added to the sterile scent hanging on the air, it felt like a reminder of the folder that sat heavy on his lap. In addition, the curious, pitying, eyes trained to his figure did nothing to soothe his anxiety.

Well, it's not everyday you see a rockstar sitting in a clinic waiting room, after he almost died, the man mused in distaste.

"Semi Eita?" The voice called from the door across the lounge. There, a male stood eyeing him as he made his way to the office.

The room was spacious, with a desk, cabinets, a stretcher and some anatomic models. A typical physiotherapist office, he guessed — not like Semi had ever been into one before, though.

"Make yourself comfortable, Semi-san" The brunette said as he organized some papers on the desk surface "I see it's your first time here. I'm Ennoshita Chikara, the physiotherapist who will take care of your condition from now on" They both shook hands as Semi sat on the chair. He cursed internally as he felt no force on his right hand.

"So, what brings you here today, Semi-san?" Ennoshita asked, eyeing Semi's right hand.

The grey haired male gulped before handing the folder to the physiotherapist.

"Here, this is the medical report. Shirabu-sensei made sure to specify everything regarding my hand." The brunette hummed before taking it. Semi couldn't muster up the courage to talk about his condition.

"I know, Semi-san. But I need to hear it for the history taking and you may know acceptance can help you through the recovery process" The apologetic tone made him sick.

"I don't want to talk about it. Could you please just proceed with the therapy?"

"Look, I know it's a sensitive topic but���" The therapist was interrupted mid sentence when Semi stood. The chair screeched on the floor at the sudden movement before the male tried to snatch the folder from the other.

Tried. 

The paper sheets scattered on the floor, since he couldn't take a proper grip on them.

Tears of frustration welled up on his eyes, as he murmured a meek apology only to storm out of the place.

Semi Eita felt the pitying eyes following him all the way back to his house.

At home, he felt in peace.

No sympathetic gazes and no condescending words. Just him alone with his own demons.

I need a bath. And a beer, the gray haired man decided as the weak hand carded through his hair locks. He flinched at the touch, feeling how dull it was — tactless, even. Just a bundle of flesh and bones hanging from his wrist. Nothing like it used to be.

Ignoring the pang on his chest, the man walked through the corridor. By his left, he saw a shining glass door and immediately, a sensation of longing crawled up his spine and clawed at his heart. He opened the tinted surface, entering the room.

The music studio was the same way he left on the accident day: the gray hoodie thrown over the chair, the paper cups of coffee scattered over his desk and the Moleskine with the lyrics he wrote that night. They resembled three months of hard work and the whole place, a sanctuary built of his dreams.

Too bad the room now felt like his own private purgatory.

Running his index finger over the notebook's leathery spine, memories invaded his mind. Regret gnawed on him even though he wasn't at fault — well, who would have predicted that going to get cigarettes late at the night would end up in a near-death experience? Who would've guessed that, on the way back to his condo, a drunk fucker would hit him with his car and vanish from the scene, without calling an ambulance?

If the medical help came sooner, would things be different? He often wondered, even though he knew it couldn't be helped. His friend, doctor Shirabu, said the damage on his arm was too extensive with a chance of recovery little to nonexistent. His heart stopped beating when he heard those words.

Looking back at it, Semi Eita regretted getting out of his house for such a trivial thing. Before, the musician had his dreams to push him through. Now, all he had left was a medical report — written in a horrendous handwriting, if he may add — stating that patient Semi Eita suffered a minor brain damage and multiple broken bones that caused a lower motor neuron syndrome with wallerian degeneration on the median nerve of his right arm — he didn't understand a shit about the medical terms, but he knew it was bad. Well, it's not like paralysed fingers in the form of 'the hand of benediction' could be a good outcome of an accident.

Benediction? More like a curse, he scowled.

Snapping out of his internal turmoil, brown orbs wandered over the music studio, eyeing all his equipment, as the man drowned on the nostalgic feeling.

On the far corner of the room, white tiles smiled at him — Though, it wasn't a sign of sympathy: in the far corner of the room, the black piano was smiling in mockery, as if it laughed at him, knowing his condition.

You'll never play again, The piano said

"I know!" He retorted.

Your career is dead, the piano chanted.

"I know!"

So pitiful, it snickered — and that was the last straw before despair washed through his body.

Semi spotted the electric guitar by his left. Grabbing the instrument by its neck, he threw it at the other. The wooden body crashed onto the keyboard, the ivory keys agonized at the violence.

Not that he cared, though. He was hurting a lot more than the piano did.

And the tears running down his face were proof enough of it.

Absorbed in his self-conscious state, he didn't see you entering the room, eyes roaming over the mess he made.

"Oh my, Eita!" And his body crashed into yours, sobbing uncontrollably. 

"Eita, love" You said softly, testing the waters.

"Get out" He pleaded weakly, both of you still slumped over the carpet of his studio. Your boyfriend stopped crying long ago, but sorrow still covered his face.

The sight was heartbreaking.

"You know I won't" You said, holding him tighter.

"[Name], get the fuck out!" He said an octave louder, pushing you away "The last thing I want now is your pity. And I don't want you to see me like this, either" Ever the proud man he was, hatred laced his voice — and even though you knew it wasn't directed at you and that he didn't mean it, it still hurted.

"I won't leave you. And I don't pity you" You sincerely stated.

"So why the fuck you're looking at me like this?" Hazel irises squinted at you, the hands clutching your shoulder tightened their grip — the hold on your right felt a lot more stronger.

"I'm worried" And then, he laughed.

Hysterically.

Almost scaringly.

"Why waste your time, huh?" You tried to retort, he beated you to it.

"Why bother with a failure for a boyfriend, hm?"

"Eita"

"What's left to you, huh? I bet you're leaving me now that my fucking career went downhill and I won't be famous anymore" The venom of his words scorched your ears.

Throwing insults at you, Semi didn't measure his words and nor did you measure your actions. A second after, all the two of you felt was the stinging flesh.

Of your hand.

Of his cheek.

"So you'll just sit here and cry?" You grabbed him by the collar, eyes boring into his "Shirabu himself said there was a chance. Are you giving up this easily?"

"Shirabu said there was a slight chance" He corrected you, saliva was sprayed over your skin when he screamed at your face.

"And you'll just take it, giving up without a try?" You were so done. The Semi you knew wasn't a spineless man who gave up so easily.

"You don't know how it feels!" He cracked again, the cry went past his mouth, wavering on the air. Your features softened as your hands moved upwards, cradling his face.

"I don't" The words came ragged "But please, don't give up without pulling out a good fight. You're not acting like yourself"

"It's just so hard. You don't get how empty I feel" The man before you was nothing like your Eita.

"For fuck's sake, Eita. Try the surgery and if it doesn't work, wait for the physical therapy results. If it still doesn't work, learn to play with the other hand, goddammit" You leaned onto him, joining your foreheads "Just don't give up. Back to our Shiratorizawa years, you said you wanted to rely on your own strength to show you abilities, because you desire to do things were always too strong. You prided yourself for being free when showing off, then why are you letting this situation hold you down?"

"It's hard. It's like I'm dying, but feels much more worse than that" Words came in a whisper, still reluctant to consider the options.

"But did you die? Did your talent die?" You lightly shook his body, trying to infuse some energy into it "Did you, all of sudden, forget how to make music?" And he saw determination painted in the hue of your irises.

"But—" He tried to argue.

"No buts, even if you can't play in the band, you can still be a producer. Don't let life reap your art away from you" You pleaded, hoping your words could somehow touch him.

Peeking into his face, you observed its features softening as you felt his muscles relaxing under your palms and your boyfriend reciprocating your loving touches.

Your heart was finally at ease.

"How come you always know what to say in the right time, even if it's cliché as fuck?" Eyelids covered the orbs you loved so much as the words were spoken in a serene mode. 

Semi Eita felt peace.

You tucked the broader body inside of your arms, caressing the lean muscles of his shoulders.

"There's a reason why, other than my pretty face, I'm your muse" He playfully scoffed at you, tightening the hold on your waist.

"Who said you are?" You ignored his words, paying attention to the hair locks under your chin "[Name]?" He started uncertain.

"Hm?"

"You're right. Guess if I didn't die in the accident, it's only fair if I don't let my life as an artist go away either" His soft-spoken words meant everything to you.

Relief washed over you as your heartbeat increased in your chest. But the most important was how you could feel Semi's heart beating again.

I'm in my workroom, it's my studio/ The waves go darkly by in a throe/ But I'll never get dragged away again

Taglist: @anseoo @keiijiis @inarizakikoukou @deerixiie @bristil @maramalademadara @thedreadthreadanomaly @catharsisbabey @aprettyfruit @ttsukii @chasekudo @kenmashoe @daijoubuyuki @krusty-cheetahs @ohmythatmiya

[raviliuz]

"Here comes the sun" Blaise Zabini x Theodore Nott

Muggle, retro au

@lifesucksandiwanttobeamarauder I finally translate that fanfiction, I hope you like it 🥺

The dark-skinned boy has tried to sit still from three hours already. It is incredibly hard for him, because of his amazing hyperactivity. In all honesty, sitting here as a model doesn't count to his dreams or favourites activities but he couldn't deny to Theodore's asks.

Just because of that — his bloody weakness for the older boy — he must stick up there and pose to Theodore's new painting. Blaise perfectly knows that person on that work of art won't be even similar to him. But it will be beautiful, perfect as everything that has been made by gifted hands of Theodore Nott.

There's music, playing quietly at the background, played on a gramophone, restored by Blaise himself. He gifted it to his friend as a birthday present two years ago on an incredibly warm and short night, 22th of June.

He has so many memories with that slight, passionate boy.

"Theo," he says suddenly, breaking the silence. He sounds like a dissatisfied kitten and when he doesn't notice any reaction, he repeats meowing "Theo, I'm bored."

The other boy finally pays his attention to Blaise, not his reflection on painting, which is created on a canvas (too small in Theo's opinion).

"Blaise, you really can't stand it for a while more?" Theodore asks and there is a nuance of desperation and melancholy in his voice, "I want to end it."

And Blaise has already known, he loses again. He won't be able to deny his friend the pleasure that results from looking at the painting — finished, after hours of working.

"I'll stand it, Theo" he sighs and in his mind adds 'always for you'. At this moment all he can do is begging and praying that Theodore is not able to read minds, just like some characters in their favourites comics.

"Nah, Blaise" slight boy says suddenly and leaves his paint palette and set of brushes on the cupboard, promising himself that he will wash it carefully within a few minutes when paints won't be already dry "I know you don't want to."

"It's not like that" Zabini starts to explaining himself chaotically because he doesn't want hurt Theodore's feelings, "I love watching your painting and you while you're painting. And I love that you have a passion and you're so talented. I just... It's May Day and we are sitting in your room..."

"It's alright, Blaise" Theodore interrupts his with the most beautiful, in Zabini's opinion, smile — that carefree, happy and only a little faraway one.

"We should do something and bring Hope with us to take many photos and place them in our albums with dumb yet cute captions" Theo proposes with a light laugh.

The younger, but taller, better built and more mature, of boys, stands up and brushes off invisible pollen from clothes. He reaches his hand to Theodore to help him stand up.

"Wanna go?" he proposes and even if Theo doesn't know where he agrees without a single question.

It doesn't matter where they go, it will be awesome as always if Blaise is with him.

He catches Hope and puts it on his neck. Theo loves his polaroid camera with whole his heart, even if it isn't the newest and all the better photos were made by Blaise.

Blaise is still holding Theodore's hand in his (definitely larger and rougher), like he doesn't care about rubs of paints in many different colours on Theo's hand and now, also on Blaise's one.

He pulls his friends outside and enters the garage like he is in his own house. Theodore knows what he means without words and grabs his bicycle with a big smile on his slim face.

Meanwhile, Blaise grabs his skateboard, which, only in the form of rebellion against sentiment, he did not give a name. But he perfectly knows that by his skateboard, people could see a different side of his personality, which he doesn't show often — bloody sentimentalist who loves very clichéd books or movies and constantly remembering beautiful moments, and it doesn't matter if that happens a year ago or two hours ago.

The skateboard has its best years far behind its. The picture which was printed on the underside of 'his love' (although, of course, incomparable to that of the boy just standing next to him) has almost completely faded and crumbled, peeling paint seems not so good, to put it mildly, but in Blaise's opinion, it adds the special character and charm to his skateboard. Every scratch and every cooked screw tell a story and Blaise thinks it definitely better than new skateboard — probably glamorous but without its own character.

Blaise isn't similar to Theo, not it that topic. He has never had boxes filled with various craps, which refer to many different events and happenings. He doesn't have special notebooks with tickets, a diary or millions of notes with quick sketches, created under the influence of a sudden flow of wen. He doesn't keep every notes and message on scraps of papers, which have been hand down on lessons, in hope that the teacher wouldn't see that. In first, even having a photo album was strange for Blaise. It shows, that he likes looking back at past and that feeling, which sometimes accompanies you right before falling asleep, when you remind yourself one of those pleasant situations from childhood, isn't foreign for him. It was all he was trying to defend himself against, but only for a time.

For a time when on his way stood that quite frail and nerdy boy. Theodore showed him being sentiment isn't something bad just as singing songs out loud in public places. As compensation, Blaise showed him the magic of comics and all these beautiful, charming in their area, which he discovered while taking a walk daily. Blaise pulled Theodore out of his room and dragged him away from the easel to lead him everywhere he can.

"To our place?" Theodore asks and gets on his a little too small, colourful bike. The seat creaks quietly under his mass but none of the boys pays any attention to this.

"Exactly, now ride, my carriage" Blaise screams and catches up on Theo's seat so the movement of the bicycle can drag him.

"Pff, flax" Nott giggles and Blaise find it as the most sonorous, melodic sound in the whole world.

They ride slowly through all that musty hole, also known as Torquay, or — their home. The road even if it's really old and it remembers when they as children drew chalk on a street, is not in a bad condition. A worse fate befell the road signs — some of them are smeared with sprays, and some are knocked off the ground, due to a car accident or a group of probably drunk but still strong young people.

There are many houses near the road. They are quite poor and definitely not as modern as houses in the capital. At some time, before he started taking daily walks, Blaise dreamed about living in London. Or rather, to be able to tell others that he lives in London. It's another thing which distinguishes him from Theodore — the older boy sees beauty everywhere, in everything and in everybody. Blaise envied him with this skill, for him the world has been boring or just ugly and people have been cruel sometimes.

The sun is warming their backs when they slowly ride on a well-known path. They pass Mrs Shermik, so out of courtesy from four meters away from her, they shout to the old woman joyful 'Good morning'. As they turn into a lane, which is fortunately dry as it hasn't rained much lately, Theo starts humming under his breath.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad" he looks at his friend (nearly losing control of his bike) and Blaise quickly understands what he means.

Blaise joins to his singing and adds next line:

"Take a sad song and make it better".

Someday Blaise would have worried. He was worried about what people would think, he was afraid someone would hear them. But not now. Now he doesn't care when the words flowing from the depths of memory, and when the song ends, he starts another, definitely his favourite — "Blackbird". Neither of the boys has a perfect voice, singing is definitely not their hidden talent, but that doesn't matter. And that is wonderful, isn't it?

Here Blaise can no longer skate further — the ground is too uneven, even ploughed by the tires of wheelbarrows and carts of people from the neighbouring village. The dark-skinned man rejects Theo's offer to simply get his bike's rack and chooses to run next to the boy. The basketball team and two trainings a week are finally coming in handy — thanks to this, his condition is really good and he doesn't gasp like an old man with asthma after twenty meters run. Theodore, noticing how well his best friend is doing, accelerates, forcing Zabini to run, which he accepts with a groan. Nevertheless, he catches up with the older boy and promises himself that as soon as they get there, he will get his revenge.

After five more minutes, they are a destination of their travel. The place they describe as "their", although they are well aware that they are not the only people who come here, is exactly as they remember it — beautiful.

It was Blaise who discovered them during one of his walks over three years ago. He perfectly remembered how it happened.

That day he was trying to find a rather fast but shallow brook, which he remembered from his childhood. Before Draco's move to London, they told Draco's parents that they were going to the field, but in fact, they went to the brook and walked back and forth on a tree that had fallen over the river. He remembered just as well how Draco's mother, on her way to the store, noticed they were not on the field, prompting a search. When their parents found them by the brook — wet but in unusually good moods, they were already too worried to be upset with them.

After searching for more than an hour (during which he definitely fulfilled the daily, maybe even a week, step norm, but he didn't care) he found a place from his memories, although it was difficult to recognize its. The brook had dried up completely, leaving only a faint riverbed and tree roots washed out of the ground, but the place has definitely retained its charm.

Theo drops the bicycle, leaning it hurriedly against one of the roots, and lays down on the grass, staring at the almost cloudless sky, hidden only by tree branches. Blaise, slightly out of breath, rests his hands on his knees and stays like this for a moment. When his breath normalized he comes closer to Theodore. There is a snap and a Polaroid camera gracefully named Hope spits out a photo in which the image hasn't shown up yet. Theo enthusiastically grabs a small piece of paper and starts waving it so fast that it is about to reach orbital velocity. After a while, the picture clears up the silhouette of a younger boy, who was about to lie down next to his friend. Blaise looks at the photo and asks smiling, even though he already knows the answer:

"For your or my album?"

"Of course mine," Theodore replies quickly, grinning happily, "Why do you need your own photos? They will be much more useful to me."

The dark-skinned boy can't help but messes Theodore's hair in one move of his hand. However, Theo is not annoyed by that, he reacts to it like a cat, moving closer and silently demanding further caresses, which the younger one does willingly.

They are sitting like that (or rather, Blaise is sitting and Theo's half lying on him) till the sunset. There is a flower crown on Blaise's head, made by Theo with field flowers collected by him. And of course, Theodore took a photo of Blaise in his work of art.

It's getting dark. Butterflies, which were flying around them flew away and gave way for beautiful moths and fireflies. Theodore stands up energetically and starts jumping on protruding trees' roots, chasing insects to take a photo of them.

"Theo, please be careful," Blaise says attentively but the only response is 'don't worry' screamed by Nott.

Blaise unwillingly starts remembering his childhood. Times, when he wasn't Theodore's friend and all that connected them, was the same neighbourhood, chalk and short-term relationship of their parents. Then they found that as a stupid and loathsome. Nowadays, at their seventeen's, just as weird. But they weren't friends. After all, Blaise was friends with Draco and the teacher in primary had repeated that it's better to have fewer friends but true friends. So Blaise fraternizes with Malfoy till he moved to London.

It's not that now Blaise finds it as a mistake or holds any grudge with Draco. But nowadays he thinks that it is not good to withdraw from others.

When Draco had left and moved to London, Blaise had thought they now he stayed alone but on that moment, Theodore slowly crept into his life. Nott sat next to Blaise on school basketball pitch and started reminding happy moments from times when Draco lived in Torquey.

And later he showed his painting to Blaise and dark-skinned boy couldn't believe someone his age could do something that beautiful. A week later Blaise sat down with him in the canteen and sometime later also on most of the lessons so he could distract him from learning to read their favourites comics.

Now, Blaise would imagine his life without his always laughing and only sometimes a little faraway friend.

His thoughts are interrupted by a quiet scream.

"Ouch!"

Blaise, worried, stands up imminently and run through Theo. He is curled up in a fetal position between roods of the biggest tree. Zabini hugs him tightly and Theodore accepts that willing, cuddling to his chest while holds back tears.

"Ah, Theo" Blaise whispers, still cuddling the boy in his arms, "I asked you to be careful."

"I'm sorry, Blaise" he answers, sniffing.

"Don't apologize to me, silly" Blaise couldn't stop himself from nuzzling his friend's cheek.

"But you are worrying now and you warned me that I might get hurt..."

"Shhhh" Zabini interrupts him and places his fingers on Theo's mouth to shushes him "I always worrying about you, no matter if you get hurt or not" he admits truthfully and after a few seconds of silence adds "Please, stop crying.

He stops hugging Theodore, although he wants to do it forever. Blaise squats in from of him and gently grabs his friend's head. He wipes away tears, flowing slowly on fairy (although all that time, spends under the sunlight) skin.

He wants to not cry because of sadness or pain, wants him not to have reasons for a cry.

He wants him to be always happy, even if that meant that Blaise wouldn't be on his side.

Wants, wants, wants.

But the world isn't always beautiful, even if Theodore thinks so. Sometimes the world is cruel, ugly or just totally boring. The same about people who live in it.

Do it's really important to find your refuge. A place, a person or a hobby, which will be like an escape from all evils in that world.

Blaise thought that his escape is comics. Reading them has dragged him into the world of superheroes where he could use his imagination and think about meaningless things for hours such as what superpower would he choose (flying, of course). Besides that, the world in comics is just easier. It isn't hard to differentiate who is good and who's bad. Good people fight with bad people, that's all. The Justice League cares about Gotham and saves innocent people from Joker, Deadshot or Darkseid. In the real world, it would be an unsolvable matter with billions different threads and complications so even the best detectives wouldn't be able to decide who is guilty.

Comics world is just easier.

Lately, Blaise has got to understand that the whole beauty in that world is locked in its confusions, problems and ambiguities. Because the world is beautiful, even if sometimes it's cruel or ugly.

And the one who made him understand that is his only real refuge — Theodore Nott.

He is the one who makes reading comics even better.

He is the one with who Blaise could do anything and it would be incredibly good.

He is the one with who Blaise wants to talk about 'good old times' and makes new memories to remember.

He is the one with who Blaise wants to stay forever.

Theodore Nott is the one who Blaise bestow that hot and unique feeling which, no matter what since says, comes from the heart.

And that feeling, now makes him do something, he has been dreaming about for that long. Blaise gently and unsurely grabs the head of the person, who since a year isn't only a friend for him. He delicately raises Theo's head a bit upper to look him straight into his eyes. Their lips touch slowly and gently. Both of them don't feel so confident with what's going on but they will worry about that later. Now, Blaise doesn't have the time and desire to thinks about the consequences. Not now, when he feels the structure of soft lips of his love.

When the dark-skinned boy doesn't notice any objections from the older boy, he let himself do a light, carefully move with his lips. He doesn't want to scared Theodore, knowing how delicate and artsy person he is. He would ever forgive himself hurting Theo.

If he only knew how long Theodore was waiting for it and how much he enjoys that kiss, even if Blaise's lips are rough and chapped.

Blaise gently moves away and hangs his head down, looking at too long grass. He's afraid of seeing Theodore's reaction for what he has done because he's afraid of rejection and ending that important relationship.

However, Theo, likes he doesn't see his friend insecure, giggles lightly and grabs the younger boy cheeks, turning his face to him.

"Oh, finally. How long might I wait?" Theo says with a delightful smile.

"Really. You... Me..." Blaise mutters like he doesn't know what he wants to say.

"Yeah, silly" Theo chucked and hits an end of Blaise's nose with his "You're definitely my favourite person in that universe. And every other, alternative universe too."

Blaise, still can't believe what's happening, hugs his boy and kisses him quickly. The kiss is one hundred per cent cute and totally not sultry. Because feelings as sultry and desire don't fit Theodore, even in an alternative universe where Bruce Wayne become the Devastator instead of Batman. It just does not fit.

"Yeah, and you're my fav person."

They sit in silence for a while, but it's nothing wrong. The silent can be calming and comfortable, it can say more than every word in the world.

The air is getting cooler and owls' chirps become more ominous, so finally, Blaise breaks the silence and says:

"Theo" mentioned boy turns to him and glance at Zabini, "Is your knee still hurting?"

"It's not that bad" Theo shrugs but Blaise quickly understands that it's not good either, "But can you ride the bicycle? I'll drive on its carrier."

"But what with my skateboard?" Blaise asks inconvenience.

"I'll carry it, please" Zabini's only answer is a sigh but not the irritated one. He doesn't know what would Theo had to do to irritate him.

"Alright, but please, be careful."

Blaise raises Theo's bicycle from the ground and helps the boy to climb up to the luggage carrier and then he carefully sits on its seat. Theodore holds Blaise's skateboard (which he has named against his will — Faith) with one hand and the other one is embraced around Blaise's stomach so Theo can stably stay on the carrier. Well, maybe not only because of that.

"To me?" Blaise proposes and slowly leaves their place.

Theodore automatically nods but then he understands that Blaise can't see him so he quickly says 'yes' some times.

Boys are leaving, slowly and without unnecessary haste, but that moment is different than every previous one, they have spent here. Now, they're leaving their place not as just friends.

From Theodore Nott's album:

"4th of May, 1984 —

My favourite day to remember"

[raspberryteaspoon-blog]

How to balance impossible hair with DIY natural products

A guide to naturally clean hair that doesn't make you feel like a brittle mess or a grease basket.

Do you remember the first time you stumbled upon the world of homemade natural products?

Maybe the wear and tear that commercial products often cause had drawn you to more alternative methods. Perhaps it was a need to fight for the environment or to try to live a more affordable and sustainable life that led you to these potential solutions.

Whether you are an environmental enthusiast, conspiracy theorist, or a life hack junkie (ME! I am ALL of these things!) you and your chemically fragile scalp began the maddening search for something that works, and boy is it EVER maddening.

We scour the net at a blinding pace as we sift through article after recipe after tutorial, our locks in a state of chalky and or greasy despair. We are told to wash with baking soda, pure oil, and some weird concoction that goes a little like this:

Liquid castile soap

20 drops of essential oils

1 cup of salt

2 eggs

Possibly flour...

And the list goes on and on...

After the impossible rigamoro of working with recipes like these, do you feel your follicles crying out in sheer and utter agony? Are you tired of it yet?

If the answer to either of those is yes, then welcome. I'm glad you are here.

The list below has the top three things that I use to maintain balanced and manageable hair.

1. Red Wine ...The darker, the better. ;)

-Why I use it:

If you can afford it, this is a lovely and nutritious treat for your hair. Not only can it leave a gorgeous hint of red behind, a pleasant fruity scent will linger with no trace of an alcohol smell. A red wine wash will add some volume to your hair, and provide a soft and clean feeling that you will love.

If you live in a city or region with hard water, I suggest that you pair this wash with an apple cider vinegar rinse. The mix should be about 40/60 vinegar (40) to distilled water. (60)

-How to use it:

When applying the wine use just enough of it to saturate the length of your hair.

After you have applied the wine, use a shower brush to brush the wine into your hair and scrub vigorously for at least sixty seconds. Make sure to rinse thoroughly.

If you have hard water and need to use the vinegar rinse, filling a spray bottle with the mixture will help you to spread the product evenly while conserving what you use. (You may want to do this with the wine too, as it can be quite expensive.)

Remember you only need to use enough of this to saturate your hair. Make sure to brush the vinegar mixture through and rinse thoroughly or until you can no longer smell the vinegar.

-How often to use it:

The amazing thing about the red wine wash is that it helps to restore both strength and balance to your hair. You only need to use this once every three to five days depending on your specific needs. Just make sure to scrub your scalp and hair really well when you shower between washes.

2. Castile bar soap wash, with an apple cider vinegar and witch hazel rinse

-Why I use it:

Not everyone can afford a red wine wash consistently. Sometimes you're broke (ME) and need a little green living on a shoestring to retain a sense of dignity... and or sanity.

With this lower-cost solution a little goes a long way, so remember to use a spray bottle to conserve your rinse mixture.

It will keep your hair looking nice and soft to the touch.

Again with those exposed to hard water in mind, either switch to an alcohol-free witch hazel solution or leave it out. That's a 20/20/60 blend of vinegar, (20) witch hazel, (20) and distilled water. (60)

Use a 40/60 blend of vinegar (40) to distilled water (60) if you are going without the witch hazel.

-How to use it:

First start by giving your hair a good brush in the shower. This will help the soap spread through your hair more evenly, making sure it can do its job.

Next lather up your hands with the bar of castile soap. (I don't like the liquid soap, it's way too easy to overuse.)

After you have enough soap suds built up, run your soapy hands through your hair until you've covered all of it with the soap.

Make sure to rinse out the castile soap quickly after applying it to and washing your hair. You don't want it to sit too long as it can be quite drying, just use it long enough to get your hair clean.

After you are done with those first few steps, saturate your scalp and hair with the vinegar witch hazel blend and brush it through before rinsing. This will ensure that your hair remains nourished and strong after a potentially abrasive castile wash.

-How often to use it:

This one is used a little differently from the last one.

I use the castile about every five days, but I rinse with the vinegar witch hazel blend once in between washes and once every wash. You may not feel the need to use the rinse as often, or you might need to use it more. Use it as often as you need to keep those follicles happy!

3. Castile bar soap wash, and a (VERY) small amount of oil for a leave-in conditioner

-Why I use it:

I'm going to be honest, I only use this method when I run out of apple cider vinegar. In a pinch this will get the job done, leaving your hair nice and clean.

The oil is used to soften the hair, but you really only need a drop or two tops. Any more than this and you risk upsetting the balance of your hair. You can use coconut oil, olive oil, or essential oils if you have any.

-How to use it:

You use the castile soap like you did in the last one, by lathering up your hands and running them through your brushed hair until it's soapy enough to wash. Make sure to rinse the soap out thoroughly before leaving the shower.

Towel dry your hair before applying the leave-in oil and brush it through your hair to disperse it evenly. After that just style as you normally would.

-How often to use it:

This method needs to be repeated once every two to three days at the least.

Because you are applying the oil as a leave-in, your hair will probably be more prone to potential oil build up. Still, it is a welcome alternative to the harsh chemicals that are pumped into our everyday shampoos and conditioners.

These are all alternatives that won't destroy your hair for the sake of natural living.

I'm not saying that an oil wash or baking soda treatments are inherently bad. I'm sure that for the people who need extreme moisturizing or degreasing, those solutions work miracles. I can only assume that if you've read this far into the article, you rest an awkward somewhere in between the two extremes.

I hope that you were able to find something on this list that worked for you.

Feel free to let me know what natural products you have used to manage your hair, and don't be shy! Message me if you have any questions.

Best of Luck...

- RaspberryTeaSpoon

[rossl32123]

Broken Clouds, 14°C

7 Pacific Hwy, Mooney Mooney NSW 2083, Australia

Of jobs

So many jobs, so little time. What have I been doing with myself.

Resealing leaking hatches. Of all the jobs taken on this year resealing the forward hatch has taken the most time. It would have helped alot to have known the hatch was bolted down before I started, not screwed. To get access to the nuts you have to take down the ceiling lining, including removing the hand rails, then remove the hatch lining. Once it was all apart I sanded back all the woodwork and varnished it with as many coats as I thought I could get away with, then put it all back together with at least half a tube if sikaflex. I think it still leaks!

The sail locker hatch came apart much more easily, there is no ceiling liner in that part of the boat. Much sikaflex, and butyl tape on the bolt heads seems to have got this one done although I still suspect leaks.

I took the foot of the self tackers boom off the deck and rebedded it with butyl tape.

The anchor winch has been dismantled and the lower clutch remachined.

The main anchor chain has been removed from the locker, measured (80m), marked at 10m intervals, and returned to the locker. The bitter end was treated with some anti rust spray.

Both anchor rodes are now all gal shackles and swivels. All shackles have been seized but I might switch to cable ties for that job, particularly as playing with different anchor/chain combinations requires undoing the shackles, which isn't so easy once they have been seized with stainless wire.

Both head sails have been inspected by a sail maker and restitching done where it has flogged out. Toe and head tacks have also been cleaned up.

The sailmaker has also replaced all the clears that were smashed by the hail storm last year, and built me a new mizzen. The old one tore at the leech clew, so I had it repaired, but then it tore again as I was trying to bend it back on. He wasn't so keen to repair it again. The clears need some new studs fitting to the cockpit canopy, which I still have to do. The corrosion in the aluminum frame where the old ones pulled out is quite bad, probably because of the stainless fittings weren't isolated properly.

I fitted a new set of blocks on the self tackers sheet track so that I can control the car from the cockpit. This required jam cleats and guides as well, but I got quite alot of the components second hand so it wasn't too expensive. I came up with this solution after the self tacker flogged the sheet car back and forth along the traveller and blew out the stops and the track end caps, which you can't get anymore for the type of track I have.

More hatch work. The aft cabin hatch wouldn't come apart, even after I took all the head lining down around it. I just could not get the hatch liner to come out, so I though to myself, "How much of this taking to bits regime do I have to force on myself? All the woodwork I had removed I cleaned up and varnished, then I cleaned up the hatch and liner/surround, taped it off and varnished it all in place. Since it didn't seem to leak through the flange, only through one corner of the main seal, and the control gasket, I figured I'd get away with it.

Also, the main cabin has two small hatches, these don't leak either, so I sanded their liners back in situ, and varnished them (3 coats). The big hatch in the main cabin is next, followed by the woodwork at the entry although I've already started this (couldn't help myself). There's also a bit of woodwork under the main sheet traveller which I've started preparing to varnish.

The genoa halyard was replaced, at the same time I ran up a block to the head of the sail so that I could reave a halyard to it for raising the spare genoa onto the same foil for going wing on wing.

I've started work on a solution for preventing halyards from tangling in the mast steps. This will involve climbing both masts at some stage to run light lines up the outside of the steps, then drilling through the steps to fit cable ties (or some such) to hold the line in place.

The steering disconnect control cable has been replaced.

A new topping lift has been installed on the mizzen boom.

The diesel heater has been demystified. After using all the diesel from the header tank last year it's remained empty while I figured out how to top it up again. That required quite a bit of time tracing plumbing and electrical cabling. Eventually I worked out that the "circulation pump" switch on the DC panel also allows the lift pump to top up the tank, provided you open the tap next to the gen set, and pull the switch under the heater. What had me really confused to start with was that I didn't know where the pump was, and the circulation pump is for water through the wet back, so how did the diesel get into the tank? Also, the sight tube was so brown inside that at first I thought it was copper pipe, then once I replaced it I couldn't figure out the tap at the top of the tank. It turned out that the bleed valve you close when you fill the tank so that any overflow goes down the return line, and you open it so as to avoid an airlock when your using the heater. The sight guage is also part of the filling line, which provided another level of confusion, as you can't tell the level in the tank while filling it. You have to turn the pump off and wait for the level to settle. Anyway, it's all good now, really cosy in fact, except that the water circulation doesn't seem to be reaching the heat exchangers fore and aft, but that problem is low on the list.

The saltwater pump for the desk wash down wasn't working too well. I started by replacing the ancient old gross particle filter with a more modern plastic one, but the pump still only runs for about 2 or 3 minutes before petering out. While searching under the rear cabin berth I discovered 2 other pumps in a plastic bag, underneath where the installed pump was. I'm not sure why they were stashed there because they were rubbish, but perhaps they were there to remind me just how long these things last.

I cleaned up alot of mess from under the rear cabin berth, including about half a litre of spilt Dextron. I would like to know where that came from as there were no obvious signs. I also restowed the spare engine parts under there to make room for more personal items in the foot locker, and I worked out a way of rolling the mattress out of the way so that you can get at that area. Previously I had been pulling the mattress off the bed and into the companionway, which was an all around pain. Now I can lift both ends to access a length of webbing which I can use to tie the mattress into a roll.

Rooting around under the stove I discovered that the igniters do have a power source. Ive been using a gas lighter for the last two years. It is only a small AA battery, but it had plenty of life in it so I returned it to its holder and lo, spark ignition!

The chart table chair now slides forward on its track, and locks as designed.

I replaced the broken pin in the track slider that the whisker pole snaps onto with a dowel of hard wood. I've also managed to get a second slider organised, it's pretty rough, but you have to have one if you want to wing on wing the headsails. Now I just need to free up the seized pin in the spare whisker pole, and work out how to get the spare slider onto the mast track.

I took the main compass off the binnacle, thinking that perhaps I'd better inspect and oil the engine control lines. There was a fair bit of corrosion in the compass mount as the screws where stainless through aluminium. I have an idea to replace the whole control panel at some stage. The compass is a bit of an anachronism these days but I'm not sure if I should toss it out. The depth guage is so old it uses vacuum tubes to display the numbers, but it does work. The GPSs screen has burnt out, although the unit still works! The wind indicator panel is fine, although it only gives apparent wind at the moment, however, the wind speed sensor is unreliable. Since it is also an ancient unit (despite being self powered and wireless) you can't get parts for it. When I climb the mast to do the step protector job I'll have to take it down and figure out what I can do with it. I really would like to have a completely wireless system of wind speed and direction, hull speed, depth and sea temp coming through to a couple of guages by the wheel, and also to the computer and any other device that can use the data, like iSailor and OpenCPN.

I was dissappointed with the amount of power the vacuum cleaner gets through. It's almost as bad as the microwave. When you pull 100 amps from the battery bank the voltage drops very quickly, and puts the batteries under stress. Two minutes of vacuuming will do it. I did discover that besides running the battery charger part of the inverter, the gen set will also power all the 120V sockets, when it's running. This was a surprise as I was under the impression that the gen set only recharged the battery bank. Now I know I can run all the 120V equipment on the boat I like, provided I put up with the gen set running.

I have discovered the trick to the 2hp outboard! It has always been a problem for me, so much so the I stopped using it for quite a while. Even after dealing with getting water in the carburettor all the time it still ran unreliably, usually quitting after having only run for 50m. After some considerable time putting up with it, it became apparent that it was fuel starvation. If I tilted the motor up when it was just about to die, it would fire up again for another 5m. Looking into the fuel tank one day I discovered that the inlet pipe sat up off the bottom of the tank by a good 2-3cm. With the angle of the transom on the dinghy, plus the inlet pipe being on the high side of the tank you only have to run the tank down about a third before she starts sucking air. Unfortunately you can't level the motor off as the fitting adjustment as rusted up solid. Never mind, atleast I know now that you just have to keep the tank topped up.

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