#C++ Experts Help

[starry-bi-sky]

bruce and danny being fuckign nerds together,,,, they are being the BIGGEST nerds. geeks. if you will

these losers are color-coding the most inane bullshit. they are making diagrams for things you've never even thought of. they are having the time of their lives

"what are you two doing?"

Danny, sitting criss-cross on a table, hunched over a spread of papers and a bunch of different jello cups, his back is gonna hurt SO much: color-coding jello

Bruce, sitting in a nearby chair, also criss-cross, scribbling on a graph paper: hm [agreeing]

Alfred, already exasperated and SO fond: may i ask why? and on what parameters?

Danny: we're basing it off which flavors are the most mentally stimulating and for which subjects :}

Alfred, SO fond: ah. i see.

Danny, snapping his head over to Bruce and leaning over: wh- no-- no. Buzz, I told you: lemon-flavored jello stays strictly in the 'smelling salts' category--

Bruce, still writing on the graph paper: mn. no.

Danny, nearly sprawled across his back, faux-outraged: strawberry is NOT good for math-- you fucken HEATHEN--! Give me that pen!

Bruce, did that solely to rile up Danny, now trying not to smile: hnm.

[rozzingit]

apparently wip wednesday is a thing

so HERE YOU GO i guess, i almost never write fanfiction and the last vegebul fic i wrote was a decade ago but i've been rewatching dbz so here's some immediately post-buu bullshit i'm working on

There were so many things that Vegeta could dream, but what he dreams of is this: Darkness. The taste of dirt in his mouth. The weight crushing around him. In his dreams, Goku buries him deeper. The piles of earth on top of his corpse are endless. In his dreams, Goku buries him so deep that Vegeta can't remember air or light or freedom. He can't remember his name. He can't remember his being. Goku buries him so deep he'll never get out. Vegeta buries him so deep he'll never get out. In the minutes after he wakes, somewhere safe and comfortable, he remembers the dirt. He remembers the true memory of it: a moment's confusion, maybe a brief instinct of fear, but no struggle. He freed himself easily. He awoke easily. It is forgotten in his waking moments, inconsequential. It's only in his nightmares that it recurs.

[cdroloisms]

The dethronement saga made me want to pull out my hair because c!Quackity and c!Sapnap either lied to c!George or literally debated laps around c!Dream’s very reasonable explanation

i mean c!sapnap literally lied to c!george that is in fact what happened. and c!quackity was just a fawking idiot who would bad faith interpret every word out of c!dream's mouth and also not hear him right half the time.

[hide-in-imagination]

I swear to fucking god, watching Cinema Therapy videos on YouTube has made me a better writer, you should all check them out, they're great.

[p0rkbun]

Please Sol I love the way you draw, I am new on character ai, can you please tell me the link of the Sam you are talking to please ? What should I say ?

omg hi, thank you sm ily 🥹♡ ❤❤

you can say anything you want! (Depending on the first dialogue the bot put first) Usually for me i type like this during chats "insert dialogue" *action* in c ai

for ex: "greetings" *i say softly*

*= italic text

**= bold text

***= bold and italic text

these stuff are usually like you're roleplaying, if you want you could just type normally!

Does this make sense??? 💀

also for the sam c ai, if you're talking about the one i just talked to recently, that one is made by me and is still in development, i was just testing her out it's private for now 💔

if you want a good one, i suggest this ♡

for the response of this bot, i typed that i walk to her and wiped sam's stained sweater with tissues 💀 or offer her tissues.

[hayatheauthor]

12 Red Herrings to Keep Your Readers Distracted

I’ve seen mystery/thriller authors use the same handful of red herrings too many times to count. So here are some (hopefully not as common) red herrings for your writing. 

1. The Unreliable Narrator's Bias

Your narrator can play favourites and scheme and twist the way your readers interpret the story. Use this to your advantage! A character portrayed as untrustworthy can really be someone innocent the narrator framed, vice versa. 

2. The Loyal Traitor

A character with a history of betrayal or questionable loyalty is an obvious suspect. They did it once, they could do it again, right? Wrong! They’ve actually changed and the real traitor is someone you trusted. 

3. The Conflicted Expert

An expert—like a detective, scientist, or historian—analyses a piece of evidence. They’re ultimately wrong, either due to bias, missing data, or pressure to provide quick answers.

4. The Overly Competent Ally

You know that one sidekick or ally who’s somehow always ahead of the curve? They’re just really knowledgeable, your characters know this, but it makes it hard to trust them. Perfection is suspicious! But in this case, they’re actually just perfect. 

5. The Misleading Emotional Clue

Maybe one of your characters is seen crying, angry, or suspiciously happy after xyz event. Characters suspect them, but turns out they’re just having a personal issue. (People have lives outside of yours MC smh). Or it could be a cover-up. 

6. A Misleading Alibi

At first this character’s alibi seems perfect but once the protag digs into it, it has a major hole/lie. Maybe they were in a different location or the person they claimed to be with was out of town. 

7. The Odd Pattern

Have a seemingly significant pattern—symbols left at crime scenes, items stolen in a specific order, crimes on specific dates. Then make it deliberately planted to mislead.

8. The Misinterpreted Relationship

A character was secretly close to a victim/suspect, making them a suspect. Turns out they were hiding a completely unrelated secret; an affair, hidden family connection, etc.

9. A Forgotten Grudge

Create a grudge or past feud and use it to cast suspicion on an innocent character. Introducing an aspect of their past also helps flesh out their character and dynamics as a group + plant distrust. 

10. The Faked Death

Luke Castellan, need I say more (I will)? A supposedly innocent character dies, but turns out they faked it and were never a victim in the first place. They just needed to be out of the picture. 

11. The Mistaken Eavesdropper 

A character overhears a threat, argument, etc. They suspect B based on this convo, but turns out they just came to a false conclusion. (Or did they?)

12. The Forgetful Alibi 

Someone confesses to hearing/seeing a clue, but turns out they were mistaken. Maybe they thought they heard a certain ringtone, or saw xyz which C always wears, but their memory was faulty or influenced by stress.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

Instagram Tiktok

[vaspider]

Tonight, the night before Election Day 2024 in the US, I am thinking about my stepkid.

I am thinking about the phone call they made to us earlier this year, the one where they told us they'd gone to the hospital thinking they had appendicitis and found out, instead, that a zygote - a tiny splodge of cells - had taken up residence not in their uterus but in a fallopian tube. The one where our kid said they were waiting for their partner to arrive, hoped that said partner would get there before the docs took our kid back to terminate that pregnancy, & assured us that they'd be okay.

After all, our kid lives in a state with choice measures embedded in state law. That pea-sized blot of tissue doesn't have more right to their health than they do. Nobody is standing between them and their doctors. They made a decision, and that was that.

In this tiny tragedy, the kind that plays out dozens of times a day at minimum across the country, we only had to worry about the small risk of surgery complications. We didn't have to worry about Ken Paxton threatening to charge their doctors with felonies. We didn't have to think, "What if the hospital's legal team doesn't think an ectopic pregnancy - which is never ever viable and must be terminated before it kills our kid - is really that big of a deal?" We didn't have to worry that they live in a state where ob-gyns are fleeing, leaving few experts behind, as has happened in Idaho.

We didn't have to watch our kid vomit up black blood before dying the day after their baby shower the way Neveah's mom did. We didn't have to pray in a waiting room (while doctors took our kid apart until their heart stopped because the doctors waited too long out of fear of anti-choice laws) until a doctor came to tell us we'd have to bury them the way that Amber's mom did. We aren't having to pick up our lives after fully treatable miscarriage-related sepsis took them from us the way that Josseli's husband and daughter must.

I could go on for far, far too long.

Listen. If you are a single-issue non-voter and have already decided that "both parties are the same" or whatever other thing you've told yourself so you can sleep at night, smug and secure, then I can't reach you and I can't help you. But if you genuinely think that your votes don't matter, if you're just suffering from a bout of overwhelm or apathy, if you're too young to remember the 2000 election and can't see that Dobbs is a direct result of that election and every one that's followed, please, I am fucking begging you.

I didn't really talk about this when it happened. I mentioned something briefly, maybe. The posts I've started writing about it are still in my drafts. It was too fresh, too frightening. It's not any less frightening now, honestly - because if this week doesn't end with President Kamala Harris, we're headed for a national abortion ban, at the minimum - but it's not about how fucking frightened I was or how sad and bewildered I was to realize that my kid was going through this crisis in a nation more hostile to them than when I needed a D&C for an abortion at 21, in 1998.

It's about stopping this chapter of this fucking bullshit and at least finding some new fucking bullshit.

Vote, dammit.

Do the other work on Wednesday. Tomorrow, the work is to vote.

[petalbcrnes]

﹅ WRAPPED IN RED ◞ j. todd ✗ gn!reader | 1.2k

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend's wish of seeing you in his clothes finally comes true!

✹ ꕀ MASTERLIST ; AO3

A/N: This is a re-write of an old piece + v dear to my heart and I couldn't let it go c: still figuring out the layout of my posts, we'll get there<3 there's a little something near the end for you guys!

In the tangled web of a relationship, the couple shows and tells their affections in all kinds of different ways. Sometimes, it's the soft but sickly sweet way their touch lingers on one's skin. Sometimes, it's the saccharine taste that is left in one's mouth after a shared kiss.

Sometimes, it's as simple as a piece of one's clothing on their partner.

It's something Jason never gave a single thought to. Until you showed up. With your honeyed gaze and sunshine grin, the delicate touch grazing his skin as you handle him like glass. The thought of you in clothes that belonged to him lit a fire on his skin. In every crevice, thoughts of you reside. Thoughts of you wrapped in his signature color, red.

Unfortunately, he hasn't had the luck to see you hugged by that ruby-red. Not even a sweater in cold weather, not even a t-shirt on lazy days when both of you stay at home, tangled in one another.

Even now, as the marigold rays of the sun peek through the vanilla curtains, hitting the cloud-like softness of your shared bed, he stares at you getting dressed, waiting for something he knew he needed but couldn't even muster the courage to ask you.

It's the everyday domestic tenderness he takes comfort in. Your brows furrowed, focused as you sift through different pieces of clothing that lay messy around the room. His own red leather jacket barely covers his frame.

“Maybe something more light,” you murmur, turning on your heel to show him the two blouses hanging from your hands. “What do you think?”

In his mind, you could wear either of them; you'd still look flawless. He could say that, but he knows you need an answer.

“Ditch them both,” he answers as he props himself in the palm of his hand, “that's my expert opinion.”

A mix of shock and embarrassment floods your flushed face. “You’d have me ditch the pants too, wouldn’t you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Never mind,” you click your tongue as you finally choose the rosy-colored blouse, bringing it close to your torso.

Not yet close enough.

He moves closer, wrapping his arms around you. You melt into his hold but panic as he leaves pecks at the corner of your lips. You can't help but give him a dopey grin.

“Jason, c’mon,” you giggle, trying to break free from his grasp, “you’ll smudge the lipstick!”

He settles you in his arms as his head lays on your shoulder, holding your gaze. It doesn’t seem like he plans on letting you go soon.

You shuffle again, hand reaching for the peach-colored lipstick. A glint of light reflecting from the lampshade twinkles in your eyes. A sight he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from.

The outfit you chose lays undisturbed on the bed. The light rosy-colored silky fabric contrasts with the milky white of the sheets.

You had picked your outfit for the night after many hours of contemplating, and glares sent his way after another failed try of voicing his opinion about your outfit of choice.

Much to his dismay, you don’t plan on going out with him naked on the date you both planned for weeks.

“I’m still sticking with my suggestion,” he shifts to lay on the bed, mindful of the silky fabric of your clothing.

You huff, cheeks flushing a deep red, a look he enjoys and basks in seeing.

A little closer.

♥︎ ♥︎

♥︎

Maybe it’s the way you cling onto him for warmth, or maybe how your hands dig into his pockets, searching for his hands, but he doesn’t even feel a tinge of the rainy and cold Gotham weather. The single touch of your hands on his has him hungry and starving for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you and your frustrated tries to keep warm. The cold air hits his face, but he doesn’t feel it, the warmth rushing to his cheeks, protecting him.

Walking down the road, lit with neon signs and a few lampposts, you two finally reach the destination of your long-awaited date.

Moving into the small but cozy café, both of you take your seats. He leaves his jacket hanging from his seat. The scarlet-colored leather looks out of place at such a place. Jason gives you a quick peck on the cheek, moving to take your orders.

Coming back, he spots that his jacket is gone, not left on the seat but wrapped around your shoulders.

Your shoulders. Your hands grip the jacket closer as you curl into the leather even more, taking in the warmth and feel of him.

Red. On you. His red.

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckle. “It’s still cold, even in here.” You notice his gaze on the fabric hugging your frame. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh,” he stammers, “no—not at all.” Taking a seat opposite you, he listens as you go on about the last few days. He can’t help but give all his attention to the red that you bring closer to yourself—the red you tangle yourself in.

Jason doesn’t respond much, letting your voice settle over him like a lullaby. The words become secondary, drowned out by the soft sound of your voice. His focus remains on the way your fingers absently run along the lapel of his jacket, the way you unconsciously pull it closer around yourself when a draft rolls through the café.

His jacket never looked so good.

And it’s so simple, so small, yet he feels something settle deep in his chest, like an ache but not quite pain. More like a longing, like a silent plea.

You’re his.

The thought strikes him like lightning, making him sit up straighter. He’d always known it, in a way. It’s in the way you kiss him, in the way you fit against him in sleep, in the way you argue with him but never walk away.

But seeing you in his jacket—his red, his mark, his silent claim—feels different. It’s a primal, gut-deep kind of satisfaction that he’s never quite experienced before.

You must feel his eyes on you because you pause mid-sentence, tilting your head. “What?”

He shakes his head, clearing his throat, looking down at the coffee he barely remembers ordering. “Nothing.”

Your brows furrow in suspicion, but you let it go. For now.

The rest of the evening passes in a comfortable blur of conversation, laughter, and stolen glances. You wear his jacket the whole time.

And when it’s finally time to leave, stepping out into the cool Gotham night, you don’t return it to him. You just snuggle further into it, fingers tightening around the worn leather as you shiver.

Jason doesn’t ask for it back.

He wouldn’t dare.

Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. The city lights cast a golden glow on your face, highlighting the softness in your eyes as you glance up at him.

It’s then that he decides he wants to see you in his clothes more often.

A hoodie, maybe. Or one of his t-shirts, worn and soft from too many washes. Maybe even the sweatpants he keeps shoved in the back of his dresser.

Maybe even—someday—his ring on your finger.

But for now, the jacket is enough.

For now, red suits you just fine.

© petalbcrnes | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified.

[tryingtofindava]

OMG , OMG, Are you an expert in creepypasta, I want to give you my request If you don't mind ... May i've a request for Jeff the killer,ticcy toby , Laughing Jack ( if you write for him ) and eyeless Jack please?!

With sweet fem s/o who don't know they are serial killers and only give them affection (like kisses every day) NSFW

Preatty please, love you baby

── 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭! 𝐒/𝐎

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

INCLUDES: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, and Eyeless Jack.

srry pookie bear not touching the nsfw today :c might come back to this idea later with just NSFW tho >:)

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

You definitely caught his eyes when he first saw you, immediately taking in your sweet bubbly aura. (You were definitely on his bucket list of victims after he stalked you for a bit)

But one day, he got a little too cocky and you caught him. And to his surprise you didn’t seem to mind at all when you found this questionable looking stranger stalking around outside your bedroom window.

You’re guys difference in aesthetic in personality is what made you guys hit it off. YOU GUYS ARE THE DEFINITION OF SUNSHINE X MOON.

He thinks you’re too sweet to actually be sweet tbh, but you never fail to prove him wrong.

He’s cocky and arrogant, and the god complex on this man is UNBELIEVABLE… The only reason you’re alive in his head is because he was gracious enough to let you continue with your life. Not that he’d tell you that ofc!!

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, you’re so handsome!!”

He likes that you agree he’s beautiful for sure. (He fishes for compliments all the time, anything to stroke his ego.)

He’s possessive, and borderline obsessive. You’re his. And that’s that.

He takes you where he wants, when he wants. The woods? Yep. The shitty convenience store toilets? Double yep yep. Anywhere you guys could get caught in general? YUP.

Double life points because you don’t even know he’s a literal serial killer, like, even though all the signs and red flags are there.

When you guys started to date, he did soften up a bit, not as cruel and mean. But only a little bit. He LIVES for the surprise kisses.

Typa guy who’d ask ‘where’s my hug at?’

╰┈➤𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

This boy THRIVES off how sweet you are, it all works in his favour really. Your house is like his hide out spot, away from his… ‘work’ and honestly just everything.

You’re his safe space. His home.

He does think you’re a bitty dull though, and he often wonders how long his ‘I’m a hunter’ excuse will work.

He’d try his very hardest to keep you a secret from the others, but his Tourette’s to make him tic and stutter out your name and nicknames. Which definitely raises some questions on who this ‘Y/n’ and ‘Schatz’ is.

“A-a-and then he- Y/n- fuh-fuck…”

Please, please, please help him through his episodes and tic attacks. He’ll cherish you forever and ever. (He already did but it’s set in stone now.)

He likes that you’re nice to him, he feels so super duper special that he’s getting love and affection, him! Of all ppl!! (poor boy just needs some loving yall)

He’s ECSTATIC when you guys start to date, he’s not very experienced since he’s only dated Clockwork (my beloved) BUT HE’S A FAST LEARNER AND PICKS UP ON EVERYTHING QUICKLY!! ^^

He was so super shocked when you started giving him little kisses here and there, and it soon becomes a game of who can get the most surprise kisses in a day. (He’s proper pouncing on you to get to ur neck)

╰┈➤ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤

When you guys first met, it was around 9pm. It was dark outside, the street lamps Turing on one by one. We’re carrying home some grocery bags, and when you bumped into a tall, dark and mysterious man with an eerie mask… you immediately compliment his cosplay.

“Ohhh, cool cosplay!!”

“What…?”

Okiii, so anyways you guys are dating now<3

He’s a sneaky one for sure, out of him, Toby and Jeff, he’s the best at keeping what he does a secret. Not that’d you’d notice either way but… yh.

He’s a possessive bastard like Jeff though, he worries about how sweet you are to everyone, he’d hate if someone were to upset you or even worse, hurt you… (And if they do he’d take care of them for you)

He likes that you don’t question his grey skin, empty eye sockets, the sharp teeth, 3 tongues, and ESPECIALLY the tar dripping from where his eyes should be. Less work for him to make up excuses.

But, that doesn’t stop you from questioning his eating habits…

Always questioning him and lecturing him of he shouldn’t feast on raw ‘animals’. Yeah… you bet your ass he’s not telling you about the cannibal or demon thing. And it’s gonna stay like that.

You’re too sweet and pure to him to be revealed to the horrors that is himself. How he longs to be in a universe with you were he can be normal so you guys could live the white picket fence life style.

But, he doesn’t get that. But at least he gets you all to himself, demon or not.

He’s more stunned by your surprise kisses against his mask, but he does find it adorable, how couldn’t he? The way you lean up on your tippy toes with puckered lips. He can’t help himself but slide his mask up and take you right then and there.

wowee was this long, can u tell I had to get this out of my system:3

PSST!! Yeah, you!!! Do you like my interpretation of the Creepypastas? Try out these bots!!

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ‘helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want…”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

[writingwithcolor]

how to convey arabic language in a specific dialect is being spoken without lengthy descriptions of how words/specific letters are pronounced?

Anonymous asks:

I believe my question revolves around linguistics, but please correct me if there’s something I didn’t take into account. I’m an Egyptian girl who speaks Arabic (the Egyptian dialect specifically), and I am currently writing an urban fantasy set in modern day Egypt. Naturally, the characters would be speaking Egyptian arabic (i even have a scene where my character converses with a tourist and struggles to speak to them ‘in english’)  But as the story is written in english, I found this is really hard to convey, especially with the entirely different alphabet, and the words that simply cannot be transcribed (sometimes in definition, and sometimes in letters that don’t have an equivalent). What would be a good way to send the message that these characters are by no means speaking English (unless stated) without having to hold the reader's hand through lengthy descriptions of how a word is pronounced at every corner?

Hi Anon! This is a tough spot. I’m no expert, just a mod and fellow writer trying to support your fantastic ask. Any bilingual readers, especially other Arabic speakers, feel free to chime in.

1- Disclose they’re speaking Arabic, even though you’re writing in English:

Example A: “Hey, Noor! Wait up,” he said in Arabic. 

Example B: “Habibti, I haven’t seen you in a while,” she reminded me. It was true - I had missed the lilt of her Darija-Moroccan dialect-so different from the Mesri, the Egyptian twang, that rolled off my tongue.

2- Consider using Arabic semantic structure or phrases and idioms used mostly in Arabic.

Example A: She reddened with embarrassment. // They whitened at the sight of it. ((English would probably say she ‘turned red’ rather than reddened, or ‘paled’ rather than whitened. Since Arabic has this natural and fun ability to let color be a verb, which English can but doesn't have naturally - make use of it! It will read differently in English because it’s an Arabic construct. Use other examples like this that you’d know better than me.))

Example B: Consider using “May the Gods smite her house!,” instead of the classic English ‘Fuck You.’ Or use “On my eyes” rather than ‘min ayooni’ or its English translation of ‘of course.’ Since Arabic language is beautifully expressive, you could lean into that when you can rather than using common English alternatives.

 Example C: Consider interspersing Arabic transliterations of common words/phrases like; habibti/habibi; yani; mashallah casually through the story.  

3- When speaking with English speakers, consider using informal text/chat speak (Arabizi?) to communicate the Arabic, since it’s already transliterated to the Roman alphabet. [disclaimer - I am atrocious at this, and will be surprised if anyone can read it… but for science!]: 

Example A: Instead of (انت طالب بالجامعة) or “are you a student?” it becomes; 

“Ente 6albeh bel jam3a?” I asked, staring at the textbook in his arms. 

He looked at me confused. “I don't understand,” he said. “I can’t speak Arabic.” 

“Wain 3m tedrus? Where do you… y3ni… where do you study?” I tried again in slow, awkward English.

These examples may or may not work for you. It’s important to remember that there’s no single "right" way to do this, but it’s mostly about finding a balance that reads well, and feels good to you. Subtle cues like sentence structure, idioms, the occasional untranslated word, and natural context can help to show the language shift. Good luck and happy writing!

~ Melanie 🌻  

P.S. Mod Meir suggests checking out the book When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb, which handles this issue well. There's a lot of "He said in English" or "He repeated it in Yiddish for the old woman's benefit" or "It took him a moment to realize he had spoken in English" (( Thanks Sacha! @kuttithvangu ))

[tender-rosiey]

Everyone loves girl dad Suguru, but what if he has a stubborn headed son

block battle — geto suguru x f!reader

a/n: suguru, you shall always have a special place in mi heart + reminder that suguru IS a menace just a hidden one

you’re sat in the living room when you glance up from where you’re folding laundry on the couch, catching sight of your husband sitting cross-legged on the floor with your son.

suguru’s dark hair is tied up, though a few strands have fallen loose, framing his face as he gestures animatedly at the boy who is very clearly not listening as he builds his blocks.

“s/n, I’m just saying,” suguru begins, his tone edged with exasperation,

“if you’d actually let me help, we could finish this thing before your mom gives me the look for the mess.”

your son, a spitting image of suguru down to the determined furrow of his brows, doesn’t even glance up.

“it’s not a thing,” he corrects matter-of-factly, his little hands carefully balancing another block on top of an already teetering pile.

“it’s a fortress. and you’re doing it wrong.”

suguru stares at him, clearly trying to keep his composure.

he takes a deep breath before leaning back slightly. “oh, I’m doing it wrong? alright, young master, show me how it’s done since you’re clearly the expert.”

s/n straightens his back, fully embracing the challenge.

“like this,” he declares, adjusting the block with the seriousness of someone presenting architectural blueprints.

suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering just loud enough for you to hear, “why does this feel like dealing with satoru during mission prep?”

he glances at you over his shoulder, and you can see the faintest twitch of a smile threatening to break through his otherwise tired expression.

“hear that, babe? I’ve been reduced to the role of a laborer. guess I’m not qualified for fortress-building anymore.”

you hum, folding the last shirt. “well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, assistant. just don’t let him run you into the ground.”

your son’s head snaps up, his eyes widening with righteous indignation. “I’m not bossy! dad’s just slow!”

suguru’s eyebrows twitch at the accusation.

“slow?” he repeats, his tone almost comically even. “me? me?”

he glances back at you, pointing at himself with exaggerated disbelief.

“do you hear this? our son, who couldn’t even hold his own chopsticks until six months ago, is calling me slow.”

you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but the glimmer in your eyes gives you away. “to be fair,” you say, folding another shirt, “you are taking an awfully long time to help with his…fortress.”

suguru shoots you a look, one part betrayed and two parts pleading, but before he can retort, s/n pipes up again, his voice brimming with the conviction only a five-year-old can muster.

“because he’s not doing it right!” his tiny hands flap in the air in frustration as he points at the blocks. “I said the blue one goes here, and he put it there!”

suguru drags a hand down his face, leaning back against the couch.

“you’re killing me, kid,” he mutters under his breath before plastering on a painfully forced smile. “alright, buddy. let’s start over. where exactly does the blue block go?”

s/n clambers over to the pile of blocks and holds one up like it’s the crown jewel. “here,” he says with utter certainty, placing it on the most precarious part of the structure.

suguru stares at the wobbly creation, his forced smile faltering. “that’s…that’s not gonna hold, s/n.”

“yes, it will!”

“no, it won’t.”

“yes, it will!”

suguru groans, rubbing his temples.

“it really does remind me of him,” he mutters under his breath, throwing you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and helpless.

“why couldn’t he have inherited your agreeable nature? or at least some common sense?”

you snort, unable to hold back your laughter now. “oh, I don’t know about that,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions.

“I seem to recall you, suguru, being pretty stubborn when we were dating. remember the time you insisted you could build that bookshelf without reading the instructions?”

“that’s different,” suguru huffs, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “that was about pride.”

“exactly.” you grin, motioning toward your son, who is now enthusiastically rebuilding the fortress with zero regard for suguru’s input. “and where do you think he gets his pride from, hm?”

suguru opens his mouth to argue but stops, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “this is my karma, isn’t it?”

“absolutely,” you say cheerfully, tossing a balled-up sock at him.

suguru catches it with ease, leaning his head back against the couch as your son continues to fuss over his masterpiece.

“you know, this would be so much easier if he actually listened for five seconds,” he grumbles. “talks a lot, doesn’t listen, and refuses to admit when he’s wrong.”

“I’m not wrong!” s/n shouts without looking up, clearly having inherited his father’s excellent hearing as well.

suguru groans dramatically, flopping sideways onto the floor. “see?” he waves a hand in your direction, presenting the evidence of his misery.

you’re laughing so hard now that tears prick the corners of your eyes. “oh, come on, suguru,” you say between breaths. “he’s five. you can’t let him break you already.”

“easy for you to say,” he grumbles, sitting up and giving you a half-hearted glare. “you’re not the one being micromanaged by someone who still needs help tying his shoes.”

“then stop fighting him on it,” you say with a shrug, walking over to ruffle s/n’s hair. “you know he’s not going to back down. he’s just as stubborn as you are.”

suguru sighs, brushing a hand through his loose strands of hair. “yeah, yeah. I get it. he’s my mini-me, complete with the attitude and confidence.”

he leans back, looking at your son, who is now proudly adjusting the blocks again. despite his grumbling, there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you kneel beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “at least he has your heart too,” you say quietly, watching as your son holds up the structure triumphantly.

suguru tilts his head, looking up at you with warm eyes. “guess I can’t be too mad about that,” he murmurs, his tone softening.

“papa, look!” your son calls out, running over to tug at suguru’s sleeve. “it’s done!”

suguru looks over at the fortress—or rather, a colorful mess of blocks barely holding together—and gives a small nod of approval. “looks sturdy, buddy. good job.”

s/n beams, his earlier frustration forgotten, and suguru finally manages a genuine smile.

“see?” you say, nudging him playfully. “you survived.”

“barely,” he replies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. he presses a few kiss across your cheek before pausing and grimacing.

“let’s never make him spend time with satoru.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @dindjarins1ut @candy-s72 @lulumi1u @yoko7658 @c4xcocoa @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @llawlietluv @bluebell33

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will sleep on you

check out my buy me a coffee!

[robert-smirke-official]

MAG Avatar Fuckability Tier List

It’s here. You’re welcome. Avatars are ranked most fuckable (S Tier) to least fuckable (F Tier). They are also ranked within their respective tiers. In true Robert Smirke style, I will not be accepting criticism. Fight me.

S Tier

Have special traits that actively contribute to the sexual experience.

Daisy Tonner (Hunt) - excellent strength and stamina. Essentially has a werewolf form, and we all know how hot Tumblr gets for werewolves. Deserves the #1 spot.

Jared Hopworth (Flesh) - will mold his body into whatever shape you want. May also mold your body into whatever shape you want. Can help with your dysphoria, might steal your bones.

Annabelle Cane (Web) - if you’re into bondage. Webs that are never too tight or too loose, and that can move on their own.

Tom Han (Flesh) - an avatar of the Flesh absolutely knows his way around a body. Also an incredible cook. He will make you dinner first, just don’t ask what’s in it.

Jude Perry (Desolation) - perfect temperature control, and hard into sadism. She will ruin your life, but the sex will be fantastic.

Breekon & Hope (Stranger) - two for the price of one, but they are so in sync that you’ll never feel the awkwardness of a threesome. Also, they’re blue collar workers. Very hot.

Michael Crewe (Vast) - imagine sex in freefall, like an eagle. I’ve never tried it but it sounds thrilling. Nobody but the two of you in a vast, empty sky.

A Tier

S Tier with drawbacks, or excellent options without being exceptional.

The Distortion (Spiral) - everyone wants to talk about "mind-breaking sex" but nobody wants to deal with the consequences. You’re gonna have a hell of a migraine.

The Coffin (Buried) - some people like to be crushed under the weight of their partner. Very clingy.

Emma Harvey (Web) - excited to experiment in the bedroom. May bring other Avatars over. Does not understand the concept of safe words.

Simon Fairchild (Vast) - old but still spry and flexible. No drawbacks, but doesn’t make S Tier because the Magnusverse has more to offer.

Martin Blackwood (Lonely) - a good listener. Will take your needs to heart. The human version of a cheetah’s emotional support golden retriever. Not exceptional, but dependable.

Manuela Dominguez (Dark) - sex with the lights off. Intelligent and bold, likes to take charge. Not extremely distinguishing.

B Tier

Mostly good options with some less-than-ideal traits.

Alfred Grifter (Slaughter) - an old man who's still got it, and a musician to boot. Don't let him choose a playlist to "set the mood." The mood is murder.

Elias Bouchard (Eye) - besides being subjectively hot he really doesn’t have anything going for him. Short temper. You do not want this man's pipe.

Julia Montauk (Hunt) - intense, but maybe you’re into that sort of thing. Will break up with you just to get you back. Daddy issues.

Jonathan Sims (Eye) - knows what you want in bed, and is good at getting you to open up. A little too anxious to be a really good lover.

Oliver Banks (End) - attractive, sure, but distant, like trying to fuck a statue. Doesn’t help that he can see when you are going to die.

Hezekiah Wakely (Buried) - expert at putting you to bed afterwards, but the sex itself? There are better options.

C Tier

Mostly bad options with redeeming qualities.

Gertrude Robinson (Eye) - constantly checking you out for weaknesses. Will not make eye contact.

Trevor Herbert (Hunt) - canonically grimy, though some people are into that. Body of a 70 year old marathon runner.

Dexter Banks (Web) - your classic film boyfriend who'd rather watch Das Boot than actually get busy. At least he's not transphobic.

Benoit Macon (Corruption) - are you open to threesomes with his beetle wife? How do you feel about becoming a rotten log full of termites?

Samson Stiller (Eye) - plenty of circuits for you to short out. Refuses to log out of Omegle.

Nathaniel Thorp (End) - likes games, but won't let you win. Too bony for good cuddling.

Gabriel (Spiral) - you’ll feel like putty in his hands. You’ll also develop a phobia of doors and fingerprints.

D Tier

Will give you a bad experience, or just boring.

Jonah Magnus (Eye) - prefers to watch. Dusty.

Agnes Montague (Desolation) - doesn’t want to hurt you, but literally cannot touch you without giving you third-degree burns.

Angela (Flesh) - very possible you would wake up the next morning without genitals.

The Piper (Slaughter) - hard to find a private spot in the middle of a war zone. Unfuckable due to bagpipes.

Not!Them (Stranger) - disconcerting, especially since the person you think you’re having sex with is actually dead. Emotionally distant.

Maxwell Rayner (Dark) - feels like he is going to crumble to dust. Insists on doing it with the lights off. Doesn’t know any interesting positions (he is from the 1700s).

F+ Tier

Just for Jane Prentiss (Corruption) because some of you are into that shit.

F Tier

Active health risks.

Nikola Orsinov (Stranger) - maybe some of you want to fuck a mannequin, but this one is actively homicidal. May also steal your skin.

Mary Keay (End) - gross as fuck, will kill you horribly, and the sex isn’t even very good.

Sarah Baldwin (Stranger) - by all accounts, taxidermied animals are nasty to cuddle with.

Monster Pig (Flesh) - no! What? No!

Raymond Fielding (Web) - has no friends. Will fill you with spiders. Also a devout Catholic. One of those has to be a deal-breaker.

Peter Lukas (Lonely) - does not want to be there. Likely has never been more intimate than being on first-name basis in the workplace.

John Amherst (Corruption) - girl the rot

[whore-ibly-hot]

"Just a one time thing... Right?"

Yan!Eltingville Club x Fem!User

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con (reader isn't aware of the sexual attraction to them), masturbation, lewd art, mentions of fatphobia, groping, stealing, sexism, questionable group hierarchy, misogyny, Pete Dinunzio.

AN: I promised Eltingville and I will deliver, even if i usually only do OC stuff. I'm so hot for these dork bitches, especially Pete Dinunzio. He owns. My. Ass. (PS, Eltingville girls please let me into your club, leave some comments because I'm working on characterization and the fics in this community are so good!)🙏

It's yet another argument, the sounds of heated yells and complaints ringing through the wood panneled walls and up the sbasement stairs of the Dickey household, as another meeting of the Eltingville club kicks off. "Don't even think about it." Bill Dickey, infamous narcissistic leader of the Eltingville club for comics, games, and all things nerdy, has started the meeting already pissed off. "Fuck no, we aren't letting some c-chick into our club! A femoid! Are you serious? Just drop it, Pete." He spits, face red and glasses slipping. He adjusts them as the others glance at Pete.

Across Bill's mom's basement, horror expert Pete Dinunzio, clad in his backwards cap and questionably stained 'House of Wax' shirt, rest on a beanbag. Huffing, the black haired man rolls over, glaring. "Come ooooooon, it's not like she's gonna fuck anything up. Just- I don't know, she's showing interest. Check it," he stands up, shoes hitting the dhag carpeting and clapping his hands together like he's gonna give the best social studies presentation of his freakin' life.

"She's showing interest, you see any other girls lining up to join, shit, to even talk to us. Especially not girls with a big fucking rack-" He cackles, raising his hand for a high-five with a quiet Jerry stokes, who is simultaneously red and sheet white, sweating out of nerves.

"Gross man, get a mop!" Pete snickers, pulling his hand away quickly.

"Jerry-" The blonde immediately squeaks at the mention of his name, shifting on the creaky old tweed couch. He had been absorbed in his journal, trying to stay out of the fight. He knew who you were, shit, who in town didn't? You moved down the road a few weeks ago, and seemed genuinely nice. You immediately made friends at the school, kind and outgoing, but not discriminating. You didn't stick to one clique or group, and it didn't help you were smokin' hot. You have math together, and he's falling behind. He can't seem to think around you, his math notes full of doodles of you, slowly turning far to lewd to turn in.

It's then he clears his throat to answer Bill's call out, only noticing that his journal he's been distracting himself is also full of doodles of you. He'd been so zoned out he'd drawn you with elf ears, laid out wearing a fantastical silk robe, but no loincloth-

"Jerry!" Another screech from Bill. "Pay attention, you numbskull! You finally chew your tongue off being a pussy, answer me."

"Sorry, sorry, w-what was the question?" His voice cracks, making Pete and Josh chuckle at the scrawny boy. Bill rolls his eyes, adjusting his glasses as he slams his hand down on the table

"Obviously, you agree we don't need some skank in the club, we don't even know what she's after."

"She's not that bad, actually-" he mumbles, making Bill growls and Pete nod in agreement, snapping and pointing to Jerry. "Exactly, and again, that fuckin' rack-"

"NO GIRLS!" Slamming his fists onto the table, the cheap wood rattles, as does the nearby shelves, causing a picture frame and a few figures to clatter to the ground.

"Geordi!" Josh cries as he goes to nurse the action figure back to 'mint condition' who had lost its visors when it took the plunge onto the rough carpet below. "Bill, this was new-in-box with I got it, what the fuck!"

"Exactly! The femoid isn't here and she's already causing issues. Case closed." The acne-ridden president grins and intertwines his fingers on the table in satisfaction. "I'm glad to hear you agree, and are putting the good name of the Eltingville club over the wants of your shrimp dick, unlike some people-" He glares at Pete, who just flips him off and goes back to reading a 'Gore Four' comic.

"Onto actually important business-"

It isn't until a few days later that you run into Bill, he's looking through the window of the blockbuster in concentration way to deep for any normal person.

"Hey, Bill, right?" You chirp, causing him to jolt, his billfold falling from his yellow overcoat. "Sorry, didn't mean to spook you!" You reach for the leather, only to feel a harsh sting on your hand as he swats you away picks it up, grumbling to himself as he pockets it.

"Right. I guess we do." He looks you over. "Did you need something, or are you just here to bother me?" He sneers.

"Oh, uh, no, just going to rent a movie, wanted to see what you were looking at?"

"Ugh. Nothing you'd be interested in." He turns back, looking at two posters for films avaliable to rent. "If it'll make you fuck off, I'm deciding whether to spend my allowance money on 'Return of the King' or 'Alien'." He explains, waving his wallet in front of you before pocketing it. "Only the best for the club, Pete's been on my ass about Alien, but Jerry cries like a little bitch boy when we watch horror sci-fi."

"Sounds like a tough choice. Uh, I like return of the king though!" She says.

He looks you over, pausing before shaking his head. "Yeah, heh, right. Sure, you've seen any 'Lord of the Rings' film. Listen, you don't have to pretend you know what I'm talking about to continue whatever this is, I'm not buying it." Before you can respond, the sound of a ringtone catches your ear, and Bill reluctantly answers it.

"Hurry up, man, how long does it take to pick out a tape? Josh's lard ass is gonna starve before you get back here and we can eat-" Pete's Italian accent crackles through the speakers, followed by the sound of an open palm smacking the back of his head. "Fuck off, man, I'm messin' around-"

"Knock it off, don't get kicked outta my basement before I get there. I'm on my way." He clicks it shut. He spares you a glance as he walks into the store, anger and tension only fuels when he gets a glimpse of your cleavage. He just clears his throat and turns away.

He settles on 'Alien', because screw Jerry, he wants to end the night off with Sigourney Weaver's jugs still fresh in mind for jerk material. Smacking the tape down, he glares at the usual attendant, who just sighs and gives him a dead eyed stare. "5.72, be kind and rewind-"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't give the spiel, you corporate cronie." Bill hisses, before opening up his wallet and paling. There's nothing but a Star Trek fan club card inside, his money missing. He remembers the fight he'd gotten into with his mom a few nights ago over her throwing out his 'busty babes of Babylon' mag, and gulps. She'd taken back his allowance. "Uh- hold on, hang on-" he's frantic now. "Its gotta be in here somewhere-" the sound of coins and crinkling paper hitting the counter makes him look over.

"I got it!" You say with a smile, about six dollars in bills and loose change. "I mean, you seemed like you put a whole lot of thought into that-"

He's too stunlocked to even speak, both emasculated and embarrassed at his financial situation. The attendant looks you over, then back at Bill. "Are... are you sure?" He asks, snapping Bill out of it.

"Of course she's sure, check out the fucking tape." Bill practically shoves the money towards you. "Corporate cock-sucker can't even do his job." He shakes his head. "What are you getting at, huh? Trying to make me look like some broke scrub or something?!"

"N-no!" You exclaim. "I just wanted to help you out-"

"Yeah right." He snorts and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "Listen up, I don't know what you're trying to do but it ends here. I don't do 'debt', so name your price. Settle it."

"Well..." You scuffing your shoe again the blue and yellow blockbuster tile, shrugging. "Maybe since I bought it, I could watch with you guys? Joining a club could be fun, and I've read a few comics and stuff. Plus, I like movies."

Bill goes pale, palms sweaty and eyes wide. "Shit..." he huffs. "No girls, no females in the club, that's our most consistent rule. I don't need you, i don't know, sissying up the place. Something else."

"Cmon, please, no, I won't be weird, just this once!"

"F-fine. But you're not a member!" He says, jabbing a finger against your chest before recoiling it like he was burned. That was about the closest he's ever gotten to a tit, his digital still tingling. It's humiliating. "Just be there, you know where I live." He rushes off, tape held suspiciously low by his crotch.

It's hell. Pure, frozen hell when you arrive. Josh is fidgeting with the deck of Magic he was sorting when you came in, not even making eye contact while he has a panicked, hushed conversation with Bill about how this even happened. He's both extremely suspicious and extremely giddy, whereas Pete is just giddy.

You were so enthralled in looking around the nerd cave, everything from 'Star-Trek Next Gen' posters to scantily clad 'Cat-Woman' figures line the walls and shelves. Good thing you were so focused on it all, it gave Jerry time to scurry over to the bean bag, unzipping it and shoving his journal into the Styrofoam beans in a state of pure panic.

"Hey, hot-stuff! Didn't expect to see you, lookin' fine tonight." Pete calls, hand to his mouth as if amplifying it. You've run into Pete a few times when you were dodging PE behind the bleachers, and he never fails to try and make a move. "Hey, couch is gonna be pretty full with Josh's fat ass, why don't you sit on my lap for the movie, huh? I'll protect you from the Alien, don't even worry bout' it." He winks.

"I'll find room, Pete, but thanks for the offer." You laugh. Plopping down, you set your bag aside and lean over the arm a bit. "Hey, Jerry." You say, before looking away after he refuses to respond, or even make eye contact. "Okay..."

"Why is she here? This has gotta be a prank?" Josh whispers, sweating as he rubs at his forehead. "Whyd you let her come, I-I thought the rule was no girls!"

"It was, i-it is! She's a normie femoid, but my bitch mom took my allowance, she covered so we could watch the movie tonight. Grin and bare it, yeah? I'm sure you can resist from popping a stiffy for at least two hours. And it's not you I'm worried about, it's these idiots." Bill nods over to the clubs resident fantasy nerd, whose taken to lying face, and crotch, down in the bean bag while Pete quizzes you on horror flicks.

It's uneventful, if not for the tension looming in the air between you and the guys. Throughout the evening, Bill tries his best to ignore you, or to shush Josh when he leans over to provide you an awkward fun fact about the films production. Jerry stays quiet, but appreciates how you seem to make him feel better about being scared by the film than dogging on him. "Huh? O-oh, yeah, no, I'm not great with movies like these, but uh-" He'd stammer. "I'm not like a pussy or anything, I've just had an offer day, I'm high stress."

Pete is relishing in it, constantly commenting on the 'alien-fighting hotties' in the film, before making sure you know he doesn't like them as much as you. "Nothing against these babes, you know, but they don't have an ass like yours-"

At the end of the night; when everyone has cleared out, you stop in the door frame, turning to smile. "Thanks a lot for letting me stay and watch, Bill." You say softly. "This was fun."

He's silent, hand gripping the door frame hard enough it might splinter. He'd done you the decency of walking you to the door, to your suprise. "Yeah. We'll, don't expect too much. You're still a normie. Get off my porch, I don't want people thinking we hang out." You just sighs and wave goodnight with a slight grin.

He's angry, he hasn't felt things like this in a long, long time. He shouldn't like you, you're nothing special, you're hot, but just some brainless poser girl from school, probably friends with jocks and cheer-whores. Still, why did his heart leap when you brushed his hand getting popcorn? Why did he want you sitting next to him and not that 'loudmouth perv whose ruining the tension of the scene'.

He finds himself laying on his bed, the squeaky, worn out mattress creaking. He'd lock up the basement and then his door, he's rock hard and is sure it's Ellen Ripley's sheer tank that was doing it for him. He pops the tape in again and puts it on mute to a shot of her running, popping the button on his jeans and sighing as he settles into bed. However, running his hand from base to tip once, then twice, he finds she's not doing it for him. 'Fine,' he thinks. 'Maybe I'm in the mood for blondes'. He grabs the nearest Tasha Yar picture he has, but that's not working either.

Working his fingers around his tip, letting the precum act as a proper lubricant, the image of you in her uniform almost makes him choke. He jolts so hard he almost rips his own dick off. 'Shit-' he thinks, first from shock, then from the implications of the though. "Shit, shit, shit!" He yells allowed, chucking the picture to the wall, erection twitching again at the thought the garnered such shame. It's not like this is anything more than a chubby from a semi-attractive girl! ...Right?

A similar scene is playing out in Josh's room, the meticuloius organizers room looks as though a hurricane has hit, digging through magazines, comics and VHS covers. He's sure he's gotta have an art piece that looks like you, maybe a 'Hottest women of sci-fi' tape, or some scantily clad magic card, shit, he'd settle for a grainy background character on one of his 'Star Trek: Original Series' tapes. Something, anything. "Cmon, cmon-" he's frantic. He's not as ashamed as Bill. Sure, he's ashamed to be jerking it to a girl he was feet away from less than an hour ago, but he isn't ashamed that the girl was you! He can admit you were hot, and pretty nice, even if he didn't fully trust you. I mean, it's not like you're joining the club! ...Right?

Jerry doesn't need to search for material. He's got enough paper with sketches of you to count as an act of deforestation. Its his reluctance to use them that's the issue. He goes home, a beacon of self control. He's only half-hard, and doing rhythmic, calming breaths. 'Gotta put your stuff away, then straight to bed Jerry, cmon.' He thinks to himself. 'No big deal, you got this.' He does get it all out away, his wallet, his new Magic cards he brought to show Josh, and his lucky dice, all accounted for. It's when he sees his journal, which he remembered to retrieve from the beanbag, sitting there. Calling to him like the one ring. Just a peek... He slams it shut and puts in onto his dresser, laying flat on his back and dullg clothed, to afraid to even undress for fear of brushing his cock by accident and blowing the whole facade of control he has. 'Just ignore it's siren song-' the image of you, perched on a rock with a tail and breasts out, calling to him. 'Shit, no sirens, not a siren-' He whimpers. He can't help it, you wouldn't ever find out, and it's just a one time thing! It's probably just a nervous boner anyways. Looking at half-nude art he made of you is just a one time thing. "Ah~ whoo, okay, gonna be quick, mmph, whatnwould you think of this?" He whines, rubbing against the mattress for a bit of hands-off reliefm somehow that made it less bad, right? He's not technically touching himself. Practicing gently kissing his pillow while he strokes it is just him, getting some sensory stimulation! It's normal. And it's not like he's gonna see you much after this! ...Right?

Pete isn't lacking for any material, and isn't held back by shame either. He made sure you were parked on the couch right by him allll night, and every time you got up to use the bathroom, his sticky, popcorn covered hand founds it's way into your purse. That's how he ended up with his yellowed pillow covered in some shitty PINK perfume and some sticky lip gloss smeared on his cheek like you'd kissed him there. He's absolutely wrecking the pillow, in his mind there is no seperation from the fleshlight he constructed out of fabric and stuffing and your smoking body. "You like that, baby?" He mutters lowly, bucking his hips into the pillow like a dog. "Shrimp dick my ass, you can feel that in there, huh? Yeah, I'll make sure hit all the right spots, shit. Get your fuckin' legs round my waist-" he groans.

Coincidentally, after the four have finished their separate sessions, they each receive a short, to the point call from Bill on their landlines, something about the 'financial benefit' of having more member in the club, even if he'd never, ever let a girl in under normal circumstances. But, there's a lot of good stuff coming out lately, and they need as much savings as they can get. He assures them all, "Its purely business, nimrods, I'm not exactly thrilled about it." All three are too worn out to even think about how odd it is to receive a call like that at 1 am...

[quiisquiliae]

"You don't?" He paused and tilted his head slightly, thinking. They were right. And for that matter, he hadn't really seen any in the north at all. Damn, maybe they really were pretty strictly a Ferelden thing.

Equally happy to talk someone's ear off about dogs as he was about dragons, Rook nodded, grinning. "Yeah! Well, he's pretty smart, cuz Mabari are just like that so it wasn't that hard, but yeah. Also kinda trained himself on some things honestly. Ain't a bad thing, he... helps me out at times, but I gotta make sure the damn door is locked now."

He hadn't trained Ghost to wake him from the nightmares he dealt with, or leaning and laying on him when he was having a Bad Day, and damn if he wasn't grateful all the same for picking up the little runt all those years ago at the Denerim market.

"Fucker's learned a lot. Got him as a puppy not long after I left the Inquisition. He rode in Bandit's saddlebag for a good minute before he got too big for it."

     Taash stares at them for a good minute, eyes still narrowed as they consider their answer. They sniff the air, brow furrowing, but eventually relenting. Regardless of the truth behind their words…it didn’t matter. Taash didn’t want it to matter.  Not enough to make a scene. The Qunari had to remind themselves a few more times before they relaxed, letting the tension leave their body and taking a deep, heavy breath.  

          “ Yeah. Mabari are pretty cool. Don’t see a lot of them in Rivain ” Which was odd now that they thought about it, but their travels took them all over. Often into places uninhabited, filled to the brim with all manner of beasts and occasional demons. “ There’s smaller dragons but they still like a lot of space too. Lots of space to run around and fly.” 

     They set aside the weapon they were working on, leaning it against a pillar before stretching a little. Tilting their head to the side, they stare again for a moment. “ Did you train your Mabari yourself?”