Every day that passes our life gets worse in Gaza there are more than 2 million people we need large quantities of food but with the crossings closed it is impossible every day food is getting scarcer and its price is increasing dramatically there is no water or even electricity to operate the water wells our life is tragic in addition to all of this the sounds of explosions and cannons and planes that never stop they never stop when we ask you to donate you are our only hope with this money we can eat some of the available food or even some clean water to drink there is no sanitation or health services diseases are everywhere insects too everything is difficult so difficult that you cannot imagine what we are going through without experiencing it it is more difficult than what you see on TV our life is tragic so I ask you to donate to us any amount you can afford my family and I need something to help
Absolutely amazing how AO3 is a part of the internet that doesn't sneak in any ads and doesn't have an algorithm and doesn't watch you or record how much time you spend looking at each fic or whatever. It's just right there to use for free. Legend
Everyone wanted to be thicc but nobody wanted to be fat. Everyone wanted the dad bod but nobody wanted to be fat. Everyone wants fat mommy milkers but nobody wants mommy to be fat. Everyone wants to be a bear but not like, an actual fat bear. You get what i’m saying
Everyone wants the mistique of fatness or use the language of fatness to denote hotness without actually being fat or acknowledging that fat people or fatness can just be hot.
he picks up his phone on the first ring, ‘yes sweetheart? did you already reach? where are you?’
‘i’m almost there ken but i think i’m gonna need a minute or two to recover’
concern flooded his mind ‘recover? what happened-‘
‘i just saw the most beautiful man ever!’ you squeal through the phone.
what.
‘he’s drop dead gorgeous ken! and he’s not even doing anything, he’s just- standing there’ you sigh dreamily.
‘oh my god ken, his jaw is so chiseled i could grate cheese on it’ your squealing continues.
‘my love, what are you talking about?’
were you being serious right now? was his jaw not chiseled enough to grate cheese? was he not gorgeous?
why were you calling him, your dear boyfriend, to gush about some man guy?
‘and he’s in this light blue dress shirt which you already know is my personal weakness’
wait. oh.
just then, a small smile makes its way on to his face.
‘ken ken ken he just smiled! i think it might be my favourite smile ever! oh god, it’s so beautiful’ you’re swooning on the other side.
‘really? tell me more’ he’s full on grinning now.
‘i could go on and on but you know what? i think i’m gonna shoot my shot and ask him out. i’ll let you know how it goes later. bye, i love you’ you hang up and he has to stop himself from laughing.
he pockets his phone when sees you crossing the road to get to him.
you throw a small wave at him ‘hey, i was on my way to see my boyfriend but then i saw you and you’re just so beautifully sculpted and i decided that i’d rather spend my life with you instead. what do you say?’
‘i’ll have to ask my girlfriend about that’
clicking your tongue ‘of course a guy like you is off the market’ you feign defeat ‘but i bet i’m more prettier than her’
his eyes scan you from top to bottom ‘you’re ok i guess’
scoffing ‘gee ken thanks a lot. what’s the harm in playing along for a little bit?’ you pout, making him snicker.
you and your antics never fail to amuse him.
you feel his arms wrap around you then and pull you to his chest as you melt into him.
‘i’m not lying. my girl is the prettiest’ he says.
‘and i wasn’t either, you really do have a jaw for grating cheese’
(rblogs appreciated🤘🏼)
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT
I think i just tried assertive communication. And you know what. Hell yeah.
Ulterior Motives
Another lil one shot inspired by this gorgeous work by @tamayula-hl
Summary: A confrontation in Feldcroft shatters trust and friendship as you discover the truth behind Sebastian's intentions.
Words: ~4,600
Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Hurt/No Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House
Scars of the past
Summary: after one of your late night rescues, they find themselves in the Room of Requirement to tend to their battle wounds. It has been two years since the event of fifth year, but Sebastian can't help but to think back at that awfull time after seeing the scars on MC's body. His scars.
Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!reader
Warnings: A lil angst a lil fluff
The castle was quiet as Sebastian and MC trudged up the winding staircases of Hogwarts, their steps heavy with exhaustion. The faint light of the moon streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting long shadows across the stone floors. They had just returned from yet another escapade—clearing out a poacher camp and rescuing a pair of distressed mooncalves.
It had become a ritual for the two of them, these late-night missions. They both shared a deep-seated need to right the wrongs of the magical world after their 5th year, and somewhere along the line, their shared purpose had grown into something more.
Sebastian stole a glance at her as they ascended the final staircase to the Room of Requirement. Dirt smudged her cheeks, a faint streak of blood ran along her forearm, and her hair was in wild disarray. And yet, to him, she looked radiant.
“You’re quiet,” she said, giving him a sidelong look. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just wondering how many poachers we’ve pissed off this time,” he teased, though the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Enough to ensure they won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
The wall before them shimmered as they approached, and the Room of Requirement opened to reveal a familiar, cozy space: a crackling fireplace, two plush couches, and a simple bed tucked away in the corner for nights like these when they didn’t dare risk sneaking back to their dorms.
Sebastian let out a sigh of relief, stepping inside and kicking off his boots. “Merlin’s beard, I think I’m too tired to move another muscle.”
“You and me both,” she agreed, plopping down onto one of the couches and wincing slightly as she stretched.
As they worked in companionable silence, patching up their injuries with Wiggenweld potions and quick healing charms, Sebastian couldn’t help but notice how her hands trembled slightly. She always tried to hide it after these missions, as if refusing to acknowledge the toll it took on her body would make it less real.
“You should let me take a look at that arm,” he said, nodding toward the shallow cut on her forearm.
“It’s fine, really—”
“Let me,” he insisted, his voice softer this time.
She relented, sitting beside him and holding out her arm. His fingers brushed her skin as he muttered a charm to clean the wound, and she shivered slightly under his touch. He felt his heart quicken, but he forced himself to focus.
“There,” he said after a moment, leaning back and admiring his work. “Good as new.”
She smiled at him, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow warmer. There was something unspoken between them, something that had been building for months but neither dared to address.
“You’re staring,” she said, breaking the tension with a teasing grin.
“Can you blame me?” he shot back, though the words held more weight than he intended. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly stood to rummage through her bag.
“Ugh, I need to get out of these clothes,” she muttered, turning her back to him as she pulled her shirt over her head.
Sebastian’s gaze immediately dropped, his cheeks reddening as he tried to give her privacy. He’d seen her change before, in hurried moments during their missions, but it was different now. There was an intimacy in the air that hadn’t been there before, and it left him flustered.
He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting upward, and that’s when he saw them—scars. Her back was littered with them, pale lines crisscrossing her skin like a map of battles fought and endured.
And then he saw it.
A jagged, lightning-shaped scar stretched diagonally across her back, angry and red even after two years. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the distinct mark left by the Cruciatus Curse.
His Cruciatus Curse.
“Sebastian?” Her voice was quiet, unsure, as she glanced over her shoulder and caught the expression on his face.
“Did I do that to you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
She turned fully to face him, clutching her shirt to her chest, her eyes softening. “Sebastian—”
“Did I do that to you?” he repeated, his voice breaking this time.
She hesitated, then nodded. “It happened that night in the Scriptorium. When you… when you cast the curse on me.”
He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He had tried so hard to atone for the mistakes of his fifth year, to make amends for the darkness he had embraced. But seeing the physical reminder of his actions carved into her skin—it was almost too much to bear.
“I—” His voice faltered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… I didn’t realize—”
She stepped forward, placing a hand on his cheek. “Sebastian, stop. I’ve forgiven you. I forgave you a long time ago.”
“How can you forgive something like that?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“Because I know who you are now,” she said simply. “And you’re not that boy anymore.”
She guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of him as she took his hands in hers.
“I don’t blame you for what happened,” she continued, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. “It was a dark time for both of us, and we’ve both made mistakes. But you’ve changed, Sebastian. You’ve become someone I trust, someone I… care about.”
He looked at her, his heart aching with a mixture of guilt and love. “I care about you too,” he admitted. “More than you know. And that’s why it kills me to see what I’ve done to you.”
She smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. “You can’t change the past, but you’ve more than made up for it. And I wouldn’t be here without you.”
For a moment, they just sat there, the silence between them comfortable and warm. Finally, she stood, pulling him up with her and guiding him toward the bed.
“Come on,” she said, her voice light despite the heaviness of their conversation. “We both need some rest.”
He hesitated, glancing at her nervously. “Are you sure?”
“Sebastian,” she said with a small laugh, “you’ve slept here before. I’m not going to bite.”
As they lay side by side, the tension between them began to melt away. His arm found its way around her waist, and she didn’t protest. Instead, she shifted closer, resting her head on his chest.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
“For what?”
“For forgiving me. For giving me a chance to make things right.”
She smiled against his chest, her eyes already drifting shut. “Always.”
As sleep claimed them, Sebastian pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, silently vowing to protect her from any harm—even from himself.