#✫i prefer expensive news. | school paper.

[avatar-anna]

Whipped

Hockey player! Harry x Figure skater! Y/n

there are references to a previous oneshot. read here for more context!

"You comin' out tonight, Captain?"

Harry shut his locker as he shrugged into his t-shirt, water droplets spraying as he shook out his freshly washed hair. Rubbing some of the stray droplets off his face, he said, "Not tonight, boys. It's date night."

His teammates groaned in protest, a regular occurrence when Harry declined to go out with them. He shook his head at their collective disappointment, amused because when he did go out they typically got too hammered or went off in search of someone to hook up with.

"You'll be fine without me, I promise," Harry assured as they walked out of the locker room together.

"It's the principle of the thing," one of his teammates, Matt, said. He was new to the team this year, a transfer from a different school. "You never come out with us."

"That's not true!"

It wasn't true, was it? Harry had opted out of the last couple parties, preferring to take his girlfriend on a date or have a night in with her. Y/n wasn't overly fond of parties, and rightfully so after what she'd experienced a couple years ago, but even then Harry had begun to prefer their quiet nights together over a rager on Greek Row.

"It is. You're always with your girlfriend," another teammate said, making it sound like an accusation.

"Watch it," Harry said, his voice clipped, not having much tolerance for anyone who spoke badly about Y/n.

"Speaking of," Niall said, nodding to where Y/n waited by her car, her head dipped as she typed something on her phone.

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, a smile involuntarily finding its way onto his face. "So fucking whipped," Matt muttered as Harry walked over to Y/n, the rest agreeing, making their own jokes at their captain's expense. Harry merely flipped them off as he walked away from them, shaking as his head as he returned his focus back on his girl.

"What was that all about?" Y/n asked, looking over at Harry's teammates with a raised brow.

"Nothing, they're just giving me a hard time about not going out with them tonight," he explained, tossing his duffle bag in the back of Y/n's car.

"Oh," Y/n said. "Do you want to go out with them? We can take a raincheck for tonight."

That was what he loved about Y/n. What Harry's teammates didn't understand was that his girlfriend wasn't telling him not to go out. Y/n never got mad at him if he wanted to celebrate a win at a party , she knew his team was a close knit group. But Harry found himself preferring spending time with her than with the boys. Did that make him a shitty teammate? He didn't think so. Did it mean he was whipped? Maybe, but he didn't really see a problem with that. Not when being with Y/n made him so happy.

"Don't worry about them," Harry said, pulling Y/n as close as she could possibly get. "They're just jealous they don't get to spend the night with the hottest girl at our school."

Y/n started to laugh, but his mouth was already on hers, effectively ending the conversation.

*.*

Away games meant hours spent on a stuffy bus full of immature hockey players. When Harry was just a freshman, he was delegated to the back , forced to share seats with the other underclassmen while the juniors and seniors all stretched out across seats closer to the front of the bus, far, far away from the bathroom.

Now that Harry was both a senior and team captain, he got his pick of whatever row he wanted on the bus. He usually opted to sit up front, Zayn in the aisle across from him and Niall the one behind. In the hours leading up to arriving at their opponent's rink, Harry spent his time listening to music, getting himself in the zone to lead his team to victory. It was why he chose to sit in the first few rows of the bus closer to the coaches so he could focus.

Around hour two into their trip, Harry reached for the paper bag that had his lunch.

In the past, Harry went with a teammate or two to grab something to eat before getting on the bus, but after Harry had complained a couple times to Y/n that a burrito followed by an hours-long bus ride was a habitual mistake, she began to pack him a lunch. He didn't ask, and she never said anything about it. The first time he found a brown paper bag in their shared apartment, Y/n merely shrugged and said, "I already pack my own for competitions, it's no big deal."

"What'you got over there, Styles?"

But it was. It was her little ways of showing she cared. Harry learned early on in their relationship that Y/n had a hard time expressing herself with words, but she made up for it in gestures, like packing him an away game lunch and leaving little notes in them for him to find.

Harry perked up at the sound of his name to find one of his teammates standing in the aisle of the bus, eyes alight as he observed the brown paper bag in Harry's lap.

"What does it look like, Matt? It's a bag lunch," Zayn chimed in, having pulled one of his headphones off his ears.

"Please tell me Y/n isn't packing you lunch before games," Matt teased. "Is she your girlfriend or your mom?"

A few teammates who had been listening laughed and joined in on ribbing their captain, but Harry merely rolled his eyes. Matt had had a lot to say about his relationship recently. Nothing overly rude or offensive, but it was often enough that it was starting to become a "thing," and that Harry definitely didn't want.

"Y/n made you lunch? Can she make me one next time? What's in it?" Niall asked, who had previously been dozing against the window.

Ignoring Matt, Harry showed Niall the lunch Y/n made—a chicken wrap on a whole wheat tortilla, trail mix, a banana, hummus and pita bread, and a drink with electrolytes. The contents varied each time, but it was always healthy and filling, and Harry honestly felt better as he got off the bus than he used to.

"That a note?" Niall murmured so Matt wouldn't hear, having moved onto another topic toward the middle of the bus.

Harry reached for the folded piece of paper scattered among the food in his lap, trying to be discreet. "Good luck today, bub! xoxoxo" it read, and Harry quickly folded it back up and shoved it into his trouser pocket.

"How things have changed since you first met," Niall said with a chuckle, punching Harry's arm lightly.

"I'm not so sure. I think she likes to embarrass me more than anything else with this stuff. It's definitely working."

"Matt's an idiot, ignore him," Niall said, and Harry was inclined to agree. "You gonna eat that pita bread?"

Later that night, Harry trudged through the apartment, his duffle bag sliding off his arm in a heap by the front door. "Baby?" Harry called, noting the lights on in the apartment but no girlfriend. "You in the shower?"

Harry swatted his friend's hand away before he could snatch his lunch.

*.*

"Over here!" she said, her voice coming from their shared bedroom.

Harry loosened his tie as he walked down the hall toward his room, ready to be rid of his game-day clothes. He never understood why the team had to wear suits before and after games, especially after. The very last thing he wanted to do after playing a hockey game was wear a dress shirt and slacks.

Not paying attention, Harry began undressing, shedding his suit jacket first, carefully hanging it up the way he knew his girlfriend would appreciate. When he turned around, he finally noticed her.

"What's this?" he asked, eyes roaming Y/n's bare legs appreciatively. She laid on the bed in just his home jersey, the hem hiked up high enough that Harry could see a hint of lace from her underwear.

"Just a little something for your big win," Y/n said, a grin that said she could read every ounce of desire on his face.

She started to stand up on her knees, to go to him, Harry assumed, but he stopped her. "Wait. Stay right there."

He could feel Y/n's eye roll as Harry whipped his phone out of his back pocket, fumbling around until he had his camera pulled up. As he focused his phone on her, she didn't look amused, but there was a glint in her eye that told him she thought he was an idiot.

"You do this every time I surprise you in bed," she remarked, flipping Harry off when he started moving around for better angles

"Need a new screensaver," he said by way of explanation, doing just that before he set his phone down.

"Get over here before I decide to put pants on."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, quick to ditch his own trousers before joining his girlfriend on the bed.

*.*

A couple weeks later, Harry was finally at a party. His teammates were there, along with Y/n and a couple of her friends. Y/n, who still got tense at large house parties, stayed close to Harry's side the whole night, not eager to venture anywhere without him. He didn't mind, of course, in fact quite the opposite. As they sat around a bonfire in the house's backyard, Y/n sat on Harry's lap, his arms circled protectively around her waist. She had been perfectly fine with sitting beside him, but he'd pulled her onto his lap before she could.

"How are you always so warm?" he murmured, nuzzling his nose past her hair and against the skin of her neck. "Hm? You're like a little furnace."

"Stop that! Pay attention to the game," Y/n said, still leaning into his touch.

Her hands rested over his, warming his skin caused by the chilly autumn air. Harry was in a chunky cable knit sweater, but the cold still pierced his skin, making him squeeze his girlfriend tighter. That and the pleased giggle that came out of her mouth when he kissed the back of her neck.

"Hey, lovebirds! Feel like rejoining us anytime soon?"

Harry peeked out from behind Y/n, grinning cheekily at his friends, who were also sitting around the bonfire. Before he could say anything, Niall shouted from his seat over the music, "You guys are so in love it's gross."

The lighting outside was dim, the fire casting an orange glow over everything, but Harry could tell Y/n was blushing as the rest of their friends teased them playfully. It was no secret to Harry how his girlfriend felt, but she was more reserved than he was, and he knew it was a lot for everything to be out in the open, even so far down the line.

"He's fucking whipped, is what he is!"

Harry heard Matt's voice scattered throughout the others, and he could hear the slight edge to his tone. He wasn't quite sure what his teammate's problem was, or why he felt the need to comment on Harry's relationship all of a sudden, but it was starting to get on Harry's nerves.

Not having heard the bite that Harry did, his friends laughed. Y/n didn't, though, merely smiling at him as she squeezed his hand affectionately. "Don't let them get to you, bub," she murmured before standing up from his lap. He felt the loss of her warmth immediately, but didn't pull her back down to him. "I'm gonna head inside to go to the bathroom."

He didn't know if she actually had to, but Harry saw the offer to escape for what it was and took it. "I'll go with you," he said, standing up himself and taking her hand in his. They were almost to the sliding door that would lead them back to the house when Matt spoke, his voice rising above the rest and making them both stop.

"Seriously? You can't be alone for five minutes? For God's sake, let him off his leash, Y/n."

Anger coursed through Harry's veins immediately, but he did his best to push it aside to focus on his girlfriend, whose face was carefully blank.

"Sorry, what was that?" Y/n asked, slowly turning around to face him. Harry instantly read the look on her face. It was the same one she wore when he forgot to switch out his laundry or wash the dishes.

Matt stupidly doubled down instead of backing off. Niall and a couple of Harry's friends tried to stop him, understanding Y/n's anxiety about being left alone at parties, but he didn't listen.

"Never in a million years did I think our team captain would be so whipped for some—some—"

"Stop before you embarrass yourself," Y/n said, her voice not wavering once. "Maybe if your head wasn't so far up your own ass, you'd know I don't make Harry do anything, like you seem to believe. If he doesn't want to hang out with you, then that's his business, but honestly I don't blame him. You kind of suck."

Matt looked at Y/n in disbelief, mouth open but no words came out. Then he looked at Harry, as if his captain would offer some assistance, but Harry didn't do anything of the sort.

"Don't look at him, you're dealing with me now," Y/n said, stepping toward Matt. "And before you make some stupid fucking-ass comment about him being a bitch letting me fight his battles, save your breath. You started this, I'm ending it. Suck a dick and keep my name out of your mouth."

That's when Harry stepped in. He loved that Y/n was defending him on his behalf, but Matt was a good two heads taller than her, and his teammate had had a few. He didn't think Matt would get physical, but Harry was starting to realize Matt wasn't really a stand up guy.

Then, Matt muttered, "Fuck this," before storming back inside the house. The backyard was uncomfortably quiet for a moment, no one quite knowing what to say. That was until Niall said, "Well, that went about how I expected."

Harry let out a relieved chuckle, his free hand running through his hair. When everyone went back to their own conversations, he focused his attention back on his girlfriend, who hadn't said a word since Matt left.

He knew it took a lot for her to do that, that as confident as she was, Y/n still got anxious, especially in a setting like this. Squeezing her hand once, which had begun to tremble just slightly, Harry murmured quietly in her ear, "Let's go home, baby."

With a stiff nod, Y/n agreed, letting him lead her from the group and back into the house. When they were in the car, Y/n finally said, "Sorry if I made things uncomfortable. Matt's a dick but he's still your teammate."

"Don't apologize," Harry replied immediately. "He got what was coming to him."

They let the conversation end there, driving back to their apartment in silence, save the music playing through the car's speakers.

It wasn't until they were both in the comfort of their own bed that Y/n brought it up again. Nestling under the covers and into Harry's side, she said, "You're totally whipped, you know that, right?"

Harry sighed and kissed the top of her head. "I know."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Day in the Life with Yandere Student Council | Part 2

Last Part

“Ah, just the three I wanted to see.”

“G-g-g-g-good a-a-afternoon (Y/n).”

You give him a small wave

The malicious intent is teeming off the couple as they glare at Lucoa

Who continues to smile entirely unbothered

“What do you need all three of us for? Mister. President.” 

“You both have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“We have already completed all of our schoolwork and the student council work we have yet to complete is not urgent.”

Lucoa’s piercing glints in the sunlight

“Not anymore. Respectfully this is the new work assigned to you both. Min Su.”

Struggling with one pile after another the treasurer pulls them out

until there are four fairly tall piles on the table

As if the sheer size wasn’t enough Min drops a nameplate on all the piles, politely smiling from behind them when he finishes

“I trust this will at least be finished before morning tomorrow.”

June’s face blanks  before a smile once again spreads on his face

“Gill, we’ll take two trips. Sorry (Y/n), we'll have to rain-check on our date.”

June waits for Gill grab two of the piles one with each of their names before walking out

“Bye, (Y/n).”

“Bye…”

When the door closes your attention is turned to Min and Lucoa who are each sporting smiles

“(Y/n) d-d-do you want to help me recount our savings for this month? O-o-or would you like to help me alphabetize our receipts?”

Before you can say anything Lucoa intercedes wrapping arm around your back

“Sorry Min I have a very important task for our honorary member.”

“...oh…”

“But I think it’ll be a good idea for (Y/n) to leave their bags with you.”

“Hah~Really?!”

“Yes, really.”

Min gives you a hug slipping off your pack to cradle it into his chest

“I’ll protect your things with my life!”

Redder than a tomato he runs off with your backpack

And you can only hope he doesn’t trip knowing him

“Well (Y/n) will you join me?”

You don’t have much of a choice as Lucoa already confirms you’re attendance and assignments for class are waived

Following him to his private office you admire the expensive decor and the pristine waterfall against the wall

Its a sight to behold

“So uh Lucoa what’s this super important task?”

“Just a survey. I think it’s important to know the preferences of all my members.”

“...’If you were relocated to a higher living space would you or would you not be satisfied with your life?’...”

“So?”

“Uhm not that this has anything to do with the survey but I like where I am now. I prefer a cozy and convenient place where I can keep learning at school.”

Lucoa smile never fades as he tilts his head at you

“You’re right it doesn’t have anything to do with the survey.”

“I’m not refusing to finish it. It’s just something I wanted to say.”

You wait for some kind of reaction but he leans in his chair and twirls away

“Well I’m glad you told me, (Y/n)."

He stops spinning to stare you down again

“I need that survey tomorrow.”

“Okay!”

You gather the papers prepared to leave

“You don’t have your back pack or any of your belongings.”

“I-i know but it’s getting late I have to get back before curfew.”

“Don’t worry I’ll have my driver drop you off. Besides I was wondering if you wanted to try a strawberry? I just had them imported after a business proposition.”

“Uh sure I guess.”

“Great.”

Everyday’s a new adventure with these guys

But it’s a school day after all 

a specialized college such as this is sure to have it’s eccentrics

To be bad your trapped with them

Not even the weekends will keep you out of their grasp

[act-nat-ural]

@madlyney: Hii! Hope your day’s been good!! Could I request for smth cute with Akaashi Keiji? Preferably in a time skip!

word count: 883

The warm, inviting scent of old paper and freshly printed pages filled the quiet bookstore, where the soft hum of distant music made the atmosphere all the cozier. You had wandered in during a rainy afternoon, hoping to find a peaceful escape from the downpour outside. You pulled a few novels from the shelf, their bright covers and intriguing titles inviting you in, and you tucked them under your arm as you navigated your way through the aisles, looking for a place to sit and start reading.

But as you moved toward the quiet reading nook, a catastrophe struck.

A precarious stack of books beside you teetered dangerously. Before you could catch it, the entire pile tumbled forward, scattering across the floor with a loud thud. You cringed at the sound, knowing you had disrupted the peace of the little bookstore.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks as you quickly crouched down, gathering the fallen books and trying to make as little noise as possible. But as you reached for a particularly heavy hardcover, another hand appeared beside yours, picking it up before you could.

You looked up to see a young man with dark hair, a calm expression, and intense deep blue eyes. He was tall and well-dressed, with a hint of curiosity in his gaze. The stranger didn’t say a word, only offering a small smile as he handed you the book.

��Thank you,” you managed to mumble, your cheeks still burning. You took the book from him and started stacking it with the others, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he crouched down beside you, silently helping you collect the scattered volumes.

Once you were both finished, you stood, brushing imaginary dust from your knees. “I’m so sorry for disturbing everyone,” you said, giving him an apologetic smile.

The young man shook his head slightly. “No need to apologize. These things happen.” His voice was soft but steady, calming in a way that put you a little more at ease. He set the last book back in its place with a careful precision, as though handling something fragile.

“Thank you again,” you said, feeling a bit flustered under his calm gaze. “I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.”

“Not at all.” He looked at you with a faint glimmer of amusement. “Most people don’t take the time to put them all back the way you did. It’s nice to see someone who cares.”

You offered a sheepish smile, trying to brush off the compliment, but something about the way he looked at you—so quietly attentive—made you feel as if he genuinely appreciated it. His eyes drifted to the books you held, and he tilted his head just slightly. “You have good taste,” he remarked, gesturing to the novels in your arms.

You laughed a little, surprised by his insight. “Thanks. I’m trying to catch up on my reading list before school starts up again.”

“Studying literature?” he guessed, his expression curious yet respectful.

“Yeah. I’m actually majoring in English lit,” you replied, feeling your shoulders relax as the conversation flowed naturally. “I just transferred here, so I’m still getting used to everything. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

He nodded, as if he understood. “New places can feel like that,” he said. “But if you need any help navigating, I’m familiar with the area. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Oh, really? That would be amazing, actually. I’ve been a little lost since I got here,” you admitted, laughing a bit at your own expense. “Thank you…?”

“Akaashi,” he said, extending a hand. “Akaashi Keiji. And it’s no trouble at all.”

You shook his hand, feeling a faint warmth in his gentle grip. “Thank you, Akaashi. I’m (Name).”

His smile softened, as if he were pleased to finally put a name to your face. “Nice to meet you, (Name).”

The two of you spent the next few minutes talking about the campus, your favorite genres, and the nearby coffee shop that, according to Akaashi, had the best pastries in town. His voice was calm, soothing, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say. There was a natural ease in the conversation, as if you’d known each other far longer than the few minutes you’d actually spent together.

“Do you have a favorite book?” he asked eventually, his expression thoughtful.

You pondered for a moment, then named a title that was close to your heart, watching as his eyes lit up. “I’ve read that one too. It’s incredible,” he agreed, and his genuine enthusiasm only made you want to talk to him more. “It’s rare to find someone who appreciates it.”

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you, then,” you said with a smile, feeling a bit bolder.

The afternoon drifted by as you chatted, completely lost in conversation, the awkwardness of your first encounter melting into an unexpected connection. Finally, after checking the time, you both headed out together, agreeing to meet up sometime soon for coffee and maybe a little campus tour.

As you stepped outside, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the world fresh and shimmering under a gray sky. Akaashi walked beside you, and you felt a little more grounded, a little less out of place, knowing that someone was there to help you find your way.

note: almost forgot to post this ngl….

[cassafrassie]

stage kisses - (also on ao3) length: 3,311 words rating: T (teenaged kissing)

A thin layer of pristine, fresh snow coats Gravity Falls’ Main Street. Multi-colored string lights twinkle through the layer of ice adorning the eaves of the downtown shops and businesses.

Dipper relishes in being able to be present for it. Though he’s spent the last three summers in Gravity Falls, it’s the first time he’s been able to be here for Winter break, and something about the icy chill punctured through with the warmth of sugar cookies, roaring fires and cozy blankets has his heart feeling full.

Even if he is currently acting as courier for the approximately three hundred shopping bags that his petite female friend and current shopping companion has loaded into his arms.

He hadn’t been paying super close attention to what Pacifica had been purchasing as she shuffled him from store to store. He was just grateful she offered to help him with his last minute gifts. He was happy to sit back and watch her work her magic as she examined treasure after treasure and piece of junk after piece of junk. He had to hand it to her— she had a knack for picking out practical yet thoughtful presents.  A classy cashmere sweater for Mabel from her. A set of new knitting needles for Mabel from him. Some crystal decanter for her parents from her. A new gaming console for Soos that Dipper had said was too expensive, but she insisted that it could be a group gift from him, Mabel, Wendy and herself, which made it okay.

And now he bears the burden of the fruit of their labor as he trudges down the street and she walks lightly next to him, floating forward and swinging her handbag without another item to trouble her or weigh her down.

Dipper glances down at one of the bags and notices a thick purple coat peeking out from neatly folded tissue paper.

“Hey, I don’t remember this one. Who’s the jacket for?”

“Oh,” Pacifica starts, waving her hand casually. “I might have gotten myself an early Christmas present too.”

“And you’ve saddled it on me?”

“Of course. I’m a lady, Dipper. I can’t be expected to do my own manual labor!” She says in faux shock.

“Oh but of course, Your Highness, my deepest apologies! Allow me to be at your service, please.”

“That’s better. Know your place, Pines.”

“I live to protect you from the horrors of the peasant life.”

“My hero,” Pacifica says, bumping into him with her hip.

They both laugh, their voices carrying down the cheerful street as they round the corner and head from the shopping district in the direction of bus stop.

The two walk in companionable silence, and Dipper contemplates how nice it would be if they could do this everyday. Just spend time together, be silly, not have to worry about school or grades or the future.

Pacifica seems lost in thought as well, and before long she begins twisting her hair in a manner that Dipper has begun to associate with her weighing her options in some situation or another. It’s something he admires about her. She’s not cold, not anymore, but she’s retained some her of calculated approach toward decision-making. Some would call it shrewd, but Dipper thinks of it as astute, and it’s a refreshing balance to many of the more impulsively-minded loved ones in his life.

“So… I got the lead in the spring play at school,” she says abruptly, somewhat out of the blue.

“Oh whoa!” Dipper tires to turn to her but is hindered by the shopping bags. “That’s awesome, Cif! You’re gonna kill it.”

Dipper knows that Pacifica has been involved in both her school’s straight plays and musicals the last two years. The only downer is that he hasn’t been able to see her perform live yet. She sent him some random parent’s recording of her belting out “Anything Goes” while dressed in an adorable little sailor costume (that dress made it into a few dreams he would prefer not to examine too closely, as a matter of fact), and another of her tap dancing up a storm dressed as a 1960s-style secretary of all things, but that’s as close as he’s been able to make it.

Maybe if his parents will let him miss a day or two of school he can go to this one. They know how close the two of them have gotten, and they also know that Pacifica doesn’t have many good friends since turning her back on a lot of the society functions her parents forced her in to.

And he’s her best friend. He needs to make it happen. He’s calculating how best to approach the subject with his parents, but his thoughts are interrupted when she keeps talking.

“We’re doing Romeo and Juliet,” she says, and there’s a strange, hesitant tone in her voice.

Looking over, he sees that she’s looking at the ground and still twisting a lock of hair around in her hands. It’s a little weird, he thinks. She’s usually a lot more confident about these types of things, but she’s acting almost… shy. That’s not Pacifica.

He figures a little playful ribbing is in order.

“Oh wow, Shakespeare, huh? So fancy.” He nudges her side with his elbow. “Look at you, Little Miss Private School.”

Pacifica smiles but says nothing. She still won’t meet his eyes.

Then it hits him.

Romeo and Juliet. The lead. Juliet. Romeo. Romeo and Juliet.

He almost drops one of their shopping bags.

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Dipper struggles to gather his thoughts, tries to come off casual. “That’s like, a romance, then… huh?”

Pacifica blushes. “I mean technically it’s a tragedy, in strict literary terms, but yeah, there’s… romance.” She chuckles nervously. “Like, obviously. It’s like the romance play, right?”

Dipper kicks at a clump of snow, tries very hard to keep his voice light. “So… there’s… kissing involved in that then… yeah?”

Pacifica looks at her feet. “A bit, yeah,” she confirms. She points to a bench in the park they’re passing. Lush evergreens dusted with snow almost obscure it from the street. “Wanna sit?”

Dipper nods absentmindedly, and he lets her guide him to sit on the frosted metal bench. She takes some of the the bags from him and sets them aside. He drops the rest near his feet.

Kissing. Why does this feel weird? Why doesn’t he like it? Why did Pacifica seem nervous to talk about it? Why does it feel like he kind of wants to immediately find out who has been cast as Romeo and look them up on social media and maybe find out where they live and maybe just maybe make sure they get strep or mono or anything to stop—

He shakes his head lightly, centering himself.

“Is that… weird?” he finally asks.

“Well,” Pacifica tucks a stand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve had to do a small handful kissing scenes before, so it’s not a massive deal, really.”

His stomach feels like it drops through his body to the cold icy ground beneath them.

“Oh, you have?” He cringes at the way his voice cracks.

“Well not real kisses!” Pacifica says, hurriedly. “Just, like, stage kisses, you know.”

“Stage kisses,” Dipper echos blankly.

“Yeah, like, you hold your hands on their face in a way that to the audience it looks like you’re kissing, but your lips aren’t actually touching.”

Dipper feels his heartbeat begin to settle just a bit, but doesn’t have time to examine why that is, because there are far more pressing issues at hand. First and foremost is what the heck is a stage kiss and how many times has she done this and with who and when and where and—

“Oh… huh,” he says. “How does it… work?”

Pacifica looks down, suddenly fascinated with a loose thread on her mittens. She twists it in between the the pointer finger and thumb on her other hand.

“I could show you,” she says, finally.

Dipper feels his face warm, but all he’s aware of in his brain is an immediate, pervasive thought of yes yes absolutely I would love to learn right now, right here, with you, yes.

He swallows.

“Like…?” He gestures vaguely at his face, questioning.

“Yeah,” Pacifica giggles lightly, and he can tell she’s nervous. Why is she nervous? She’s turning to face him and she has a tiny, sweet smile tugging at her lips. “If you wanted?”

“Yeah,” he says before he’s fully thought it through. “I mean, sure, yeah. That would… that could be cool.”

“Okay,” Pacifica begins, taking her mittens off before shifting fully to face him. Her shy smile broadens ever so slightly when he meets her eyes. Dipper notices her cheeks are slightly pinker than they were earlier, which is weird because they’ve been in the same cold for the last half hour at least. “Just stay still.”

Dipper nods, having not a clue about what is about to happen, but also so aware that he is powerless to stop it, and there isn’t a bone in his body that wants to try.

Pacifica lays her mittens carefully next to her, then delicately brings both bare hands up to Dipper’s face, letting her fingers cup his cheeks while her thumbs move to rest vertically over his lips, parallel to one another.

“Ready?” She asks, cheeks growing pinker by the second.

Dipper just nods again once, wide eyes fixed on hers.

“Okay,” she continues. “Here goes.”

And then she’s closing her eyes and leaning in. And Dipper doesn’t close his eyes at first because he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to, so he watches as her face gets closer. Her lips are relaxed but not puckered like he thinks they’re supposed to be for a normal kiss. Which is good because now he knows he shouldn’t pucker his own in return, even though he can feel them twitch instinctively against her delicate thumbs. When she’s less than an inch from his face, his eyes close of their own volition, and he’s only aware of her warm hands. So soft, and trembling just the tiniest bit, he thinks. But it must just be the cold.

He feels the slight pressure on his face when her lips meets the back of her hands, but that’s it. And then it’s over, and she’s pulling back and drawing her hands away, and his eyes are opening to meet hers, and he feels confusingly bereft. Like it should have been more.

“See?” she says. “Barely feels like a kiss, but looks real from the outside.”

Dipper is still gathering his thoughts. For some reason, his instinct is to ask her to do it again. It was too fast, I didn’t remember it well enough.

“That was quick.” He says, bluntly, honestly. His brain hasn’t quite caught up with his words. “What if it needs to be longer?”

“Well, you just do it for longer then, I think,” Pacifica giggles a bit.

“But doesn’t it get weird, if every kiss in the play has people putting their hands on each other’s faces?”

Dipper hasn’t the slightest clue why this matters to him so much. He hasn’t had any personal interest in theater since Mabel’s ill-fated sock opera, but for some reason, learning the ins and outs and nitty-gritty details of stage kissing suddenly seems completely essential.

“Well, yeah, I mean there are other… methods, too.”

“Oh?” Dipper asks, not really trying to hide his interest anymore.

Pacifica nods, not breaking her eye contact. “Want me to…?”

“Sure.”

He watches her take an almost imperceptible inhale.

“Okay, so if we were looking for more of a dramatic kiss— like maybe one where you needed your hands to be wrapped around the other person—“ She moves her hands up over his shoulders and around the back of his neck, and his own instinctively move to her waist “—you could basically just move your body so that the audience can’t see your faces exactly—“ She leans in closer, eyes fluttering this close to closed, and his own do the same “—and then just kiss each other’s cheeks, like close but not quite…”

Her voice quiets and trails off, and then he can feel her lips press just to the left of his-- on his cheek, but so so close to his lips that he’s sure he can feel just the barest graze on them, just at the corner of his mouth. He feels a pang of longing low in his stomach.

She doesn’t pull away so fast this time. Instead, her fingers tighten just so in his hair, and he feels the delicate pressure of her lips grow ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth. His own hands tighten at her waist, and it’s wonderful and terrible at the same time, because he can feel her closeness, her softness, can smell that lovely lavender shampoo she uses, can relish in being so near to her. It’s everything a kiss should be but just misses the mark because his lips rest just about two inches to the right of where every instinct tells him they should be.

But that’s not right, is it? An anxious part of his mind chimes in. Pacifica is his friend. She’s always been his friend. Since when does he want to kiss her?

I mean sure, he has eyes, he knows she’s beautiful. And he likes her laugh, and her wit, and the way she pokes his buttons just right. And maybe he feels happier when she’s around; whatever. And yeah when that guy asked for her number last summer while she was spending time with him during his shift at the Shack’s gift shop he got a bit annoyed, but that was because that guy was a creep and clearly not right for her and how dare he anyway when she was obviously there to spend time with him.

Dipper freezes.

Maybe… maybe he’s been kidding himself just a bit.

Pacifica seems to notice his sudden stiffness, because out of nowhere and far too soon she’s untangling her hands from the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling away with a nervous chuckle.

“Well… yeah, that’s all I really know how to do,” she says, grabbing her mittens and turning then over in her hand. Dipper notices that somehow her face is even pinker than before, and the instinct to reach out and brush his finger tips over her charmingly flushed cheeks is almost unbearable.

There’s still a question nagging in his mind. And he isn’t even fully aware of what it is, but the instinct to learn more about all this theatrical kissing business tugs at him still.

“What if, um… well what if the audience would be able to tell that it’s not real?”

“Hm?” She looks up, one eyebrow raised.

“I mean, would the director ever want you to… do it for real?” He swallows, steeling himself. “Like, a real kiss?”

“Oh!” Her eyes dart away again. “Gosh, well, I hope not.” He watches as she sucks in a breath, then brings her eyes back to his, and there’s a new sparkle behind them, filled with intent. “I wouldn’t want my first kiss to be on stage, you know?”

There it is. That’s it. That’s answer his subconscious has been looking for.

She’s never kissed someone before. Not for real.

Something about this knowledge crystalizes it all for him in his brain. It’s like the first time he tried on his new prescription glasses. He’d never known the world was so sharp and clear.

And he feels that here now also. Yes, he wants to kiss her. He wants to be her first kiss, especially. And if the way she is looking at him now is any indication— with hooded eyes and dark pupils peeking out from under her fluffy bangs, lips curved upward in a sweet gentle smile— she wants him to be it too.

She casually reaches over, starts idly playing with the hem of his coat sleeve.

Suddenly, his path forward has never been more obvious. How did he not see it before?

“Have you… given much thought as to where you would like it to be?” he asks.

“Mm. Not so much as to the where, no.”

The emphasis she adds signals to him that she’s hinting at something. She wants him to keep fishing, and he’s only too happy to oblige.

“I see…” he begins, recklessly draping his arm on the back of the bench, behind her shoulders. “So, any thought as to the when, then?”

“Only in passing…” she leans back into his arm and relaxes into him.

“The why?”

Pacifica giggles. “Well, hopefully because he wants to do it as much as I do.”

“So there’s a who, then.” Dipper grins.

Pacifica just blushes deeper and nods.

Dipper shifts on the bench to face her on more directly, letting the arm around the back of the bench seat fall down around at her shoulders, his other hand moving forward to brush his fingers over the top of her still bare knuckles.

He leans in just so. Swallows as he prepares himself to do one of the bravest and frankly most terrifying things he’s ever done. But he’s determined to see it through.

“How about, in a park, late winter afternoon, me, because I really, really want to? Possibly even more than you do.”

Pacifica’s eyes flutter shut as she tilts her face up toward him.

“Perfect.”

Dipper feels his stomach flip and he shuts his own eyes and closes the gap between them. And the second he feels his lips lightly press on hers, he knows this is what was supposed to happen. He can’t kid himself anymore, and thankfully he doesn’t have to. There’s no fear of getting hurt. No more denial in order to protect his heart. Because she’s here, wrapped in his arms and kissing him back. He's aware of the slight flavor of her cherry lipgloss, and again of her flowery shampoo. His heart swells.

The kiss is lingering but light.  Dipper brings his hand up to tuck some hair behind her ear, and then lets it rest lightly on her cheek. Pacifica smiles against his lips and lets out a faint hum before unhurriedly, gently pulling back.

His eyes slowly open and he see hers do the same. He watches her eyes dart between the two of his, and in an instant and without warning she’s grabbing the front of his coat and pulling him back down to her for a quick but far more forceful second kiss.

A heartbeat later she releases his lapels and abruptly stands, grinning as she tugs on her mittens.

Dipper watches her helplessly, and he knows she’s committing to memory the dopey, lovestruck look on his face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Well we better get heading back to the Shack. These gifts aren’t going to wrap themselves!” she says with a wink.

She picks up some of the shopping bags.

“Not above manual labor now, princess?” Dipper remarks, rising and taking the rest in his left hand, head still spinning a little.

She grins and shifts the bags she holds to her right, reaches out to grasp his free hand with hers.

“What can I say, you’re turning me into a woman of the people.”

Dipper warms at the sensation of her small, mittened hand tucked snugly in his.

“So…” he starts, after a peaceful few minutes of the two of them enjoying their new, sweet intimacy. “I could… help you rehearse, if you want. Certain scenes anyway,” he adds with a crooked smile.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pacifica giggles. “But let’s make sure to change the ending when we do. I think we can do better.”

[wannawritefast]

Comfortember 2023 Day 6: “Notes”

A/N: My sporadic contribution to Comfortember. It’s short but Johnny Cage bbs come get y’all juice. It’s my birth month and I’m closing in on the end of my semester so I can’t promise anything but please enjoy!!

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff :)

Notes. Johnny left them everywhere. Don’t get him wrong. He definitely preferred the convenience of using his phone to send you little memos. It was instant and Johnny could really accommodate his own attention span by using his phone but when he found out on accident how much you loved them, he made a point of it.

You both still remembered the first of its kind.

A pink sticky note on the back of your script that said “And it was all a dream!” with the most hastily-drawn smiley face ever.

You laughed when you saw it. It was a miracle that it hadn’t become a casualty to the rough handling of your scripts before you discovered it.

He had to have done it when you were putting your post-its in your script, marking it up the night before. You hadn’t thought much of the clumsy kiss he gave you when he checked in as the sun went down. Then again you hadn’t been paying that close attention to him or anything else for that matter. A glass of water. A “How’s it going, baby?” A stumble and a peck. And his leg and hand knocking right into the back of the thick stack of 8.5 by 11 copy paper in your grasp as he had moved to sit next to you.

The bump into the script in your hand had been completely intentional, you realized with delight at the table read. It made your Instagram story in seconds accompanied by the words ‘original illustration by @johnny.cage’ and some pink hearts in the top right corner.

That had sealed it.

The next one you found was in your purse. Well, not your purse exactly. It was in the compact in your purse. Blue. “Hey, good-lookin.’” A winky face. It had fluttered out as you were landing out of the country for a shoot. You still had your neck pillow on. You sent Johnny one of the ugliest selfies you had ever taken with it. Against your protests, it became his lock screen photo.

Then they truly popped up everywhere. Your boyfriend was relentless.

A set of expensive rings you’d stared at a little too long on Rodeo. Purple sticky note. “For my precious.” A noble but indecent-looking stick figure attempt at Gollum was near it, partially scribbled out.

Surprise coffee in your trailer. Yellow note. Sunshine with sunglasses.

New boots, courtesy of Johnny. Pink. “Step on me in these.”

Sleeping in while he had left at the crack of dawn. Pink. “Busy all day. Sushi at our regular spot for dinner.” Heart.

Almost all of them made your Instagram story. The dick that looked like it had been drawn by a middle school boy on a blue sticky note slapped to the bathroom mirror, for example, hadn’t made the cut. The ones that did though… Johnny reposted each within 5 minutes, no matter what time it was.

Like the orange sticky note you woke up to under your glasses that said ‘Jinkies!’ You had gone to bed and left them on your nightstand at 4 am. Johnny had stayed up with you. He had left at 6 am for the day. It made you worry about his sleep schedule.

It didn’t matter that you couldn’t keep up with his god-like speed in making unique sticky notes. You posted them. And you kept and remembered all of them. All of them. Yes, even the blue doodle dick.

Again, Johnny definitely preferred sending you texts and voice memos as soon as he felt like you were forgetting how hot you were, which was usually several times a day. It should also be noted that the sticky notes never detracted from the amount of attention he was already giving you. Johnny was a beast at reminding you how much he loved you.

As he had said it once: “There’s no threshold, baby. I’ll die telling you how sexy your walker is; the last sticky note I ever leave you will tell you the same thing.”

He slapped one on your ass after he had said that. Yellow. “Johnny Cage wuz here.”

[cuffmeinblack]

Tingles and tantrums

Part 3 of Out of bounds - ao3 link for all parts

Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Tags: explicit | fluff | smut | jealousy | blowjobs | unprotected sex 5.5k words Summary: Your second date doesn't go quite as planned, but Garreth insists you make the most of it past curfew. A/n: Have a little jealousy from various angles. Could probably still be read standalone without the other chapters.

Being Garreth Weasley’s girlfriend was about as gloriously easy as you’d expected. Once he’d overcome the awkwardness of not quite knowing what he was doing (and acknowledging that neither did you), your relationship settled back to comfortable familiarity with a whole host of added benefits. 

You’d already discovered his romantic inclinations when he twirled you around Hogsmeade and brought you to a heavenly meadow at sunset, but Garreth was both thoughtful and attentive. He wasn’t one for bestowing expensive gifts, instead choosing to smother you with affection and his absolutely undivided attention, which you eagerly lapped up.

As you readied yourself for the day, tucking your shirt into your skirt and forgoing your robe altogether, your mind drifted back to the previous afternoon’s stolen kisses in between lessons. Whilst you spent most of your days together, each night you retreated to your separate dormitories with a slight hint of regret. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to cuddle up to Garreth in his bed—in fact you’d love nothing more—but you preferred not to submit yourself to the school’s penchant for idle gossip. At least, not yet.

Heaving your bag onto the bed, you gazed inside; it was laden with supplies, textbooks galore, half of which you didn’t need for the day’s lessons. As you started pulling them out, something caught your eye—brightly coloured and now unfortunately broken. You stared at the lollipop at the bottom of your bag, barely able to contain your giggle. How had you forgotten about this? Granted, the end of your date with Garreth had been eventful to say the least, but the tongue-tingling lollipop certainly warranted some attention.

Bag lighter and lollipop stowed, you bounded down the stairs into the common room and caught sight of Garreth’s flowing copper locks leaning against the back of a sofa—he had a scrap of parchment in his hand and was deep in thought. His mind didn’t ever appear to slow, constantly turning over ideas even before breakfast.

“Garreth,” you nudged his ribs, breaking his trance before immediately pulling him by his tie to meet your lips.

The arm holding the paper immediately dropped to his side, taken off guard by your enthusiastic kiss for a moment before he melted, a gentle hum into your mouth and fingers sliding around your waist. He held you tightly, soft lips brushing yours with the taste of mint on his tongue and a delicious scent of lavender in his hair. It had been a long ten hours without him.

“Hello, darling,” he said with a grin as you came up for air.

The term of endearment had so far never failed to make your heart flutter.

“Good morning,” you smiled back. “I have something in my bag…”

Your news was cut short by the arrival of Leander, who greeted you both with a tired yawn. Your fellow Gryffindor and friend was probably one of the only people who had failed to predict yours and Garreth’s involvement—when Garreth had told him about your dinnertime escapades to retrieve his notes, he’d stared open-mouthed and disbelieving at the pair of you. To say he was less than enthusiastic about the idea would be an understatement, and he frequently lamented being what he termed to be a ‘third wheel’.

In this case, he was absolutely right.

“Morning, Leander. Not sleep well?” you asked.

“No, as a matter of fact. Might need you to brew me some dreamless sleep,” he directed towards Garreth.

“Of course, I can whip you up a batch later,” he said, before catching your tiny frown. “Erm, well, maybe tomorrow. We have a date planned.”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll buy one from J. Pippin’s,” he huffed, heading towards the portrait hole.

You and Garreth looked at each other, exchanging confused looks and shrugs before following his towering form into the corridor. Leander barely fit through the portrait hole, his coiffed hair brushing the stone wall above him. There was little point trying to keep up with his long strides, so instead you fell into a comfortable walk with your hand clasped in Garreth's.

“Remember on our first date, I bought a lollipop?” you asked in hushed tones.

“From Honeydukes? I think so…”

“Well, it’s of the…,” you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “...tongue-tingling variety.”

“Oh? Oh, I see,” Garreth said, finally catching up on your lewd thoughts as you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively.

He broke into a grin, absolutely giddy at the thought already.

“When did you plan to, erm…"

“We have a free period later…," you suggested, already wondering how you'd be getting through the morning's Herbology lesson.

You'd never seen Garreth so happy as he practically skipped the rest of the way to breakfast, annoying Leander to no end by dropping subtle hints about what a great day it would be, that he was positively tingling with excitement. You tried hard to stifle your laughs as your classmates looked at the two of you in bafflement, eventually deciding they simply didn't want to know.

After a hearty breakfast, you headed off to the greenhouses for your first lesson of the day. Double Herbology was usually enjoyable, having time to chat whilst getting your hands muddy unless you were unfortunately repotting the shrivelled little Mandrakes. Today involved tending to the tentacular, who were in dire need of a prune. You were so involved in not getting injured that you barely registered the appearance of a certain Slytherin at your side.

"You ought to buy a new pair of gloves, those are looking a little tatty," he muttered in your ear.

"There's nothing wrong with these," you replied. 

"Where's your guard dog? Or puppy, rather," he continued, joining you with your pruning with a furtive look at Professor Garlick.

"If you mean Garreth, he's just gone to get some new secateurs from the other greenhouse."

"I don't like it."

You have him a disparaging look, almost losing the grip you had on the branch. That would have been unfortunate. You decided to feign ignorance, though you knew he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut about Garreth; it was a miracle he'd managed to hold off on this lecture for a whole week. Probably due to Ominis' influence.

"And why ever not? He's my best friend."

Sebastian simply shrugged; though you knew exactly why he didn't like the situation, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his interest in you. You weren't able to go down that rabbit hole, particularly when you were grappling with a venomous plant hell-bent on making you its next meal. By the time Garreth returned, his usually jovial expression was painfully neutral as he joined you at the bench, casting a cursory glance over at Sebastian before getting stuck into the plant.

Whilst they'd never been bosom buddies, Sebastian and Garreth had always been civil, sometimes even bordering on friendly, so the sudden coldness between the pair was uncomfortable. Your eyes flicked between them and your task with growing annoyance as the small talk became stilted; you were thankful when Professor Garlick called an end to the class, shoving your tools away and leaving without a word to either of them.

Garreth caught up to you in the corridor, concern etched on his gorgeous, stupid freckled face, pulling you to the side with a firm grip on your arm. 

"Are you cross with me?" he asked, glittering green eyes searching yours.

"I am, because you're both making this really bloody awkward."

"I'm sorry."

Your peripheral vision caught a chestnut head as Sebastian walked past with his usual swagger, looking back over his shoulder with a satisfied smirk. Arse. Garreth noticed too, his eyebrows knitting into a frown.

"Was he the one you…you know. Before me?"

With a deep sigh, you crossed your arms defensively, not enjoying having this conversation in the middle of the corridor.

"Yes, he was."

"Right…," he nodded.

You weren't sure who he'd have preferred it to be; perhaps anyone but Sebastian. He looked crestfallen, the expression churning your stomach as you gripped his limp hand. 

"Garreth…"

"Why him? Why not me?"

"We were just friends, and you never said anything…and you said you were with someone before me, too."

"Yes, but it wasn't someone you know."

The thought had bothered you, but it wasn't worth thinking about. Knowing that it was likely some pretty girl from the village where his family lived made it somehow easier to bear.

"Are we seriously arguing about this? It was only a couple of times, and…"

"A couple?"

You rolled your eyes, which was the wrong thing to do as Garreth's body tensed; a rare indication that he was irritated. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rested your head on his shoulder, embracing him tightly with a sigh. Garreth wasn't the stubborn sort, encircling your body in his arms and pulling you tightly against him. The movement and noise around you seemed to melt away as you swayed gently on the spot, a wordless apology between you.

"You've nothing to worry about, I promise," you said, kissing the tip of his nose.

"No, I believe you, I'm sorry. I never thought I'd be the jealous type, to be honest," he replied bashfully.

"Want to skip lunch?" 

"Skip…lunch?"

The thought of missing out on food wasn't the least bit desirable, but his lips turned up into a mischievous grin as he caught your flirtatious gaze. You had every intention of showing him exactly why he shouldn't be jealous of your Slytherin friend, dragging him into the nearest unoccupied classroom with great urgency. 

Garreth looked like Christmas had come early as he promptly pinned you against the wall, moaning into a deep kiss that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist as yours flew to his hair, tugging and mussing as they went. He no longer tasted of the mint toothpaste, instead of the little snack of chocolate he'd pulled from his bag during Herbology. The sweet kisses and his wandering hands had you limp and pliable in his arms, and the soft moan of his name that escaped you caused an eager twitch inside his trousers.

Leaning back against the wall to get a better view of his flushed face, you ground your hips into his straining erection, revelling in the low growl and intense stare it elicited. 

"Pass me my bag."

Garreth did as he was asked, immediately rifling through the contents to find the broken lollipop. Ripping open the wrapper, there was still a sizeable chunk left on the stick, which you promptly put into your mouth with a teasing swipe of your tongue. 

"Fuck," Garreth muttered, freeing himself from his trousers as you continued to suck and lick the lollipop, never taking your eyes off of him.

You guided him against the wall and made him watch the display, sure to add your own moans as your hand wrapped around his thick cock as you finished the sweet. The tingle on your tongue was intense; a cold sort of prickling which reminded you of the popping candy you’d had on your very first date. The thought made you smile as you dropped to your knees, running the flat of your tongue all the way up his shaft. 

"Oh sh-shit…that feels fucking good. Incredible. Oh-," Garreth stuttered.

The sugary sweet didn't entirely mask his taste, and the first drop of his salty precum had you moaning against his head as you enveloped him completely. Your scalp burned as his fingers wrapped in your hair, taking your time to swirl your tingling tongue around the tip. Fuck lunch, you could happily gorge yourself on his cock all day. 

You'd barely started a rhythm before Garreth's thighs started to shake beneath your spare hand, and you ran your fingers over the firm muscle to grip his arse. Giving him a cheeky squeeze, you took his length into your mouth deeper and deeper until his stuttering turned to a whimper. His cock twitched and you pulled back, letting his release flood your mouth with a satisfied groan. Pulses of cum came thick and fast until your lips and chin were coated from the overspill, and you gulped every last drop down dutifully, gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

Garreth was breathless, pink and appeared to have lost his speech as he gasped for air. His fingers loosened on your hair as he met your eyes, using his thumb to wipe the stray dribbles from your lips, pushing them back into your mouth with a smirk. He was so fucking delicious, and you vowed to buy an armful of those lollipops the next time you were in Hogsmeade.

-

Skipping lunch had been a terrible idea. By the time dinner came around and you’d grown sick of the various snacks you both had stashed, you were the first into the great hall and sat fidgeting at the table as you waited for the food to appear. The meal could have been your most hated dish (liver and onions) and you still would have wolfed it down. Thankfully, the house elves had prepared a delicious game pie with mountains of roasted vegetables and syrup pudding for dessert.

You sat side by side in silence as you ate, almost choking on a large piece of meat with the enthusiasm of your eating. Leander and Natty had settled opposite you, engaged in conversation before they both caught sight of the gluttonous display.

“You both…alright there?” Leander asked with a quirked eyebrow as he scooped vegetables onto his own plate.

Garreth was already going back for seconds, mouth still stuffed and nodding at your friend. Natty was somewhere between amused and disgusted but that didn’t seem to deter him.

“We missed lunch. Absolutely starving,” you replied.

“Oh yes, why was that exactly?” Natty asked with a knowing glint in her eye.

“No reason, we er…wanted to catch up on some work.”

Leander huffed at the obvious lie but didn’t press you. You hoped he’d soon get used to the idea of you and Garreth being together, for all of your sakes. Perhaps a day out with your various friends was in order to show that you were, in fact, capable of holding a friendship at the same time as your romantic involvement with Garreth. For now, though, you had a date to attend; once Garreth had stopped eating. His plate was almost licked clean by the time he’d finished with a great sigh.

“You’d better not fall asleep on me,” you teased, looking at his contented expression and lazy eyes.

“No chance,” he grinned.

“You still haven’t told me what we’re doing. Is it inside or outside the castle?”

“Inside, in a way,” he said cryptically.

Inside, but…not entirely? A balcony, perhaps? The answer became obvious once you crossed the bridge to the astronomy wing, taking the stairs two at a time up the tallest tower. Up and up you went; the climb took a while, but was well worth it as you emerged onto the main observation deck and gazed over the railings. The sun had almost finished setting, still casting an orange glow over the steep hills that surrounded the castle. Soon the sky would turn an inky black and with the absence of cloud cover you’d be able to see the stars clearly.

Garreth had stashed a basket in the storage area below, and had assured you that there were no classes due and a caterwauling charm cast to frighten off anyone looking for a spot of nighttime stargazing. Opening the magically-expanded basket, you gasped in awe at the cavernous space inside the unassuming wicker container, filled with all kinds of things one might need on a date. Blankets, cushions, snacks, an entire china tea set, a sofa…he’d thought of everything to make it comfortable up here so you could enjoy the fantastic view to its fullest. 

You chose to forgo the furniture, instead pulling out various chintzy cushions and scattering them across the wooden floorboards on the protruding circular platform. Garreth flopped down onto them with a shake of a blanket, beckoning you into his arms. Warmth filled your chest as you snuggled up to him, watching the last of the sunset in silence until the moon and stars turned the light a colder hue.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” you murmured, shuffling your head against his shoulder.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I do. And no, I never did anything like this with anybody else.”

Garreth gave you an apologetic smile as you looked up at him, eyes twinkling in the dim glow. The way he kissed you now was much different than the feverish battle of tongues you’d exchanged in the empty classroom earlier. The brush of his lips was tender, restrained. They still set your pulse racing and core aching, but your heart fluttered along with them. Was it too soon to say those three little words?

You stashed the thought for another time—there would be plenty, with any luck. If the moments were even half as wonderful as this, you’d consider yourself the luckiest person alive. His warm hands were busy caressing your cheek as you pulled apart, his lips placing sweet kisses on your forehead before meeting your eyes.

“I wish we’d done this years ago,” he said, all joking aside and not a hint of insincerity in his voice.

“Me too, but we’re here now.”

There was no shortage of topics of conversation, though you knew practically everything about Garreth already. You talked about your families and their reactions when they found out about your involvement; likely it would be similar to Natty and Nellie’s responses of ‘finally’. Garreth pulled out the tea set when the temperature began to dip, boiling the water right in the teapot with a flick of his wand before pouring two cups of the herbal brew. Slight citrusy hints filled your mouth and you sighed happily as you sipped your tea and gazed at the stars, not wondering which constellations were visible but simply enjoying their beauty.

The perfect evening unfortunately had to come to an end as curfew approached, and the thought of returning to your own bed weighed heavily on your mind. Garreth seemed to notice the shift in your mood and gave you a questioning look and warm smile as he packed away the cushions.

“I…it would be nice to fall asleep next to you,” you admitted.

“Oh! It would. I mean, I’d love that, too. You’re more than welcome to, I just didn’t know if you were comfortable with everyone knowing that…”

“I think they can probably guess.”

“You’re probably right,” he chuckled. “I would love you to sleep with me tonight. In my bed, I mean…er, no pressure.”

It was your turn to laugh at his bashfulness, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

Garreth grinned, gripping your hand, leading you down the stairs and stashing the basket hurriedly behind a large crate of old telescopes. Despite his assurances, he was clearly eager to continue the evening in private, in the comfort of his bed, curtains tightly drawn. Down the stairs you flew, giggling in response to his excitable bounding. This was really happening. Again. Except this time you'd be tucked up under his duvet rather than lain across grass.

You were practically giddy, until your fun was cut short by a familiar cackle. Peeves flew over your head, clearly gleeful that he'd found some students to harrass.

"It's nearly curfew, you two. Will you make it back to Gryffindor tower? Hah! I don't think so!" he said in a sing-song voice.

"Bugger off, Peeves. We're on our way back now," Garreth said, gripping your hand.

The poltergeist tutted, swooping through a wall and out of sight without another word. You should have been relieved, but the look on Garreth's face mirrored your own—suspicion. Peeves wasn't one to give up so easily. Picking up the pace, you skipped down the corridor, pushing through doors with unnecessary force. You had a few minutes to spare, and would be back in the common room just in time—or so you thought.

The whump to the back of your head destroyed those thoughts on impact, and the cold, wet, slimy sensation that covered your skull had you gasping for air from sheer shock. Garreth's exclamation beside you told you he'd had the same experience, and your hands pulled apart to tend to the mess on your heads.

“Peeves!” you shouted down the corridor after the mischievous poltergeist as Garreth shushed you. “Fuck…”

Whatever the menace had been carrying was utterly foul. Stinking, oozing, sticky sap that coated your hair and slid down the back of your neck like a cold flobberworm. Garreth hadn’t gotten off any lighter, his gorgeous copper locks now flattened under the weight of the greyish sludge.

“I think I might be sick from the smell if I don’t get this off,” he muttered, freckled face screwed up in a grimace.

Your wand was out before he’d finished speaking, uttering simple vanishing and cleaning spells. The result was less than desirable—whether because of your lack of aptitude of domestic charms or because the ooze was somehow resistant to magic, you weren’t sure, but the residue left on your skin was still incredibly unpleasant and pungent.

“We’re going to need a bath, I think,” you sighed.

“Maybe we can take one together,” Garreth said with a cheeky smile.

“That sounds…uncomfortable.”

“Not if we use the prefect’s bathroom.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him as your hands stilled from rubbing at your skin, wondering if he’d really thought through his suggestion. The twinkle in his eye he often got when he was excited about something was back, his sticky hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together with an uncomfortable squelch. He wasted no time in whisking you off towards the faculty tower with long strides that had you skipping to keep up with.

“Don’t you need a password to get in there…?” you asked breathlessly as you approached the corridor.

“Hm? Oh, it’s been the same for ages. I overheard my aunt tell Nellie at the beginning of the year and I’ve been using it ever since.”

“What? Well you kept that quiet.”

“I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?” he grinned.

“Well, I think you just did.”

“You’re my girlfriend now; there are certain perks.”

There certainly were, and as he muttered the password and the magic lock sprung open, you added this one to your ever-growing list.

Both you and Garreth had no time or inclination to be prefects, or even be considered for the role. In fact, it was safe to say that you were the very last people the faculty would have entrusted such roles to, but as your eyes fell upon the opulent bathroom you felt a pang of jealousy—perhaps there was something to be said for it after all. 

You’d never seen anything quite like it, and weren’t sure it could be classified as a bathroom at all. The bath looked more like a swimming pool; at least ten metres long and lined with gold taps in the shape of various fish. Lucky that there were such an array of taps, since the bath would surely take hours to fill otherwise. 

Garreth was already busy turning them on with a flick of his wand, jets of water shooting out in different colours with bubbles and floral scents filling the room. Your mouth was still agape, and you blinked, turning to lock the door before discarding your wand. 

His hands were all over you before it hit the tile, grabbing needily at your flesh as your clothes were discarded. You'd never been naked in front of Garreth before, and your nerves settled uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You needn't have worried, as with every item of clothing that slid off your skin, Garreth's lustful moans intensified, his fingertips digging almost painfully into your behind. He himself didn't disappoint, and the glimpses you'd occasionally caught of his midriff were just a hint to the firm and freckled torso that lay beneath his shirt.

Garreth was broad and strong—he had the look of a man who could easily pick you up and throw you about, which he decided to demonstrate by doing just that. Grabbing both cheeks, he pulled you up to his waist, your legs falling around him to hang on as your yelp of shock echoed through the bathroom. Garreth grinned as he carried you over to the water, taking great care when descending the steps until you were waist-high in the hot, fragrant water.

The taps turned off as the water reached the top of the great sunken pit, a smart bit of magic presumably added to stop the bath from overflowing and flooding the whole room. The only sound remaining was the gentle swish of water and the wet smack of your lips as you kissed Garreth, still clinging to his body. You didn't want to move; the gentle undulation of the water as it settled and weightlessness you felt was so incredibly relaxing that you lost yourself completely in the moment. 

"Mmm…is that butterbeer?" Garreth said after a while, sniffing the air.

It was. The sweet unidentified scent of the bath bubbles reminded you of the beverage and you nodded and grinned as Garreth tested a lick of the foam in his fingers.

"Okay, it doesn't taste like it."

"Disappointing. Maybe you can concoct a bubble bath that does."

The cogs in his brain started whirring, and you knew you had to distract him before he became too engrossed in the idea. Unwrapping yourself from his waist, you floated in the water for a few seconds, looking around at the sides of the bathtub. The stairs which you'd been carried down looked like a good place to perch, so you pulled Garreth gently by the hand to settle against the tiled wall, slinging his arm behind you.

"You're…so beautiful, you know," Garreth whispered as your head fell against his shoulder. "I've always thought so."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tilted your head to look up at him, sliding a hand to cup his cheek. 

"I thought the same about you."

All those days, weeks, months being merely friends when you could have been so much more. Those three little words were on the tip of your tongue once more as you gazed into his eyes, wet hair falling onto his forehead to frame them. You thought he might be thinking the same thing, as his lips parted and a gentle 'I…' left his mouth, but he seemed to reconsider as you had done, instead pressing those lips to yours to convey the message wordlessly.

A fire erupted in your heart, desire coursing through your veins as the hot water suddenly became stifling. You were pulled into Garreth's lap with those strong hands in a swift movement sided by the water, landing in his lap with a soft moan. The sound was captured by his mouth, exchanged with his own in mingled pleasure as his erection grew against your backside.

"Garreth…"

"Mmm?" he answered distractedly, palming your breasts as his mouth nibbled at the skin on your neck.

Your head spun with the heat and sensory overload, the gentle candlelight and dim glow of the enchanted lanterns dimming in your vision as everything shifted out of focus.

"It's… too hot in here."

Garreth's attack on your neck ceased as he looked at you; deciding that it would be better to get you out of the water, he lifted you again onto the side of the bath. The cool air bit your skin in the best way, instantly reinvigorating you, as did the mouth that found itself between your parted legs.

"Oh, fuck, Garreth!"

He was still mostly submerged in the water, only his shoulders and head visible, as well as the hands that held your thighs with a vice-like grip. Moans of ecstasy filled the room and echoed off the tiles as his tongue swiped and swirled, sucked and thoroughly feasted on you. He looked to be enjoying himself as much as you had been whilst encasing his cock earlier that day; humming against your skin as he teased your swollen clit with expert ease. 

Your arms were weak from keeping your bodyweight up, but you endured the stinging of your muscles to watch Garreth. A flick of his eyes up at you through those stray copper strands and you were gone.

"I'm going to…oh shit, Garreth, I'm coming."

His fingers plunged inside your now soaking wet entrance as your walls contracted around them, gripping his digits with every mind-altering pulse that ripped through your body. It wasn't a moan that left your mouth, it was an animalistic growl. More. Garreth smiled against your folds as you wriggled away, your overly sensitive clit burning from his touch. More, please. You begged with your eyes, and he answered.

Finally you saw his form in its full glory, bathed in the dim glow you could see every chiseled muscle; his wide shoulders and strong arms, toned chest with the slight softness around his middle which made you want to bite his flesh, worshipping every inch of his delectable body. And oh, his swollen and touch-starved cock stood proudly against his abdomen, drawing forth a pool of saliva in your mouth.

"I don't think I can wait until we get back to the dormitory," he whispered, pressing himself between your legs.

"Me neither," you replied, removing your sore hands from the tile and wrapping them around his neck.

"You look so good wet," he muttered, almost entranced as his eyes scanned your naked body as he lined himself up with your soaking entrance.

"Mmmh, oh please…"

You didn't care if you sounded needy, because you were. Garreth moaned against your neck as he pushed the tip of his cock inside you, stretching you slowly. Every further inch was blissful; how you'd missed feeling so full. You drew your legs up fully, heels to your behind to take him as deep as you could. Incredible. Fantastic. Amazing. Words came to your mind but you had no ability to say them, instead settling for whimpered moans as Garreth began thrusting into you with a perfect, steady rhythm.

"Godric have mercy, you feel fucking incredible," Garreth moaned before resuming the gentle pressure just below your ear.

He'd leave a mark, but you didn't care. All the better, in fact; why shouldn't he claim you as his? You already were, completely and utterly. Your fingers found his damp hair, tugging gently in rhythm to the grind of his hips as he started hitting inside you just that little bit harder, then a little bit faster. That steady rhythm was fast dissolving into slightly erratic thrusts, pressing so deep you almost screamed. 

"That's it, fucking scream my name."

"Oh, shit, Garreth!"

You were clenching around his cock in anticipation of your orgasm, the pool of tension in your core close to exploding as your legs shook violently.

"Please tell me…you're on the potion now?" Garreth rasped breathlessly.

"I am," you gasped in reply. "Gods, I want you to come inside me."

Garreth growled, his eyes turning darker as they were consumed with lust, fucking you mercilessly as you shouted his name over and over again. You didn't care if every prefect in the school came bursting in the bathroom, as long as he didn't stop. 

"F-fuck...I'm going to fill you up until you're dripping my cum down your thighs…"

"Garreth…"

You reached your climax with a wail, fingernails digging into the back of his neck and shuddering breaths that couldn't seem to catch a single gulp of the chilly air. Garreth's cock twitched and his own orgasm exploded, forceful ejaculation shooting his load inside you in thick ropes. 

His thrusts slowed to a gentle grinding of his hips as the pleasure ebbed away and you were left panting and messier than when you'd entered the bathroom. Garreth broke into a grin as your eyes met, and you were just thankful that he didn't apologise again, returning the smile with one of your own.

"That was incredible," you sighed, pushing damp strands of hair off of your face.

"It was. Bloody amazing," he grinned.

"I'd better get back in the bath to clean off," you said, kissing the tip of his nose.

You took your time washing, exchanging sweet kisses and tending to each other's hair until your fingers wrinkled like prunes. There was the tiny matter of sneaking back to Gryffindor tower way after curfew to contend with, but even a detention for being out of bounds could taint what had been the most perfect night, sticky ooze and all.

[mochinek0]

All that Glitters, Isn’t Gold

NOT ANOTHER ONE! This has also been on Wattpad for the longest time, but not here. 

Gabriel looks at the list of his son's monthly expenses and shook his head.

How could his son have fallen for the oldest trick in the book? He raised him right. He made sure he stayed healthy, he spoke multiple languages, he had extracurriculars that would look well on any university, got in with the right crowd, at least til he decided he wanted to go to public school. There, he met that temptress -Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She somehow found her way into his son's heart and his bank account.

Suddenly a door slamming brings him out of his daze.

 'What now?' he sighs. 

Gabriel opens his door slightly to see the Marinette grab her coat, as she yells at his son.

"No! I am returning the necklace!" she shouts.

"Didn't you like it? Was there not enough diamonds? Do you prefer rubies or sapphires?" questions Adrien.

"Enough! It's too much!" she shouted, "Yesterday, you bought me $200 worth of chocolates! This, this is too much! We are going to that store and returning it!"

Gabriel watches curiously as Adrien reaches out to her and grabs a slip of paper, before shredding it to ribbons and tossing it in the air like confetti.

"Adrien Agreste! You did not just tear up the receipt!" Marinette shouts.

Adrien stood their proudly, with a smug look on his face, as if he had won.

Gabriel opened the door wider to get a look at the 'show' as he sees the fire in her eyes burn bright.

He watched in awe as she put out the fire raging beneath her skin by taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Adrien." Marinette called out calmly.

The smug look on his son's face vanished and he watched as he took a step away from his petite girlfriend.

'Interesting.'

"Adrien. I didn't fall in love with you for your money. I don't need to be showered with gifts. I know Chloe was your only friend growing up, but I'm not her. I don't need utterly ridiculous amounts of jewelry or sweets." she spoke, causing his son to chuckle, "God knows I don't need anymore sweets; even if they were delicious."

"Hah! You liked my gift." his son teased.

" Well I couldn't return it! You opened it and ate one!" Marinette states, as she calms down, " Not my point, I love your gifts, but I don't need so many. Adrien, I am fine with movie nights to the theater or just curling up on the couch as you introduce me to new animes. I'm fine with kicking your butt at videogames every other night--"

"My pride isn't. I will beat you!" he interjected.

"Sure." she says, rolling her eyes. "See. This-" the petite girlfriend motions, pointing back and forth between the both of them, "is what I like. Being us. I'm fine with occasionally and by occasionally, I mean once a month, going to a restaurant of your choosing. I'm fine with something like this" as she hold up the new necklace, " on special occasions, like my birthday and such."

"But what if I want to spoil you?" Adrien questioned.

Marinette smiled and hugged her boyfriend, "Then you can spoil me slowly over time. Now, since you ripped up that receipt, I think it's time to teach you a lesson."

Gabriel stood at the top of the stairs as Marinette threw his son his jacket.

"Where are we going?" asked Adrien, hesitantly.

"To get you Ultra Mega Strike 4." she said, waiting for him to get ready.

"I told you, I'm not allowed to spend anymore this month." stated the younger Agreste.

"Exactly!" smiled his girlfriend, "I'm buying it for you."

"What?" Adrien questioned.

"Yep and to make sure you learn your lesson, every time you buy me something....let's say over $100, I'm going to do the same. Even if it means dipping into my babysitting and sewing funds."

"You can't be serious!" his son shouted.

"Oh, I am." she says, noticing Gabriel at the stairs, "Bye, Mr. Agreste, I'll bring him back shortly."

"Father!" he pleads.

"I believe Ms. Dupain-Cheng has a valuable lesson to teach you, Son. Never underestimate, women." Gabriel smirks, as his son is dragged out by his petite girlfriend, shocked.

'She's not so bad after all.'

TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

[corner-stories]

Prompt: Niccosasha and Jeankasa double date!

Me: *slapping the top of my Grad School AU* this beauty can hold so many drabbles!

The truth is that Mikasa doesn't know Niccolo too well, but that in itself is not a bad thing. She tries to view the evening as an opportunity for change, as on top of making new friends in the city, it's a chance to get to know her roommate's boyfriend. It's also a good break from the never-ending pain that is graduate studies, but that's beside the point.

So as Mikasa helps him in the kitchen on a Friday night, she tries to think of what she does know about the guy. Like her he comes from outside of Montreal, him from Toronto and her from Vancouver. She knows he's a sous chef at some expensive hipster restaurant in Mile End, a position that takes up most of his time and leaves little for his significant other, but somehow he and Sasha make it work. She also knows that he's on fairly good terms with Jean, though she's unsure if the two had struck up a friendship before Niccolo began dating Sasha or after.

Nonetheless, the facts both assure Mikasa that Niccolo is no stranger, yet reminds her that she's slightly removed from the predefined dynamics of the young adults in the apartment.

At least when Niccolo pops over to her side of the counter and observes the way she slices onions, he seems to approve of her handiwork.

"Look at that," he lauds with a friendly smile. "You're a natural."

"Thank you," Mikasa says in response. "My Auntie always made me help her in the kitchen. Picked up a few things on the way."

Niccolo nods his head. "Yeah, I can tell."

Then not a moment too soon he returns to his side of the space. After Mikasa places another handful of paper-thin onion slices into a salad bowl, she glances over to the stove that Niccolo has been slaving over. At this point he's finally added the cooked pasta to the shrimp scampi, and now his priority lies with stirring both elements together in beautiful harmony. He puts such an expert touch into a dish that's probably rudimentary in comparison to his skillset, yet no one in the apartment seems to be complaining.

As the two continue to work on dinner, Mikasa looks across the living space at the other young adults in the apartment. Sasha and Jean seem content to chillax on the couch as their significant others take care of dinner, a privilege they could enjoy on the virtue of them paying for the ingredients needed for the meal. Playing on the television is a hockey game, but for once the two are not focused on the sport of frigid puck-chasing — instead they appear to be engaged in a conversation that teeters between a passionate debate and an argument.

Apparently, French appears to be the language that the two friends prefer to use when speaking energetically, and it's moments like this when Mikasa is reminded that like her, Niccolo is still relatively new to Montreal, meaning that his grasp on the local language is possibly at the same level as hers. That level being "can order food, can't hold a deep conversation."

Mikasa listens to the brassy francophones argue, every once in a while they'll throw in a dash of English, the most current one involving Sasha dramatically exclaiming that Jean stop denying the truth. It makes Mikasa recall the few times she had joined Sasha on an Among Us night, as Sasha's only method of discovering the imposter involves the Bad Cop part of a Good Cop/Bad Cop routine.

"Do you happen to know what they're talking about?" Mikasa asks as she begins adding arugula to the salad bowl.

Niccolo doesn't look away from his pan. "Uh... figure skating, I believe."

Mikasa raises an eyebrow. In hindsight she should have guessed it, as what other conversation can include the words "lutz" and "flip" and "flutz" in the same sentence.

"Are arguments about skating usually that intense?" Mikasa asks.

The laugh that Niccolo lets out is playful, yet imbued with the slightest sense of unease. "It is for them."

[gregorygerwitz]

Burzek + Sparks Fly (part 4 of the Speak Now series)

you touch me once and it's really something you find I'm even better than you imagined I would be I'm on my guard for the rest of the world but with you, I know it's no good

From the time she left the doors of the expensive private school until she walked through the front door of the big house she called home, Kim was free. It didn't matter how long it took, as long as she was home by curfew, and it wasn't like her father or step-mother really cared about what she did. As long as she didn't end up in the paper, jail, or dead, the time was hers to do whatever she pleased with it, and she had a few preferred ways of spending that time.

Most days, she would sit at a table in her new usual café until Adam was done with his shift, and then they would walk as far as they could until the sun started to go down. Sometimes, they ended up at the bookstore, browsing the shelves and reading the summaries on the back without actually buying anything. Other days, they went to the lake, and walked along the water until they reached the spot where they shared their first kiss.

When he wasn't working, they met up to spend hours walking and getting dinner, or lunch on the weekends, and sharing stories about their lives. There was even one weekend where they got the entire day to themselves without any parents calling or demanding to know where they were, without school to prioritize or homework to work on, without anything to focus on but each other. It was perfect, and Adam made sure to take every Saturday off that he could so they had the time to use.

The first time they went to his house was the first time Kim stayed out past curfew.

His father was out working for the night, some vague explanation about an extra patrol shift given in a text. They ordered a pizza and sat on the couch to watch a movie, close to each other under the blanket spread over their laps. If anyone had seen her in that part of town, she would probably get a lecture from Thelma about the family's image, but she couldn't even bring herself to care about the potential consequences. She was having fun in a way that had seemed impossible when her brother left, and she was happy just to enjoy what freedom she had while she still had it.

They both knew the inevitable was going to come, some day. Kim would graduate high school in a year, and follow in her brother's footsteps by going to college as far away from Chicago as possible. She wanted to be where no one knew her name, where she could do anything she wanted to do without worrying about the family image and looking over her shoulder for cameras.

Sitting there, all but cuddled up to her boyfriend on the couch in the quiet living room of his home, she was getting a taste of that kind of freedom. There were no cameras following her around in Canaryville, if only because no one thought to look for her there. She could watch movies and make out with her boyfriend until after curfew, and not leave for home until after midnight. It would definitely make her life at home harder for a week or so, but it was worth it.

Because there was something about moving from the couch to a bed that made her feel giddy. And something about the way Adam held her made her feel warm. And she would withstand a thousand lectures about staying out late if it meant she got to do it all again.

[shatterthefragments]

🌻

SO I sorta play/am relearning to play the flute and (tenor sax),

Treble clef to read: my beloved. Not quite as used to the bass clef but I *can* given enough time

And I have a midi keyboard that I may have mistaken for being able to ALSO be a keyboard oops but at least it was super cheap when I got it 😅 and I have *access* to a trumpet if I so wanted bc the sister played in middle school (cost of buying the cheapest instrument < the cost of renting even just for three years in middle school)

And I’ve always had an obsession with the cello and wanted to play SO hopefully I’ll be able to make space for and save enough money to buy one used and though I HIGHLY doubt it would be in time (especially given I’d probably need to road trip to get it) …or if one of the music stores has an absolutely ridiculous sale… that’s also an option 👀

Buuut given I can’t really remember how to hold a bow properly and tbh was Not very good at it anyway (but hey I only had one free 30 minute lesson that was SUPPOSED to be for the flute to develop skills further in concert band) I’d need actual lessons and probably couldn’t jsut learn on YouTube but the near city has adult basic cello classes!!

But given that maybe bass or guitar would be better first?? But I don’t know if my fingers can reach across the fretboard?? I couldn’t really when I played guitar in my hotel suite I got upgraded to (…I should. Post to my personal social media at some point bc they probably upgraded me bc I’m young and they figured I would) but it’s still super fun!!

Or like. I know I can finger the ukulele bc I played in third grade but it broke so I can’t anymore but back then it was maaaaybe $40 and I fear it would be twice that (ah yeah they are. Also I don’t remember how to play at all) (and ukulele basses are even more expensive)

Buuut I also need to brush up on my theory and tbh bc I play wind, I have no idea about Chord theory or progrsssions. So maybe learning in a keyboard (which are fairly cheap in marketplace but I just. Have a Lot of mini trips coming up… so I should not by any means. Especially if I also want to get more tattoos in the fall) also I kinda want an alto sax too since fingerings translate

So I can’t really decide what to do next (“get good at your current instruments shatters!!”) also I lost the tenor sax mouthpiece after I washed it so I could hopefully start playing again but in sure it’s kicking around in the kitchen somewhere (tbh I’ll need to wash it again if it is though)

Also considered drums bc Ekits are quieter however I have no space (my sax is currently in the sis’ room 😭) and then booked a trip instead :P

And like?? I need to figure out which daw (preferably free) I can use to record stuff~

Ah I should probably get a mic at some point but I’m hoping my phone or earbuds will do the job for me tbh haha

Wanting to maybe fiddle around with a few covers (prev just Kingdom of Cards but gosh there are SO MANY GOOD SONGS less that I am capable of singing - fuck knows I can’t actually sing the way they do and my range is Limited but 🤷🏻 if I’m having a good time it’s all good hey)

And then eventually make one of my songs (which. Let’s be honest. Many old lyric papers I recycled now. And I still can’t get in to so many of my locked notes in the notes app so I have to most likely come up with something new or newish but that’s ok what else are emotions for but vent poetry amiright??

Also the ads for nocturnal bass are wearing me down but it’s too expensive when I have no clue what I’m doing yet. I have a bunch of free sounds loops and resources already… as long as I can Actually access them on a portable drive bc my laptop has no space and I need to delete so much off it already tbh

And I know it’s not a tag game but friendly tags for my fellow musicians to ramble on about music/instruments if they want to: @eepymonstrr @ongreenergrasses @hookedhobbies @caffeinatedbraincell @elkkiel (bc drums 👀) @branches-in-a-flood (unless it’s too long ago now and doesn’t bring you joy to talk about) and anyone else who wants to ! GOODNIGHT!!!

[acertainmoshke]

Happy STS! What are your go-to/preferred writing tools? Favorite pen types, notebooks, keyboards, etc, but it doesn't have to be limited to just those things. Writing programs, favorite reference books, thesauruses, dictionaries, TTS software, whiteboards, corkboards, flash cards, encyclopedias, anything goes!

Nooooooooooo Nopal you don't know what you've done! How could you know I have an actual special interest in this??

So I am obsessed with notebooks but also REALLY picky about them. My handwriting is teeny so I don't like big lines, and I think it looks neater and prettier with smaller lines anyway. The covers can have a cool pattern or be plain if it's a nice color and high-quality enough. I do occasionally make exceptions; my current journal is fairly cheap with large lines, but it's a rare older Batman one in my favorite color with bat-tech designs on all the pages and a light-up bat signal on the color, so it was worth it. My newly discovered favorite notebook aspect is ones that are designed so the pages lay flat and it's easier to write. Oh, and I LOATHE spiral notebooks. The big school-style ones are ok for random notes or anything unimportant, but the smaller little ones that are normal book size are absolutely worthless. The spirals always come undone before I'm done with them.

I'm also picky about writing utensils. I keep a journal strictly in pen so it can't fade and I can't get embarrassed and erase it. I write stories strictly in pencil because I WILL need to erase and try out lines. But, although I'm using one currently for my big-lined Batman journal, in general I can't stand large ballpoints. By which I mean 0.7, which is pretty standard. 0.5 is ok, but I much prefer the rarer smaller pens. I used to have a Japanese friend who I would get to send me 0.35 pens because they are normal there but expensive over here. In pencils anything under 0.5 is impractical, but I like the fancy mechanical pencils with a nice grip and a dent that lets you dig out the eraser even after it's erased down. My current one is teal.

None of that answered your question but it was necessary anyway. And this is getting too long so the actual answer is going under a cut.

We'll see how long I can keep it going, but I like to write my stories on paper. Of course, it's not worth starting a nice new notebook if I'm unlikely to finish it and it's impractical if I don't have a clear idea of the basic story, because jumping around out of order is impossible. I like it though because it forces me to slow down and think about each scene; I can't rush the way I do when typing. It also gives me a built-in edit when I copy it up, so by the time I'm editing a full draft it's already technically a second draft. And it's convenient because I can take it to work and write on my breaks, or if I'm waiting in line at the post office, or anywhere I happen to find myself.

I do still write on the computer, of course, for fanfiction or just-for-fun things I'll never finish or stories I'm still figuring out. When I do truly long-form things I like to use work because I hate the way Google docs looks (controversial, I know). But for short things, or worldbuilding, or fanfic, I like to use Notion. I like that I can nest pages within each other endlessly. It makes my autistic organizing brain buzz.

I recently discovered that I enjoy using actual notecards pinned to a corkboard for initial plot planning. I can't always do this, and I make outlines too for more detail, but being able to physically move stuff around in real space helps my brain focus on what is actually important to include.

Thank you sooooo much for giving me a chance to ramble about this!!

[c-mccormick-svad-2022-2025]

(ARTS345) Project #2 Progress: Voting Poster Drafts & SkillShare Video #4: Ten Dangerous Ideas with Graphic Design Rebel James Victore

Week Six

Project #2 Progress: Voting Poster Drafts & Group Critique

Typography Used In Experimentation & poster Drafts:

This week, unfortunately, ended on a sad note. Yesterday, Columbia experienced the outer rings of Hurricane Helene, which was projected to make landfall in Florida on September 26th. Winds reaching 140 mph brought significant destruction, especially in rural areas near Perry, Florida. The storm caused widespread damage, including power outages, fallen trees, and flooding. It is moving inland, affecting several states such as Georgia, Tennessee, and the Carolinas, with the potential for dangerous flooding and additional storm impacts. In Columbia, students were required to attend class during this storm, as previous hurricanes have proven not to be as severe, and classes could easily be held if there is just a bit of rain. However, that was not the case, as the campus was practically flooded due to significant rainfall occurring all morning and into the afternoon/evening. I had class around 11:40, and I came to campus around 10:30 to walk to McMaster College on the far side of campus. My usual walking path to campus was flooded, so I needed to take a different route to McMaster. My shoes, backpack, and umbrella were all drenched. All the contents in my bag got soaked, including the four sketchbooks I use for my classes, including my Visual and Verbal design sketchbook. The cover was drenched, and all of the paper got soaked. I will likely need to purchase a new sketchbook for this class, which is unfortunate as I barely used the pages in this sketchbook that I hoped to fill with my ideas for projects. The main takeaway from this experience is this: Sometimes, you need to do what's best for you and not come to class, even if the school doesn't cancel it. It's better to be marked absent than risk getting all your materials, including your expensive computer and iPad, ruined in a rainstorm.

On a more positive note, during this week, I worked on creating drafts for Project #2 posters. I chose to use the letterpress printing design approach and selected a famous quote from Sharon McMahon as the main focus of the voting poster. I used a total of nine different typefaces to replicate the imperfect look of letterpress printing. I had the chance to see my classmates' designs and provide feedback on Basecamp. The majority of the group preferred Drafts #1 and #3. The feedback emphasized the following key points for my design:

Texture: Classmates liked the use of texture, especially the wood grain and paper backgrounds, which gave the design a handmade, letterpress feel. They suggested adding texture to the lettering to enhance the printed look.

Typography: The typography was considered visually appealing, dynamic, and fun. Splitting the colors between two hues was appreciated, but some suggested incorporating red to give it a more "American" theme.

Layout & Readability: The composition was well-received, with a strong hierarchy and easy-to-read text, but classmates encouraged experimenting with new layout variations.

Inspiration: Brad Vetter's work was mentioned as a relevant reference, suggesting I could draw more from his style.

Improvements: More texture in the lettering, incorporating red into the color scheme, and experimenting with new layout variations were commonly recommended across the critiques.

To sum up, I received positive feedback on the overall look and creativity of my design. However, I was also advised to explore texture and layout further to enhance the design. In preparation for the second round of group critique on Wednesday, I took my classmates' advice and delved deeper into the work of Brad Vetter, who greatly inspired my project. I studied his use of lettering and the layout of his poster designs. I chose to experiment with design #3, which was my favorite out of the three drafts I submitted for the first round of critique. I decided to incorporate more wooden textures to add interest to the piece. However, this made the words feel more separate and rigid, which was not the direction I wanted to take. During the second round of group critique, Professor Valdes encouraged me to push the boundaries and create a more authentic look by physically stamping words onto a piece of paper, scanning them into the computer, and manipulating the type. He also suggested printing out the poster, crumpling it up, and scanning it back into the computer to achieve unique textures. Taking this advice into consideration, I aim to enhance the overall design and make it resemble a letterpress printed poster by the next critique on Wednesday of next week!

Skillshare Video & YouTube Video: Ten Dangerous Ideas with Graphic Design Rebel James Victore Hosted by The Futur

Link to Full Video Interview:

In my ongoing exploration of James Victore's work from last week, I decided to delve deeper into learning more about him as an artist, creative, and his creative process. In the video titled "Ten Dangerous Ideas with Graphic Design Rebel James Victore," Victore is described as an author, artist, designer, and professional Hellraiser (that's a new one for me!). He is known for his provocative ideas and strong opinions, often dropping f-bombs from time to time during lectures and podcast interviews. His work is included in the permanent collections of museums worldwide. He is also a motivational speaker and creative coach. James emphasizes creating work that matters and encourages designers to make work so good that people want to steal it. This is kind of similar to how Professor Valdes wanted us to create work last semester that would cause people to want to steal it and hang it up on their walls!

In delving into Victorie's personal style and philosophy, he discusses how he sees himself as more of an artist than a designer, something I can relate to in my own design work! He prefers creating expressive work that captures humanity, drawing inspiration from artists like Robert Motherwell and Franz Kline. Victorie reflects on his early days in New York at the School of Visual Arts, where modernism was the dominant trend. He found modernism to be dull and lacking in expressiveness, similar to "pasta with no sauce." His style is raw and often crafted using simple tools like scissors and paper, showcasing his desire to work with his hands and maintain a tactile connection to his art.

When discussing the power of messages, Victore emphasizes that the power of design lies in what it communicates, not just in how it looks. He believes that focusing solely on aesthetics, such as kerning and typefaces, can diminish the true value of design, which is its ability to convey powerful messages. He thinks that designers often become too focused on making their work look polished and perfect, losing the rawness and human touch that connects with people. This is similar to how I feel about the voting poster project. I hope to create something that informs people about the importance of voting and registering to vote, rather than just creating something and being afraid to break the rules of design. Speaking of learning and breaking the rules, one of Victore's ten ideas is "Learn the rules, then break them." He believes that while rules prevent chaos, they can also stifle creativity. Rules such as "maintain the status quo" or "always be polite" may need to be disregarded if they hinder creativity and authenticity.

Being a designer in the industry often comes with the challenge of dealing with the fear of clients and money. According to Victore, the concern for clients and money is usually based on fear. When designers are afraid of disappointing clients, they end up compromising their work and missing out on the opportunity to find their own unique style. Victore believes that this fear results in a career of imitation rather than originality, leaving designers feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. While it's important to work towards bringing the client's ideas to life, there comes a time when we need to dedicate ourselves to creating work for our own fulfillment without fear.

When discussing perfectionism versus procrastination, Victore believes that perfectionism is a major obstacle for creatives. It can prevent people from starting, finishing, or sharing their work. He emphasizes that most of the details designers obsess over are not noticed or cared about by others. Designers should let go of perfectionism to allow their creativity to flow naturally. Taking action is important, as it is often an antidote to fear, overthinking, and perfectionism. By taking action, even imperfect action, designers can move forward and grow. Victore criticizes the tendency to consume endless self-help or design books without taking meaningful steps to improve one’s own work. He also believes that every designer already has a voice; it’s not something they need to “find.” Instead, it’s about embracing the weird, unique aspects of oneself that society or upbringing might have encouraged them to suppress. He talks about the vulnerability involved in truly embracing one's creative voice and putting out work that reflects who they are.

To stand out in the industry, Victore encourages designers to avoid following trends and instead create their own style. He argues that following trends leads to making everyone’s work look the same. He advises designers to find joy in their work and embrace their individuality. More importantly, Victore reminds designers that technology is not always the answer. While it can be a useful tool, it’s not the solution to creative problems. The real creative power lies within the individual. He encourages designers to rely less on technology and more on their own skills, ideas, and hands-on creative processes.

The key takeaways from this interview are as follows: The quirks that made you stand out as a kid are now the qualities that make you exceptional. Creativity stems from being vulnerable and authentic and embracing your unique perspective. Taking action is more crucial than waiting for perfection. Following trends or trying to please clients at the expense of your own voice ultimately leads to frustration. The ability to play and experiment is vital for sustaining creativity and preventing burnout.

[ireceived-p8250000]

October 6-12, 2013

Sunday:

I attended Krissy's daughter's christening, brought gifts, and handed over some money. Afterward, I went home early, preferring not to hang out with the crowd.

Monday:

Classes were engaging. Computer Science was especially fun. The school paper came out today and featured a candid photo of me, which felt a bit odd.

In experimental psychology, we designed another experiment focused on correlation and divided the roles among the group. Philosophy class was interesting, though the professor seemed stuck in the late 90s, trying too hard to be cool. I kept my reactions deadpan and bantered with him a bit.

After classes, I had a meeting with the officers about an upcoming seminar arranged by Ma'am Gladys, Mansoor's boss. Later, I went to the gym and learned hand and foot strokes, which left me feeling both exhausted and accomplished.

Tuesday:

I deposited my money into another account, feeling more financially secure than ever. I even considered buying new shoes for Dad. Abnormal Psychology class was engaging, though Mansoor was absent again. We finally got our copy of the DSM-5, which was exciting but a bit dull to go through.

In history class with Sir Apollo, his intense stares made me uncomfortable yet intrigued. After class, Myla and I chatted about lipstick, and Sir Apollo watched us with a smirk.

I waited in the SAO with Mansoor and Vivian for my Ecology class. After class, Mansoor and I walked together. Robbie seemed to have an inkling about our relationship, but I brushed it off as just being friends.

We detoured to the Rose Garden and stopped at Mother Earth convenience store to buy expensive chocolate for my dad. We shared a piece and kissed, trying to keep it discreet.

Mansoor asked about my past kisses, which brought back a flood of memories, including Sir Apollo. I admitted he was my fourth kiss. Despite feeling slightly uneasy, Mansoor was understanding and we kissed again.

"How many guys have you kissed?" he asked.

Suddenly, all those flashbacks of guys I kissed flashed in my mind, including Sir Apollo. I didn't answer. I swallowed, and I think he heard that.

"Hindi ako magagalit. It's not a big deal."

"Well, uh... you're the fourth."

"Akala ko isa lang naging boyfriend mo?"

"Yes, the second one was from a club I went to once and the third was... same."

"Teka, ito ba yung sa Ampersand?"

I nodded slowly. "I was drunk and caught off guard. It didn't mean anything. Tsaka di pa tayo noon."

He nodded with no judgment whatsoever. He tilted his head for a kiss again.

"Your lips are so sweet," he said.

I gave the chocolate to Dad when I got home and asked what he wanted for his birthday because I had money now.

"Dad, do you want new shoes? What do you want?"

"I want a massage."

I asked if it was possible. Mama said it was okay. So I decided to treat them to a spa. I asked Roxanne to help me out. She suggested some options.

Wednesday:

Our experiment progressed well, leaving me tired but fulfilled.

Thursday:

In Abnormal Psychology, Mansoor attended, and we participated in a role-playing session. Other classes involved more role-playing and cultural presentations. The day was packed with activities, leaving me little time to think about my interactions with Sir Apollo.

Roxanne suggested a spa for my parents, and I had to create a Facebook poster for an assignment, which took two hours. After Ecology class, Mansoor waited for me again, and Robbie questioned our frequent meetings. I insisted we were just hanging out.

At home, I talked to Roxanne about Sunday plans. Mansoor called, and I kicked Roxanne out to talk privately. Our conversation mostly centered on politics, including the recent Zamboanga siege and the pork barrel scam.

Friday:

Friday was chaotic. In Philosophy, Djang and April teased me, hinting at my relationship with Mansoor. During lunch, they pressured me to admit it. Rumors were spreading, and Robbie had apparently seen us holding hands.

"Umamin ka na kasi, pinagpapawisan ka oh!" Djang said.

"Alam na namin, may mga nakakakita sa inyo!" Sarah added.

"How?" I asked.

"Naghoholding hands!"

"Pics or didn't happen!" I demanded.

"Nakita kayo ni Robbie!"

This interaction was during lunch. I still denied it.

They kept on asking and pressuring me.

We had our experiment reporting. I told Mansoor about it and he said to just come out in the open. I still said no out of principle.

I didn't know but he seemed pissed slightly.

"I don't like hiding it anymore."

"I don't like hiding it too, but I don't want to pay the amount I said I'd pay."

"Is it a very big amount?"

"For me, yes. I mean, I can earn that in a week, but just giving it away?"

He tilted his head back. "BUT IF there was no agreement... I mean, yun lang ba ang reason kaya ayaw mo that we'll be out?"

"Yes! If it wasn't that stupid agreement, I'd hold your hands in front of them. I'd tell everyone you are my boyfriend. I want to post stupid photos of us online. I want them to see us almost hugging."

He just nodded.

Saturday:

Saturday arrived and it was Abnormal Psych class again, and he was absent. We met up with groupmates for the cultural dance project.

In the afternoon, we had economics activities and a bit of math. Then off to history class. My heart still jumps out when I see Sir Apollo. We had an essay activity, so it was a bit quiet. During the discussion, he shared anecdotes of his childhood.

Djang texted me saying, "Alam na namin. Don't worry about the ₱700 basta happy kayong dalawa."

I sent a question mark.

"Wag na kayo magtago!" she replied.

Sir Apollo was winking and saying something, smiling. I ignored him because I had more pressing matters. Roxanne texted me about tomorrow and where to eat, so I told her to just plan that.

I looked for Djang and found her with Hollmae and the others.

"What do you mean?" I widened my eyes.

"Sus, okay lang. Pinunit ko na contract natin oh." Djang said, but I looked at April, Sheryl, and Mia. They weren't saying the truth.

"So how did you know?"

"So kayo mga?" We had to go to a corner to talk.

"Sinabi mo?" I asked Hollmae.

"Hindi! Ewan ko!" She got scared.

"Oh so kayo nga!" Sarah exploded with a laugh.

"Oo na! Walang singilan ah."

"Uhh actually," Rox was vacillating.

"I knew it, you girls are hiding something."

Djang fished out a pocket of hundreds.

"Kinausap ako ni Kuya Mansoor kanina."

Turns out, my boyfriend paid for that penalty so I would still have the integrity of keeping the promise. He knew how important it was for me to keep my word. He told Djang not to tell me, but the girls felt guilty about it.

I took the money and was going to keep it.

"Hoy!" they all interjected.

"Bakit, sa boyfriend ko to eh!"

"Ibalik mo yan, gashunh," they laughed.

"No, it's mine now."

"Evil stepmother ka talaga," Djang joked.

After Ecology class, Mansoor picked me up. It was a relief that I didn't have to lie or hide. It was still the same, no touchy-feely, no corny carrying your bag. We just went. We passed by the SAO first and they smiled at me. Apparently, he already told them who I was—his girlfriend.

We walked out and held hands. It was pure joy that I could hold his hand in front of the University.

"Happy?" he asked.

"I know what you did." His face ashened. I fished out the bills and gave it to him.

"Ano ginawa mo?"

"Naguoltu din sila. I made them squeak. Thank you. I didn't know you were like this. Thank you. You're just so different."

"Well, sa savings account ko yan eh. But binawi mo."

He took it.

"Alam mo, we should get them some treats."

"Good idea."

"Manlibre ka naman," I joked.

"No, I need to buy a new phone." He answered while I laughed.

I rested my head on his shoulder and hugged his arm.

"Kiss me," I told him. And he did. We were still at the vicinity of the University. I didn't care who saw it.

I posted our photos on Twitter and only Djang and him could see it. But then I decided to create an album of him titled ❤️M72713❤️. It's just all his photos.

By the way, my vibrator finally arrived.

[galacticwildfire]

Looking at your grades and realising the time to write your original novel and pray you find success is only running out by the day and becoming more necessary because fuck academia man

Slight rant below

A man who would hopefully be jailed in 2024 has a dream or produced drug fuelled thesis based on no evidence but his own perversions and it’s seen as fact, it holds the status of bible within its discipline, but I have an idea that slightly deviates and I’m a heathen

I mean fuck it, at this point I’d be better off devoting my time to writing five novels and praying one’s picked up rather than spending five years suffering through further study that I can’t afford and probably won’t get into at this point considering I had to drop a few units due to chronic illness and couldn’t get the penalty removed.

How the fuck am I meant to get documentation for bpd and pill induced permanent disassociation when they refuse to actually give me a paper diagnosis (because my doctors hate putting labels on things as much as my last situationship) but will still happily throw sedatives at me for it while telling me I have bpd but still refuse to give me documentation or a paper diagnosis.

Although considering I had a full ultrasound searching for pcos where they saw that my ovaries were covered in cysts, very clear pcos, and they didn’t even feel it was worth mentioning on the report I shouldn’t be shocked. How the actual fuck does a person who looks at ultrasounds for a living see the 14 follicles the technician pointed out on one ovary and write on the report that everything is normal. Cut to almost a year later and hormone testing told me yep, definitely pcos.

Thank god I have a new doctor now and am off those pills (Seroquel saved my life but also gave me a literal chemical lobotomy. I legit can’t remember shit and spend probably 80% of the day in a state of dererealisation and have worse comprehension skills than I did at 13). Not to mention the twenty kg weight fluctuations from going on and off it from 16-21.

As much as I dreamed of being a historian it looks like a masters ain’t gonna be happening with my gpa. I mean finding success in academia is just about as rare as finding success as a writer, at least this way I can save myself from going into even more debt because fuck Australia has some of the most expensive university fees in the world. And they decided to double the fees for humanities because “oh no, we need more people in agriculture and teaching” despite probably half of high school teachers doing a humanities degree and then a diploma of education.

With a bachelors I can still write history for public consumption I guess, non academic articles and all that along with books you’d find in public libraries, and considering academics absolutely fucking hate people in the public history sector I’m fine with that.

God it’s hard having always dreamed of going overseas and doing a masters degree and going into academia and then realising that the cost for living past the age of sixteen would be your intellectual capacity. I know I have brilliant ideas, and I can get them across in writing fiction, but academia would probably be the death of me.

At this point I’m seeing if I have the gpa to complete an honours, I have probably 8 months left on my bachelors without it. Considering I’ve written probably close to 300k words in the last year I’m aiming to get my own original manuscript done this year since they prefer beginner novelists to have between 80-100k for their first book. I’ve got a couple ideas but it’s time to decide on one and get it done. I’m debating between a sapphic tragedy and my own mythological story that would be part of an asoiaf like universe. I’m thinking the smaller project first since it would be a stand alone and to go from there. Turns out I also have 14k words worth of poetry when I compile them all into a doc so I’ll see what I can manage with that.

[nostalgiaispeace]

2357.

How often do you wear necklaces? 📿   Whenever i go out.

Would you rather wear a bracelet or a necklace? 📿   necklace

Do you own a coral sweater?   Nope. 

Which name do you like best: Emily, Ellery, or Eliana?   Emily

What season were you born in?   winter

What season is your favorite? I love winter

When was the last time you had a donut? 🍩   idk

Which spelling do you like better: Jillian or Gillian?   Gillian. 

Have you ever wondered how the country of Ireland got its name? not realy

Which name do you like best for a girl: Harmony, Harper, Harlow, Harvest, or Harley?   Harper

What is your favorite shade of green? 💚 dark green

What is your least favorite shade of green? 🫒   lime green

Which name do you like best for a girl: Bianca, Brogan, or Briar?   none

….how about out of these: Carly, Carmen, or Carlotta?   Carmen

Which name do you like better: Jasmine or Yasmin?   neither

Did you used to wish that you could own some of the same outfits as your dolls?   i did

Do you think you look better with your hair up or down?   down

What is your favorite shade of blue? 💙   dark

What is your least favorite shade of blue?   sky

Would you rather ride a motorcycle 🏍️ or a regular bicycle 🚴?   neither

What is the name of one island you have vacationed on? 🏝️ none

Which one-syllable girl’s name do you like best: Claire, Cove, Dawn, Rose, or Jade?   Rose

When was the last time you wore leggings?   yesterday

What is your most severe allergy? 🤧 apples

Do you own a purple sweater?   no

How often do you create surveys?   never

What is one game you have cheated on? i've cheated on wordle to not end my streak lmao

Do you believe it’s ever ok to cheat on a test? 📝   No.

Have you ever cheated on a test? 📝   No.

What’s your favorite song by Miley Cyrus? flowers

What was the last song you listened to on repeat?   idk

What was the best part of your day today (or yesterday)?   going on a date

How often do you wear earrings?   every moment of every day

Have you ever worn a stuffed animal at an age guessing booth? 🧸   no

What is something you own that you’ve had since you were in high school? so many of my things

What year did you join Facebook?   All the way back in 2008. 

What was the first color you ever dyed your hair?   blonde

What is one thing most people seem to like the smell of, but you don’t?   vanilla.

Have you ever been scammed?   Yes.

Are you smart? 🧠   I’m like average I guess. 

What color is your dresser?   black

If applicable, what color was the dress you wore to your very first Homecoming Dance? 💃 -

When was the last time you purchased something from a bakery? idk

….and what was it that you purchased? –

What is your computer’s desktop background?   ellie

When was the last time you used washi tape, and what did you use it for?   I don't think i've ever used it

List three big cities you have visited and would love to visit again.   new york city, dc, and nashville

On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you with your life?   8

What brings you joy? my daughter and books

What’s your most cherished memory?   the birth of my daughter

Do you believe in God? Why or why not?   no

Were you named after anyone, and if so, who?   No

When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? 📝  idk

Which spelling do you use for the color: gray or grey?   grey

Who has hurt you the most?   Myself. 

Who or what is your happy place?   my couch with a book

If you could erase horrible memories, what memory would you erase?  abuse

When was the last time you cried?   yesterday

If you could go anywhere in the world right now (all expenses paid), where would you go?   english countryside

How do you feel at the moment?   tired but fine

Do you believe that you’re a strong person?  i think i am when i have to be

What’s your biggest dream? To be successful

Paintings or digital pictures?   both

Are you scared to love?   no

What’s your biggest fear? Losing my loved ones

Are you afraid of heights?   a bit

Are you in love?   I am

Do you prefer a bright or dark room?  dark Have you ever danced in the rain? ☔️ 💃  yes

Do you have a good relationship with your parents?   with my mom

Have you ever cried because you were so happy?   tes

Books or movies? books but i love both

[autisticlee]

I like to learn. I WANT to learn. I like to learn to do new things that interest me. I like to consume a vast amount of knowledge about things I enjoy. I also prefer to have the structure of someone else teaching it to me rather than figuring out how to collect the overwhelming amount of info myself and figure out how to learn it without any help. it sounds fun in theory, but school absolutely ruins it for me.

I would be all for school if it was only based on learning the things you enjoy and have interest in. hands-on and interactive learning. learning for because you want to learn a certain thing out of pure genuine interest. not learning just to be put on the spot and have scores and grades on the line. no homework and assignments. no tests and exams. no reports and papers. no sleepless nights and decaying health. no social norms to uphold and people to please.

some may ask, how do you know you learned the material without those things? simple, through doing it with your own hands until you master it. let your work speak for you and prove that you have learned it. rather than prove you learned it before you are allowed to do the work. which you are then thrown out on your own, probably lost and confused because you may not have truly learned anything useful. learning a concept or something in theory never really translates well to actual hand-on work, let's be honest. i've heard so many people complain that fresh college graduates don't know how to do any of the work at all. they say they learned how, byt lectures and books and exams and essays can never prepare for the actual work. and your boss/supervisor/etc are too lazy to teach you.

the school system really needs to change. no sitting in a classroom listening to a boring person talk at you as you fight to stay awake. no trying to sort through the boring words in overly expensive textbooks to figure out what 2% of info out if the 50-100 pages you're assigned to read a night is maybe important and will be on an exam. no writing papers in very specific overly picky formats, relating to the class but probably not even about a thing you really care about. no endless assignments that don't help you learn and just stop you from having free time, rest, and sleep. no grades and scores and GPA to hang over your head and make learning go from a fun thing you want to do, to a stressful thing you HAVE to do. no pointless classes in between that don't even remotely relate at all to the thing you are interested in and choose to study. no social stress caused by people distracting you from your work and whole purpose of being there. no cliques and being either forced to make friends with people you don't like/relate to or become the bullied outcast. no sensory trauma caused by the vast amount of sensory input forced on you every second of the day in a school environment. and most importantly, no crippling lifelong debt after all that insane stress, just for a piece of paper that nowadays doesn't even get you a job to pay that debt, let alone a job that's even slightly related to what you studied. have fun paying $200k+ with a horrible and dehumanizing fast food/customer service job while everyone calls you lazy and useless for working there for years and living in your parents' basement, despite having a degree.

everything about school and traditional teaching methods ruins everything about learning for me. I can't do it. I can't stand the way it works. I learn nothing and can only force enough info into my brain to barely pass if i'm lucky. the stress, overwhelm, overwork, boring and pointless, etc, it all overshadows my ability to learn or enjoy the learning process. the process itself is so flawed and works against my brain and needs that I can't learn anything no matter how hard I try, even if it's a special interest.

I think the only way i'd be able to learn is in a small group or one-one-one apprenticeship environment. think blacksmith who takes a pupil and trains them for years, teaching them hands on how to do the work. starting them with small work until they start handling the main work themsleves and eventually take over when the master retires. that's the only way my brain can learn. that sounds absolutely perfect for me. but schools, especially universities, abolished that type of teaching. everyone is too lazy to teach their employees even simple jobs. they expect everyone to have a degree or 5 and already have 10 years of experience and know how to do everything without being taught.

my brain (and body and soul) can't handle school environments and teaching methods. I got so sick at uni I had to drop out. I would have failed and got kicked out if I kept going. apprenticeships don't exist these days. the only time i've seen them is when they are basically an internship. they require schooling first so they don't need to teach you. you work for experience towards your resume more than to learn. they are very short term and you're sent on your own again to struggle alone.

it's so upsetting because I WANT to learn and become a master of something. but I don't have the ability to teach myself (I've tried. I can't correct my own mistakes if I don't know what they are and youtube/reading alone also cant help correct me) and definitely won't be able to make it through school. what's the point anyway when most degrees are useless paper (unless you do things I don't care about like medical and law and business) and you get to live in debt for the rest of your life and work a horrible job you can't stand because it's all you can get even with your expensive paper