#drying out your old gel pens

[steambot-shenanigans]

Has this ever happened to you?

Unable to get your paper boat to stand up, no matter what you try? Might I suggest a solution guaranteed to put an end to your sorrows and woes?

Introducing: Ralph McFiggins’ Artisanal Paper Boat Thingamajigs!

They may look like old gel pen caps with metallic pain slapped on them, but they’re so much more!

Simply insert the Artisinal Paper Boat Thingamajig into the bottom of your paper boat until it looks like this:

And then your boat will be standing up with no trouble at all!

So buy your Artisanal Paper Boat Thinamajig today, and get good quality products that do their job well, and look great! Only $9.99 for three thingamajigs!

[heysawbones]

Earlier today, I asked Google about removing the ink from a gel pen cartridge. Google thought I meant, “how do you revive a dead gel pen?” No. See. Sometimes, when you’re using gel pens in ways they were never meant to be used, you find the ballpoint inadequate. In my case, it was too big to get into tight spots on the doll shoe I was detailing. Gel ink is water soluble. You should be able to paint with it. Right?

But how do you get it out? Is the coverage okay? Folks,

the coverage is excellent.

You can learn how to free the gel ink from its tiny prison, plus the pros and cons below the cut.

Here’s the tools I used, except the hobby/model drill. That turned out to be unnecessary. A syringe, some kind of needle OR stiff catheter of similar dimensions, and scissors will do the trick.

I cut the pen above the stopper and below the ink/air bubble. If a gel pen is old enough or you have enough patience, sometimes you can wiggle the stopper out of the bottom of a gel pen instead. If that’s an option, I’d recommend it for reasons I’ll touch on later.

The tip of a Sakura Gellyroll has two notches in the plastic where the ballpoint head is seated in the grip. I used the eye end of a fat yarn needle to wedge into that notch and loosen the tip and cartridge until I could remove them from the grip. I think you could get away without removing the tip and cartridge, but I found it easier/neater to do it this way.

This shows where I cut into the cartridge: between the end of the air bubble, and the end of the ink. The more ink your pen has, the smaller - and possibly harder to identify - this area is.

Unfortunately, my syringe was not made to be used with a needle. To compensate, I used sticky-tac to cover any air gaps - vacuum is essential to a syringe. I used artist’s tape on top of that to stabilize the connection. You probably don’t need to do this, but if you do, there you go. I bet heavily chewed bubblegum would work, too. Or clay. Or lots of things.

I really didn’t think this would work, due to bad luck with past attempts. It does work.

Here, I’m using a kolinsky sable to pick up the ink but any pointed brush meant for acrylic, watercolor, or ink should do the trick.

THE OPACITY. THE PIGMENT LOAD. THE ABILITY TO DETAIL TINY AREAS

—

PROS.

-Incredibly opaque for something water-soluble and relatively low viscosity

-high pigment load

-very smooth finish

-accessible

CONS.

-If you bought gel pens with the intent of breaking them open for the beautiful ink inside, it would be expensive - especially for decent ink like Gellyroll

-Coverage is not as even with brush as it is with rollerball. This is easy to get around, but noticeable. Build up the coat until it’s opaque and smooth. Do not allow it to dry between coats. Once you’re done, put the item away to dry for as long as you can stand. DO NOT APPLY TOP COAT BY BRUSH

-Slow-drying on many surfaces if applied heavily enough for a smooth finish, but concerningly fast-drying in the syringe. It’s also unclear if recapping the original pen and sealing the cut end will preserve the ink, or if gel ink harvesting is a one-and-done where you will need to take all you can at one time, then store it in an airtight container. I’ve stuffed the cut end of my cartridge with sticky tac and put the cartridge back in the grip/recapped the pen, but it remains to be seen if this is sufficient for storage.

-Your gel pen will never be the same again: even if the ink can be preserved in the original cartridge, breaking the vacuum causes the ink to blob out of the roller ball. There’s a real possibility that this will just leak everywhere out both ends, which is why I recommend preserving the stopper at the bottom of the grip if plausible.

CONS 2,

continued (of detailing models, etc. with gel ink generally, not specifically the brush application thereof)

- Gel ink requires a porous surface. Do not expect to put pen to plastic without primer or Mr. Super Clear. The ink will consolidate centrally (proximal to heaviest application), gapping away from edges.

-Slow-drying: this takes forever, and it is easy to ruin a finish in the meantime.

—Durability: essentially none. Wait at least a few hours after you think the gel is dry, then apply a clear coat. SPRAY ONLY. Do NOT go back over it with a wet brush, as you risk reactivating the ink and ruining all your hard work. Spray works because it is ruining the finish evenly, and therefore, not at all. Wait and then apply the top coat again. These top coats will be your durability.

[stardust-swan]

Coquette Christmas

🎀 to wear: pale pinks, baby blue, icy white, leg warmers, uggs with bows, sweaters with skirts, cable knit cardigans, cashmere scarves, earmuffs, mittens, pearl bobby pins, velvet scrunchies and bows, berets with pearls, sparkly earrings, pretty brooches on your winter coat, glossier birthday balm, becca pearl highlighter

🎀 bake heart shaped stained glass sugar cookies or gingerbread people with bows piped on <3

🎀 enjoy peppermint white hot chocolate with mini marshmallows while cuddled up under a blanket

🎀 read hans christian andersen fairytales

🎀 see a ballet like swan lake, the nutcracker, or gisele

🎀 visit the swans! in the northern hemisphere swans migraine during christmas so go to a canal or lake to watch then glide by

🎀 make your skincare routine different! skin tends to get drier in winter so use a richer moisturiser, do sheet masks (love lapcos sheet masks), use vaseline or a lip mask overnight (klavuu does a great one), put some glycerin or lotion on your feet and hands before putting on your socks and gloves, and remember to still wear spf! carry a good handcream and lip balm (fresh rose lip treatment is soo good) in case you feel dry while out. and obviously drink lots of water

🎀 ice-skate holding hands with someone special <3

🎀 light lots of candles! there are some great wintery scented one like gingerbread, frankincense, winter berry and mulled wine. I also like yankee's rainbow cookie in winter even though it's not strictly a winter scent. vanilla is always a good idea too

🎀 eat lots of marzipan, sugared rose petals, crystallised fruit, nougat, turkish delight, and caramelised nuts

🎀 practice self care with a warm bubble bath, a face mask, and a rich body lotion afterwards. put on silk pyjamas and fluffy socks that have been wrapped around a hot water bottle so they're already warm and cozy afterwards

🎀 to smell christmassy: layer scent by using a peppermint shower gel followed by a vanilla body lotion

🎀 decorate your space with figurines of swans, shepherdesses, angels, nutcrackers, and holiday barbies. and put bows on your xmas tree

🎀 watch: love actually, anastasia, little women, classic disney movies, white christmas, ice princess, harry potter and the sorcerer's stone, bridget jone's diary, barbie in the nutcracker, the chronicles of narnia, dead poets society, and any hallmark movie

🎀 write christmas cards in glitter pen and decorate with angel stickers and a spritz of vanilla perfume

🎀 to feel luxurious at night, spritz on some body spray, wear a flowing nightgown and do yourself in a clara style (half up with satin ribbon)

🎀 make snow angels!

🎀 make an emergency kit for those days when you come home miserable because of the cold and dark and have no energy, plans, and need some alone time. include things like a candle, a small box of good chocolates, some sheet masks, a perfume, your favourite tea, a book that comforts you, fluffy socks, a cozy blanket, paper and a pen to journal your thoughts, a photo album of your favourite people, old love letters, or anything else that you can easily keep at hand that will comfort you

🎀 listen to a pretty wintery playlist with genres like classical, jazz, and celtic/nordic traditional (mine is below <3)

[babygirl-garcia]

Fluff of the Penelope Garcia variety, as so requested by @my-cages-were-mental I have never written anything so fAST-

Penelope Garcia x reader fluff

You knocked softly on Garcia’s office door, folder in hand. You’d recently been injured in the field, a fractured elbow, but you had insisted to Hotch that you still helped in this case from home base, so he’d granted you permission for the unforeseeable future, until your arm healed, to assist from Garcia’s lair. You waited patiently for her verbal acknowledgment before entering.

“Yee who seeks the guidance of the all-knowing and powerful goddess Penelope Garcia, speak friend and enter.”

You gave a soft laugh, pushing the door open and getting hit with the soft scent of peaches, and it smelled like home. “ ‘Speak friend and enter’? Someone watched Lord of the Rings recently.”

Penelope turned her chair to face you, hands resting together at their fingertips- not nearly menacingly so much as absolutely adorable. “Per Reid’s request. He couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen them. Just never got around to them, I guess.” She offered a shrug, then rested her weight on her elbow on the chair’s arm. “What’s up, angel face?”

“Nothing much, Hotch just asked that I drop these off to you.” You handed her the manila folder with a small paperclip at the top.

“Great! I’ve been waiting on these, thank you.” She turned swiftly, plucking a bright pink Post-It from a pad nearby and slapping it on top of the folder. She pursed her lips adorably, deep in thought, before pulling a sparkly purple gel pen from her cup of them, scribbling something down.

You hadn’t realized you were staring until she turned back to you and met your gaze once more. “Uh- cool.” You say in the chair beside her, swiveling back and forth nervously.

“How’s the arm?” Garcia asked, turning back to face her many monitors.

“Not terrible,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, the pain killers are great, but sleeping’s a nightmare.”

“You’re not a back sleeper, eh?”

“Garcia, I’d be mistaken for a fish out of water if someone had the misfortune of watching me sleep.” This earned a laugh from the analyst, and the sound made your heart flutter. “Brushing out the bed head is awful, too.”

Garcia responded easily, glancing over at you. “I could help with that, you know. You could always stay over at my place until you heal up.”

At a loss for words, your mouth opened and fell closed several times before you finally spoke. “Garcia, I- Penelope, I couldn’t intrude like that-”

“Nonsense, sugar.” She turned to face you to boop your nose before facing her monitor once more as if the action hadn’t even happened. “It would be my esteemed pleasure. Besides, as long as you bring Miss Dolly, it can be a girl’s night.” Miss Dolly, as you so lovingly called your old tabby, was just as big a Penelope Garcia fan as you- you’d never seen her take a liking to someone so quickly.

“If… if you’re sure-”

“Sure as the sunrise, kiddo.” Garcia typed away at her keyboard, and you started to speak before she pressed a button to answer her phone just as it rang, and she put it on speaker. “Who’s your favorite girl in the whole wide world?”

“Babygirl, we have a question for you.”

The two of you helped the best you could, and when Garcia hung up the call, doing the research that Derek and the team had asked for, you stood, rocking on your heels. “I’m- I think I’m gonna go get a drink, I’ll be right back.” As you made it to the door, though, Penelope’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh! Hey, (Y/N)?”

You turned to face her, a hand on the knob. “Yeah, Garcy?”

She had her back to you, still clacking away at her keyboard. “What kind of food do you feed Miss Dolly? I’ve been trying to get my cat on dry food for ages, but she just will not cooperate.”

You stilled, a brow raised, and you pulled your hand from the knob. “Penelope…” You said after a moment, a brow raised in confusion. “….you don’t have a cat.”

“Oh, I know.” She turned to face you properly now with a shit-eating grin. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you longer, so you’d stay. Besides, we can order food, here-“ She pulled her attention back to the monitor, expertly handing you over her phone without even looking at it. “Third page, fifth app from the top.”

You swiped accordingly- “Dunkin Donuts?”

“Large iced matcha latte, light ice, six sugars. Add whatever you want. Ooh! And get me one of those crullers, will ya?”

You giggled softly, adding her request to the cart before adding your own. Soon, the lair smelled deliciously of a small bakery. “You’re sure we didn’t overdo it?”

Penelope scoffed, grabbing a cruller from the top box of four. “Eh, the guys can have some if they want. If there’s any left, then.”

Another laugh escaped you as you grabbed a donut for yourself. “I’m in love with you, you know that?”

“Oh, darling, the feeling’s mutual.” She grinned at you over her shoulder, clinking her donut to yours before taking a large bite.

[vynnblr]

the vynn- hobie brown cosplay!! (LONG POST)

ok i have been convinced to show cosplay things ehehe

here’s the process babyyy

so basically i used a leather jacket i bought for?? $20 ish?? at a thrift store (all prices in canadian dollars)

now i have been a part of the punk scene for a good while now, but had never worked up the motivation to make a battle vest. so this vest is purposefully meant to double as both a hobie cosplay vest, and just an actual battle vest i can add onto forever!!

(image desc;

a leather jacket with a red plaid inner lining layed out on a bed. my hand is in frame touching it, and my cat is visible in the corner.

end desc)

here is jacket in question, ft. my cat

first thing i did was chop off those sleeves. not with a special tool or anything, just scissors. this is a battle vest, not designer clothes

once i got them off, i chopped out that super cool red liner. a) because it was already coming out due to the missing sleeves, and b) to make patches out of. i did not buy fabric for the patches

after that, i cut the sleeve into some rings to make hobie’s arm cuffs. fuck if i’m buying cuffs, i’ll make em /silly

i used leather glue to glue some safety pins on so i could tighten it to fit my wrist since the sleeve was quite wide for me.

(image desc; a picture of the makeshift arm band around my wrist, displaying how the safety pins hold it on

end desc)

once i did that, i used my priciest thing i bought, a leather holepunch. if you’re using a leather holepunch for a one time thing, try to rent it or borrow it, they’re super fucking expensive. i invested in it since i’ll be using it a lot for other things in the future

i marked out where to punch with an old gel pen, and poked holes in the cuff. once i had those holes, i pushed PIPING BAG TIPS through. yes my spikes are baking tools. no i’m not buying actual studs they’re expensive. (i’ll explain how i put them in later on)

after i figured out how to attach spikes, i started on the jacket. marked it out, put them in.

(image desc; six pictures showing the process that’s described below, of spikes being put on the leather vest.

end desc)

to keep those suckers in, i used leather glue around the back where they got pushed in, let it dry. then, i cut a piece of fabric from an old shirt, put glue on it, and stuck it down across that glued in spot to make a base. let it dry. finally, flipped it back onto the side you see, light layer of glue around the base. any parts that didn’t dry clear i darkened with a sharpie.

once i was dont with spikes, i started making patches. my patches were done on the liner of the jacket, cut off bits of the sleeve, and an old black shirt. i used white and red fabric paint, and red acrylic (once).

after making the patches, cut them out, used safety pins to stick them where i wanted them.

(image desc;

two pictures showing some of the patches i’ve made. the first image shows the back of the vest with patches already attached. the top patch is hobie brown’s spider punk patch and is safety pinned on. the next patch is a cut out shirt piece with red paint saying “i kiss boys”. the patch next to it says in white “feed the poor”, and under that is a matching patch saying “eat the rich”, both of which are sewn on with white thread. under them all is a patch that says “be gay do crime” but the A in gay is an anarchy symbol. it is sewn on.

the next image is of patches still drying on a shirt. the eat the rich and be gay do crime patch are both visible. another patch says “punks 4 queers”, another says “1312”, and two are symbols (one for anarchy, one for gender equality.)

end desc)

here are some of the patches, not all of them!

i sewed on most of the patches by hand with red or white thread, a few were left pinned (either for looks, time, or because they’re hobie-specific and i want them off sometimes when it’s not for cosplay). if you’re sewing leather, either use a thimble or wrap tape around your thumb to make one. trust me. hurts without it.

once that was done, i left the vest for a bit. picked up a long sleeve red shirt and a short sleeve blue one from my thift store, and cropped the blue one myself.

i used an old biker glove, and put spikes in it just for fun

i wore my belt, an old belt my dad gave me, and a borrowed belt from my sister on the cosplay. i also used a cuff my dad gifted me, a borrowed one from my sister, and my mom’s epic 4 inch heels (no idea why i can walk in them i never actually learned but i can walk in most heels)

the chain attached to my jeans is an old necklace.

i didn’t have time to make a choker intime for the movie, but i’ll make one in time for comicon! (same with guitar if i make it)

i put safety pins and pin backings in the mask i wore to the movies

in the end, this is the coolest cosplay i’ve ever done, very happy with it!! still technically a WIP, but a functional one, so i can wear it whenever!! cool stuff!! (sunglasses are bc facial dysmorphia, not a part of cosplay. just for pictures)

(image desc; three images depicting the finished cosplay on myself, two in which i’m standing and one where im crouched down flipping off the camera

end desc)

[tmwwriting]

Title: Make a heaven of hell Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI) Chapter: 1/3 Word Count: 8.8K Tags/Warnings: Lucas Grey x female reader. No use of Y/N. Smut. Porn with plot (lots of plot). Bleak. Angst. Hurt No Comfort. Grimdark. Seedy strip club. Vixen Club from Hitman: Absolution x1000. General gross vibes. Hostile work environment. Illegal activities. Set during Lucas's mercenary years. Reader is a dancer. Both damaged and unhinged in their own ways (how can this go wrong?) Unhealthy relationships. Friends with benefits. Threats of violence. Threats of gender-based violence. Background/implied/referenced violence. Implied/Referenced Prostitution. Minor Original Character(s). Death of Minor Original Character(s). Undernegotiated Everything. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Dry humping. Fingering. Oral sex. PIV sex. CNC. Stranger sex. Unprotected sex. Semi-public sex. Rough sex. Hard kinks. Consensual but NOT safe or sane. Dark fic. Ambiguous/Open Ending. Dead dove: do not eat. A/N: Gonna have to keep writing fics set in Grey's merc years just so I can keep making hostile work environment jokes. And shout out to John Milton's 400 year old poem for the fic & chapter titles.

AO3: (X)

It's a familiar rhythm. Terms. Conditions. No hard feelings.

(Pretty songbirds belong in pretty cages, and running out the clock only works if you're the winning side.)

chapter i. in the lowest deep a lower deep

The other girls notice him first. There's a possessive tenor to their stories, the way the words curl in their mouths in a haughty bestowing, interrupted only as they part for you; you rush to the counter, wincing and clutching your bag, slotting between them and a chorus of "welcome back" before they continue, the giggling and chattering so fever-pitched you fear for the structural integrity of their vocal cords.

On a normal night you'd drop everything to get in on the gossip, kick up your feet and settle in, warm yourself by the campfire of other peoples' trivialities. But there's no time, the last bits of sand trickling down the top of the hourglass, the grit of it sinking between your teeth, even though you've broken every traffic law in the book in your efforts to get here faster. (And no doubt irreparably ruining your relationship with the scrap heap you call a car.) You've both made it though, so all's well that ends well, no matter how much the engine wails at you in protest. Stupid thing.

"And the one always in the corner, don't forget him!"

"The blonde?"

"No, no, the dark one across from him, the good-looking one. I think he—"

You'd sigh—the impatient exhale of coming in mid-story—if it wouldn't fuck up your painstaking, halting attempts at a cat eye. No matter how you angle yourself or your hand (sharp inhales when you lift your arm and move something painful behind your ribs), every flick of the gel pen leaves you more and more uneven in an odd seesaw of black ink. Cocking your head in the mirror and staring in stunned disbelief only brings the mess into further focus: definitely more Marcel Marceau than Sophia Loren, and it only gets worse. This liner clearly hates you and wants you dead—perhaps from all the times you've dropped it on grimy bathroom floors—and it's five seconds away from being javelined across the room before Maria finally takes pity on your increasingly frustrated strokes. She deftly slips the offending pen from your hand as she sits you down and goes to work fixing your face.

"Have you seen him yet?" She asks you, practically humming, so close the brightness of her aches to look at. "He's usually with a few others, at least these past couple of nights. They all look military to me, but Susy says no, too wild."

"That, and they sound British," Susy says, shrugging her shoulders and swinging her manicured feet from her perch on the countertop. Cigarette ashes gather below. You can see the No Smoking sign in the reflection of a mirror—an old joke and sour, pungent punch line. "D'you think we're being invaded by the British Army?"

This causes a cascade from the others:

"You've clearly never worked a club near a barracks—"

"Practically French, the way you'd surrender—"

"Horizontal collaboration, was it?"

"Taking your Chanel obsession a little far—"

The argument escalates without any input from you, with much maligning of various nationalities, Maria insisting that some of the men are actually American, and Susy rebutting that her handsome one, at least, is British.

"If they tip well, I don't care if they're the FBI or MI5," is all the answer you give when they turn to you as the tie breaker, kicking off another round of giggling about how good the men would look in suits, and whether they'd keep their weapons on them during sex. You do sigh, then, but not all the chirping that follows is useless, and you tuck away the tidbits of information that filter through: who stacks dances, who asks for extras, who tips well or not at all, and then more speculation about the glowering dreamboat who spoke only just enough for the girls to ascertain his accent. There's a pang of conscience from somewhere deep inside, stashed out of sight in the dark recesses of some boarded-up ruin—hunting your friends' regulars is a little low, but. . . Maybe these new guys do have money, and maybe one of them will be careless enough that you'll be able to buy yourself something nice this weekend.

It depends on the group, whether this becomes a windfall for the club or a complete shit show. Complete shit show is the safer bet—odds so short no bookie would take you up on it. These guys don't sound military, but you need to see for yourself. Experience is the best teacher: you get all kinds here, the allure of such a lively, colorful watering hole bringing everyone in from their arid planes of existence, and by now you have a pretty solid idea of what to expect from a guy just by the look of him.

Most are boring. Faceless. Excruciatingly normal. Just looking for an escape from the suburban nightmare of their daily lives, bitching and moaning as though someone's holding a gun to their head, making them work that shitty job or cave to a girlfriend's demands for marriage and babies and a white picket fence. They treat dancers like therapists, even in the champagne rooms (a real therapist would be a lot cheaper—they wouldn't have to tip those). If the guys are regulars, you know their kids' birthdays and the drama with their coworkers. Good, boring, decent take home. Things get spicier when the Delgados and Morenos start arguing over turf, as though there's not multiple routes to traffic narcotics from one side of the globe to the other; oh no, they need this little corner of the world, the bastards. Every decrepit, pot-holed street in the city will overflow with their violence, always catching more than one dancer in the floodwaters that spill over into the club. Doesn't help that management will dam the doors open for them. You try and stay far away if any happen to saunter in—bad news all around. 

Mercenaries, though. . . hit or miss. Some will tip well for a dance or two, and some are like the men from the cartels. They'll take what they want, and your menace of a boss won't care as long as they empty their wallets in the process. You try not to think of the girls who have gone missing over the years. 

There's a reason this place doesn't offer health insurance.

Continue reading on AO3.

[cwcontentcreator]

100 Quirky Fun Life Hacks

1. Use a paper clip to fix a broken zipper pull.

2. Freeze grapes to chill white wine without diluting it.

3. Store bed sheets inside their matching pillowcase.

4. Use a trousers hanger as a cookbook holder.

5. Put a wooden spoon over boiling water to prevent overflows.

6. Use muffin tins for condiment assortments at BBQs.

7. Place a rubber band around an open paint can to wipe your brush.

8. Use nail polish to differentiate keys.

9. Cut soft cheese or cake with unscented dental floss.

10. Use a squeegee to remove pet hair from furniture.

11. Put pancake mix in a ketchup bottle for a no-mess experience.

12. Use old newspaper to deodorize food containers.

13. Clean your keyboard with sticky notes.

14. Use a can opener to safely open blister packs.

15. Amplify your phone’s speaker with a cup.

16. Use ice cubes to remove furniture indentations in carpet.

17. Use a banana peel to shine shoes.

18. Put a dry towel in the dryer to speed up the drying process.

19. Use a hanging shoe rack to organize cleaning supplies.

20. Use toothpaste to clear up hazy car headlights.

21. Drop Alka-Seltzer tabs to clean a toilet.

22. Freeze aloe vera gel in ice cube trays for sunburn relief.

23. Store ice cream in a zip-top bag to keep it soft.

24. Use a bread tab to hold your spot on a roll of tape.

25. Thread a necklace through a straw to prevent tangling.

26. Blow-dry your mirror to prevent fogging.

27. Use a pool noodle to fill your mop bucket.

28. Use a tennis ball to hold pens or as a towel holder.

29. Clean sneakers with toothpaste.

30. Use a lint roller to clean out your purse or backpack.

31. Use a pasta ladle to measure one serving of spaghetti.

32. Use a pillowcase to clean ceiling fans.

33. Place a rubber band around an open paint can to wipe your brush.

34. Use a post-it note when drilling to catch dust.

35. Wrap gifts with fabric for reusable wrapping.

36. Flip a toaster on its side for grilled cheese.

37. Prevent pot boiling over with a wooden spoon.

38. Infuse olive oil with garlic for instant bread dip.

39. Freeze lemon slices and water for instant refreshing drinks.

40. Use a hair straightener to iron collar edges.

41. Cook two pizzas at once by cutting them in half and laying them flat.

42. Use a microfiber cloth to clean your glasses with vinegar.

43. Use a carabiner to carry multiple grocery bags.

44. Freeze a sponge in a zip bag for an ice pack that won’t drip.

45. Write with a whiteboard marker on appliances to track perishables.

46. Use an egg slicer for equally sliced mushrooms.

47. Put a damp sponge in the microwave to disinfect it.

48. Layer scented dryer sheets between sheets for a fresh bed.

49. Soak a sponge in water and soap, freeze it for a DIY ice pack that cleans.

50. Use binder clips to fix a broken keyboard foot.

51. Make a tablet stand from a cutting board and a scrunchie.

52. Stash emergency cash in a ChapStick tube.

53. Plant herbs in a wine rack with glass jars.

54. Organize cables with binder clips on a desk edge.

55. Clean blender by blending water and soap.

56. Stuff newspaper in wet shoes for quick drying.

57. Use a muffin tin to serve condiments at a picnic.

58. Turn a magazine holder into a shelf by mounting it sideways.

59. Keep apple slices from browning with a rubber band.

60. Use a plastic bottle as a makeshift watering can.

61. Drop a few marshmallows into brown sugar to prevent hardening.

62. Clean your iron by ironing salt on wax paper.

63. Use a vegetable peeler to slice cheese thinly.

64. Sharpen scissors by cutting fine-grit sandpaper.

65. Use crayons as emergency candles.

66. Place a wooden spoon in a pot to prevent boiling over.

67. Make your own ice pack by freezing dish soap.

68. Organize your closet by hanging bags with shower curtain rings.

69. Keep cords organized with bread tags.

70. Use a colander to evenly distribute powdered sugar.

71. Make a DIY sprinkler with a punctured plastic bottle.

72. Use a wine cork to safely store needles.

73. Store sheet sets inside their corresponding pillowcase.

74. Freeze coffee in ice cube trays for undiluted iced coffee.

75. Use beeswax to waterproof shoes.

76. Use a magnetic strip to organize bobby pins and tweezers.

77. Remove pet hair with a squeegee.

78. Use old CD racks for bagel sandwich holders.

79. Use a potato to unscrew a broken lightbulb.

80. Use a salad spinner to fluff down jackets.

81. Use glasses as a makeshift smartphone tripod.

82. Keep your earbuds in a mint container when not in use.

83. Seal plastic bags with the top of a water bottle; cut the top off and slide the bag through the neck.

84. Convert a cardboard box into a makeshift sled.

85. Turn a plastic bottle into a makeshift piggy bank.

86. Keep a bar of soap in the same drawer as your dirty laundry to keep it smelling fresh.

87. Use old socks as sleeves to protect drinks from warming or hands from cold.

88. Use a wine bottle as a rolling pin.

89. Make a no-sew pet bed from an old sweater.

90. Cut an old milk jug into a dustpan.

91. Use a yoga mat under rugs for extra no-slip safety.

92. Use a waffle iron to make cinnamon rolls.

93. Turn a bread clip into a holder for tapes on a tape roll.

94. Put Vaseline on the end of a nail polish bottle for easy opening.

95. Use a vegetable peeler to make chocolate curls.

96. Use a pill container to organize jewelry when traveling.

97. Use a shower cap to cover the bottom of shoes in your luggage.

98. Use a lemon to freshen up your garbage disposal.

99. Use a rubber band around an open paint can for excess paint wiping.

100. Use clear nail polish to stop a run in your stockings.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

for the meme can you answer !

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

and

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Damn, honey, you don't mess around, do you? Ok, let's do these in order. ^_^

❤️ That's a tricky one, because as my own primary audience I write a whole lot of stuff that I'm very happy with. Here's a good bit from a fic I haven't yet finished, which is about Haruto running into John Constantine:

At this point the monster's pretty well beaten and Haruto steps back, motioning to the boyfriend and shouting something in Japanese. The boyfriend nods, flashes a thumbs up, and says, in very thickly accented English, "It's dinner time," and the monster is sucked wholesale into his belt. Which then burps faintly.

Zatanna says, softly, "John, what the fuck."

“See my prior comment re: beats me.”

And one from a recently posted fic, Gimme Shelter:

"And then I died, mostly, and then I un-died and woke up in the morgue, and now–"

"I beg your pardon, you what?"

"I died, and then I un-died. As in to un-die, the process by which one becomes undead. You know, I died, and then I did it in reverse."

"Resurrected."

"No, no, that'd imply that I'm all the way alive now. I ain't. I'm a little bit alive, but mostly I'm just not dead. So. I un-died."

All Wangji could manage to say, after a long minute of stunned staring, was, "That is etymologically unsound."

And last but not least, a classic that never fails to make me giggle, from the (quite old at this point) "Hearts, Minds, and Stomachs":

“Noh-Varr. We will get you. A falafel.”

I will answer the rest of these questions under a read-more, because this is already quite long.

💥Oh, boy, there are so many canon things that I would change, in so many different canons. Here's an easy one, I'd cut out the whole weird thing with Karizaki Masumi implanting his devil Chic into George. That was just messed up.

✨️Literally every nice comment I've ever gotten is my favorite. This is a cop-out, I know, but I roll around and squeak happily whenever I get comments. Recently, though, I put a sort of dry academic joke into a chapter of "Gimme Shelter" and a commenter told me they'd enjoyed it, and that made me smile a lot.

👻Hm. I have a lot of wild headcanons. Oh, but here's one I was telling Davis about a few weeks ago: I think that Kaguragi films every single sexual encounter he has, so that afterward he can go over the video and examine/critique his technique. This is not amateur filming, either, we're talking three kurokos in the bedroom catching everything from multiple angles.

✍️My ideal writing setup is one where I can control the noise level--I generally write either in dead silence or while listening to music. Currently I have my personal laptop set up on a tray table next to my desk with my work computer, in my office, and that's very good--I keep snacks in here, and I have a window with a beautiful view of the trees, and the cat hangs out with me. An ideal setup would involve having proper desk space for my personal computer, and a nicer desk chair, but otherwise it's pretty much the same. Unless I'm writing longhand, in which case my ideal writing setup is me curled up in a recliner, with an overhead lamp for general light and a focused reading light for working, an A5-sized notebook, and a purple fountain or gel pen with really smooth ink flow.

🚀Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Recently, for the MDZS ghost stories, I've been doing partial outlines, but sometimes I just like to have vague notes, and sometimes I do a full detailed outline, and then again sometimes I just pants it.

👓Good music. I have several big playlists that I put on shuffle, but I also have one playlist for when I'm really unfocused that's multiple full albums, which definitely helps my brain to work. Lately I've also been listening to more instrumental stuff, primarily Glenn Gould playing Bach's "Well-Tempered Clavier" and the Don Byron album Bug Music. My "I need to finish this paper" album in undergrad and grad school was Treasure, by the Cocteau Twins.

💕Oof, that's tricky in the same way that the favorite-lines one was tricky. I have over 200 works up on AO3, a number of which are large prompt collections. Still, though, here are a few of my favorites--this list doesn't include any short fics in large prompt collections, because I don't feel like sorting through them.

flaming june (Donbrothers)

sunset, no regrets (Heisei Phase 1 Kamen Rider)

but it is sunlight (Kamen Riders Agito, Kabuto, Gaim, and Ghost)

compromise is made out of peace but history's made out of violence (Kamen Rider Amazons)

what could be nicer for you? (Ultraman Z)

We Enter The Circle After Dark And Are Consumed By Fire (Yakuza 0)

The Legally-Mandated First Date Experience (Lazy Town)

Break That Face (Batman/Superman)

Thomas and the Fucking Tiger in the Living Room (Secret Six)

The Queen of Elfland's Favored Son (Young Avengers)

Nag, Nag, Nag (Secret Six)

An Afternoon's Entertainment (Birds of Prey)

Kiddo (Young Avengers/Avengers)

And, for good measure, a couple of fics that aren't up anywhere:

Writ in Blood (MDZS--this is the next fic in the ghost story AU, the first chapter will be going up in about a week and a half)

Proof (WWE--I took down all of my wrestling fic and won't be reposting it, but this was a very silly monsters-AU story about Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins taking werewolf!Dean Ambrose to the groomers)

And on my Google Drive there's an entirely untitled Ultraman Gaia fic in which Gamu works through a science problem while he and Fujimiya are having sex, and I really ought to post it because it's very funny

[rinokami]

Ok, yes, true, and the comments are hilarious. BUT. Here's how you actually do it: Don't use a fucking gel pen to line with. Fucking. Don't. They never dry, ok? Just spend a few bucks on a couple Pigma Microns, you can thank me later. Get a real skinny one like a 01 (or a 005 if you want super tiny) and a fatter one like a 05. If yer feeling fancy, you can get a brush tip, but you don't have to. Do not spend $30 on the giant packet with all the sizes, you will not use them. While yer at the store getting your Micron pens, spend like 50 cents on a kneaded eraser. Yes I know you already have one at home but it's probably full of gunk because it's 12 years old and you've never replaced it. Get a fresh one, you goblins. Get either a decent plastic eraser (like Staedtler) or an ArtGum eraser if you don't have either of those too. Ok, now step one: Go over your sketch with your kneaded eraser and lighten everything. DO NOT RUB. Just press the eraser down and lift (knead it first so it's nice and soff.) You ever play with silly putty when you were a kid? Slap it on some newsprint to make the picture come off onto the putty? It's like that. Why do this? The less graphite you have on the page before you ink, the less you have to remove after. Step two: Ink away, fam. Enjoy the lovely, dark, almost-instantly-drying, never-bleed-through-your-paper-again lines of the Microns. Yes, you are welcome. Step three: WAIT A GODDAMN HOT SECOND. ffs. Go get a sandwich, take a potty break, freaking something. Step four: Take the kneaded eraser (knead the damn thing so it's not all covered in graphite from step 1) and do the Press and Lift thing again. DO NOT RUB. STOP IT. If some of the ink does come off, at least you will be lifting it straight up instead of smearing it all over the place, but this rarely happens with Microns. Remember to moosh that eraser around in-between dabs so you're not just transferring stuff. Step five: Once you've done this and you've gotten any stray ink lifted off, THEN AND ONLY THEN may you use your GOOD plastic eraser/artgum to remove the rest. Do not use the shitty pink eraser you found in the junk drawer, istg. "uuUuugh but Riiiiiiinnn you're telling us to spend money" Yes, yes I am. Either you can get some decent supplies or you can figure out a way to incorporate ink smudges into your art style, but I guarantee you can afford to skip a couple Monsters for the sake of buying a few pens and erasers, I'm not telling you to go buy a full set of Copics. Go forth and be smudgless, my fellow arteests.

how to erase pencil guidelines from under ink

1. wait until you’re absolutely sure the ink is dry

2. wrong

[mlink64]

✨TXT Vibes✨

WC ~372

Choi Yeonjun

Sunshine, the smell of the ocean, sweat, sharing clothes, thrift shops, shiny shoes, tanktops, wearing his boxers as shorts, skateboarding at sunset, choker necklaces, jelly bracelets, red wine, the smell of hair gel, peanut butter cookies, black coffee, back hugs, polaroids, faux freckles, septum piercings, aviator sunglasses, pepero, hand lotion, irises, hot tea, boxed hair dye, dark chocolate, PDA, mixed berries, navy blue and purple, glitter makeup, fingerless gloves, Redbull cans, sweet whispers in the middle of the night

Choi Soobin

Sweaters, the sound of book pages, cute bandaids, the smell of clean linen, baby blue, pixie stix, tangled earbuds, dry hands, messy hair, watermelon lip balm, the feel of an old t-shirt, caramel sauce, springtime, daisies, pet hair, soft instrumental music, mohair, afghans, gentle caresses, head kisses, back hugs, earmuffs, vanilla milkshakes, cookie dough, trying out new bakeries, sunblock, phone charms, Funko pop figurines, Harry Potter, diamond earrings, writing down notes on your hands, lazy days in bed 

Choi Beomgyu

Mismatched socks, long naps, laughter, quiet morning voices, berets, talking to plants, memes, the smell of cinnamon, colored pencils, 2 am snack runs, acoustic guitar chords, too many pillows, carpet burns, iced coffee, chasing butterflies, ugg boots, delicate jewelry, roses, the sounds of an arcade, falling asleep in class, graphic eyeliner, nerds candy, hopscotch, hard seltzer, chaste neck kisses, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, carnival goldfish, karaoke, Spongebob, untied shoelaces, promise rings

Kang Taehyun

Mittens, people-watching, highlighters, hard kisses, the smell of rain, ink-stained hands, stolen glances, suncatchers, waking up to the sound of birds, post-it notes, art museums, sitting under trees, friendship bracelets, warm soup, the feeling of wind in your hair, train rides, french braids, scarves, documentaries, finding four-leaf clovers, digital cameras, poetry books, swimming laps at dawn, playing cards, peonies, movie posters, talking until 3 am, vintage sports jerseys, blushing, catching frogs, stretching together, quilts

Huening Kai

Playground dates, hot chocolate bombs, lilies, sharing plushies, always has snacks in his bag, cold hands and feet, feeding the ducks, arts and crafts, smoothies, the smell of lavender, piggyback rides, turtlenecks, constant snuggles, striped socks, eating cereal at midnight, striped socks, gel pens, butterfly kisses, tangerines, matching outfits, button bracelets, sharing nail polish, takeout boxes, big headphones, sweater paws, soft piano music, mood lighting, plastic barrettes, eskimo kisses        

[tizzymcwizzy]

hello master mctizzles!! 28 & 29 for the artists ask pleae, since i know you do a fair amount of traditional? also 10! (and if u say anything other than HELL YEAH, all caps, i will have many hype words to say at you<3333)

28. For traditional artists: what medium do you like the most?

OHHH INK DIP PENS MY BELOVED

god i miss her, i haven't done an ink peice in so long this is making me yearn

for those of you who are new, i used to primarily use a dip pen and watercolors for my art, you can see a general look at all the materials in this old drawing i did for class

the bottle is way fancier than need be, but i like it so i use it lmao (the ink is winsor & newton india ink and the pens are just the general dip pens you can get at michaels or hobby lobby) the water colors where the masters touch fine art studio watercolor set with 24 colors, they're the pan kind.

also i just generally like using pencil, ik very basic, but nothing will ever beat the feel of using a 6B pencil on drawing paper, immaculate 🤌

29. For traditional artists: How do you usually start on a big piece?

I usually start with a thumbnail in my sketchbook or on a scrap piece of paper to get a general sense of the composition, and do some bigger sketches if i want to map out specific poses that might be difficult later

then I do a light sketch with as much detail as i can on a taped down peice of watercolor paper, then i ink it, erase the sketch, clean up some of the lineart with a white gel pen (sometimes white paint if I bungle it enough) and then go in with watercolor, going from dark to light, then shading over everything after the first layer is dry.

(I KNOW I KNOW, ur supposed to go from lights to darks in watercolor, and I do if I'm doing like a painting, but it's much easier for me to fill in all of chat's black and marinette's hair before i go back in to work on the grey's, and by that point im using less and less pigment the more I paint, as my little puddle of black gets smaller and smaller in my palette.)

I took a lot of process photos when i did traditional but i haven't done it in a while so these are a tad old,,

some examples of thumbnails,,

some examples of sketches

and then some lineart photos

(i usually take photos of just the lineart when im scared to start the watercolor, so theres not a lot of them)

10. Are you confident about your art?

aaahha... eh.... i answered this ask in another post, so you'll have to go there to read it,, love you maryssa, hdhdhdhf 💙

thanks for the ask!! these questions are from the artist ask game, send me some and I'll do my best to answer them!

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys as Bad Dad moments

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou and Numai

**These are ways they “failed” as fathers. I am not talking about ACTUALLY failing as fathers, just things dads have done that most of us either remember/get told about NOT TO BE TAKEN  S E R I O U S L Y  it is just for      f u n  I also gave them all at least 2 kids cause SibLiNgS**

A ‘*’ means it happened to me lol

TW- Mentions of giving too much medicine, accidental pain caused to child, these are things I either experienced/knew people who experienced them, allusion to cursing/a FEW bad words (but I substitute a letter for something else :)

*Akaashi Keiji: 

He had been working in his office when his son had come in.

You had been putting your newborn to sleep for a nap when your son decided he wanted to be with his dad.

His son was only 3, so when Akaashi was held up in his office editing his son, Kenji, would sometimes come in and plop himself in Akaashi’s lap.

His sons small feel padded on the floor while he made his way to his father, softly tugging on his pants as he stuck his arms up.

Akaashi smiled and softly chuckled before gently picking up his son from under his arms and placing him on his lap.

He got to work soon after, reading and revising the pages.

Other than having his son on his lap it wasn’t unusual for him to be drinking coffee while working.

Keep in mind, your son had inherited a lot from Akaashi, and not just his looks or personality.

But also his habits.

Because of this, your son was very fidgety, usually toying with a string or your fingers.

That meant he tended to move around a lot.

Akaashi had just lifted his not-so-cold coffee to his lips when his son had made a sudden movement, causing him to knock his arm and, “AHH” Akaashi’s eyes snapped open as his son started crying, cursing under his breath he stood up gently holding his son in his arms as he carried him to the bathroom.

Sitting him down on the counter he dried the coffee off of his son, luckily it hadn’t been hot enough to burn him, but it was still hot enough to hurt.

“What happened? I heard crying, is he okay?” Akaashi sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, he’s okay, he bumped my arm and I spilled my coffee on him. He’s okay! It didn’t burn him, but it did hurt...” Your frowned as you stood in front of your son, giving him a soft smile before kissing his arm, cause kisses always make it feel better~

You carefully picked him up from the counter, rocking him slowly side to side as he burrowed into your shoulder.

“Are you okay little man~” He nodded as he sniffled into your shoulder, little hands clutching onto the fabric of your t-shirt.

“You know daddy didn’t mean it, it was an accident.” He nodded again, lifting his head to rub his eyes and reach out for his dad.

Akaashi gave a wobbly smile before reaching over to grab him, kissing the top of his head as he carried him back to his office, making sure to have some iced coffee instead.

Washio Tatsuki: 

This would be the first time Washio was left alone with the twins.

5 months ago, you and your husband had had your first children, your adorable fraternal twins Natsuki and Tatsuo.

Today would be the first day you would be away from them, but with your mother being sick and you being the only one available to take care of her you had to go.

You weren’t too worried about your husband, he was already a good dad so you had no doubt they were in good hands.

But it was never an enjoyable experience to have to leave your kids, especially your babies, and for the first time. 

So, you decided to leave early in the morning, give them their good morning kisses and head over to your parents house.

Before you left you changed their diapers, letting them play in their little play pen while your husband tried to get up.

Rubbing his eyes Washio walked into the play room.

He had to go to the gym today for a meeting, fortunately EJP had a really good daycare system in the stadium, so he could leave his kids there while he attended the short meeting.

He stopped in his tracks as his face blanched and he felt his breath stop.

You had changed the twins’ diapers...but you hadn’t dressed them.

The twins were still young, so without looking at their, uh, biological differences you couldn’t tell them apart....

Now, usually when this happened you guys would just check the diapers, but you had just done them..

And he was already running a bit late.

So, he made his best guess, got them dressed (one in pink, the other in blue), fed and in the car driving them to the stadium.

Once he got there he quickly dropped them off, rushing to his meeting.

The meeting had been fairly simple, just some pre-season info he’d need.

After chatting with his coach/teammates, and stopping Suna and Komori from pulling a prank, he made his way back to the daycare.

He walked into the building when one of the younger care takers, Yui, walked up to him, One twin in each arm.

He smiled as he carefully put them into their carriers.

“Uhm, just a question...” He looked up to her and motioned for her to continue.

“...Were you aware that Tatsuo was wearing the dress?” Washio sighed as he ran a hand down his face shaking his head. Yui light heartedly smiled, “Don’t worry, we switched them.” Thanking them, he picked up his babies and went home.

He was not prepared for the way you cackled when he told you what happened.

*Konoha Akinori: 

You had gone away for a business trip, leaving your husband Konoha home with your 3 kids. (You guys have 2 girls and a boy)

Your middlest child, your son Akira, had recently come down with a cold making the poor thing miserable when he tried to sleep.

Being the good dad that he is, he gave his son some benadryl!

The next morning he woke up, and after letting his kids sleep in for a little bit he woke them up too.

...two of them.

He tried several times to get his son to leave his bed, but the little kid couldn’t so much as swing one foot over the side of his bed with out falling asleep again.

He didn’t think too much of it, the kid had a cold after all.

So he let him sleep for another hour or so before making him get up for real.

A day later you got home, and everything was pretty much normal.

Until you went to put your son to bed, and realized he had crashed on the couch.

“...Uhm, Akinori?” Your husband lifted his head at your voice, setting the dishes in the sink and drying his hands with a towel as he made his way over to you. 

“Yeah babe?” You took a look over towards your son before looking back to your husband.

“...Has Akira been like that all weekend?” Konoha ran his hand through his hair as he sighed. “No, only since Saturday. He wasn’t feeling good so I gave him some benadryl, he’s been dead to the world since.” You slowly nodded.

“Uhm, Akinori?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “How much benadryl did you give him?”

He left to grab the box, coming back with it in his hand as he continued to look at it.

He shook his head in confusion. “I gave him the amount the box said, 1 teasp-”- He paused.

Uh oh.

He in fact, had not given his son a teaspoon of benadryl.

He had given him a tablespoon.

*Kita Shinsuke: 

You had to leave early one morning for a doctors appointment; you were pregnant with you and Kita’s second child. 

Usually for these appointments Kita’s grandmother would watch your 3 year old daughter Kyoka.

But she had something to do that morning so Kita was the one responsible for getting her ready for preschool.

Kita was a good father so you weren’t worried.

You knew she would be put together, fed, and on time.

There was just one thing you couldn’t account for.

“Daddy?” Kita looked away from the mirror he was shaving in and down to his daughter, washing away the traces of shaving cream. “Yes sweetheart?”

She held out her small hand, 2 bright pink hair ties with little butterfly charms on them held out in her palm.

“Can you do my piggy tails please?” His eyes widened.

He hadn’t done hair...like...ever.

But from the puppy eyes his little princess was giving him, how could he not do it?!

Plus, it couldn’t be that hard...right? I mean, he had watched you do it plenty of times, and it was pretty straight forward.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed he had her stand on the ground in front of him.

He grabbed her brush and put the two hair ties she had given him on his wrist.

He brushed her hair and parted it as evenly as he could, trying to be gentle in the process.

Now time for the pig tails..

He pulled her hair back, trying to make it tight to it would stay.

...But he might have made it a little too tight.

He turned her around and realized he had made them way too tight.

Not only did her hair look like he had slicked it back with x4 strength hair gel, but it was so tight that her eyebrows had been stuck way up on her forehead.

He was quick to turn her back around, loosening the hair ties so she looks like a 3 year old again.

His face turned undeniably red as he told you what happened later that night, you light heartedly laughing at his misfortune.

Suna Rintaro: 

Suna had just gotten out of practice, and now he was on the way to his kids school. 

You and Suna had 4 kids, 2 boys and 2 girls. 

The youngest 2 had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day, which you had taken them too. Meaning Suna needed to pick the older 2 up from elementary school.

He had been listening to music, his music to be specific.

He had pulled into the parking lot, changing the playlist to a kid friendly one right before his children got in the car.

After they had told him about their days, and he had told about his, he switched back on the music.

It had been fine for a song.

Until he realized that he had a few songs qued.

The fun little song had just ended when the bass dropped, the color draining from his face as soon as the song started.

The mentioned song being “Big Bank” by YG, 2 Chainz, Big Sean and Nicki Minaj of course~.

He was quick to turn the radio off, waiting until he could pull over, empty the que, and turn on kid friendly music.

He told the kids to ‘forget what they heard’ and he continued on his drive home.

Now, you’ve got to remember, his daughter is in kindergarten and his son is in 2nd grade, so they’re still kind of at that “monkey see, monkey do” age range.

Or rather, “monkey hear, monkey repeat.”

He thought it was gonna be okay, they were good kids so he figured telling them to forget they even heard it, they would let it go.

There was just one thing about his children that he didn’t account for.

As obedient and well behaved as his children were, they were also very curious.

That night at dinner they had all been sat down at the table, eating dinner and talking about their days. 

You had been feeding your infant son while Suna had been watching the 3 year old, the other 2 older children happily eating their food. Until...

“Hey mommy?” You looked at your daughter with a smile, “Yes baby?” She continued to eat her dinner, “What’s a b!tch?” Your eyes widened as your husband choked on his food, your baby laughing at the scene before him.

Hitting his chest and taking a sip of water Suna tried to catch his breath.

“Nezuko we don’t say that, where did you hear that?!” She tilted her head as she looked at you confused before turning to look at Suna, pointing a small finger at him.

“It was on the radio, daddy told us to ‘forget’ but I didn’t know what it meant...What does it mean?” You sent a glare towards your husband as you sighed.

After explaining to your daughter why it was bad to say those things and not to repeat everything she heard you cleaned up your kids and put them to bed.

...You had quite the conversation with your husband later that night.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Ushijima had been on grocery duty this week since you had a meeting with a friend.

He had the Friday off, and since you weren’t home he took the kids with him.

Now, I would like you to know that you guys have 6 kids. S I X.

Growing up with no siblings and divorced parents, Ushijima wanted to make sure none of his kids were lonely.

Originally you guys had two, each kid had a buddy.

...but then you had a third, and you couldn’t just leave him alone...

so you had another...then another...

And now you guys have 6. But it’s okay cause you both love kids anyway~

He was doing his best, he truly was. He had his 2 youngest sitting in the little seat by the handle bar, 2 kids in the basket, 1 hanging onto the side and the oldest walking alongside him.

When they got to check out he had to take one of the kids out of the basket, so he opted for his 3rd oldest, his son Kazue, figuring he was older so it’d be a-okay.

He checked out his extensive amount of groceries before loading them up into his car, and his kids.

He pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and got on the road, his kids singing along to the radio and chatting amongst themselves.

They had been driving for 6 minutes when his oldest child, Ren, spoke up. “Uh, dad?” He hummed, briefly checking the rear view mirror before returning his gaze to the road. “When are we going back to get Kazue?” His face lost all color as his eyes widened.

As swiftly and safely as he could he pulled over to the side of the road, whipping around in his seat to take a head count. ‘1..2..3..4..5...oh sh-’ Turning back around he got back onto the road, taking the nearest u-turn and rushing back to the store. 

Unbuckling his kids from their carseats he hurried them back into the store, his oldest holding the 2nd borns hand, as he held all 3 of the younger ones in his arms.

He frantically entered the store, almost collapsing with relief when he saw his son sat at the customer service desk with the security guard, eating a lollipop before smiling when he saw his dad come to pick him up.

After giving proof that yes, he was his father, he took all of his kids back home after getting them some ice cream.

...this would be one conversation he was not excited to have with you....

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Yahaba and his 2 sons had been hanging out in the living room while you finished making some snacks in the kitchen.

Yahaba had been trying to set up a DVD player, you guys were going to watch some home-videos from your high school days but they were all on CD.

So, after borrowing one from his parents house, he set out to hook it up to the TV.

...Which was proving much more difficult then he first anticipated.

His two boys, Itsuki (6) and Hayato (8) were in there with him, ‘helping’ as they had called it.

Yahaba groaned as he sat back, a hand ruffling through his hair as he racked his brain to think of the problem.

You had finished preparing everything so you came in, with the food, and set it down on the coffee table.

You came up behind your husband, kneeling down behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

“How’s it going?” He sighed, leaning back into you.

“Well, I think I know what I need to do, I’m going to have to stick my hand back there though. Hey Hayato, can you help me out buddy?” The 8 year old excitedly nodded.

“Great, I need you to hold this flashlight here, hold it steady okay?” Hayato nodded with a ‘Yup!’ before Yahaba laid down on his side, maneuvering to where he could see the back of the TV.

All had been going well, he had just got it hooked up, and after having you test it, it worked!

He tried to get himself out from behind the TV, until a sharp edge caught his finger.

“Sh!t!” Your eyes widened, “Shigeru!” He hadn’t realized his slip up until he was out from behind the TV, faced directly with your glare.

“Kids, don’t say that.” His youngest blinked at him. “But why?”.

Kneeling down in front of him Yahaba tried to explain, but it was a little hard when you were glaring holes into the back of his head and his oldest was giggling at the situation.

*Iwaizumi Hajime: 

It was a weekend in summer vacation, and you and your husband were both off work.

This meant, you guys got a whole day to spend with your 3 boys, and one of the things you guys loved to do as a family was play games.

On this particular afternoon, your sons had chosen to play twister.

You were a little skeptical because you had 3 competitive, rambunctious boys. 

And an equally competitive rambunctious husband.

But after getting 4 identical pouts you couldn’t say no...

But, you elected to be the spinner. (..for your own safety)

“Left hand, green.” This put your middlest son in quite the predicament.

The only space available was the Green directly by his fathers hand, meaning he’d have to crawl under Iwaizumi.

“Okay Hajime, right hand, yellow.” Iwaizumi grimaced as he tried to reach it.

 This wasn’t good, the mat was slick, his hands were sweating-

“oOf” Before he could catch himself he had completely lost his balance, landing right on his son.

You gasped in horror as you saw the life get squeezed out of your 5 year old, scrambling from where you sat to check on your now pancaked son.

“...Hiro..are you okay..?” 

His small head shot up with a “I’m okay!” Before he, albeit wearily, stood up brushing off his godzilla t-shirt before continuing on with his life.

You took a deep breath as you sat back down, flashing a warning look towards your husband who sheepishly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

And after checking that yes, your son really was okay, you guys continued on with some...safer games.

Futakuchi Kenji: 

You had left for a weekend visit to see your parents in your hometown, leaving your husband and Your 3 girls alone.

It was a friday night, so after having a less than healthy dinner, ice cream and a fair amount of other sweets, Futakuchi figured a movie before bed would be a good way to finish off the night.

He scrolled through netflix trying to find a movie he could watch with his girls.

“Daddy, can we watch snow white?!” Futakuchi looked down at his oldest, Hayami, before he shrugged. “Sure.”

He may be a guy, but he was not above watching princess movies if it meant his babies were happy. Besides, it was a disney movie, what bad could be in it!

Everything was going swell, until the witch showed up.

He felt the sick feeling of dread in his stomach as soon as he felt his middlest curl in tight to his side, his youngest hopping off of the couch and climbing into his lap.

...Disney SHOULD have been a safe bet, but with the way his 3 girls were clinging onto him for dear life, he probably should have previewed it first..

That night he put them to bed, reading them a quick story before giving them each a kiss on their forehead and tucking them into bed. 

15 minutes.

15 minutes of almost sleep when he heard you guys’ bedroom door creak open, 3 sets of little feet pad over to his side of the bed.

“...daddy..?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he opened them, brown eyes meeting the teary ones of his 3 children as they stood there. Speaking in as soft of a voice as he could he tried not to sound as tired as he knew he was.

“What is it munchkin?” His daughters all fidgeted where they stood, fiddling with the hems of their princess night gowns as they stood there.

“...We’re scared...can we sleep with you..?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get them to sleep like you could, and being incredibly tired himself he moved to the side, opening the covers and making room for all 3 of his princesses.

...This was going to be a long night for him.. 

Daishou Suguru: 

Daishou had been playing outside with his kids, his 2 year old son Kento and his 5 year old daughter Shizuko.

His son was sat on his shoulders, one of Daishou’s hands wrapped firmly around the boys ankles while the other pushed his daughter on the swing.

You had been inside getting dinner ready while they had been outside; smiling fondly at the smiles that were plastered on their faces.

When dinner had finished you walked to the sliding glass door, opening it and calling to them. “Dinners ready! Come inside and wash up so we can eat.” Your daughter and husband replied with ‘okay!’ as you went back to get plates. 

Slowing down the swing Daishou brought it to a stop so Skizuko could safely get off.

In all honesty, he was a good dad.

He was very mindful of his children and their surroundings, so they didn’t get hurt too often.

He was also very careful not to accidentally hurt them.

But accidents happen.

Walking to the back door, he, somehow either forgot or the thought didn’t register in his mind that his son was still perched on his shoulders.

He didn’t remember until a loud *whack!* was heard, and his sons cries sounded above him.

..He had tried going inside, through the door, with his son on his shoulders.

Bringing him down from his shoulders he quickly brought him inside to set him down on the counter, you almost screaming when you saw the bruise forming on his little forehead.

“Ah-wha-how- SUGURU! What happened?!”

Groaning Daishou gently put a small ice pack on his sons head, “...He whacked his head on the door frame...” You looked at him, “And how did he do that?”

Daishou sighed as he looked down, grimacing at the purple mark already present on his sons head.

...For the next few nights the couch became a good friend of his.

Numai Kazuma: 

Today was your son, Kazuya’s birthday. Today he would be turning 1.

Kazuya was the first, and so far only child you had with your husband of 3 years Kazuma Numai.

You and Numai were still learning how to be parents, and it had been an interesting journey to say the least, but you guys were doing good!

Your relatives and friends had just left, leaving you, Kazuma and your son.

It was pretty late so you started cleaning up in the kitchen and Numai started in the living room.

Kazuya had been pretty fussy, you both figuring he was tired, but when you tried to put him to sleep he wouldn’t even close his eyes.

So, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way Numai held Kazuya as he was cleaning.

Things had been going just fine before Kazuya had reached out to grab at something on a nearby book shelf, causing the book shelf to start tipping over.

At that moment the only thing going through Numai’s mind was ‘stop the book shelf’, because at the moment, getting his son and him crushed by a bookshelf seemed like a very bad thing.

But what he hadn’t thought of was the fact that reflexively he had used both of his arms to stop said shelf (which didn’t even fall), the same two arms that had been holding his- “WAAAHH”

His eyes snapped down to the BABY he had just let go of, now crying on the floor.

You rushed into the living room, seeing your husband now cradling your still crying son, whispering apologies into his hair as he kissed the top of his head.

“Kazuma what happened?” 

He avoided eye contact. 

“...Kazuma...” Looking down he spoke.

“...I dropped him...”

...

“...you what?”

[veryveryverytemporarily]

Started writing this AU where Aaron moves into a flatshare. I’m not going to post on Ao3 until complete but let me know if you like the idea of it

Come sail your ships around me

Colin - it says in handwriting on the envelope.

Aaron picks it up and looks inside, thumbs the crisp fiver, a couple of ones, and a shiny fifty penny piece.

Beside it there’s a note and a discarded pen. Strange to think of him writing it - this person that he’s never met.

All the other details about the house are typed and left in a folder with plastic sleeves, like a holiday let. Only this isn’t - It’s home, for now at least.

Leave this out for the milkman, he comes around six. I get a pint of organic every day. If you want to order something for yourself, you’d better let him know.

Aaron raises his brows. Every day? What’s he doing; bathing in it?

He puts the note down again on the kitchen counter, sees his work boots have left a trail of mud and bends to take them off, unthreading the laces from the metal eyes. In his socks, he pads over to the sink and opens the cupboard, peering underneath for a cloth. The place is spanking clean.

He finds some anti-bacterial spray. He’d better show willing.

 ‘Explain it to me again, you’re sharing with this bloke -,’ his Mum is giving him the third degree, ‘who you know nothing about, and haven’t met, and sleeping in the same flaming bed? That can’t be right!’

Aaron holds his fork an inch from his lips, suspending the simple pleasure of a full English. This is why he needs to leave, this and all the other stuff going on in his head; he needs the space. They can’t keep treating him like a kid, like a victim.

‘I’ve already told you; he works nights, I work days. It’s a one-bedroom gaff but we’re not there at the same time.’

‘Like a timeshare, then,’ Paddy offers.

‘Take your own sheets at least.’

He drops his cutlery with a clatter and stands. It’s enough now, but his Mum can’t help herself.

‘Just, why would he do that, rent the place out when he’s not there?’ She spreads her hands as she speaks, throwing the question out to the universe. A question he can’t answer, because what does it matter?

He picks up his car keys.

‘We’ll see you next weekend, though?’ she calls after him. ‘We worry about you, love!’

  There are herbs on the kitchen windowsill. The evening sun slants in, illuminating the paper-thin leaves.

It’s a second-floor apartment with its own entrance from the street. At the back there are metal stairs from the kitchen leading out to a narrow garden secluded by a high fence, topped by trees.

The garden is as pristine as indoors, laid with shingle, with a bistro table and chairs, and exotic looking plants, and one of those outdoor lantern candles.

Aaron sits and drinks a beer, scrolling his phone in the peace and quiet.

Every now and then he looks up, still feeling slightly uneasy like he’s trespassing.

This must be where his housemate took his Instagram profile pic, it occurs to him. On a whim he decides to check.

He’s right; there’s the blue corner of the bistro chair, and the leaves of one of the plants. His eyes are drawn back to his housemate's face.

It’s a terrible photo; the sun’s behind him and you can barely make his features out; and, as if that’s not enough, he’s wearing dark reflective glasses. All Aaron can say for sure is that he has a goatee beard and his hair’s scraped back and tied in a man bun. You can see the collar of a utility jacket, a shiny button on the breast pocket. 

It’s hard to be sure, but he looks serious.

He thinks back to when they spoke on the phone, when he first answered the ad in the paper; he was quite breezy and business-like, but there was something about the timbre of his voice - something quiet. Like he’d survived something; just like he has. It was one of the reasons he decided to take the place.

But maybe he’s projecting.

It was something his therapist brought up when they touched on his issues of trust.

A blackbird on the fence is giving it full throttle as the sun starts its descent.

He frowns one last time at the photo - Either he’s ridiculously bad at taking selfies. Or he’s hiding. The account is only a few months old and the rest is just boring seascapes and pictures of food. Saddo! Or maybe his Mum’s right - weirdo?

No point in dwelling on it now anyway. He’s signed a contract and here he is.

He goes back indoors, unpacks his games console and plugs it in. He could get used to this; he thinks as he starts playing.

Another hour and he’s yawning. He checks his messages and procrastinates, hovering at the bedroom door. It feels like he’s snooping when he finally makes it into the room. There’s a large double bed with dark shiny sheets. They look clean enough. He has his own in a suitcase. But can he really be fussed? 

He strips off, leaving his clothes where they fall on the carpet. Raises an arm in the air and takes a whiff.

A minute later he's in the shower, admiring the marble and taking the lid off some fancy shower gel – phwoar-what? -  he tosses his head back at the heady scent. He growls For Fucks Sake! when he drops the bottle and sees the splash of dark blue against the white porcelain shower tray. He tops the bottle up with his own Right Guard Zingy Mint, then replaces the lid and inspects the bottle for drips. They smell almost the same, he reasons; his housemate will never notice.

He pads back to the bedroom leaving a trail of wet footprints and towels himself dry, looking around once again. One of the night stands has a reading lamp, and glasses, a couple of books, the other is empty. Presumably his ‘side’ then.

He swallows, slips naked between the sheets and lies there blinking. 

His Mum’s right. For someone with trust issues he’s taken a humongous risk.

He wonders if he should put on some boxers at least, feels his eyes closing. He twitches his nose as a faint masculine scent from the sheets loosens the tightness in his shoulders, and next thing, without even realizing, he’s out for the count.

 A noise downstairs outside the front door wakes him. Is it him, maybe, already back from work? Did he sleep too late the very first morning? But it doesn’t feel late. Quite the opposite.

He grabs a robe that isn’t his own from the back of the bedroom door and flies down the stairs, pulling the sides together which flap open again as he opens the mortice lock and turns the door handle.

He opens the door just enough to peer round. The light has an unfamiliar misty morning quality about it and there’s dew on the flowers by the path. 

Someone’s legs are disappearing through the gate, there’s a rattle of bottles in a crate. Glancing down he sees a shiny bottle of green-top on the doorstep. Colin!

‘Hold on, mate!’ he calls. A round face appears above the hedge. ‘Could you add another bottle a day to the delivery? I’m Aaron and,’ he manages a fleeting smile,’...I’ve just moved in with Robert.’

He sees Colin glance up to the windows of the flat and back at him from over the hedge. He clutches the sides of the gown closer at the waist, suddenly conscious of a light breeze around the nether regions.

Colin says, ‘Nice one!’ and then he’s gone before Aaron has time to add any clarification.

Aaron turns to the house and looks up. Has he made a good decision? Maybe it’s something pretty normal to move out from your parents; but for him, after the court case, this is his first stab at changing something up.

His heart lifts for a moment as he picks up the milk bottle and then glides swiftly up the steps, gown open.

Perhaps Colin’s right – Nice one!

[ibuproffie]

1. take notes every time you’re in lecture, and on applicable readings. so many people say that they’re bad at taking notes...when they NEVER take notes. taking notes is like any skill; the only way you get better is with time and practice. once you take notes consistently, you will develop a style of notetaking that works for you. 

2. rewriting your notes is valid. i see a lot of studyblrs and studygrams talk about how they never rewrite notes and that rewritten notes are a waste of time. i don’t agree. i think rewriting your notes can be an effective study method, provided you do it as soon as possible after the material is covered in class. not only does rewriting your notes make them neater, which can be nice if you have hard to read handwriting, but rewriting your notes lets you actively review material to solidify gaps in your understanding, rather than passively reading over the notes. of course, don’t do it just for the aesthetic, but i rewrite most of my notes and i’m okay with it.

3. handwriting your notes > typing your notes, in most cases. some people genuinely need to type notes and that is okay too. but most studies show that typing notes in lecture means they’re less effective at helping you remember the information covered. this is because when you type your notes, you’re more likely to copy down the information verbatim because most people type faster than they can write. when you handwrite your notes, you have to pick and choose what to write down because you can’t go quite as fast, and you are more likely to convey the information in your own words. if you like the convenience of digital notes but want to handwrite for better retention, consider taking your notes on a tablet with a program like goodnotes, which lets you handwrite with a stylus. but good old fashioned pen and paper works just as well if not better! i’m a pen and paper stan myself. 

4. functionality is more important than aesthetic. you don’t need to own any specific type of stationery to take good notes. maybe you don’t live near a muji store, maybe you like ballpoint pens better than gel pens, or maybe you just can’t be bothered to buy “aesthetic” stationery when what you can find at dollar tree works fine. that’s okay! purchasing specific stationery items won’t necessarily get you better grades. it’s really all about how you’re taking the notes. similarly, you really shouldn’t feel the need to worry about drawing elaborate diagrams, putting calligraphy titles on every lecture, or having the best handwriting when you take your notes. if these things help you learn or motivate you to study, that’s great, but you shouldn’t feel pressured to have “fancy” notes if it doesn’t suit your learning style.

5. for humanities classes, focus on concepts. for stem classes focus on examples. you kind of have to shift gears when you’re taking notes for different types of classes. in stem classes, understanding how to apply the concept is paradoxically much more important than having a super great understanding of the definition of the concept. so if your lecturer is working through a really long example, that’s not an excuse to zone out because you’ve already written down what the definition of the concept is. memorizing the pythagorean theorem is useless if you have no idea how to apply it. for your humanities classes, define as many key terms in your notes as you can if you don’t know what to take notes on. i’m grossly oversimplifying here, but you can kind of think of these classes as vocabulary courses where you’re looking to really understand what the words mean. you can later go back in and add examples. 

6. for faster notetaking, use a highlighter, a quick drying pen, and correction tape. fancy gel pens might feel nice, but when you are taking notes in a fast paced lecture, waiting for them to dry so your notes don’t smudge can be a real hassle. i would honestly recommend using a ballpoint, felt tip pen, or quick-drying gel pen as an alternative, even though these maybe aren’t as “aesthetic.” if you make a mistake, go for correction tape over correction fluid, because you don’t have to wait for it to dry and you can write immediately on top of it. if you like to add color to titles or key words, use a highlighter instead of a colored pen, as this is a lot faster than switching between pens.

7. don’t make your color-coding too complicated. i don’t use a strict color code for my notes because it’s not really practical for me, but i do like to add color to their notes, especially when it comes to memorizing specific types of information. if this is a tactic you’re considering trying out, i would recommend that you keep it very simple. try to limit it to three colors max. too much more than that and you’re liable to mess it up and get confused. you want the colors in your notes to simplify them, not make the information more difficult to digest.

8. focus on what the lecturer is saying, not what’s written on the slides or handouts. you’re not going to lecture to read powerpoint slides; you’re going to learn what the lecturer has to say, so if the lecture is going really fast, focus on the things that they’re saying rather than the presentation. this may feel counterintuitive, but most lecturers provide slides/other supplementary materials prior to lecture or after the lecture, and if they don’t, you can always send an email and ask. if you find yourself mindlessly writing down the info from the presentation or handouts and then zoning out, consider printing out the slides prior to class and annotating them with the lecturer’s comments. if they’re good at lecturing, most of the information probably won’t be on the slides anyway. remember, a lecture is a one time thing. you can always get the slides later obviously, this has changed a little in the time of rona because a lot of lectures are recorded for you to watch later, but i still think this is relevant because i don’t think anyone wants to go back and rewatch a zoom lecture because they weren’t paying attention!

9. organize your notes in a way that makes sense to you. you want your notes in a central location when it comes time for that final! maybe you want to have separate notebooks for every class, or maybe one binder or notebook with multiple sections. maybe you want to date your notes or title them so you can remember specifically at a glance what is covered in each section. maybe you want to mark up your notes with page flags so you can easily flip to the most important sections. how you organize your notes is up to you, but it’s important to have some kind of system so you can study them with ease. 

10. for notes on readings, summarize, summarize, summarize! if you have readings you want to take notes on, it’s not necessary that you copy down every single fact or key term. this will take forever, and more often than not, you will burn yourself out. instead, try to summarize what you’re reading in your head. try to write every paragraph as one or two sentences. this will force you to put the reading into your own words-active learning again-rather than painstakingly writing down extraneous information. 

[dailydianakko]

i recently came out as trans (mtf) and my mom bought me a leather purse!!! Its my first purse was wondering what i should put in it, because i’ve always used pockets up until now...

Some purse essentials I recommend are....

Travel Deodorant. It’s 99 cents, cheap and easy to throw in a small pocket. It’s summer, the sun and hormones WILL make you sweaty. Gel is best because the bar will disintegrate if left alone for a long time.

Bandaids. I feel like this one is self explanatory, considering everyone gets into the occasional scrape. Or hangnail.

Gum. Breath freshener and chewy stim all in one!

Granola bar or small pre-packaged snack, like trail mix. Emergency rations are always welcome. It’s great if you’re on the go and forgot to eat breakfast.

Cash hidden in a small pocket. Just in case you forget your wallet. $20 can get you out of most emergencies, from filling your gas tank to buying some lunch.

Pocket knife. Knives are cool and pocket knives have many uses, including stealing essential screws from transphobes’ electronics.

Tissue packet. Allergy season baybey!

Pen and small notepad. To take down your thoughts while on the go, or when you need to jot down a reminder.

Hand lotion. Sometimes your hands feel dry and gross and you don’t wanna wait hours until you get home.

Portable battery with cord. This one is pretty essential to me, considering my phone is old and the battery is crap. You can get a good one at Target for like $5.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 8 : Restless

SUMMARY

Now that you’ve temporarily moved into Oikawa’s apartment, you feel like you need to do something in return for his and Iwaizumi’s generosity. Yet, just when things start to look up, there’s always something that brings you back down.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 5,474

content : profanity, smoking

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a bit of a longer chapter, I'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed. I tried to have two perspectives in this chapter and I’m not entirely sure if I like it, but here ya go! Also I hope you like it! (Pardon my errors, I only proofread once)

Post Thursday evenings PST, if not latest by Friday.

masterlist

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“I’m thinking… Curry!” you exclaim while you begin to collect the required ingredients at the smaller grocer.

Dinner wasn’t going to be anything too elaborate or fancy, just something simple. It’s the least you could do for Oikawa and Iwaizumi, letting you stay at the apartment until the disaster at your place ends. Though you weren’t much of a chef, you were really good at making a delicious pot of chicken curry. Truthfully, you’ve never cooked for anyone but yourself before, even Ushijima didn’t have the chance to taste your cooking, so you were quite nervous about the outcome. 

Nonetheless, this was your opportunity to do something for all that they’ve done.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had homemade curry,” Iwaizumi says while the corners of his mouth slightly curl up. You think he could probably light a room up with that smile, even if it’s so stupid for you to admit it, but you were really happy Iwaizumi offered to accompany you.

“Well you’re in for a treat!” you giggle. But you're finding yourself distracted watching every move Iwaizumi makes in search of some sort of confirmation that perhaps he is attracted to you too. You know it’s your own fault for clinging onto the tiny chance of hope that it’s more than him being a courteous gentleman. 

You’re practically floored when you accidentally brush each other's hands reaching for the same item at the same time. You blush from embarrassment up as you shoot him a sheepish smile and quickly pull your hand away.

Oh god, what is going on with you? Can’t you just be normal for once? You think, attempting to talk yourself down from the severe sweat your body has broken out in.

There were only a couple more things on your list you needed and advised the rest would be found down the aisles. Rounding the corner you begin to walk down the row of groceries on the hunt for the curry roux to complete your dish. At first, you’re too busy ignoring your hyper-awareness to Iwaizumi's presence to notice, but once you do, your heart sinks to your stomach as a familiar figure stands the opposite end of the aisle.

Quickly, you back out of the aisle pushing Iwaizumi with you. He doesn’t necessarily respond, but the unexpected reaction on your part definitely surprises him as he glances down at you with wide eyes.

“My ex is here,” you breathe. 

You can feel yourself shutting down again. You at least hoped that living in a different neighborhood, you’d avoid running into Ushijima, but it seems like no matter where you go you always seem to find him. It’s almost like the universe forbids you to get over him.

Iwaizumi tries to push past you, but you shove him back.

“No, no! He’ll see you,” you warn, hands pressed against his chest. Your mind takes a step back realizing what actions you’ve committed while the tips of your fingers and palms of your hands feel his toned chest beneath them. You feel your face warm up and it doesn’t help that you feel like you're burning under Iwaizumi’s dark, intense gaze. 

“Let me look,” he argues. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Putting your hands down, you watch him go. Your shoulders lock up as you ball your hands into fists. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Your brain screams.

You turn on your heels preparing yourself to bolt if Iwaizumi has been spotted. Instead, he turns back and looks at you in shock. 

“I didn’t know that was your type,” he teases.

You furrow your brows at his response. “And what did you think my type would be?”

“I don’t know…” he clears his throat. “Oikawa?”

“What?” you shout. A look of annoyance flashed across your face, you try to sound polite, but the words come off as irritated with a hint of attitude. 

He laughs in response. “Let’s go,” he says while walking past the aisle. 

You catch your breath and hesitate, not wanting to be seen by Ushijima, but at the same time, you want to see if that girl is with him. Slowly you poke your head out to get a better look. He appears to be alone on the phone with someone, you can't hear the conversation but you notice by the way he's standing it isn't a good one. You know his mannerisms better than you'd like to admit and one thing he would do when he was having a difficult conversation is pinch the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't happen often, but when it did he would always tell you nothing was wrong when it clearly was. 

It's strange looking in from the outside, unable to comfort or distract Ushijima from his worries. 

“Pst,” you look over to Iwaizumi, snickering to himself. “Done spying yet?”

His comment startles you as you swallow hard convincing yourself to walk past the aisle to join Iwaizumi. This sad feeling hangs in your chest, a bit sharper than when you were blindsided with a break-up and a bit deeper than when you saw him with the girl. It almost like everything you’ve known was just pulled from under you, as if the last couple of years never existed, it was all a dream and now you're strangers. 

You take a deep breath as you follow Iwaizumi to continue gathering the rest of the ingredients. In your mind, you’d imagined that anger would have encapsulated you in this orb of revenge but instead, you have this longing for wanting to know if any of what you had with him was real.

As you leave, you check behind you wondering if you’ll see him again. Hoping perhaps he will see you too. But you don’t. 

“Something wrong?” Iwaizumi asks.

Your face pales as you think up a broad way to express how life just keeps getting worse and worse. 

“No, life is just weird now.”

“Cause you’re new roommates are two immature boys?” Iwaizumi jokes.

“That’s the least of my worries,” you answer, letting out a dry chuckle. 

Because I get to see you.

The grocery bags bounce against your leg as you look up at the clear sky feeling the sun’s rays kiss your face with warmth. Was it possible for you to like someone this fast? It’s easy enough to get over a break-up when someone else is in the picture, but what if that someone was a person you crossed paths with when you were younger? Was it meant to be? Or are you just imagining things?

The tension feels overwhelming as a fire lights in your stomach. 

“You know, I never thought I’d ever see you again.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says peering at you. “It really surprised me too… In a good way. But it seems you can’t keep yourself out of trouble.”

You feel a big surprise overcome as you shift your gaze to him. He’s referring to the sparkly gel pen the bully took from you. You’re certain. 

“What can I say? Trouble always finds me, I don’t go looking for it.”

You both laugh, filling your body with relief as the tension in your shoulders relaxes. This feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your body as the sound of his laugh echoes in your ears giving you the perfect amount of serotonin you need to alleviate your earlier worries.

How the hell did you get lucky enough to hear it? 

Your eyes glimmer and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. The giddy sensation gives you the confidence to slip out the next sentence you didn’t fully process--

“It’s kind of funny because I used to have a crush on you.”

You start to sweat realizing the words that just came out of your mouth and you’re silent. This isn’t exactly how eight-year-old you wanted to confess, honestly, you were going to take your crush on Iwaizumi to your grave. And now here you are. Oversharing. Something you don’t pride yourself on doing. In fact, now, you’re just worried about what he will say.

“I know,”  he replies, avoiding eye contact rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” you start, stumbling over your feet.

You feel like you didn’t hear that right. Yes, you would see him every day because you were in the same class. But you barely spoke to each other, keeping to yourself most of the time. You were discreet, to say the least.

“How?” is the only thing you can think up to say.

“I mean, you weren’t really good at hiding it, with you staring at me all the time,” he says. “But also Hina told me.”

Hina, an old ‘friend’ of yours from elementary school. You recall her pestering you about who was your crush and stupidly told her who. And what does she do in return? That’s a low blow for an eight-year-old.

Brushing it off with a dry laugh, you add, “Well that’s embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he shrugs, looking at you in his peripheral vision. “We were just kids.”

You open your mouth to speak but the words die in your throat.

“It’s not like you still have those feelings,” he continues.

Oh.

“God no,” you exclaim, sounding a bit insincere. But you’re trying to act unaffected by the strength of his words that made you feel like you just got hit by a car.

“Do you?”

“W-what?” you stutter flustered. “I-I don’t know what you’re asking--”

“I was joking. It was a joke,” Iwaizumi interjects realizing maybe he’s pushed it a little too far then playfully nudges you with his shoulder.

Your whole body tingles from the short contact. In a way, it feels like he just unknowingly friend-zoned you in a matter of seconds. But it was truly your fault for thinking that some sort of fate brought you both together. You feel like you’ve been pulled out of the strange lull of not knowing how the other person is feeling. Now you just feel like an idiot.

“Right! Just a joke!” Changing your entire expression to a more vibrant smile.

Part of you wishes you didn’t get your answer though. 

------

Dinner doesn’t take as long as you suspected, especially with Iwaizumi’s help, speeding up the process without you stressing over getting it done at a reasonable hour. It isn’t overly delicious as you taste the final concoction, but you still find it good enough to serve your friends.

“Thanks for the help,” you smile.

“No problem,” he says.

“What time is Oikawa coming home?” you question while turning down the heat and covering the curry with a lid to keep warm.

“He texted me back saying--”

“I’m home,” a voice calls from the entrance. Oikawa walks into the kitchen nose carried by the rich smell of spices. The corner of his lips curls up into a coy smile as he eyes you up and down while you stand in front of the stove with an apron on. “Didn’t know I could consider you wife material.”

“Remind me to not do something nice for you again,” you retort, irked by the shit-eating grin.

He blinks when he peeks over your shoulder realizing the delicious smell is coming from a pot on the stove. “You made dinner?”

“Yes, as thanks for letting me stay here, but I can just throw it out if you’re going to be an asshole,” you argue while staring at him intensely. It strikes you that you’ve forgotten how ungrateful he can be and perhaps making dinner was just a bad idea to show gratitude. 

“No, no, I was just kidding,” he begs. “Looks good.”

“Go sit,” you scold. 

He’s taken aback by the sternness in your voice and slowly back off to the dining table in the other room. 

Iwaizumi passes a plate of rice to you, noticing the aura of rage exuding by the way you slop the chicken curry onto the plate.

“You ok?” he asks so matter-of-factly that you could punch him as well.

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly while you finish plating that last portion. 

Walking into the other room, you set a plate down in front of Oikawa who marvels at the mouth-watering meal. 

“Thanks for the meal,” Oikawa says, delving into the curry. His eyes light up at the taste as he happily chews the tender chicken. “It’s good!”

“Thanks,” you mumble. But your anger hasn’t dissipated as he can immediately sense it whilst you refuse to look his way. “Iwaizumi helped too.”

“I can’t take credit for all your hard work,” he adds.

You look up at Iwaizumi giving him a soft smile then turn back to the food that you’ve barely touched as you continue to play with it on your plate. You’ve lost your appetite.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” you utter getting up from your seat.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?” Oikawa asks. 

“I’m just tired,” you reply, bringing your plate into the kitchen. 

No one else says anything else as they watch you go, they just pause unable to process your sudden exit. The next thing they hear is the door shut to Oikawa’s room. They exchange glances before continuing to indulge in their meal. 

Collapsing on the bed you exhale deeply. It’s too bad you couldn’t sit down and enjoy the meal but everything seemed to hit you at once. You could only take so much, from seeing Ushijima yet again to the disappointing rejection from Iwaizumi to Oikawa’s snarky comments. You don’t know why his comment jabbed you so deeply, normally, stuff like that doesn’t bother you, but you suspect all the stress and surprises you’ve endured in the past three days, you were definitely on edge.

You knew you were lashing out, but you couldn’t ignore the pain you felt inside. Maybe sleeping it off could help. Just maybe.

------

The night felt endless. Shifting in the sheets you bury your face in the pillow; it’s not the same familiar scent as it is back at your apartment, instead, it’s a mix of fabric softener with a ting of cologne that most certainly smells like Oikawa. 

Didn’t know I could consider you wife material. 

The same words repeat in your head causing you to toss and turn, unable to fall asleep with all the anxiety pent up inside. His words make sense though. If Oikawa couldn’t even see you that way, how could Iwaizumi? 

You know you’re not going to get any more sleep with your thoughts racing, so you climb out of bed and throw on a jacket.

Slowly turning the knob, you pry the door open and creep into the hall. The apartment is dark and quiet except for the subdued sound of Oikawa's snoring trailing from the living room. You study him in his deep slumber while a trickle of the light slips in through a crack of the closed curtains. You still can’t believe he gave up his bed to let you sleep in it. Lately, he’s been awfully nicer than usual to you. 

As you reach the foyer, you crouch over to slip on your shoes to lace them up. Suddenly the air in the room shifts as a hand emerges from the darkness to cover your mouth. Your fight or flight instincts kick in as you try to tear the culprit's arm away from you. But when you do, your eyes are met with Iwaizumi holding his index finger to his lips. You send him a wide-eyed glare in disapproval of his actions, you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

“Go,” he whispers, gesturing to leave.

Putting on your other shoe and quickly tying it, you get up to unlock the door.

Click!

The sound wasn’t that loud, but in the silence of the apartment, it feels like the noise shot and reverberated off the walls. You close your eyes and strain your hearing to listen for Oikawa's snoring. And it stops. But for a moment, before continuing.

You sigh as you shoot Iwaizumi with a look of relief and walk out of the apartment.

A shiver goes down your spine as you breathe in the fresh dewy morning air while the birds chirping in the background with the sun just about to rise. You lean on the railing taking in the peaceful surroundings having a newfound appreciation of how beautiful everything is.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Iwaizumi asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Not really,” you groan. “You?”

“I have a weird sleep schedule,” he continues, his voice a little groggy probably from just waking up. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers you the pack as a way of asking if you’d like one. “I like getting up early when I can.”

“Yeah I’m a bit more of a morning person myself,” you reply, accepting a smoke. As of lately you’re a morning and night person but didn’t think it was not worth mentioning.

He lights the cigarette and passes you the lighter. You watch him press his lips to the smoke, you wonder if they’re as soft as they appear providing that he seems so gentle when inhaling the toxins. Then he exhales the smoke, you watch it curl into the air and the sweet smell hits your nose urging you to light your own. In your fantasies, you imagine sharing a smoke as a form of intimacy, passing it off to each other, but obviously, this is real life and not some romance novel so you push the thought away.

“So, what do your parents do?”

The question feels like a forced form of conversation that you ask someone when you don’t know what to talk about. You know after yesterday’s adventure to your parent's home, there must have been a lot going through his mind as to how they have such a big house with so many rooms, but the inquiry is always deeply triggering. It’s not that you don’t want to answer, you just don’t like to talk about your parents much. You wouldn’t think that you have the healthiest relationship with them and you definitely didn’t believe now is the best time to give a full autobiography.

“... They work in medicine,” you try to sound enthusiastic but the words leave your mouth sounding bitter and resentful.

“Ah, both doctors?”

“Mm… Kind of,” you mutter, taking a hit from the cigarette realizing you’re going to need another one soon with the way this conversation is going.

“You don’t like talking about it?” he exclaims, noticing that you are extremely reticent to the topic.

“Not really…” 

You didn’t feel like outlining how they forced you to go to university when you weren’t completely sure what to study. And you didn’t want to tell him that they were absolutely livid when you refused to go to school. And the only compromise you could make with them is that you would go to university if you were allowed to move out to live by yourself. 

“They’re great in a sense they take care of me, but not great in a way that I am able to choose what I want to do…” you mumble, already dreading the fact you’re starting to overshare. Sure he asked, but you can’t help but feel guilty for even talking about the subject. 

“Well, what do you want to do?”

You pause. Despite his firm demeanor, it wasn’t something you expected to hear from Iwaizumi. At all. What did you want to do?

Go somewhere far away, where no one can find me, leave everything behind, become the person I want to be without any judgment… Is what you wanted to say, but instead, you murmur, “I don’t know… I’m hoping someday I figure it out.”

“No harm in that,” he responds.

“You’re lucky you know what you want to do,” you utter, peering at him. “I wish I did.”

Iwaizumi exhales and looks up at the sky that’s changing to a golden color with the sun about to rise.

“It's okay to not know what you want right now,” he begins. “It’s hard to commit to something that you’re going to do for the rest of your life.”

“How did you know?”

“One day I just knew,” he shrugs.

“I don’t think I can,” you object, fully knowing you’re being difficult. 

Instinctively, you don’t think something like that can appear before you so easily. Here you are, almost four years later, completing a degree you don’t necessarily care about, but feel like you have to do in order to get your parents off your back. You understand it’s your life and you have the full ability to make your own decisions but all you can feel is fear and anxiety wash over you at the thought of thinking where you could be in five years. 

“What about your ex?” 

You blink unsure if you heard Iwaizumi right.

“What?” you answer almost coldly.

“Do you want to get back together with him?”

“No,” you snap hostilely, raising your voice. 

“There, you made one decision,” he points out.

“Not when he’s found someone else,” you whisper.

You swallow hard as he glances up at you, his gaze finally meeting yours for the first time this morning. The statement takes you both by surprise as your words linger in the air between the two of you. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide like he’s heard this fact for the first time.

“Didn’t Oikawa tell you?” 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "What happened?"

You feel yourself emotionally facepalm yourself as you draw the conclusion that Oikawa didn't actually tell Iwaizumi everything. Now you'd wish you had clarification of what he was told.

“I saw him the other day, when I was out with Oikawa, with someone new,” you confess, taking a deep inhale you feel your eyes start to turn glassy and your heart dip. It’s a mix of feeling like the world is about to implode and embarrassment as you come to realize the amount of word vomit that leaves your mouth in Iwaizumi’s presence. 

“She knows what she wants, that’s probably why he left me. Probably smarter too and definitely much prettier,” you add, not knowing why you’re continuing to go on about it.

Yes, you’re tired and upset that all this dumb bullshit keeps happening to you, all you wanted to do was talk about it. Even if Oikawa offered, there’s this unexplainable uneasiness of being vulnerable around him. 

The next few minutes are painful as you stand in irrefutable silence that seems to speak louder than any words of comfort. You wonder if you’ve overstepped your boundaries by telling him more than he probably cares to know.

“I hear that you’re smart,” Iwaizumi finally says. “Oikawa says you’re always studying hard and getting high marks in your classes…” 

Frankly, he didn’t have to try to console you. He has no reason to. And he can’t lie, he feels a bit guilty for bringing it up.

“And I doubt she’s prettier,” he utters.

Your chest tightens as you look at Iwaizumi with bright eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before breathing out looking in the opposite direction. You know you’re a bit insane for getting your hopes up slightly, but you can’t help it with a comment like that.  

Why do you feel so nervous? 

“I’m going to go inside. See if I can get some more rest before class,” you assure, putting out the cigarette. You know you're running away from the conversation but Iwaizumi's comment was more complex than you wanted it to be.

------

It’s been almost a week at Oikawa’s apartment.

You thought it was going to be endlessly chaotic with lots of annoying bantering on Oikawa’s part, but it’s been quite pleasant. However, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t manage to get a good night’s rest. You blame the unfamiliar atmosphere, with the unfamiliar sounds coming from outside and the unfamiliar smell that most definitely is a ting of Oikawa’s clone. Each night you find yourself shifting around, unable to get comfortable, trying to plead yourself to sleep so you can survive another day. But even when you do fall asleep, you find yourself waking up every hour, checking the time on your phone, checking for missed calls or messages. 

Yes, you did in fact still have that sliver of hope Ushijima would reach out.

Yet, whenever the phone illuminates your face waking you up, even more, your notifications are empty. And honestly, your heart was too, yet also so heavy.

The past couple of mornings you’ve had classes later that day, you manage to sleep on and off until you had to drag yourself to campus in time.

But oh my god. Class is nothing short of boring making time feel like it’s moving alarmingly slow. You think perhaps you can get away with taking a nap, seeing as you are seated at the back of the class. Except as you’re about to, the professor designates a group assignment.

Fun. 

Gathering your stuff, you move to a desk to sit with your group members the professor assigned. As you scan the other student's faces before opening your textbook up, a small commotion at the front of the classroom distracts you. A student files in apologizing to the professor for her tardiness. At first, you don’t recognize her familiar appearance until she approaches your group to sit down across from you. But once you do, you realize you are met with the girl you never thought you’d see like this. 

The transfer student.

Infuriatingly enough, she’s pretty wearing a nicely put-together outfit with a face full of makeup perfectly applied. You notice the soft shine from her sparkly gloss as she smiles flashing her pearly whites. The atmosphere seems to shift as her smile radiates before speaking up. No wonder Ushijima has a thing for her. She's gorgeous.

“I’m Sara,” she announces. “I look forward to working with you all!”

The student beside you nudges your arm, gesturing you to introduce yourself.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say softly, trying to revert your eye contact with the new member whose eyes sparkle while gazing at you. 

Then it strikes you. Does she even know who you are?

-------

Back at the apartment, Oikawa enters his room to grab his homework and textbooks. The room is a mess with clothes thrown on the floor and your belonging placed unorderly in random spots. He shoots the room with a sour look, a bit displeased seeing as he always thought you were much tidier than this. Approaching his desk, he notices your pile of clothing holding his textbooks hostage, drooped all over his desk. He starts to sweat as he slowly pries his books from under hoping the heap of clothes won’t fall. And he’s lucky for a moment until a couple of articles crash to the floor.

Oikawa sighs as he begins to pick them up to place them back on the desk. But as he grabs your jacket, he hears a small thud as cartilage hits the floor. He looks down to see what’s been dropped and spies a pack of smokes. 

He hesitantly picks them up analyzing the half-used pack unsure why it was in his pocket.

“Hey are you-- What are you doing?” Iwaizumi scolds pausing in the doorway staring at Oikawa in surprise. He looks down to where Oikawa’s eye line meets.

Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi, “She smokes?”

“Uh, no,” Iwaizumi spouts out quickly, walking up to Oikawa taking the pack away from him. “She’s holding that for me.”

“Don’t bullshit, I know you don’t smoke this brand,” he sneers, face flickering with disgust. “Why are you covering for her?”

Iwaizumi is quiet as the shame he had hoped to ignore fills him with guilt.

“Fuck,” Oikawa snaps storming out of the room.

------

“Y/N,” a voice calls out to you from behind. Class finally ended and you had rushed out in order to get back to the apartment at a decent hour. Meeting Sara really put you in a bad mood and the last thing you wanted to do was linger after class for some forced conversation. Yet when you turn around to see whose voice it was, Sara stands before you smiling.

“What do you think of going out for dinner tonight? I thought it would be a good idea for our group to get to know each other more since we will be working together for the rest of the semester…”

She’s polite and soft-spoken, a seemingly large contrast from your loud and fiery personality.

“Um, I’m not sure…”  you say after a long pause. 

“Please! It will be fun. You can even bring some friends.” she pleads, perhaps more appealing than you wanted to hear.

There’s a strange excitement to her voice that makes you feel like you need to say yes as you think about it for a moment. Her invitation must mean she doesn’t know that you are her new boyfriend’s recent ex-girlfriend of 3 days. With that in mind, your curiosity grows about what kind of person Sara is.

“What time?” you reply.

------

“I’m back,” you call into the apartment. Surprisingly, you are a bit enthusiastic to tell Oikawa and Iwaizumi about the invitation. It was your chance to spy and you knew Oikawa would definitely be down to join.

Oikawa rushes out with a stern look on his face just moments after you announce your arrival. He was ready to confront you about what he found today, but before he has a chance to you speak up.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” you say while unlacing your shoes.“I met the transfer student today, her name is Sara. I didn’t realize she’s in my class.”

Oikawa remains silent, cluing into the way you radiate as you speak; it’s been a while since he’s seen you this way. Your voice seems to chirp at a higher note and the way you’re carrying yourself seemed lighter as well.

“She asked me to go out for dinner, to get to know me better,” you threw up a couple of air quotes to mock her. “You, me and Iwaizumi, we’re going. I have to see what she’s all about.”

You look at Oikawa who still hasn’t spoken and shoot him a concerned look, “What? Did I do something?”

“Dinner? With your ex's new girlfriend?” he mutters, sounding not even remotely pleased with your explanation.

“Apparently she doesn’t know I’m his ex,” you answer coy. “Or I doubt she would have invited me.”

You may not have all the answers you want, but you sure as hell know you can find out something.

“I mean, you don’t have to come, I’m sure Iwaizumi will be fine just going with me,” you smirk.

“Uh, no I’ll come,” Oikawa responds quickly, realizing he’s going to have to keep an eye on you. Right now, you don’t know that he knows you’re smoking and maybe instead of confronting you there was another way he could stop you from continuing the bad habit. He most definitely could have brought it up now, but seeing you in a happier mood, for once, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Suddenly, the door opens behind you and Iwaizumi appears glistening in sweat from his afternoon jog. He looks like he’s glowing as he wipes the sweat from his brow and gazes at you in the entrance. “What’s going on?” 

“Y/N-chan’s exes new girl asked Y/N to go out for dinner, but we assume she doesn’t know about Y/N and Ushijima… You in?” Oikawa explains.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure he understood the entire explanation but doesn’t seem to care as he notices the stars in your eyes waiting for his response. He can tell he wants you to go.

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

------

The restaurant is lively, full of patrons talking over each other while they argue over who’s going to buy the next pitcher of beer. You feel your nerves start to explode as you check the crowded room in search of Sara and your group members. Fortunately, a hostess greets you and you ask her in regards to where a big group of people would be sitting. As you follow behind her deeper into the restaurant, the more everything starts to feel real. You are on the cusp of turning around and getting out of there. 

Did you really want to see what she was like? Were you that desperate for answers? 

But you’re too late to turn back as Sara’s face lights up when she sees you. 

“You made it!” she smiles.

But you can’t meet her with the same bright smile because right beside her is Ushijima.