#excel worksheet

[idontcaboose]

I love the continuation. You have a better filing system than I do, lol.

Poor Bruce, he will never escape paperwork.

1/3

Dcxdp Trope twist

Danny hadn’t expected that defeating Pariah Dark would make him the ghost king, and give him a truckload of paperwork. If he had known, he would’ve let Vlad fight him. He despised paperwork with a passion. So, when the Justice League summoned him asking for help, he made it clear he would as long as three of their members would assist him with a task. Admittedly, he had been in his big scary king form so there may have been some slight confusion.

Batman surveyed the room full of paperwork, the teenager who looked like he was about to cry, and back to Martian Manhunter and Wonderwoman. Then, he sat down and started sorting through the paperwork.

[mosharrafdha]

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[kalmeria]

niki kunnnn my firstever phone call here and he said to come test some new dishes at cinnamon im crying

[the-thing-withfeathers]

envy

requested

a/n: uurrrgghh i love u wednesday addams <33 and i love jealous wednesday even moooore

pairing: wednesday addams x f!reader

disclosure: all characters are aged up to 18-19!! but still follows show timeline.

warnings: angst (?) but not rlly, comfort & fluff at the end!!

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

everyone in your class hated botany. it was an incredibly complicated class— not for you though, you found yourself breezing straight through it.

you sat next to wednesday in class, you two had fallen into a pattern of sitting next to each other. you had gotten close over the last few months after the hyde was defeated— or at least, you thought you two were getting closer. there wasn’t any way to know for sure since wednesday was just incredibly hard to read.

you even found yourself forming the smallest (biggest) of crushes on the girl. you’d observe her in class, her unwavering focus on the task at hand and how her face scrunched up when writing something down. even when you weren’t in class, you were observing her, when she clicked away on her little typewriter— that was when you stared the most.

you enjoyed your time with her, and she never seemed to decline spending a few moments together. when you two weren’t out graverobbing, you were having lunch at the quad together or watching some obnoxious movie you suggested.

sometimes, you’d even catch her smiling at you— or at least in your presence.

of course, you thought she could never return the sentiment. not after tyler, and not after how she promised she wouldn’t be like her parents.

you tuned back into reality and realised she was staring straight back at you. you quickly turned your head to look back at her paper.

“something wrong?” she asked, a snarky tone in her voice.

“no! nothing.” you said, your face immediately turning red. “sorry, was just distracted.”

“by…” she paused. “me?”

“maybe. would that be so bad?” you didn’t know where that came from. you had chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome when it came to her. you knew she was probably going to kill you for saying that.

“yes. it would be. you’re not usually distracted in this class… and i don’t want your eyes on me.” she said, looking back at her work.

could’ve been worse!

you sighed and looked back down at your paper as well.

you put all your focus into your work for the rest of class, completing the worksheet despite the stall of progress.

when the bell chimed, you stood up while packing your things away. you and wednesday had planned to see enid at the quad for lunch. you let wednesday walk in front of you— you were nothing if not polite.

“hey, can i see you for a second?” your professor got your attention. you gestured for wednesday to go ahead. she nodded and turned around, walking away.

“how can i help?— hey yoko.” you said, turning to the vampire that was also standing at your teacher’s desk. you two were already known to each other, seeing as she was close with enid and you were all in the same friend group. you and yoko never really spent time alone together but you would still count her as a friend.

“ms. tanaka is struggling a bit in class and needs some extra help.” your teacher started. “i thought you would be the best person to tutor her as you excel in this class. if you can find the time, of course.”

“well, i’m happy to help.” you smiled over at yoko. “i’m sure we’ll be able to find some time.”

“thanks. i appreciate that.” she said, giving you a toothy smile— or a fangy smile, in her case.

you nodded as your teacher dismissed you both.

“you joining our table for lunch?” you asked her as you both walked out of the classroom. you both walked in the direction of the quad.

“nah, meeting divina for lunch.”

“fair enough.” you shrugged.

“oh!” yoko said, whipping her phone out of her pocket as you two reached the quad. “before i forget! lemme get your number so i can ask you for your schedule.”

you nodded as she handed her phone to you. you typed your number in and handed it back to her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

across the quad, wednesday was glaring holes straight through the two of you. enid noticed the raven-haired girl get quiet and followed her eyeline, sighing as she turned back to look at her.

“you’re going to kill yourself if you don’t say anything.” enid commented. she was the only one brave enough to say something to wednesday.

“what in the world are you talking about?” she asked, still eyeing you as you gave your number to yoko. wednesday had no idea why she suddenly felt the pit of her stomach start to boil.

she wasn’t jealous, she couldn’t be.

she didn’t have feelings for you, she couldn’t.

could she?

you waved goodbye to yoko and turned around to look at enid and wednesday. her eyes flicked straight back to the food in front of her. you approached and took a seat next to wednesday.

“hey guys.” you said.

“what was that about with yoko?” enid asked.

“oh! i got asked to tutor her in botany.” you clarified.

“i’m sure she appreciates that. you’ll help her a lot.” enid nodded in approval.

“hopefully! i’ve never really tutored someone before.”

wednesday started to drown out your conversation with enid as confusion fuzzed up her brain.

“hey, you.” you got her attention, nudging her shoulder a little bit. “i can literally hear the cogs turning in your brain.”

“just thinking about my writing.” she lied through her teeth, waving a hand in dismissal.

“you must be thinking hard. writer’s block?” you asked, she didn’t like how you seemed like you cared.

“no… just in between two options.” she huffed and turned away from you slightly. “leave me to my thoughts.”

“okay…”

okay?! just okay?!

she didn’t like that you didn’t tease any further. she was too busy in her own head trying to figure out why the thought of you tutoring yoko was pissing her off so much.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

she figured it out a week later when she noticed you hadn’t seen each other that entire 7 days.

you hadn’t come by to visit, not even to see enid. and she realised it was because you were too busy tutoring yoko. yoko was big on snapchat so when wednesday peeked over on enid’s phone and saw the two of you on her snap story posing in the library.

a part of wednesday wanted to storm into the library and grab you away, redirecting your attention to where it should actually be.

she hated herself for thinking something like that. gone were the days of wednesday addams thinking she didn’t care for you. she cared, and she cared deeply.

it was even worse when she looked to her right in botany class and saw that your chair was empty. her head snapped to look at the back of the classroom, hoping, praying, that maybe it couldn’t be. but it was.

there you were, sitting next to yoko. you were leaning over to help her with her worksheet. you were too close, she thought. way too close.

you had the nerve to wave at her when you caught her staring, only earning a scowl back from the girl. she couldn’t focus on her work for the rest of the subject, maybe it was a blessing in disguise!

maybe your teacher would ask you to tutor her too.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

she tried to get your attention that day.

you and yoko were meeting in the library and wednesday had stationed herself to stand directly across from you.

“hey wednesday.” yoko said when the shorter girl took her stance.

“yoko.” she replied, turning to look at you. “you. i need you to help me with the bees.”

“wednesday, i can’t just leave. i have to help yoko. can i join you after?”

yes. yes. yes.

“no. don’t bother.” goddamn it, addams. you’re slacking. she hated that you put yoko over her, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask again. that wasn’t in her nature.

she turned around and stomped out of the library. you watched her with a worried eye.

“good on you for pissing addams off.” yoko snickered.

“shut up.” you two had gotten closer as friends, being able to banter a bit more.

“she’s probably gonna go slaughter someone with that rage.” she said.

“mmhm…” you muttered in response, focused on the door closing behind the girl that walked away.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

“can you be any louder?” wednesday muttered while she was typing on her keyboard. enid was sitting on her own bed, scrolling away at her phone.

“you know, you’re getting more irritable every second you let this go on.” enid said, wednesday could hear her eye rolls.

“i would rather die than talk to her again.” wednesday leaned back in her chair and pushed herself away from the typewriter.

“ugh! you’re so insufferable!” enid said, getting up and stomping out of their room.

great. now enid was upset. wednesday did not like dealing with that.

enid slammed the door behind her as she left, wednesday almost flinched.

a few minutes later, wednesday heard a knock.

“it’s embarrassing that you stormed out but even more embarrassing that you forgot your key—“ wednesday started as she opened the door, cutting herself off when she realised the figure standing in front of her wasn’t enid.

it was you.

“hey.” you greeted.

“hi. what’re you doing here?” wednesday asked, a glare in her eye.

“uh… enid texted me saying you were in trouble and having a hard time studying.”

no way.

“no. i’m fine.”

“okay.” you said, turning to walk away.

no way.

“wait!” wednesday called out. “yes, i need help.” she stepped aside to let you into her room.

“okay…” you said, walking in.

“do you know any other word other than okay?!” she asked, suddenly irritated at your presence.

“sorry… i just didn’t know what else to say.” you shrugged. wednesday pulled a chair up next to hers at the desk.

you sat down in the chair, dropping your bag at the side of the desk and pulling out your book.

“what were you having trouble with?” you asked, smiling up at her.

how could you smile at her knowing how much distress you brought her over the past few days?

“poison.” she answered, firmly.

“okay, wednesday. are you just asking because you’re trying to craft one of your deadly concoctions again?” you asked with a joking tone but you were absolutely dead serious. “and you shouldn’t need help with poison, it’s the thing that amuses you most in that class.”

“actually yes, i’m trying to kill the girl that brings me stress all the time.” she answered, sarcastically— the sarcasm was clear to her, not to you.

your smile disappeared. “oh… who… who are we talking about…?”

“a girl that likes to tutor vampires.”

your head tilted in confusion, why was she out to get you?

“wednesday… have i upset you?” you asked her, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“yes…” she said, sitting down beside you. you shuffled away, despite your feelings for her, she still scared you. she was more than capable of wrapping her hands around your throat and ending your life then and there.

“what have i done?” you put your book away, still keeping an eye on her.

“you left me alone for days.” she crossed her arms, you saw a pout forming on her lips. she felt that pout forming and tried to stop it.

“i didn’t realise you missed me.” you said, she started to regret pushing you away so much. “you’re not exactly my biggest fan…”

“i never said that.” she shook her head, her braids swinging side to side. “i just… i didn’t know how to deal with the fact that i care about you.” she said, that was the most honest you’d ever seen her. you had to choose your next words carefully or else she might pull away.

“i care about you too, wednesday. that’s no secret.” you cracked a smile. “were you jealous that i had been spending time with yoko…?”

“no. i don’t get jealous.” she turned away, looking at the desk. she was horrible at lying to you.

your smile became warmer as you reached over, twirling one of her braids between your fingers. you saw a red hue creep onto her cheeks, that was the most color you saw on her face ever. you slowly leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek.

“you’re pretty when you care.” you whispered as you pulled away.

it took everything in her not to just jump your bones right then and there, but she held herself back.

you stood up, collecting your things.

“okay, how about this then…” you put your bag on your shoulder. “you, me. the weathervane, tomorrow after school?” you asked.

“that would be ideal. but what about yoko?” she asked you, gritting her teeth at the mention of the vampire.

“oh! she’s doing heaps better. she actually passed our last test. we were just doing some reading in the library most of the time.”

“what?!” wednesday exclaimed, standing up. “you’re telling me you were lying about the tutoring?”

“yeah, only for the last two days though. enid kinda let it slip that you were upset about us. just wanted to see what you’d do.” you snickered and turned around to walk out the door before she could get your hands on you. “see you tomorrow, addams! you and that blush on your face.” you teased, walking out the door.

“you…” she gritted her teeth. “i’ll kill you!”

you poked your head back in.

“you care too much about me now.”

unfortunately, you were right.

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

 “See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[fratboychriswife]

The study session

Warnings: Cocky, insufferably charming quarterback with an ego the size of Texas. Reluctant !nerd reader who can’t decide if they want to roll their eyes or swoon. Heavy banter, sprinkled with sarcasm and a little tension. Academic struggles (because math is the real villain here). Flirty remarks that might make you scream into your pillow.

!popular chris × !nerd reader

Chris Sturniolo was the guy everyone wanted to be or be with. The star quarterback, class clown, and effortlessly charming, he strutted through the halls like he owned the place. His ego was as big as the trophy case his team filled every year.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. The quiet nerd who excelled in academics but avoided the spotlight like the plague. You never thought your world would collide with Chris’s—until it did.

“Y/N.”

You looked up from your desk in the library to see Chris leaning against the table, his signature smirk plastered on his face. He was dressed in his football jersey, and the scent of his cologne hit you before his words did.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously, unsure why he was talking to you.

“I need you to tutor me,” he said bluntly, dropping into the seat across from you. “Mrs. Carter said you’re the best in calculus, and if I don’t pass this test, I’m benched.”

You blinked at him. “And why should I help you?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with an infuriating grin. “Because I’m Chris Sturniolo. Who wouldn’t want to help me?”

You let out a laugh before you could stop yourself. “Your ego’s even bigger in person than it is on the field.”

“Confidence, nerd,” he corrected. “It’s what makes me a winner. So, what do you say? Help me out, and maybe I’ll sign an autograph or something.”

You rolled your eyes but agreed. Not for him—just because Mrs. Carter would probably find a way to blame you if he flunked.

-

The first study session was a disaster.

Chris showed up late, of course, sauntering into the library with his usual swagger. “Relax, I’m here,” he announced, earning a glare from the librarian.

“You’re 20 minutes late,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, but I’m worth the wait,” he said, dropping into the chair and grinning.

You sighed, pushing a worksheet toward him. “Let’s just get started.”

As it turned out, Chris wasn’t dumb—he just didn’t pay attention in class. He struggled through the first few problems, groaning dramatically every time he made a mistake.

“This is pointless,” he complained, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a quarterback, not a mathematician.”

“You’re also failing,” you shot back, shoving the paper closer to him. “So stop whining and focus.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

-

By the second session, Chris had started to improve—though his ego hadn’t shrunk a bit.

“See? I’m a natural,” he said, holding up a worksheet where he’d gotten most of the answers right.

“You’re a natural because I’m teaching you,” you corrected, but he just grinned.

“Same thing,” he said, leaning back and tossing his pencil onto the table. “You know, you’re not as boring as I thought you’d be.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“I’m serious!” he said, smirking. “You’ve got this whole ‘no-nonsense’ thing going on. It’s kind of cute.”

Your cheeks burned, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Focus, Sturniolo.”

He chuckled but turned his attention back to the worksheet.

-

By the time the test rolled around, Chris was ready. Afterward, he found you in the library, waving his graded paper in the air.

“Eighty-five percent!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a genius!”

“You’re barely passing,” you said, but you couldn’t help smiling.

“Thanks to you,” he said, plopping into the seat across from you. For once, his usual cocky demeanor was replaced with something almost genuine. “Seriously, Y/N. I owe you one.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you teased.

His smirk returned. “Too late. Same time next week?”

“For what?”

“Who knows?” he said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll flunk science just to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you with a small flutter. Chris Sturniolo might have been insufferable, but you had to admit—he made life a little more interesting.

Taggies!: @chasekeithh @mackenziezeieglerr @sophiabirlemm @jakewebberr9 @mattscoquette @mattserenity @mattsbrowser @matthewsturnioloo @christophersturnn @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisfavoritewhore..

Inspos!: @bernardsbendystraws ♡ @muwapsturniolo ☆

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[rangerbarbz]

Study Sessions

“Study Sessions”

Author’s Note: Had some time to start another blurb! (After reading Book of Bill I’m thinking about writing about Ford possessed by Bill idk) I hope y’all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think lovelies <3 EDIT: OH MY GOODNESS I DID NOT SEE ALL THE INBOX REPLIES I HAD I AM SO SORRRYYYY I HAVE SOME REQUEST IDEAS IN THERE I’D LOVE TO DO 

You had conquered every single class at Backupsmore with either an A or a B as your final grade. You wouldn’t say you were a genius by any means, but you took pride in your schoolwork and wished to graduate as soon as possible. This changed when you began taking physics. You had never been so stumped by a subject. The equations, the laws, and the Godforsaken labs were the bane of your existence. 

Your determined nature refused to let you fail, so you decided to ask your professor for help. He began doting on his star student Stanford Pines who had taken his class the previous semester and was excelling through the upper level classes. Your professor suggested reaching out to him because he had recently become a S.I. for the introductory physics and chemistry courses. He handed you a Post-It note with his name and the hours when he was going to be in the library. 

After your last class of the day, you strolled over to the library on campus, nervous for your first session. He was so smart and you were afraid that he would get frustrated with how little you understood this subject. You made your way to the S.I. lab on campus and tapped your knuckle on the wooden door that was open. There was no one at any of the tables, but there were scattered notebook paper scribbled on and a textbook open. 

“Hello?” you called, looking around for a sign of anyone. Suddenly, a head popped up from underneath the table. He had ruffled brown hair and black, square glasses. 

“Hello!” the man replied, getting up from the floor. “Sorry about that. I had dropped my pen before you walked in.” He then sat on the rolling chair and scooted it closer to the table. “I’m Stanford, but you can call me Ford. I assume you’re here for physics help?” 

You smiled. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Ford. Yes, I am here for physics. My professor recommended you to me.” You placed your backpack on the floor and sat in the chair beside him. “I just want to go ahead and warn you, I’ve had trouble in this class. I hope I don’t frustrate you too much.” 

Ford chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know you’re a smart girl. Do you have any homework that needs to be completed?” You felt your face become warm. Smart girl. You enjoyed him calling you that. There was nothing quite like academic praise to a scholar. 

“Uh, yes I do actually,” you answered, not letting your train of thought derail. You pulled your binder from the first pocket of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you two. “It’s ten problems, so if I miss more than three of them that means I have a D,” you continued as you removed the worksheet from the rings. “I am shooting for at least a C in the class overall.” 

He grinned at you like he was happy about doing physics. “Well, I believe you’re going to get no less than an A in that class.” You laughed at his confidence in you. 

“I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it, Ford,” you replied, twirling your pencil between your fingers. You gazed into his eyes; the sunlight from the window brought out hints of gold in his dark brown irises. Wow, they were so pretty.

He then cocked his head to the side. “Pardon? Did you just say ‘pretty?’” he asked with a smile tugging at his lips. 

Your face immediately became hot. Oh my God you spoke out loud not meaning to. Okay how do you save this conversation. You laughed nervously. “Pretty excited to start learning that is! Ha! Let’s get started, please. I can’t wait!” you exclaimed, all in one breath. 

Ford nodded. “What a great attitude to have, Y/N!” He then picked up his pencil and began to explain the first problem to you. He was so good at going into detail about every little thing. He was patient with you as well which was good because he kept on distracting you. 

The more you focused on him, the more features you noticed. His glasses had scratches on the wire rims, he had a prominent, square jaw, and he had unkempt sideburns. He was so damn good looking it made you want to study thermodynamics forever if it meant you got to look at him. 

You had actually gone through the homework quicker than you thought you would, so Ford asked if you would want to practice some extra problems on the blackboard. Of course you agreed. You walked up to the board ready to write whatever he threw at you but feeling self-conscious about being the center of his attention like this. He was still sitting at the table reciting the equation back to you while you stood out in the open. You then pushed your insecurity to the side in order to show him you had actually learned something today. He carefully observed you as you wrote, watching the cogs in your brain turn. He also was watching the way your face contorted in concentration and the way your fingers tapped against the chalk tray. 

“Alright. I think I’m done, Ford.” You moved to the side so he could see your final answer. 

He smiled at you, putting his hands on his knees to get up. “Let’s see what ya got,” he responded, walking over to stand beside you. You didn’t realize when he was sitting how tall he was compared to you or how broad his chest was. He began to mumble under his breath, making sure there were no mistakes present. “Everything looks good Y/N!” He then turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours. 

“You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Look at what you accomplished in just this short amount of time! If you keep on coming to my sessions, I know you can get through this class without worry.” Ford paused and looked back at the board, hands held behind his back. “It would make me happy to see you succeed.” 

You beamed back at him. Would it be inappropriate to kiss him right now? 

You (obviously) continued going to Ford’s S.I. sessions because your grade improved with each one you went to. You had also spent some time outside of the library together  by doing some photography of the wildlife around campus while Ford doodled in his sketchbook. People usually clocked him as an introvert, but he was not like that with you. He had opened up quite a bit to you about his past and what he wanted to do in the future. 

Today, you had met Ford on a bench outside his dormitory after your physics class had let out to share some good news with him. “Ford!” you called out. He looked up to see you waving a paper marked with an A+ in red ink. “Guess who got the highest grade in the class on the test last week?” you squealed. 

“Yes!” Ford said triumphantly, standing up quickly to pump his fists in the air. His sketchbook fell to the ground with some of the loose papers coming out. “I’m so proud of you!” You put your hands on his strong shoulders and jumped up and down. 

“Thank you thank you thank you! I’m just tickled pink right now,” you responded happily, bending down to pick up his drawings before the wind caught them. Ford’s face suddenly fell.

“Oh here I’ll get that,” he started, kneeling down on the concrete beside you. He was trying to pick up the papers that fell out as fast as possible, but you were faster. 

Your eyes grew wide as you picked up a paper with drawings of a woman reading a textbook, in a tree taking a picture of a bird, and one where she was just laughing. They were all you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked at them. They were so beautiful. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I- I can explain,” Ford stammered. “I- I have…liked you for a while now. You just are always on my mind, so I end up drawing you sometimes.”

“I like you too,” you cut him off. 

His face was flushed beyond belief. “I, well, uh-” 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you stated. Ford’s eyebrows lifted as you closed the gap between you with a sweet kiss. He let out the tiniest sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering close. You held his face in your hands and separated your lips from his to see his reaction. He was still blushing with a goofy smile on his lipstick stained face. 

“That was nice. Should’ve done that sooner,” he joked. You giggled and began to kiss him rapidly on his cheeks and forehead. You had left red stains of your lips with each smooch you gave him. 

“Yeah, you should have, smart guy.” He rolled his eyes and held your chin between his thumb and index finger to pull you in for another kiss. You smiled against his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell Fiddleford about this,” Ford murmured. 

“ And I can’t wait to see Fiddleford’s reaction to my assault on your face,” you laughed.

[lockburn-castle]

love and a little motivation

synopsis in which yn needs just a little more motivation pairing nonidol!jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre university au, fluff, comfort, wonwoo being wonwoo and giving reader the support they need warnings terms of endearment, talks about uni and grades (a little about law), jokes about dropping out, let me know if theres anything i missed word count 0.5k

notes: i started uni a month ago and honestly, commercial law has been kicking my ass lately so here's something i wrote about it HAHAHA i hope yall enjoy ! ꨄ

“Won, can we go home already?” you begged your boyfriend, leaning against his shoulder.

“No, yn. Hurry up and finish your work, then we’ll go home,” Wonwoo said, deadpanning as he continued to focus on his computer screen.

“But I can't concentrate anymore. The words are getting foggy and starting to swirl around,” you exaggerated, trying to appeal to his sympathy.

“Yn, you know that when we get home, you won’t touch your work. You’ve been doing so well this semester. Just a few more weeks, and we’ll be free, love,” he said, finally looking up at you with a reassuring smile.

Your grades had been steady throughout the semester, but with finals approaching, your motivation was slipping. To help keep you on track, Wonwoo had been bringing you to the library every day. He knew how much you dreaded studying, but he also knew that the thought of a bad grade was even worse.

“Wonwoo, how about I finish this worksheet and then we go home?” you tried to negotiate, but Wonwoo wasn’t budging.

“No, yn. Complete all the work your professors assigned, especially the one Mr. Kim gave you,” he insisted. He knew commercial law was your weakest subject — a class he was also taking, though he excelled in it.

“You know what? How about I drop out and start working part-time until you graduate and get your dream job? Then you can take care of me?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Wonwoo looked at you and smiled. “I’d agree to that, but your parents wouldn’t be pleased, would they?” he teased. “Come on, you’ve rested enough. Finish up your work, and we can go.”

You pouted and turned back to your computer screen, your law textbook open to dense paragraphs about contract laws and the necessity of offer acceptance - something you seriously didn't understand.

Seeing you struggle, Wonwoo finally caved. “Okay, how about if you finish up your work, I’ll cook your favorite meal and run you a bath with your favorite bath bomb?”

At the promise of that reward, you looked at him with renewed energy. “Deal!” you quickly agreed, diving back into your work. There were still a few questions where you needed Wonwoo’s help, but at least you got everything done.

“Babe, I'm finally done!” you exclaimed a bit too loudly, drawing a few curious stares. You didn’t care in the slightest.

“Really?” Wonwoo asked, reviewing your work with a thorough glance. He looked up, impressed. “I’m proud of you, yn,” he said warmly.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” you said with a smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s go home, have dinner, and relax. You’ve earned it,” he said, standing up and packing away his things.

As you gathered your things, you turned to Wonwoo with a grin. “I can’t wait for your famous bibimbap. Could you make some naengmyeon too?” you asked hopefully.

“Sure, anything for you, love,” he replied, taking your hand as you both walked out of the library together, looking forward to a delicious meal and a relaxing evening.

[writingquestionsanswered]

hiya! for writers who are complete beginners, kinda sorta maybe write at a high school level, can't describe to save their lives, have overall bad flow (as in they can't decide what little moments scenes to think up and even write, if they do, they're no good), have been told countless times to write daily and just read more but that doesn't cover the basics or foundations of creative writing, not like they can learn from a book bc they're a hands on learner anyway and p.s they're super broke so can't afford writing classes and no library near them offers free ones ---- aka me :( --- do you have any advice? lol i feel kinda doomed and that maybe writing isn't for me, but I don't wanna get my hopes down!! with the right tools, it's possible.

Free Resources for Learning How to Write

I want to start with addressing why you've been told so often "to write daily and read more" as a way to learn how to write. It's very difficult to learn and excel at a craft if you have no experience with said craft. You can read all the information in the world about how to forge a sword, but that doesn't mean you'll be able to pick up a hunk of metal and be able to forge a beautiful sword. You need to spend a lot of time watching other people forge swords, and spend a lot of time actually practicing each step yourself if you want to get good at it. Writing works the same way. Reading lets you experience what fiction should be, writing lets you practice each step for yourself.

Fortunately, there are lots of ways to read fiction for free. You can borrow books from friends, family members, and members of your community. You can check out books and e-books from your local library if you have one. You can look for Little Free Libraries in your neighborhood. There's also a lot of legally free fiction available online. Project Gutenberg, Planet E-Book, Bartleby, Literature.org, Classic Literature, Classic Short Stories, Wattpad, Archive of Our Own, Library of Short Stories, Levar Burton Reads, and sites like Kobo, Amazon, and Audible often offer freebies of both e-books and audio books.

Other free ways to learn how to write:

1 - Follow bloggers and vloggers and authors on social media who talk about the craft of writing. Some of my favorites are: Joanna Penn/The Creative Penn, K.M. Weiland, Liselle Sambury, Abbie Emmons, Hannah Lee Kidder, Brittany Wang, Alyssa Matesic, Bethany Atazadah, Lindsay Puckett, Alexa Donne, Shaelin Writes, Ellen Brock, The Writing Gals, and Sincerely, Vee.

2 - Follow writing craft blogs here on tumblr: (some suggestions) @writingwithcolor, @howtofightwrite, @heywriters, @cripplecharacters, @lgbtqwriting, @fixyourwritinghabits, @wordsnstuff, @yourbookcouldbegayer, @lizard-is-writing

3 - Watch writing craft videos on YouTube: If there's something specific you want to learn about, say, "how to structure a scene," type it into YouTube and many different videos will pop up that walk you through how to structure a scene. Just look for one that strikes you as appealing!

4 - Look for free writing resources online: many authors (especially indie authors and writing gurus/coaches like Joanna Penn, K.M. Weiland, Bethany Atazadeh, Brittany Wang, and Abbie Emmons) offer free writing resources on their web sites or by signing up for their newsletters. Often you'll see writers participating in free online writing summits/workshops which you can sign up for and either watch the videos live or via video playback that is offered for a short period of time (like 24 hours.)

5 - Do a Google Search: believe it or not, there's not a single thing you could want to learn about writing that you can't find for free on Google. If you want to learn how to improve your grammar, go to Google, type in "tips for improving grammar" and you will get a million articles that will tell you how to do just that. Want to learn how to improve your story's flow? Google "how to improve story flow" and you'll have your answer. You can even search for free worksheets, guides, and workbooks on just about anything you want. "Free character development worksheet" brought back a ton of nice looking free worksheets. "Free worldbuilding workbook" brought up several free workbooks and worksheets to help you with worldbuilding. Everything you could want to know is out there.

And, bonus: you can always read through the posts in my WQA master list to get help with a wide variety of craft and writer-related issues.

Happy learning! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[majinbangus]

Idk which idea I like more but consider university!au with reader who acts dumb so you can spend time with the cute math & science tutor, John MacTavish, also known as Soap for some odd reason. Maybe he'll tell you if you're a good student for him.

Bonus, he's sharp. Not only does he excel in academics, but he's also good at reading people. Rarely anything gets past him, so he quickly picks up on the fact that you, in fact, do not need his tutelage.

And you have a big fat crush on him.

It's adorable, really. No one's ever done something like this for his attention before. It endears him to you immediately, so he decides to play your game. He'll also act dumb, like he doesn't know what you're doing, and he'll take little moments during the tutoring session to tease you a little here and there, getting unnecessarily close and leaning over your back as he stands behind you to watch you work out a problem on the worksheet he gave you. He always smirks when he sees your hand tremble from his closeness and the stuttering that comes out of your mouth when you ask a question he knows you know the answer to.

But if you want more, if you want a proper date, you're gonna have to drop the stupid act and ask him yourself.

Or

Another university!au with top student!Soap x rival!reader who, while also smart, can never quite beat Soap's academic scores.

It's infuriating, and it's kind of a blow to your ego that it's one-sided. And maybe Soap knows that you study hard to try and surpass him. He actually likes your determination. Respects you for it. Has a crush on you because you're so hardworking and smart. He doesn't think less of you for being the 'second smartest'.

But when he offered to study with you once, you took it as an insult and glared at him whenever he greeted you for a week.

That's okay. His offer is always open and when you one day came up to him, all pouty and unable to meet his eyes, asking him to help you study, he was excited to see how your brain worked when absorbing information and understanding it. He gave advice when he could, but he found that you just needed a different perspective sometimes.

I kinda see reader as a sort of tsundere in this scenario where you gradually fall for Soap's smarts instead of being jealous of it, becoming a softie when it comes to him.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: 7-Point Plot Structure

by Dan Wells

STORY ORDER

I. Hook - hero in opposite state to their end state

Writing Notes: Hooking your Readers ⚜ The Beginning of your Story

II. Plot Turn 1

Introduce the conflict

The hero’s world changes; call to adventure

New ideas

New people

New secrets

III. Pinch 1

Apply pressure: (a) Something goes wrong (b) Bad guys attack (c) Peace is destroyed

Forces the hero into action

Introduce villain

IV. Midpoint

Movement from one state to the other

Shift from reaction to action

V. Pinch 2

Apply more pressure until situation seems hopeless: (a) A plan fails (b) A mentor dies (c) The bad guy seems to win

The jaws of defeat

VI. Plot Turn 2

Move the story from midpoint to end

Hero obtains final piece to move from midpoint to resolution

“The power is in you!”

Hero snatches victory from the jaws of defeat

VII. Resolution

Hero follows through on their decision from the midpoint

Hero becomes the opposite of their Hook state

Writing Notes: Types of Endings ⚜ Writing the Last Lines of Your Story

PLOTTING ORDER

Resolution

Hook

Midpoint

Plot Turn 1

Plot Turn 2

Pinch 1

Pinch 2

FLESH OUT THE SKELETON

Rounded characters (Sample Worksheet)

Rich environments (References on Worldbuilding)

An “ice monster” prologue (see below)

Try-fail cycles (see below)

Subplots

"Ice Monster" Prologue

Sets the stakes for the story and promises the sort of action the audience can expect to come later.

Dan Wells named it after the prologue of A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin.

Incorporating this addition to the 7-point method is an excellent opportunity to begin your story by using a technique known as in media res, in which a narrative starts "in the middle of the action."

Try-Fail Cycle

Adds a series of crises for your protagonist to contend with—they aren't meant to achieve all of their goals with ease, after all.

Here, your hero must strive to overcome a series of obstacles and setbacks before making progress toward the Resolution.

The most effective approach to this would be to add these challenges after Pinch 1 to show an escalation toward the midpoint, and after the midpoint to serve as tests leading to the final crisis.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Notes & References

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 02

summary: Miles catches onto your antics. wc: ~800 a/n: some advanced haterism going on here. this has gotten increasingly fun to write as the plot ramps up! pls don't be scared 2 leave any reactions or thoughts in the comments + tags :) 01 02 03

From then on, you made it a point to ignore Miles during partner work and punctuate it with an eye roll. He tucked his head back in surprise the first time you did it, and you felt like you’d just won a prize.

…That is, until he ignored you back. 

Eventually, Miles just turned to the person in the next column to ask for a pen instead, seeming perfectly content with working on his own.

It should've been a relief.

Today, Mr. Sanchez handed out worksheets to write a short composition on, and you struggled to recall the correct word for ‘kitchen’. All of your attempts to remember the pictures at the back of your flashcards came to nothing, finally forcing you to turn around and ask with a heavy sigh.

"Um, hey," you began, wincing at the softness of your voice. "What’s ‘kitchen’ in Spanish? You remember?"

Miles looked at you with only his eyes. " ‘Cocina’."

No puns, no off-hand comment. Not even an offer to help further. He just quietly returned to his work. 

Your plan was already falling apart now that he no longer initiated conversations for you to brush off, so you went with the next best thing: competing with him.

“Who was able to solve for the trajectory of–oh!”

The AP Physics instructor pushed back a strand of red hair as she glanced between you and Miles, whose hands had shot up at the same time.

“Let’s go with someone who hasn’t spoken yet. Ms. L/N?”

You smiled as you answered, “24.7 meters per second.”

“Excellent job, Y/N, and thank you for participating today. Now, would anyone else…”

As the woman called on other students, a strategy began to take shape. 

It wasn’t hard to tell when Miles was about to raise his hand. His eyes would go wide, with a tiny smile that said he was certain that no one else could get this question right but him. His hand went up so fast that you had to answer before the teacher could even finish their question, but it worked. And it got you a few extra points for participation.

“Now, who can tell me what makes the film ‘Romeo + Juliet’ so unique?” asked the English professor.

Miles raised his hand. “It takes the original play and reinterprets aspects of the original plot for modern audiences.”

As soon as he answered, his eyes flickered towards you almost as if on cue. Sure enough, your hand flew up.

“Y/N, what a surprise! Care to add on?”

“Of course. The director, Baz Luhrmann,” you met Miles’ gaze as you specified the name, “used his over-the-top cinematic style of directing to bring the drama of the original play to life in a contemporary context. He replaced the swords with guns and balls for parties, but kept the dialogue the same so that audiences could better understand Shakespeare without needing to grapple with the work of translating Shakespearean English into modern English. He found a way to make the play accessible without compromising on the text.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you while the stocky teacher made a noise of approval.

“Very succinct explanations, you two. I’m very impressed with you especially, Miss L/N. I hope to hear your voice more often in class.”

You noticed Miles still glaring, and rested your chin in the palm of your hand.

In a sickly-sweet tone, you whispered, “What?” 

He shook his head and turned away.

-

“Alright, make sure you go home and memorize those formulas! See you Wednesday!”

You neatly stacked your papers and slid them carefully into one of your labeled folders as the bell rang, marking the end of your last class.

The hallway bustled with students rushing like bees to their lockers. On the way to your own, a pop of color catches your eye. 

It’s a bulletin board filled with sign-ups for a number of clubs, from cheerleading to student government to debate. Remembering your college counselor’s comment about your extracurriculars “looking a bit empty”, you drew closer. Might as well, right?

You didn’t have the stamina for cheerleading, but speech and debate looked promising. Just as you took out a pen to sign your name, though, you stopped short and frowned.

At the very bottom of the list read the name ‘Miles Morales’ written with a neon highlighter. 

Then again on the art club’s flier. And anime club. And music engineering. 

‘Miles Morales’.

‘Miles Morales’.

‘Miles Morales’.

Guess you weren’t the only one who needed to beef up their transcript.

“Show-off,” you muttered to yourself. 

Just as you were about to lose hope, there was one other club that Miles hadn’t signed up for, hanging precariously off of the edge of the board from a single thumbtack:

Theater. 

And auditions were the very next day.

[miss-shirley]

24.02.23 - Day 52/103

Can't believe there's so little of my break left yet still so much left to do 🥲 I did get a good chunk further today though which means I can at least relax a tiny bit on the last weekend off (still need to study for the exam tho). Comfort mug and nice scented candle were excellent supplies.

did some laundry

finished summarising all the Sachunterricht seminars

planned most of the lessons for next week and prepared some of the materials

took a walk to school to tidy up my corners of the classroom and check out the supply room for my upcoming unit on air

copied some worksheets while I was there

got some loose-leaf tea to make my own mixture since I seem to be coming down with a cold 😢

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember Day 16: Sex Obsessed

The perfect opportunity to pay tribute to my friend/one of my favorite content creators @sex-obsessed-lesbian !

Here are some of my favorite works of hers:

Stories:

Look Into My Eyes

Really hot hypnosis dirty talk

Oral Skills

Fantastic Femdom with oral fixation and begging mmmm

Pull My Hair

Fun, sweet switchiness!

Audios:

I'm recommending some of SOL's newer Hypnovember stuff because not as many people have had the opportunity to listen to these yet.

Brain Drained

Fantastic, simple metaphor that's very effective very quickly.

Denial

I already find denial so innately sexy and this is just a perfect tease.

Smut Reward

Encourages feeling sexy and good when you're writing smut. What's not to love?

Miscellaneous SOL Loveliness:

Kinky Feelings Worksheet

A really excellent, useful tool for negotiating with a partner about what feelings you would both like to experience during a scene

SOL's How to Flirt with Girls powerpoint (for the 2019 Femmeflirt)

Educational!

Setting Your Subject Up for Success class notes

Helpful notes for one of my favorite-ever con classes

Go show @sex-obsessed-lesbian appreciation for all the cool things she has made!

Tagging @mentat101posts @thekinkycocktailclub @jam-and-stuff