#i'm not going to be able to manage it i already know

[benevolenterrancy]

might be a lot to draw so feel free to write it down (or not answer, no pressure i just love your au and wanna know more) or whatever, but I'm curious what mbj's full transformed costume looks like (+ how it differs from his dad's), og lbh's costume, and lqg's now! We got 3/4 of the gang's magical girl looks and so many juicy hints! (Unless you already answered this and i just didn't see it bc i only checked the magical girl tag... Lol)

Okay!!! Let's go!! I'm going to use this as a springboard to focus on "mbj's full transformed costume looks like (+ how it differs from his dad's) [and] og lbh's costume" aspect. Take this all with a grain of salt, since it's just some rough concepts but I'll explain my thoughts below a cut!

So since this is a ˖.⟡˚꣑ৎ Magical Girl Au ꣑ৎ˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ obviously we need the Visibly Distinct Villains/Monsters that they can fight on a weekly basis: enter demons. Demon villains also have the potential to transform, but their transformations are much more physical, and they change into large kaiju-like monsters in a way that human constitution wouldn't be able to handle. Mobei-Jun-Senior's transformation accessory is what allows him to change into a giant Ice King Demon form, and it's what both Mobei-jun and Linguang-jun are attempting to get since it will give them the power to take over their clan and kill those pesky magical girls

This is why it is such a complete shock to Shang Qinghua when a younger Mobei-jun was able to transform with him, because all of a sudden this powerful demon has gotten a magical girl form instead??? what!!! SQH's very existence is currently breaking his story's lore and he's kicking-screaming-crying about it.

As for Luo Binghe, in the OG story it was clear that he had the potential to be a magical girl (i dunno, he radiated sparkles or something) but obviously Shen Qingqiu would NOT stand for that and did everything in his power to ensure he never, ever, ever managed to unlock that ability. It was through Meng Mo (who is either an accessory or a companion creature like sqh) that he was able to begin unlocking the demonic side of his heritage, and when he finds the nefarious demonic transformation accessory Xin Mo in the Abyss he's able to fully transform as a Blood Demon (hurt him and you'll get it back 100 fold when he uses his spilt blood to Fuck You Up). From there he gets his revenge on human society and magical girls in general for what he was denied, lays waste to Shen Qingqiu, begins wooing beauties, etc etc etc.

(Airplane wrote this to be a "satire" on the standard magical girl narrative and Cucumber was spitting blood about the lazy attempts at parody and his obvious disingenuous understanding of the genre -- he stuck around for the cool monsters, kickass transformations, and his love of LBH as a character (he deserves better!! Cucumber keeps waiting for narrative payoff!!) Now Airplane is the one in agony because his world is reasserting The Power Of Love And Friendship genre trope on his world against his will. You thought you could project write a solo protagonist with surface level relationships and no strong bonds in a MAGICAL GIRL STORY? Ha. Get loved and cherished, idiot.)

[im-not-a-pleeb]

After Midnight Pt. 2

Maybe It's The Moonlight

John Price x Fem!Reader

After stepping in to be your fake boyfriend at the club, John wants needs to make sure you get home safe.

1.3 Words

Previous Part • Next Part

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" Your soft, slightly slurred voice filters through the dark room, stopping him with his hand on the door.

"I think we've already done that, love." He shakes his head with a smile you don't see.

"Just one more time?" You ask, almost pleading. "For good dreams."

John wasn't afraid that you wouldn't be able to handle yourself, he was afraid that you'd have to. A pretty young thing like you stumbling out of the club all alone, swaying in those heels? You'd catch the wrong kind of attention.

Being part of the military, he'd heard first hand the disgusting things that men would say after they dropped their gentlemanly facade. He didn't trust the way any of these blokes were looking at you for a second, and he sure as hell wasn't about to let you take your chances with them. In John's mind, he was the only one you'd truly be safe with, and thankfully, you'd agreed to go with him while you were still somewhat sober.

It took a good 15 minutes, but eventually he got your address, settled you in his passanger seat and drove you home. You'd fiddled with his radio, finding a late night station playing a song you knew. A few strands of your hair flickered and twitched out the open window as you sang softly along.

Even drunk, you seemed something like an angel, he thought to himself as he helped you up to your apartment.

Once you managed to find your keys and let you both inside, John sits you down on your bed, catching one of your swinging legs by the ankle.

"Let's get these off, then." He murmurs, deft fingers working over your strappy heels. His touch is too gentle, too soft, and it tickles the sensitive skin of your feet. You try to pull away, giggling.

"I'm ticklish!" You frown with a hiccup.

"I can see that." He responds with a quiet smile. And maybe he let's his knuckles drag across the pad of your foot on purpose as he slides off your shoe, just to get a reaction.

You squeal, tearing your foot away.

"John!" Your scold is echoed by a low woof from somewhere behind him and a stout little frenchie runs into the room, eager to protect. Fortunately for John, it's a terrible guard dog.

It jumps onto the bed beside you, whole body wriggling in excitement. He watches your eyes crinkle when you laugh at the dog jumping up and smothering your face with kisses.

While you're distracted, he takes the opportunity to take off your other shoe. This one comes off without a fuss and he sets the pair down at the end of your bed. Heel to heel and toe to toe.

"Vinny, stop" You manage to gasp between giggles. 

John pats the dogs flank gently to convince him to leave you alone. 

"Down boy. C'mon." 

The frenchie - who is apparantly named Vinny - listens. He leaps of the mattress, his tail wagging and ready to play.

He stands in front of John with his tounge poking out of his mouth and panting happily. He's never been partial to dogs, but he gives the little guy a scratch on the head nonetheless.

"He listened to you." You sound astounded. 

"He just responds to a firm hand." John shrugs, attention zeroing in on the way you press your thighs together. An eyebrow raises. Maybe you would too. The way you reacted to him back in the club has him certain that he knows exactly what you need.

"He always listened to men better than he listened to me." You frown, staring at John's fingers flexing over Vinny's head. Stupid misogynist mutt. "But he was my boyfriend's dog first though, so I suppose he's more used to him. He was too much of a responibility though, so I ended up taking care of him and now he's mine."

"No need to think of that boy anymore, dove." John pats your knee and rises. "Vinny looks perfectly happy to be with you. Now, into bed and I'll get you some pain killers for in the morning if you tell me where they are."

"I'm not that drunk." You protest, despite it being clear to him that you are. "I'm not going to be hungover."

"Just in case, then."

You think for a minute while John pulls back the sheets of your half-made bed, gesturing for you to lay back. 

"Alright." You concede. "They should be in the bathroom down the hall."

You settle into the covers and he tucks the blankets up to your chin. Vinny hops back onto the bed and curls up at your hip after turning in a circle a few times. 

"There we go. I'll be right back." He says as he steps back from your bedside. It's endearing the way your eyes are already drifting closed. You'll sleep easy tonight. John makes it across the room before you regain enough conciousness to speak. 

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" Your soft, slightly slurred voice filters through the dark room, stopping him with his hand on the door.

"I think we've already done that, love." He shakes his head with a smile you don't see.

"Just one more time?" You ask, almost pleading. "For good dreams."

"For good dreams, eh?" John repeats, amusement colouring his tone. His fingers fall from your doorknob and he turns back to your blanketed form.

"Otherwise I might have nightmares." You say, adorably sincere.

"Mm." He grunts, pacing back to your bedside. "Well in that case..."

He leans over and presses his lips to your forehead, smoothing back your hair with a delicate hand. You make a sound of disconentment and your fingers curl into the back of his neck, trying to tug him closer.

"A proper kiss." You pout when he doesn't let you get your way. He huffs at your sullen expression.

"You really are demanding."

The dog curled up beside you sighs in agreement.

With one hand braced beside your ribs, John leans down again and presses his lips to yours. Both of you still taste like liquor. Just like in the club, he feels you melt the moment he touches you. It him smiling against your lips, pleased that you respond so readily for him.

You nudge up eagerly against his mouth and he grunts, guiding your head back to your pillow. You don't get to control this.

He kisses you until your movements grow languid and sleepy, thumbs brushing lazily over your cheekbones until you can't even look at him. Content now, you let out a breath and sink into the mattress.

Light from the window spills over your face like the moon herself adores you, and John takes a selfish moment to cradle your jaw between his palms, just admiring how well the silver glow bathes you. A serene smile graces your lips, eyes too heavy to open.

"Goodnight John." Your words are slurred just as much from the hour as they are from the alcohol.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." He says in a low voice. "Sweet dreams."

Maybe a better man would have simply found the bathroom, brought you your pills, and left. But there wasn't a better man than John, and he doesn't leave- at least not right away. He took his time going through your flat, checking every window before he made it to the medicine cabinet for the Advil.

It wasn't snooping or stalking. He was just looking. Just taking note of how you lived your life when nobody else was around, simply making sure that your place was secure and that nothing seemed amiss.

By the time he's back to set the drink and pills on your nightstand, you're completely out to the world. Vinny snores away beside you, barely cracking an eye to watch him.

"Take care of her f'me until I'm back, yeah?"

The dog just sighs deeply, and John might as well take that as a yes.

Chat, I DO NOT HAVE A FOOT FETISH. NOBODY BETTER SAY THAT IN THE COMMENTS (getting ahead of the rumours okay)

I did not have a great time writing this, but it's kind of a segue to the next and final part? Maybe? I mean ig i liked how it turned out, but I gave up halfway through. I am going to legit crash out at the next part, so don't expect that any time soon.

Ik it's shorter and also still no smut (bc im scared to write it lmao) but guysss John is a gentleman, of course he doesn't want to feel like he's taking advantage of someone who's drunk. But I promise smut in the next part ✨️😧😏

[freizusein]

I wrote my first 400 something continuous words of RoL fanfic since 2022. I think I might be officially back on my bullshit. This is very unpolished and rough and I'm posting this here because I need to share my excitement. I do not know if it will ever see light of day in form of a proper fic but whatever. I'm just genuinely happy I got to write something. (Abigail PoV, I headcanon this to be before Stone & Sky so no spoilers)

My curiosity, bane of everyone who had the fortune of crossing my path, has gotten the better of me.

I reckon Nightingale's answer - if he gives, that is - might go back to the war. So I ask as casually as possible - I don't want to put any pressure on him. You gotta do that with Nightingale or he'll close up for the next seven business days.

"Like, I know about Peter and Skygarden. Everyone does. And that stunt on the roof of the Actor's church, and that crash with the helicopter… but what was the greatest height you've ever fallen from?"

Nightingale stops and considers this for a good three secs. Which already says a lot.

"A thousand feet, give or take," replies Nightingale - which is 300 metres converted to the lord and saviour, aka the metric system - and continues to walk down the hallway as if that had just been the most normal thing to say in the world.

Danni Wickford, paragon of the not-easy-to-agitate, gapes at me and then back at Nightingale. Fair enough - it's a reasonable reaction to that abso-fucking-lutely bonkers of a statement, and I would have loved to share that moment of double-take camaraderie with her. But I'm busy catching up with Nightingale. No way he's gonna get away with this and not give me at least a tiny bit of context.

He raises his hand before I can dig in, and sighs.

"Early morning hours, 6 June 1944," which is D-Day to everyone else. "Some of us were given orders to support the first wave of gliders of the 6th Airborne. Shortly before the drop-zone, cockpit took a bad hit."

Then, he grins, and his grin screams pain and deep-set trauma and a tinge of adrenaline that manages to reach me across more than seventy years and makes my blood curdle and my legs tremble.

"I knew the glider's landing would be fatal. I gave my parachute to the surviving pilot and went out of the door last. Therefore, I suppose that it wasn't so much of an uncontrolled fall but rather a deliberate jump without an alternative."

One part of my brain wants me to ask what magic he'd used to survive. It would have been dark. He would've never been able to estimate the distance to ground - a prerequisite for all spells I had ever read about that could mitigate the kinda averse consequences of a human body at terminal velocity making contact with the surface of the earth. Feather fall would have done fuck-all.

The other part of my brain, the one responsible for emotional intelligence, overrules and tells me to shut up. He'd already offered up enough. I just nod - what the fuck else am I supposed to do? I can't just hug him, can I?

Help manifests in form of Toby, who comes running, tail wagging and yapping with apparent excess of energy. Nightingale's false grin becomes a sad smile as he bows down to scratch him between his ears. He tells me that he'll take Toby for a walk and will see me later for boxing, and then he's gone.

I stay silent and watch him leave.

"He's not making this up, is he?" asks Danni, who I'd momentarily forgotten about. I look at her. Her mouth is slightly agape.

"What do you think?" I say.

"Holy fucking shit," she says.

"Yeah," I say. "Holy fucking shit indeed."

[maximumcauldronlibrarian]

I'm definitely of two minds on this.

On the one hand Mounjaro has completely changed my life in a miraculous way because I was obese from the age of 8 and gave up dieting after 20 years of not being able to manage my weight or my PCOS symptoms.

At 35 I decided to try it and am managing to maintain 4 stone lost.

I'm probably going to maintain a small dose for a very long time because NOTHING has EVER come close to even touching all my symptoms.

THAT BEING SAID:

1) I went into this having read any peer reviewed literature I could. I understand that the long term effects are thus far pretty unknown, and went into this as a last resort. It was a case of "lose weight this way or face a heart attack in about 10 years".

2) I definitely will only be losing another 2 or so stone even though I have way (weigh...haha) more to lose than that because the amount of loose skin I have is already ridiculous, and if I lost a lot more then yeah, I would look ancient.

3) SO MANY people who ask about my weight loss say they're going to go on it and most only need to lose a stone MAX (honestly SO MANY seem a perfectly normal weight!)

4) So many people are on it that even though my doctor said I was a perfect candidate for it, I couldn't get it on the NHS. now I'm on the higher doses it costs £205 a month which IS aging me.

Now it IS going to be on the NHS but the criteria is so restrictive that I still can't go on it via that route.

For me the health benefits of being so tremendously symptom free most of the time greatly outweigh (haha) the potential risks because I had literally tried everything else (including a consultation for bariatric surgery but the conditions for getting on the list are ridiculously unsuitable to those who live in rural areas and don't drive and/or have jobs where you can't take time off regularly - if you want that story let me know)

But we really shouldn't be offering this to everyone who has a little to lose. Not because I'm gatekeeping or because I feel like they *should* do it on their own and not have help, but because 80% of those that attempt the weight loss injections end up gaining more than they lost once they stop.

It is a long term, life changing thing. Any attempt for short term change will bite you in the arse.

This is a petty and evil post to make but Ozempic is making people look WORSE. It’s AGING THEM.

[sainz100]

Carlos Sainz | F1 London Live in 2017 | x x x x x

[threegoldfish]

It does something to him, to Steven, to see Dr. Harrow's eyes filling with light - to listen to the other telling that he's proud of him, of him having managed to work through a lot of stuff, things that have most likely been sitting there for years, longer than that. It causes warmth to spread inside his chest, confidence to rise, the smile on full lips stretching into an expression that almost splits Steven's face in half with how sincere and happy it is in nature.

He's trying really, really hard, after all - and it seems to work out for him, which is great! Sure, Steven's not stupid - he knows he's just taken a first step of many that are still about to come - but... the progress is noted, and a professional - Dr. Harrow himself - acknowledges how far they've come already...

It feels... nice to be praised in such a way. To be... seen. To be appreciated for the work he's putting into everything, even if it takes Steven a few tries sometimes to get to a certain point.

---The sleep-walking still exists, and it's still a problem, and it needs to be handled, figured out, yeah - they agree on that one, with Harrow confirming that him suffering from anxiety surely is connected to the main issue in one way or another. But maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to do that - maybe Steven will, one day, know exactly what causes him to do the things he does after going to bed, and he can do something to... stop it from happening. Do some more therapy, work out some knots and possible errors that might be the reason for him waking up at random locations, needing to find his way back home.

"---Yes, okay." A nod - two, three - when the other offers Steven to try and work on all of that sleep-walking soon, but would prefer for him to focus on the connection-thing for now; Again, Steven agrees with that, and his smile softens a bit as he inhales, exhales, expression open and alert, eager to... handle this. ---He's afraid of it - of... everything, honestly - but he wants to do this. He wants to try and see whether he can connect with someone in different kind of ways - watching what might be their way to build a bridge, figuring out if he can manage to build a bridge himself or not. Perhaps he'll also find someone who speaks French, which would be even better! ---Well, erm, perhaps not literal French, but... the other-kind-of-French, the... bridge-language, so to speak, yeah. That.

It is... a lot to think about, a lot to process, he has to admit that much. Harrow acknowledges such as well, tells that they still got time to talk about something else if he wants, but is aware of how much they've got done within this short amount of time. And Steven thinks about it for a moment, tilts his head a bit, before he... inhales, again, then exhales, shrugs after a moment or two have passed.

"I---I think it was... a lot, yeah." Definitely. "I still have to write an answer to Marc's letter - I don't want him to wait for too long! - and... perhaps I'll... just try to, uhm, do a puzzle again. The last one was pretty fun to solve, not gonna lie---" A chuckle, with Steven shrugging for a second time. "And, who knows? Maybe I'll manage to have a chat with someone! I'll definitely let you know in case I manage to find someone to talk to!"

Eager he is, as said. Since Steven's already here, he wants to try and make things better for himself - and if this means he has to try and be social, then he will. ---Gosh, it surely will be hard for him to do that, but... he has to give it a try. He wants to be good! And he wants to solve the whole sleepwalking-issue at some point!

"So, I, uhm... I guess we're... done for today?" Sounding a bit sheepish almost for suggesting such, Steven offers another, sincere smile to the man who's managed to get him to realize so many things about his own behavior within one single session - giving him answers to why he feels a certain way during certain moments, and why some stuff might not work out as well as he thinks it would. "I'm... actually a little thirsty now, and... I, uh, could go for something sweet. Like a pop, you know? Soda! ---Do you think I could get one? Something fizzy maybe...? Unsure if we can have drinks like these, but gosh, I've been craving an orange or peach soda---"

Arthur smiled at that. He smiled at all of it, really - not only the words that Steven offered him, but the way they were offered, as well. The way Steven sat a little straighter, the way the smile broke through the usual caution; he was watching a specific moment, he knew, and one that didn’t often happen in front of him. Maybe something was clicking, maybe something was shifting - maybe there was just a small chisel against Steven's shame. 

He reached for the notebook again, but only to set it to the side. There wasn’t much need to take notes on, at this point - the amount of progress they’d made was almost impossible to take in. Arthur had grown used to people who struggled with giving, who struggled with doing; it was nice to have someone who was willing to listen, willing to try. 

He was smiling fondly as Steven spoke to him in French, the light finally filling his eyes. “I think that’s beautiful, Steven.” It almost made the metaphor fit even better; Steven spoke French. Steven, a sub-identity of Marc, was open to treatment and support, and he spoke French. 

It didn’t make sense to care about Steven, but he almost just couldn’t help it. The man was easy to like. 

“I’m really glad that it seems to be good for you,” he continued, sincerely. “You’ve been doing a lot of heavy lifting in a short amount of time - untangling things that have likely been coiled for years. I hope you’re proud of yourself for that - I certainly am.” 

His sincere smile stayed on his face, gentle and relaxed. “Understanding ourselves is complicated. Especially when most of our lives, we’ve had to perform in ways that made us seem more… tolerable to others. It can be difficult to see who we truly are, after spending so much time being who we think we should be.” 

His voice stayed soft, measured. There was no pity, he didn’t pity the man, but rather he was softly grounded in reality. 

“And yes - I do think it might be connected. Our minds are astonishingly good at doing things to keep us safe, even without us knowing - it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, but it means your brain might be working hard to shield you. I think it is time to start gently asking why.” 

It was difficult to hold the ‘lie’, but it was necessary; Arthur likely wouldn’t be the one to introduce Steven to the thought of him being a separate identity in Marc’s head. That would be left to Steven to find out on his own - or to Marc, to confess to Steven. It wasn’t something that Arthur would be involved in. 

“I don’t want to do this right away, but when you’re ready, I’d like for us to think more about the sleep walking,” Arthur continued. “Not to diagnose or dissect, but to explore - just to see if we can find anything that might be causing it, or anything that connects it. For now, though - I’d like for you to just stick to this. This idea, the knowledge that you aren’t doing anything incorrect. I’d like you to get to the point of feeling like you deserve the connections that you want.” 

Steven wasn’t a real identity. It would be easier to put Marc on some kind of regulatory medication; it would help Marc, and it would help Steven. But if Marc was against it, then Arthur would take this other path - even if it meant more work in the long run. 

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" Arthur offered, gently. "We have some time, if there's anything else you want to talk about. But I think you've done a lot, today - we've made really good steps."

[unloneliest]

the problem of the matter is i did internalize so much of what ex friend believed about me. even though i knew he was wrong and knew what was happening and tried to stop it and if i took more action to stop it would have been abusing power i held in a way i couldn't live with myself for.

[pureshoney]

"yeah, the middle seat," she states with a nod of her head, smiling at the clear curiosity that presents itself on his face. perhaps with what she had planned for the car on their ride back to her place, he'd forget about deciding to punish her later in the night. "that's too big of a punishment," manages to whine before his tongue was twisting with hers. "i know i look pretty when i'm begging, baby, but i think i look even prettier when i cum. especially when your cum is dripping out of me, don't you agree?" knows better than to think she'd win this little debate with keenan, it was like arguing with a brick wall. but dylan had never been the kind of woman to sit back and take things quietly, even when she knew she was going to lose. she's walking straight toward the front door, not even bothering to see if she saw any of her friends on the way out. they'd be able to put it together that she left with keenan even if they were high out of their minds. "maybe he'll fuck her ass in missionary, we never know," replies with a giggle as she walks out the door beside him. turning her body slightly to the side as they walk down the steps to have stability in her stilettos while still gripping keenan's hand. "i don't think anybody is as filthy of a slut as i am," shrugs her shoulders as they make it to the car, tommy already waiting with the door open. "thank you tommy, we can go back to my place. and you don't have to open the door for us when we get there," gestures for keenan to go in front of her, still wanting him to take the middle seat. “keenan can open it for us. right, baby?" presuming at least she would be less than decent.

he was reluctant to make dyl's ego any bigger than it currently was, but there was no real way to deny how good she was — when she wasn't running her mouth and making him sweat. "when you want to be you're the best princess. but you can be a real fuckin' handful at times too." those moments when she made him flip her over onto his knee, spank her ass bright red and refuse to let her orgasm were all too common for the couple. sweeping his tongue across her lip the homme grins as she moans, likely wet all over again from sucking him off. "don't even start with that bs dylan, you knew you had me — there was no way i was ever going to say no. that is taking advantage." and if she chooses to waste her breath arguing her corner she can, he just won't listen. "the middle seat?" he can't ignore the curiosity, wondering what his girl has in store for him once they get away from the presence of other people. people who've likely just watched their friend suck dick in the middle of a party. "mm, edging", their tongues tangle as she attempts to complain, his dick already growing at the thought of it. "you sound so pretty when you beg princess, that tight cunt soaking the sheets ... " when they finally break apart keenan indulges himself in watching her attempt to pull herself back together, much easier this time around when her makeup wasn't entirely smeared down her face. after a quick check to make sure he's properly adjusted the man stands, taking dylan's hand and entwining their fingers. maybe he should insist they say bye to her friends but ... well, keenan's only a man and his girl clearly wants to leave as soon as possible to go another round. it's an easy decision to make. "definitely not the missionary couple", snorting he opens the door for them, stepping out into the mild summer night. "but who knows about the rest, are your friends filthy sluts like you dyl?" spotting the car keenan makes his way toward it, not really caring if her friends were as nasty as dylan — she was the only woman he concerned himself with.

[izzy-b-hands]

today should be a t break day

bc I'll need it to be more effective in the coming days if we see family, and then I'll have the survey shifts

but since late last night i keep randomly nearly breaking into tears and thinking abt the stupidest shit that needs to stay in the box in my brain

so idk. maybe it will be. it is thus far. but I'm not leaving my room without a container of some edible or another in my pocket either

[theood]

Have to a call a job place back and it's giving me.so much fucking dread to do it

[halfdeadwallfly]

three months until i get to go back to school. i can deal with three months.

[skeleton-keychain]

Eldest daughter syndrome (is that a term?) sure is a thing...

[neverendingford]

.

[inkskinned]

i have chronic pain. i am neurodivergent. i understand - deeply - the allure of a "quick fix" like AI. i also just grew up in a different time. we have been warned about this.

15 entire years ago i heard about this. in my forensics class in high school, we watched a documentary about how AI-based "crime solving" software was inevitably biased against people of color.

my teacher stressed that AI is like a book: when someone writes it, some part of the author will remain within the result. the internet existed but not as loudly at that point - we didn't know that AI would be able to teach itself off already-biased Reddit threads. i googled it: yes, this bias is still happening. yes, it's just as bad if not worse.

i can't actually stop you. if you wanna use ChatGPT to slide through your classes, that's on you. it's your money and it's your time. you will spend none of it thinking, you will learn nothing, and, in college, you will piss away hundreds of thousands of dollars. you will stand at the podium having done nothing, accomplished nothing. a cold and bitter pyrrhic victory.

i'm not even sure students actually read the essays or summaries or emails they have ChatGPT pump out. i think it just flows over them and they use the first answer they get. my brother teaches engineering - he recently got fifty-three copies of almost-the-exact-same lab reports. no one had even changed the wording.

and yes: AI itself (as a concept and practice) isn't always evil. there's AI that can help detect cancer, for example. and yet: when i ask my students if they'd be okay with a doctor that learned from AI, many of them balk. it is one thing if they don't read their engineering textbook or if they don't write the critical-thinking essay. it's another when it starts to affect them. they know it's wrong for AI to broad-spectrum deny insurance claims, but they swear their use of AI is different.

there's a strange desire to sort of divorce real-world AI malpractice over "personal use". for example, is it moral to use AI to write your cover letters? cover letters are essentially only templates, and besides: AI is going to be reading your job app, so isn't it kind of fair?

i recently found out that people use AI as a romantic or sexual partner. it seems like teenagers particularly enjoy this connection, and this is one of those "sticky" moments as a teacher. honestly - you can roast me for this - but if it was an actually-safe AI, i think teenagers exploring their sexuality with a fake partner is amazing. it prevents them from making permanent mistakes, it can teach them about their bodies and their desires, and it can help their confidence. but the problem is that it's not safe. there isn't a well-educated, sensitive AI specifically to help teens explore their hormones. it's just internet-fed cycle. who knows what they're learning. who knows what misinformation they're getting.

the most common pushback i get involves therapy. none of us have access to the therapist of our dreams - it's expensive, elusive, and involves an annoying amount of insurance claims. someone once asked me: are you going to be mad when AI saves someone's life?

therapists are not just trained on the book, they're trained on patient management and helping you see things you don't see yourself. part of it will involve discomfort. i don't know that AI is ever going to be able to analyze the words you feed it and answer with a mind towards the "whole person" writing those words. but also - if it keeps/kept you alive, i'm not a purist. i've done terrible things to myself when i was at rock bottom. in an emergency, we kind of forgive the seatbelt for leaving bruises. it's just that chat shouldn't be your only form of self-care and recovery.

and i worry that the influence chat has is expanding. more and more i see people use chat for the smallest, most easily-navigated situations. and i can't like, make you worry about that in your own life. i often think about how easy it was for social media to take over all my time - how i can't have a tiktok because i spend hours on it. i don't want that to happen with chat. i want to enjoy thinking. i want to enjoy writing. i want to be here. i've already really been struggling to put the phone down. this feels like another way to get you to pick the phone up.

the other day, i was frustrated by a book i was reading. it's far in the series and is about a character i resent. i googled if i had to read it, or if it was one of those "in between" books that don't actually affect the plot (you know, one of those ".5" books). someone said something that really stuck with me - theoretically you're reading this series for enjoyment, so while you don't actually have to read it, one would assume you want to read it.

i am watching a generation of people learn they don't have to read the thing in their hand. and it is kind of a strange sort of doom that comes over me: i read because it's genuinely fun. i learn because even though it's hard, it feels good. i try because it makes me happy to try. and i'm watching a generation of people all lay down and say: but i don't want to try.

[lastoneout]

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."