almost done with this paper

☆.。.:* Econ Notes w/ my fave periwinkle pen .。.:*☆

I’m almost done with my term paper which means that I’ll be able to be more active here as well. so! hype!! :^))))

7

First 5: Unfinished sketches/Doodles

Last 2: Discontinued picture/icon

I thought I should post something… Sorry that many of them are old work…!

I wish I can draw with more delicate lines like I did before

(My exams are almost done~! I might draw something with pencil&paper and post them here like I did before maybe…)

I was thinking about how sea salt that you boil in to crystals yourself is so much more potent….and I was writing about maple wine, so it all got me thinking about maple syrup/maple sugar. In some ways, maple sugar and sea salt are perfect opposites – what appears to be clear, pure water, boiled unrecognizable, emerging crystalline, the only difference salty or sweet. And making maple syrup/sugar is a PROCESS: gathering buckets of sap from around the woods, stumbling over snow banks and bushes to bring it to the sugar shack, boiling the sap and constantly feeding the fire for hours and days, going through more wood than you could imagine and watching a gradient of amber spread through the pans, darkening in to rich sweet syrup. If you want to make sugar, you take it boil it even more, evaporating the last of the water in it, the last memory of how it used to flow in a forests’ veins. It takes some 40-80 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, more to make sugar. And making syrup with someone gets real…for a time, you’re popping in and out to go collect the rest of the buckets, but after a while it’s just you and them in a small, maple steam filled shed, usually drinking something homemade and of questionable alcohol content, talking through the day and the night. Or by yourself, with your thoughts and your wishes and your ghosts, though I’ve never done this for long, just fractions of an hour, unlike friends who have spent days there boiling away heart break or trying to get their head and pans level. 

If you need something strong to protect you, you can’t do much better than homemade sea salt. But if you need to barter something, to trade for something big and important and true, I wonder if a homemade maple sugar candy might get you what you’re looking for. 

I imagine you bring it to the edge of the forest. Or more likely, that corner of the dining hall where no matter what hour of the day someone is drinking coffee and almost done a paper they never seem to finish. All the right words… “if it would please you,” what you seek, and their reply, “and in exchange?” So you make your offer: the blood of a forest’s platoon impervious to their wounds, a fire tended, a confession you would never have made otherwise, a week of your life. They are delighted, to get so much for what now seems like so little, and greedily they reach towards you, ready to take what you have promised, and before their hands, or not exactly hands anymore, can find you – you place it on the table. A small maple sugar candy. You’ve pressed it in to a maple leaf mold because hell, if you’re gonna do this you may as well do it right. The air freezes for a second, and you feel your blood still as you wonder if you have misjudged…and then you feel it begin to thaw, the sap to run again. It smiles at you. It doesn’t mind clever, and fortunately for you, it’s a fan of sweet.

[x]

Tanaka Ryuunosuke Procrastination Headcanons

Guess what I’ve been doing… NOT MY ESSAY (I have, like, two pages written). xD

My boyfriend thought it would be a good idea to go work on the website he’s making so that I can work on my paper without distraction. HE SHOULD KNOW ME BETTER BY KNOW. Lol, but enjoy what I have produced instead of a research paper.

Originally posted by dumbass-tanaka


  • Literally, I guarantee you that this boy puts everything - unless it’s volleyball - off until the very last minute. This includes all homework and studying, shopping for gifts, and even planning get togethers. This kid just cannot do things in a timely manner
  • But he complains about it all the time. Probably multiple times a day, so it’s not like he forgets. He’s constantly reminding himself and yet still waits to do it until it’s almost too late.
    • “Shit, I still gotta get my sister a gift for her birthday” or “I still haven’t done any of my summer homework and I only have a week left!” I’m sure Ennoshita gets sick and tired of hearing about it on nearly a daily basis, like GO GET  YOUR SHIT DONE, TANAKA.
  • I am 246 percent sure that Noya is Tanaka’s enabler in this field - because he’s probably just as bad - and is always like, “nah bro, you got time. Wanna go see who can throw these rocks the farthest?!” (legit that was a competition my brother and boyfriend just had).
  • And then when he actually starts working on it he just stares and stares and STARES. Because where in the world am I supposed to get the motivation to actually do this??? He didn’t want to do it when he got the assignment and he still doesn’t want to do it even though it’s almost due!
    • Ennoshita has given one too many angry tantrums about Tanaka’s work production - he’s like a strict father, lol. Saeko is always greatly amused and tends to listen outside the door.
  • Shopping. Omg, shopping for someone else is a nightmare. Christmas has been approaching all freaking year long and chances are he’ll wait until two days before to go out and try to find that PERFECT gift, because he cannot give them anything less than perfect!
    • He fucking always does too. This kid is the procrastination miracle worker.
  • Even though he stayed up all night long doing it, he got the homework done. It may not be right or the essay may not be that good to get him an A, but damnit, he turned it in completed so he deserves SOMETHING for all his hard work! (Treat yo’self, bae!)
high school gothic

-you’re writing a paper. you take a short five minute break, you look back at the clock after your break. it’s been four hours.
-you sit down in class and for ten minutes the teacher talks. you glance at the clock. it’s been 39 seconds.
-you set an alarm to wake up at 6:30am. it wakes you up but you shut your eyes for just five more minutes. you wake up. it’s been half an hour.
-you email your teacher to ask for an extension on your paper because you can’t find the rubric. your teachers emails you back, confused. there’s no rubric and there was never a paper assigned.
-you arrive home at 3:30pm and tell yourself to start homework in an hour. an hour passes. the time reads 11pm. you’re fucked.
-you reach into your pencil case and you pull out three pens. you don’t own any pens why are they in there.
-you have a speech to give. later in the day you get a grade back for the speech. you don’t remember giving it.
-you’re writing a paper and you’re almost done. you keep writing for a few hours and you’re almost done. you’ve been almost done for four hours but there’s nothing on your sheet.

Just a flower? (Jungkook Tattooartist!au)

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

Summary: “Something small…a flower?”

Genre: Jungkook x Reader TattooArtist!au ( A little angst, fluff )

A/N: Helloo!! Thx to the anon that requested this btw. I hope you like it I kind of went wild with the plot! ❤️ p.s if u want links for the tattoos ill put them on here and use your imagination for your tattoo placement and or style ❀ ✿ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃ ❋ enjoy!


“You’re such a goodie two shoes! You mean to tell me you’ve never gone to a random club for the heck of it, not even once?”

“Leave me alone!” You dropped your pencil and gave her a look. “You’re supposed to be at a meeting anyway, not instigating my personal life.” Poking out your bottom lip you pouted to yourself. She laughed while grabbing a bottle of orange juice and a bagel. You sat at the island with a few books, tea and a pencil as you watched her scramble to get out because she was late. The whole morning she wouldn’t get off your case about your so called ‘innocence’.

“I’m just saying Y/N, you traveled across the world and your nose is stuck in a book! Live a little! Do something spontaneous for once. See you later!” She ran out and you sighed in relief, you could breathe, she was finally off your back.

Do something spontaneous she says, you’ve done plenty of spontaneous things including moving here. You moved here for school but it still counts, right? You sighed, resting your chin in the palm of your hand in thought. Maybe she was right, maybe you did need to do something on a whim.


You pushed back a strand of your hair before securing the lid of the beautiful drink. 

“Jungkook?” You called the order name, searching around for whoever it might be. Who you presumed to be the man who ordered it looked up from his phone and his soft features caught your attention; and not only that but the sleeve of tattoos on his left arm, the multiple pierces in his ear, the tasteful ensemble of dark clothes. You had never seen him before, or maybe you just never noticed him; but how could you not notice someone like that? You handed him the drink and he thanked you with a friendly smile before going on his way.

Instead of gawking at the door like a crazed love struck girl, you untied your apron and ran to the back to get changed. Yoojin, your coworker and good friend was getting off the same time as you. She walked in, punching in her time and grabbing her backpack.

“That’s it!” You snapped, smiling brightly to yourself.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” Your sudden outburst startled her and she gave you a look.

“Sorry, sorry- I just figured it out.” With your hands fiddling in hair you took out the rubber band.

“Figured out what?” She remained baffled.

You grabbed her by the shoulders and laughed, “I’m gonna get a tattoo!” With that you ran out the back.


“You can do this, you can do this, you can do this….” You repeated that phrase in your head and aloud, hopping to hype yourself up. You scheduled your consultation for this evening and after this long day it was finally time. After walking a few blocks you found the spot and quickly stepped into the clean little establishment.

“Hi, - Y/N? You called for the consultation?” You nodded. A guy behind them the front desk who was equally as tattooed as most of the people in here. 

“Right past there are a few couches, you can wait for him there.” Timidly you went where he directed you and took a seat. As you fiddled with your fingers to distract yourself you noticed all of the photos of tattoos and drawings on the wall and for some reason you got nervous. 

“You’re my 5 o'clock right?” That same guy, Jungkook, the one at the cafe that you made a drink for. He must’ve remembered you too, he furrowed his brow and smiled. “Wait - I know you, you work at the cafe a few blocks down, don’t you?” He finally put his finger on it.

“Yeah, I saw you were there yesterday.” You nodded as he took his seat across from you with a clip board, paper and a pen.

“Ah, you were the one that made my drink.” He said.

“Yep,” You squirmed in your seat, biting your lips, “that was me.” 

“It was good by the way…” Your cheeks glowed a subtle rose at the compliment, even if it was for your amazing barista skills you took it to heart. “So, you’re looking to get a tattoo. Do you have your eye on something in particular or are you just looking?”

“Um, I don’t really know, I really like elegant pieces on the back.”

“Yeah, pieces like those are always really pretty, is that what you want?” 

“I think so…” 

“Let me show you some work I’ve done, similar to that.” He pulled a big binder from under the center table and got up to sit next to you. He opened up the well organized binder and flipped a few pages before stopping. You stared in aw at the elegant works of art, most of them were huge; covering most of the back or somewhere on the leg. As much as you hated to admit it, you really couldn’t concentrate on the book when his arm was in full view showcasing the pieces of art. You managed to stutter, “I like that one, I want mine that big.” He peered at the one you pointed at and he nodded in agreement. “That one is one of my personal favorites, it looks simple but it required a lot of precision on my part, it was worth it though.”

“Ok, I can draw something along the the lines of that, to see if you like it, sound good?” You nodded. His hand went to work, the pen moving back and forth with his movements. You sat there, for 15 maybe 20 minutes as he continued to draw the art that will soon be on your body. Oddly enough you weren’t even looking at it, you stared out of the window, watching the people go by; it almost calmed you.

“Done.” He showed you the paper and your mouth hung open in astonishment, how could he come up with this in such a short amount of time.

“It’s beautiful…really, really beautiful. You’re very talented.” You brushed your fingers over the drawing, admiring the little details on gentle creature. It was funny how you could actually see it on yourself, it was literally made for you.

“Thanks, I try to put the canvas into prospective- the canvas being my client of course.” He giggled to himself. “You’d look great with this, it compliments your skin and the overall way you look.” He ripped the papa we out and went to a what looked like a printer. He came back over with a sheet of paper and handed it to you. “So when do you want to set up the appointments.” The question.

“Appointments? More than one?” 

“For a tattoo that big I normally suggest a series of appointments, the pain can be a little much in one day. But we can do it in one day, it’ll be a few hours. How about next Thursday at noon? You’ll be my only appointment.” He was steadily sliding on some gloves as he continued to talk to you.

You mentally viewed your schedule and you were free. “I can do that.”

“Ok, I’ll see you then.”


With a coffee in your hand you sat at a two person table, trying to relax and take your mind off of it you decided to sit in your favorite cafe and draw for a little bit. 

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice chirped from behind you. It was him again, how come you two keep meeting?

“Jungkook? Hi- no, it’s not go ahead.” You smiled gesturing to the seat. He sat across from you with a back pack, and a book in his arm. Was he drawing too? The cafe was usually crowded at this time and you were glad the only free seat was next to you. Although he probably didn’t notice you took every chance you got to look at his face or maybe you were just looking at all of him. It was silent between you two, you both mutual have each other space and you glance at his paper but you couldn’t make out what it was.

“I never caught your name.” He spoke. You looked up sort of timidly, he was looking at you with curious eyes and you took off your reading glasses and sat down your pencil. “Y/N.” You responded softly.

“That’s a pretty name.” That smile. His smile was absolutely breathtaking and the way stared deep into your eyes was charming, even if he wasn’t trying to be.

“Thank you…um your tattoos, they’re really beautiful, did you do them yourself?” You pointed to his left arm where a majority of his tattoos were; subconsciously he touched and looked at them. “I did a few of them, maybe 5 or 6? All free handed too. Free hand is my favorite…it’s relaxing. I see you like to draw.” His gaze drifted over to your paper.

“Oh, yeah it’s…relaxing,” you giggled, “I guess…” 

“Can I see it?” You handed him the paper and his eyes lit up. “You drew this?” You nodded unsure of his reaction. “I love it.” He brought the paper close so he could study it better. “Can I use this? I swear I’ll give you full credit it’s just too good not to be used.” 

“Sure, I don’t mind, keep it. But it really isn’t that good, It’s just a flower…” With a slight smile on your lips you took out your phone and looked at a series of missed texts. You were late for work.  “Shoot, I have to go, I’m gonna be late!” Frantically you there your stuff in your bag and took the last sip of your coffee. “It was nice talking to you!” You waved goodbye as you rushed out of the building before he could respond. 


After your last meeting a few days went by and now today is the day. You were doing it, you were about to get a permanent piece of art on your body. You were proving to yourself you could be adventurous, spontaneous, all of it. You arrived at the shop and stood in front the glass door chewing on your bottom lip. “You can do this…” You pushed open the door and you looked around in confusion. 

“Hello?” Nobody was here, it was empty and silent. Did he give you the wrong time or day. “Jungkook?-” He peeked from a back room smiling at you with his bunny teeth. “Back here sweetheart.” He waved you over.

“Oh, there you are.” You made your way to the room and you saw he had all his equipment ready, it sort of added to your nerves. It’s really happening…

“Do you like it?” He showed you the large outline and you swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, I like it…” Your eyes skimmed over the paper.

“So, you just take off your top and bra and I’ll be back.” When he shut the door you stripped and held your shirt against your chest. 

“Knock, knock,” He knocked on the door and he peeked pass the door “are you ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be…” You kicked your legs mindlessly, awaiting his instruction.

“Lay down for me.” A few seconds went by and his gloved hand your lower back and you shivered upon contact. You felt the thin paper press against your skin along with his warm hand pressing precisely.

“Ok, go see how it looks.” He handed you a hand mirror and you made your way to the mirror holding it up in front of you so you could see the mirror through the one in your hand. It was big, it reached a few inches from your shoulder and lower back. It was big. 

“Do you like the placement?” He voiced from his stool, you could see him eyeing you through the mirror. He seemed to have taken a liking to your figure but he kept it at bay, diverting his eyes when you turned around.

“Yeah, i-it's good.” You got up on the cushiony table, laying flat in front of him. You could hear him fiddling with the needle and you were trying to steady your breathing.

“Don’t be nervous baby girl, it’s not too bad.” He pat your shoulder in a friendly way, trying to comfort you and soothe your nerves but it did very little to help you. “Everyone gets a little nervous on their first time. If it gets too much I can give you some Advil or we can finish up another day.” He suggested. You nodded quickly, but he was getting the feeling that you weren’t prepared for this. Taking a deep breath he turned the needle on and the sound alone gaze you freaking out, you were tense and just as the needle was about to touch your skin you panicked.

“Stop, stop, stop. I can’t do it…” You sat up, burying your face in your hands and he put the needle down in shock. You wiped the stray tears from your face as you also tried to keep your decency in tact. He rubbed your thigh in concern, “Hey, it’s ok, don’t cry…do you not like the tattoo? Is it too big? You could’ve told me, I would’ve drawn you something different-”

“No, it’s not that…I-I Just don’t know what I’m doing here.” You turned around so that your back was the only thing facing him and changed quickly. He watched you situate yourself, he didn’t have a clue where this was coming from.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time, really I am but I don’t wanna do this anymore.” You took deliberate steps to the door but you got jerked back by his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait, please. Can you at least talk to me about it? I just wanna help…” His doe eyes bore into you like a begging puppy, you were tempted to say no but how could you? “Fine…” With his hand still on your wrist he led you to sit back down and he sat beside you. 

“If it’s not the tattoo, what is it? Is it me?” He hoped it wasn’t.

“Of course it’s not you. It’s me.” You deadpanned.

“You? I don’t understand-”

“I’m not like most of the people around here Jungkook, I don’t go out a lot, I traveled half across the world and I still feel like I’m missing out, there’s not much to me…I’ve never done this before, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do something different or at least have a little fun for once in my life- but I can’t…” Your head hung low as you looked down at your fingers, how could you get like this in front of him? You were just burdening him with your own personal problems. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be telling you this…I should go…” You ease off the table and stand there for a good few seconds.

“No, you shouldn’t.” He stood up, towering over you with hopeful eyes. “You should go to lunch with me…My treat?” Although your were taken and your first instinct was to say yes- no, scream yes but you held your self together. “Ok…” 


A few weeks went by and you can say you’ve never met someone who looked at you the way he did. The past few weeks you had come to grow fond of his random late night texts, the times he’d steal you from home even if he knew you were studying. Sometimes on the weekend he’d come to the apartment just to watch tv with you, regardless of how crazy or cheesy the flics were you two would poke fun at them together. A majority of the time the night would end with you waking him up and telling him to go home or him convincing you to let him stay the night, you were the one to give in most of the time. You’d rarely go to his tattoo shop anymore, not since that first appointment. He said he wasn’t bothered by it but you knew he’d like it if you’d eat lunch with him sometimes. During lunch break you’d both go to the same place and bring your food back to your jobs. He’d ask you to come over sometimes and even though your excuses not to go were terrible he went with them anyway.

Your phone vibrated on your bed and you held it up to your face as you tried to shake of your sleepy eyesight. message from Jungkook 

8:27 

morning 

good morning angel

morning lovely

r u still sleeping ?

9:03 

hey are u alive bby?

heyy

9:05 

if you r alv can u come by

can u come by the shop??? 

I’m coming to your room window with a rock if you don’t respond in 2 mins

“Huh..” You sighed.

It’s a saturday…dont make me go anywhr

pleaseee it wont tak long

fine, be there in 15. You went to take your shower and get dressed in a comfy pair of jeans and a t shirt. You didn’t feel like going throught he hassle of making breakfast so you grabbed a banana and went out the door.

You walked into to the back room where he always was and there he was on his phone. When he caught your gaze he immediately got up to embrace you. “Hi baby.” He kissed your forehead playfully. “I have something to show you.” He took you by the hand and into the room you were gonna get tattooed in. 

“What is it?” You were anxious onto what it might be and by the excitement in his face it must’ve been good. 

“Tah-dah!” He pulled down his shirt, exposing the front of his shoulder to you with a huge smile.

“Oh my g- Jungkook, is that my drawing?…” Your mouth hung open in shock; you got closer and touched the still slightly red skin around the flower a few centimeters from his collar bone. “You liked it that much?…” 

“Yeah, I got it done  yesterday and I just couldn’t wait any longer to show you. When I told you I loved it I really meant it, I’ve been looking for something different and your flower was perfect.” He couldn’t keep a smile from forming on his lips. 

“Jungkook, that’s really sweet…” You wrapped your arms around his neck and his went to your waist, pulling him in for a warm hug and you two just stood there, enjoying each others hold.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. I have an idea for a tattoo that would be perfect for you.” You rested your hands on his chest.

“I don’t know, if I get one I want to be sure that I love it, without a doubt…you know?” You laid your head on his shoulder and he subconsciously tapped the pads of his fingers on your back.

“Can I give you a tattoo? Just a small one, I have just the one in mind for you…”

“Ok, fine.”

“Really?” You were as shocked as him to be honest. As soon as you nodded he had the needle ready, gloves and you sat down. He had this planned, you thought but you’ll let it slide. As he began the process you both agreed on the perfect place for it, and he started. The pain was fairly bearable, especially since you weren’t a panicking mess, you trusted him.

“All done, it looks beautiful.” You sat there for maybe an hour and he finally set you free. And your heart was pounding out of your chest, you hadn’t gotten a glimpse of it and now was the big reveal. You got up unsteadily and trudged over to the mirror.

“A flower?…” You gawked at it in the mirror, admiring every little detail, in your opinion it was for more creative than yours. He watched you look at the tattoo and he was getting a little nervous, did you like it? Did you hate it?

“You do like it, right? I thought since you like to draw plants and things like that I’d-” 

“Thank you, I love it, I love it,” Wrapping yours arms around his torso you cut him off. He pecked your pinkish lips making a light tint of blush appear on your cheeks. “I’m glad I was getting a little scared there. You really do love it?”  

You nodded. “it’s perfect.”

❀ ✿ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃ ❋❀ ✿ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃ ❋

I was thinking about how sea salt that you boil in to crystals yourself is so much more potent….and I was writing about maple wine, so it all got me thinking about maple syrup/maple sugar. In some ways, maple sugar and sea salt are perfect opposites – what appears to be clear, pure water, boiled unrecognizable, emerging crystalline, the only difference salty or sweet. And making maple syrup/sugar is a PROCESS: gathering buckets of sap from around the woods, stumbling over snow banks and bushes to bring it to the sugar shack, boiling the sap and constantly feeding the fire for hours and days, going through more wood than you could imagine and watching a gradient of amber spread through the pans, darkening in to rich sweet syrup. If you want to make sugar, you take it and boil it even more, evaporating the last of the water in it, the last memory of how it used to flow in a forests’ veins. It takes some 40-80 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, more to make sugar. And making syrup with someone gets real…for a time, you’re popping in and out to go collect the rest of the buckets, but after a while it’s just you and them in a small, maple steam filled shed, usually drinking something homemade and of questionable alcohol content, talking through the day and the night. Or by yourself, with your thoughts and your wishes and your ghosts, though I’ve never done this for long, just fractions of an hour, unlike friends who have spent days there boiling away heart break or trying to get their head and pans level. 

If you need something strong to protect you, you can’t do much better than homemade sea salt. But if you need to barter something, to trade for something big and important and true, I wonder if a homemade maple sugar candy might get you what you’re looking for. 

I imagine you bring it to the edge of the forest. Or more likely, that corner of the dining hall where no matter what hour of the day someone is drinking coffee and almost done a paper they never seem to finish. All the right words… “if it would please you,” what you seek, and their reply, “and in exchange?” So you make your offer: the blood of a forest’s platoon impervious to their wounds, a fire tended, a confession you would never have made otherwise, a week of your life. They are delighted, to get so much for what now seems like so little, and greedily they reach towards you, ready to take what you have promised, and before their hands, or not exactly hands anymore, can find you – you place it on the table. A small maple sugar candy. You’ve pressed it in to a maple leaf mold because hell, if you’re gonna do this you may as well do it right. The air freezes for a second, and you feel your blood still as you wonder if you have misjudged…and then you feel it begin to thaw, the sap to run again. It smiles at you. It doesn’t mind clever, and fortunately for you, it’s a fan of sweet.

[x]

Sweet As Pie (Ethan)

Summary: Requested by a few. Ethan is a barista at your local coffee shop and he writes stupid puns on your cup every time you drop by.
Word Count: 2,326
Warnings: None.
A/N: I’m still reeling from 1k followers ughhh, you guys are everything. Hope you enjoy this! Let me know if you want a part two, might make it smutty. xx


It had started last semester. You had been sleep deprived during finals and had studied all night, eventually feeling like you had to go and take a walk outside for some fresh air. It was nearing 6AM by the time you had found  yourself outside the deserted coffee shop, so you had shrugged and walked in to grab something to drink. Maybe sugar and caffeine would keep you awake.

The barista that was standing behind the counter was utterly gorgeous and you had lost your voice for a second as you saw him walk around, wiping down the counter and pushing his long curls from his forehead with a rough hand, humming. His nametag had said Ethan and he looked gorgeous in the obligatory white shirt that clung to him in all the right places. You had marveled at the stripe of red at the front of his hair, stuttering out your order when he had smiled gently, greeting you.

Keep reading

2

01.05.2017 // Definitely not on page 65 of a term paper….yikes, if I write ~500 words more, then I will exceed the max word count for an MA thesis 😟…. and I still need to write 1.5 more sections plus a conclusion. Oh well…. I’m almost done with everything anyway!

Ethics final is done, due Wednesday ✔️
Aquinas paper is pretty much done (excepts footnotes and a final read thru for typos), due next Thursday ✔️
Ridiculous 70 page paper, due in two weeks 🔜
Bio final 🔜
And then I can sleep and relax!!!! 😺

Garcia’s Helper (SR)

Request:

Hi! I was wondering if it’s not to much trouble if I could get a imagine involving SpencerXReader. Idea: she works with Garcia and has a friendship like morgan and her but with Reid and they have nicknames and they are very very close and live together. And everyone hopes they’ll get together because they are so close and are the babies of the group. You can decide to keep it a friendship or make it more(: Thank You💗

Warnings: None (Not edited)

your pov:

“Hey doll face.” I heard Spencer say from across the room. I smiled and walked towards him giving him a small hug. “Why did you leave without me this morning?” He asked looking slightly offended. “Spence I’ve been here all night. I didn’t leave without you.” I said giggling. “What? Why not, I could’ve sworn you came in.” He said walking with me to the coffee machine. I smiled and shook my head. “Penelope needed help last night, I stayed.” I told him pouring some half and half in my coffee. “I need to talk to that women, she keeps you here too much.” He told me strutting off to her office. “Garcia, you have been keeping her here too late.” He said complaining to his co-worker. “Sorry sugar plum, she offered.” She said tapping Reid on the nose with her feathery pen. He turned around and stared at me with his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, you didn’t want to come home and see me.” He said fake wiping away tears. I giggled and opened the door, “Spence you have work to be doing and so do I, I’ll come home tonight and see you.” I told him escorting him out. 

“You guys are so cute. I hope you guys get together.” The one and only miss Garcia stated, twirling a piece of hair around. “Come on Pen, you know we are just friends.” I told her pulling a chair up to my desk. “I know what just friends looks like. Just friends doesn’t look like that.” She said wiggling her eyebrows. “Then what do you call yours and Derek’s relationship then? Married?” I said snorting. “Ha-ha very funny.” She said whipping back to her monitor. “Our relationship is different.” She stated pursing her lips. “How so?” I asked back. “We don’t live together.” She said giving me a wicked smile. I rolled my eyes turing back to my screen to get the mountain of paper work done. 


By the end of the day I was tired and almost done with the paper work. My body ached and my mind was shut down completely. I laid my head on my desk closing my eyes. I sighed and yawned feeling my body relax. “Hey Garcia.” I heard Spencer say as he entered the room. “Hey lover boy.” Garcia answered back. “Lover boy?” He asked, “Yeah, you and Y/N love each other it’s obvious.” She told him. “What no we don’t.” He said in a high hushed voice. “Yeah okay lover boy.” She said laughing. “How long has she been asleep?” He asked. I felt him come closer to my side. He placed a hand on my back, rubbing his thumb in circles over the fabric. “Only a few minutes.” She answered him. I felt him poke my side and lift up my hand dropping it back down on the desk. “Y/N wake up.” He said shaking my shoulder. I groaned and pushed him away from my body. “I’m too lazy to move.” I said resting my head on my hand making me stay up. “Come on, I’ll drive us home. You can get your car tomorrow.” He told me, taking my upper arm and pushing me up on my feet. “Okay, okay. Let me grab my purse.” He held it up in his hands placing a hand on my back. “I already got it.” He said quietly in my ear. I shivered feeling the warm breath on my neck. 

I climbed into the passenger seat buckling myself in. I closed my eyes trying to get some sleep. The feelings swirling in my head gave me a headache. Do I love him? Do I want to be with him? I mean we live together but we’ve never talked about getting romantically involved with each other. I curled my hands around myself making myself feel secure. 

“Hey Y/N, we’re home.” I heard Spencer say. I groaned and stretched out my arms and yawned. “Will you carry me. I’m too tired.” I said pouting looking over at him. His tired eyes softened. “Alright angel face.” He said getting out of the car coming around to my side. He opened my door and held my waist as I wrapped my legs around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and snuggled into his neck breathing in his scent. “You’re such a baby.” He said laughing. I shrugged my shoulders, “Eh. I’m not complaining. You’re carrying me.” I said smiling into his neck. His chest vibrated as he laughed. “I guess that’s true.” He unlocked the front door and placed me on the floor. “I didn’t want to be put down.” I said whining. He playfully rolled his eyes and set his keys and shoulder bag down. “Come on sleepy head.” He said lifting my knees up in one arm holding onto my back with the other. I hooked my arms around his neck. “Spencer I like you.” I said snuggling into his neck. He laughed, “I’d hope so, we’re living together.” I laughed and shook my head as he sat me down on my bed. “No Spencer, I mean I like like you.” I told him fiddling with my hands. The blush flushed over my cheeks making me hot. He pushed me back on the bed and kissed my lips gently, but passionately. “God I’ve been waiting to do that.” 

2

I’m almost done with this paper I’m doing and I can’t wait to start reading my books and watch anime in my queue lists. Although, I just realized that it is in being busy do we find the importance of free time. lol being a bum made me bored in having way too much free time. Ah. I hope I get hired sooooooon _(:3 」∠)_

Been thinking and writing a lot about real experiences I’ve had at university, through the lens of ‘maybe my school has some Fair Folk hanging around.’ Tbh, makes some stuff make a lot more sense. Enjoy: the adventures of the students at Elsewhere University who have no idea about the fae, but just notice that sometimes stuff is weird: In the corner of the dining hall, someone is always almost done a paper they never seem to finish. They are there every time you walk in, no matter what hour of day or night. You wonder when they sleep. It doesn’t occur to you to wonder if they sleep.  The basement tunnels wind under your dorm. You were just looking for the laundry room, but you have been walking an awfully long time. The motion-detecting lights keep flickering ahead of you though. Maybe if you keep following them, you’ll find your way.  At the end of the party, there are a half dozen half empty beer cans sitting around. You plan to clean up in the morning, and by the time you do so they are already empty.  You put “free pizza!” on the flyer for his event. When it rolls around, far more people show up than you expect. Some are strangely dressed, or look somehow both too old and too young to be students. Do they even go here? Where were they summoned from?  Your professor’s apparent annoyance at students showing up to their clearly scheduled and openly publicized office hours confuses you at first. At a certain point though, it begins to look like fear. They always gesture to the bowl of candy on their desk.

Feel free to take some!

 they say every time, as though you might have forgotten, as though you might have been forbidden otherwise, as a pacifying gesture.  You plan to take a five minute break from work. When you look up from your phone again, an hour has passed. You pause to quickly reply to an email, and realize that everyone has left the library. You think, I’ll just check Facebook to see if I have any notifications, and notice that the sun has already risen.  You’ve been protesting the university’s investments for years, but don’t know the names of the people who make the decisions. There is the school president, but it’s past her, even past the management company. Perhaps it’s a guy in a cubicle with a laptop, diversifying portfolios and calculating returns. Then again, maybe it’s something else that controls the endowment’s hoard. Maybe that’s why it likes feeding on such darkness – war, apartheid, prisons, oil.  When you go to a party at a frat house, don’t accept their food or drink. Don’t drink anything you haven’t poured yourself. Otherwise, you don’t know where or when you’ll wake up. You don’t know how long it will take to escape this night.  You wonder sometimes if there are passageways in the library – closets and bookshelves and bathroom stalls that lead somewhere else. You see people walking in to the library with sleeping bags and boxes of groceries, especially during finals week. You sometimes see them wandering around in their socks, looking lost. You see them leave, occasionally, and when the sun hits them they look as though they have been away for a while.  You’re supposed to drop your paperwork off in the registrars office. You search online for it, but only come up with a website that hasn’t been redesigned since 2004. It lists the building name, which you’ve never heard of, and no address. You search the building name and find two “halls” and one “house” with the name. When you go to each of them, they tell you that the registrar has never been there, but it’s up the main street, head north away from campus, you can’t miss it. You discover a building that though you’ve walked this way hundreds of times, you never noticed before. It’s open and they give you candy and more paperwork to get filled out. Every time you go back afterwards, it’s locked and dark, although the hours posted on the door say it should be open. You decide not to drop that class after all.  You and your friend decide to room together, and for the first few months get along great. You decorate together, you buy house plants, she gives you a necklace shaped like a silver feather that she found doing end of year clean up. You’re not sure when things start to get weird, but the day after Halloween you notice she seems mad and when you ask what’s up she says she doesn’t consider you a friend she doesn’t like you and would you just go away. For the rest of the year, things continue with pretty much that tone, and you’re never quite sure what happened. You survive the year, painfully, and leave campus for the summer. You run in to her in New York at a friend’s birthday party. After avoiding her most of the night, she catches you on your way out. She says she is so excited to see you, she’s missed you so much, and gives you a huge hug. A few years later, you take a four person class together, and she’ll reminisce about when you were roomies. She only ever tells stories from before Halloween. You wonder if she only remembers those. You wonder if she was only there for those.

[x]

Every Me And Every You - Twenty Two

Spencer took your tray away and then delved into his wardrobe, taking out a suit and some boxes. He’d already showered before you’d awoke, his hair still slightly damp at the ends so you dragged yourself out of bed and headed into his bathroom.

You went about your business and then hopped in the shower, yelping as the spray hit your chest. You immediately turned the water pressure down and started washing yourself, remembering the last time you were in here and smiling to yourself.

You did seem to be spending a lot of time here in his bathroom this weekend.

When you finished you brushed your teeth and wrung your hair out, going back into his bedroom and blasting your hair with the hairdryer he’d left out, brushing it through so it dried straight.

Spencer hadn’t mentioned make up so you applied it lightly, mascara and eyeliner with a clear gloss on your lips and a light blush on your cheeks. You pulled your hair up and clipped it, almost fantasizing about being able to pull the clip out and shake your hair loose, the way you’d seen in movies or adverts.

You dressed, pulling on the stockings and underwear Spencer had specified and then buttoning the white shirt over the top, shimmying into the tight skirt and slipping into black patent heels you hardly ever wore. You completed the look with your thick black frames that you usually shunned in favour of contacts, although the prescription was so mild you rarely wore either.

Stepping back you checked yourself out in his mirror. Not bad. Not too porn starish but not too plain and demure either. Glancing over at your phone you saw it was three minutes past eleven.

Shit. You were late.

Exiting his bedroom and making your way down his hallway you saw he’d pushed his couch to one side and had dragged his dining table and his desk out into the centre of the room. The two tables were spaced a few meters apart, chairs positioned so that you would be facing each other. On the table was a stack of stationary and pens, along with a typewriter. On his desk was a laptop computer along with various other stationary. He sat behind his desk, tapping away at the keys.

He was dressed impeccably in a dark grey suit with a black shirt and a grey tie underneath. Although Spencer wore suits all the time for work, this was one you couldn’t recall seeing before. It was nice, different to his usual well worn style. Crisper.

He looked incredibly attractive to you right now.

Glancing up at you he fixed you with a cold stare, one he usually reserved for uncooperative suspects or unsubs.

“You’re late Ms Y/L/N. You were meant to start work four minutes ago.”

Oh.

Cool clipped tones. Added to the intense look he was giving you and you felt like you were actually in trouble.

“I’m sorry Sir, there was… erm, traffic on the freeway.” Play along with the game Y/N.

“I told you the last time you were late that you needed to plan more efficiently. I cannot have my office unmanned. What if a client called in, I can’t be expected to answer my own phone. That would look extremely unprofessional.”

How was he not laughing at this? You wanted to guffaw and smirk, you feeling your lips twitching.

“Do you think this is funny Ms Y/L/N. Will you find it funny when I’ve docked your wages for wasting my time? Or shall I find some other way to discipline you? Perhaps a wage docking will not suffice.”

Ermmm…

“Don’t just stand there wasting even more of my time. Apologise and get to work. The minutes from the last budget meeting need typing up. They’re on your desk.”

“I’m sorry Sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Make sure it doesn’t. I’m sick of your insolence. I will be forced to take action if it continues.”

“It won’t. I apologise.”

You slinked over to the table and sat in the chair, tucking yourself under the table. Spencer’s head was bent, his eyes following something on his laptop screen. What did you do now? You’d expected it to be very much of a ‘secretary enters the room, boss drops something onto the floor for you to pick up and then comments on your ass’ scenario. Were you actually going to have to work?

“I can’t hear any keys tapping Y/N. I need those minutes within the next hour. You’re already late.”

Okay. You WERE going to have to work.

You looked at the papers in front of you, spotting a lined note book with a label titled ‘minutes’. There was a folder on the table titled ‘previous meeting minutes’. You looked through it quickly, seeing the format that you were apparently to copy.

Alright, that wasn’t going to be too hard. You flipped through the notebook, finding the last entry in there and assuming those were the minutes you were to transcribe.
Threading a piece of paper into the type writer, you set the margins and began to type.

It had been years since you’d used one of these, you’d had a toy machine when you were a kid and as you typed, you could see how this would be the perfect machine for this game. Almost every fourth or fifth word you typed ended up with a mistake, you accidentally hitting the next key, or not applying enough pressure or applying too much.

After thirty minutes you were done. And it looked a mess.

You pulled it off the roller and surveyed it.

“Bring it here please, Ms Y/L/N.” You hadn’t realised Spencer had been watching you.

“Sir, it’s full of mistakes. I’ll do another one.”

“Bring it here,” he commanded, you jumping at the harshness of his tone.

Fuck me, that was hot.

You made your way across the floor and placed the paper on his desk.

He pulled out a red pen and started reading it, circling your every mistake before handing it back to you.

“Can you not read?” he asked, his face completely straight.

“Of course I can fu….Of course I can read,” you responded. You’d been about to curse and then remembered that a secretary wouldn’t dare curse at her boss.

“Then how hard is it for you to copy words from one paper to another? This is full of spelling mistakes and misprints. Do it again.”

“Yes Sir, sorry Sir.”

He crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the wire bin by his feet.

“Ms Y/L/N. Tread very carefully. You truly are on your last strikes here.”

“Yes Sir.”

You walked back to the table and threaded a new piece of paper into the roller and began typing very carefully and very slowly, trying to avoid mistakes.

When you were halfway through, you hit the wrong key, cursing under your breath as you did so.

“What was that?” the voice was loud and clear across the room and he fixed you with a steely look as you tore the paper off the roller and discarded it into the bin.

“Nothing Sir,“ you replied, starting a new paper.

“I hope so. And do try to keep the wastage to a minimum please Ms Y/L/N.” He bent his head again, going back to whatever he was doing.

Halfway through your next attempt Spencer strolled across the room moving to stand behind you and watching over you as you attempted to type with precision.

Stupid fucking typewriter, there was a reason no one used them anymore.

Feeling his eyes on you as you ‘worked’ added extra pressure, extra excitement to the game, and you typed even slower wanting to get this right. Maybe you’d be rewarded if you did it well?

You felt a draft across the base of your neck, fingers barely touching you but causing your hairs to stand up on end and a shiver to run down your spine

“This one looks much better Y/N. I was worried I was going to have to discipline you if you made another mistake.”

“No Sir.”

His finger trailed slowly up and down the centre of your neck, making you still your movements on the keys.

“Shame….. Do carry on. I’m not preventing you from working am I?”

Yes. Yes he was. The soft touches to your neck were making you feel things, and you felt an ache in your chest as your still sensitive nipples hardened against the lace of of your bra.

“No sir, not at all.” You straightened your back and continued typing slowly. Spencer’s fingers danced across your throat, his hand moving to your front and slipping under the collar of the white shirt you were wearing, his fingertips grazing the tops of your breasts.

He moved so he was directly behind you, his hand slipping lower and fingering the lace material, toying with it and then moving his hand so he was cupping you over the fabric of your bra. He squeezed lightly and you jumped, cursing as you hit the key too hard causing the letter to smudge.

Spencer leant over inspecting the paper on the roll, his hand not leaving your chest as be placed his face alongside yours, his lips next to your ear.

“Well look at that Ms Y/L/N. A mistake.”

Yes that you caused, would have been your usual retort in any normal situation.

“I’m sorry Sir. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“And what about every other day? The amount of letters I have to send back to you because they’re wrong is ridiculous.”

He shifted his hand so that it was now inside the the cup of your bra, your hard bud pressing against the palm of his hand. He moved it back and forth ever so slightly.

Jesus, fuck!

“What was that Y/N? I didn’t hear you answer my question.”

Erm….

“I’m sorry Sir. I don’t know why I’m so terrible recently.”

He dragged his hand back up and out of your shirt, his fingers parting as they moved over your nipple, catching it between them. You moaned quietly at the sensation and then at the loss of contact.

“Start again. You have one last attempt. If it’s not perfect this next time, I will take you over my desk and punish you for every mistake you’ve made. Perhaps then you’ll learn to associate mistakes with punishment and you won’t make them. Understood.”

“Understood.”

Spencer walked back to desk again and sat down. This time he placed his elbows on the desk, leaning his head on his hands and watching you.

You started again with a new piece of paper.

How many mistakes did you make here?

You decided to just type naturally and not force them. With this stupid machine you were bound to make some. You typed quickly, almost ripping the paper from the roll when you were done and sauntering across to his desk confidently, your hips swaying as you walked. You handed him the paper.

Uncapping his red pen, he began to mark, your eyes widening when you realised how many there were.

Had your subconscious made you add more in that you’d thought?

Probably…

“This is worse than the first effort Y/N.” His eyes were cold, his gaze unflinching.

“Is it? Please forgive me Sir. I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

Come on….

“Yes you will. Because next time you’ll remember what happens if you submit a piece of work this shoddy to me again.”

He turned the paper and placed it on the desk in front of you.

“Pull up your skirt so that it’s around your waist and pull down your underwear. Then put your arms on the desk and bend over it.”

You did as he instructed, dropping your french knickers to your ankles.

Spencer reached into a drawer on the side of the desk and pulled out a small wooden paddle. It looked like a hairbrush but without the bristles. Straightening his tie he stood and walked around the desk until he was behind you.

He was quiet for a few moments and you could feel his eyes on you, admiring the way your bare butt and legs looked in the stockings he’d told you to wear.

“What’s the first mistake, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and quiet, almost a whisper.

Your eyes scanned the page finding the first red mark.

“An underscore where there should be a dash.”

A rush of wind and then a sharp smack on your left cheek, accompanied by a loud whack,

The sting wasn’t quite as severe as the first time he’d hit you weeks ago, perhaps because he was using the paddle instead.

“And the next one?”

“I haven’t capitalised a name.”

WHACK.

A smack to your other cheek, a small intake of breath from you this time.

“The next?”

“A misspelt word.”

“What’s the word?” he demanded to know.

“Budget.”

“How have you spelt it?”

“B - ”

WHACK.

Ugh.

“U -”

SLAP.

His hand this time rather than the paddle. You bit your lip.

“F - ”

SMACK

Fuck… The other cheek and still with his hand, the tops of your thighs being pushed against the lip of the desk.

“G -”

THWACK.

Back to the paddle.

“E - ”

The paddle again, but softer; barely registering a hit.

“ T-”

WHACK.

Harder this time and slightly lower on the cheek, again making you knock into the edge of the desk, the wood biting against your thighs.

“Carry on. Read out every mistake until you get the to the end,” Spencer demanded, his voice slightly breathy.

You read through the whole sheet, the smacks coming faster as you weren’t breaking for further instructions. Every misspell, every time you announced a misprint or a smudge, a comma where there should be a full stop, or a lower case letter where there should be a capital. Every mistake was met with a smack. Some hard, some softer. Some with the wooden implement, others with his warm hand, the sound of flesh hitting flesh music to your ears. Some times you cried out, other times you bit your lip.

By the time you reached the bottom of the sheet your ass felt like it was on fire. Glorious, hot, fire. Every spank had thrust your body forwards and as you slid it backwards, your breasts dragged against the wooden table.

The attack on your buttocks and the wooden desk against your nipples had you wet, liquid slowly leaking out from between your legs.

You both were panting as you read out the last few errors, your eyes squeezing shut at a particularly forceful smack, your teeth gritted as you choked out the final error.

“Another comma where it should be a stop.”

SLAP.

The sting you now felt was unbelievable and you stared at the wall in front of you, breathing heavily and quickly. You heard a thud as the paddle was released from Spencer’s grasp, feeling both of his hands on your buttocks, palming them, his own breathing ragged.

“Have you learnt your lesson?”

“I t-think so…. sir…. ”

Fuck, you could barely speak.

“Then you’re free to leave for the day. Exit the way you entered.”

You felt him retreat from your body giving you room to stand your self upright again.

You pulled your skirt down and stepped out of your underwear, leaving them on the floor rather than bending down to retrieve them.

The panting had made you feel light headed, so you stood for a second before collecting your thoughts.

Exit the way you entered, he’d said.

You turned and walked slowly back to his bedroom.

Finals Gothic
  • You are almost finished with the paper you’ve been working on for hours. Almost done, you tell people. You’re not sure how long the paper should be, but you’re almost done. You’ve been almost done for so long.
  • Your friend went to the library to study, you tell people. She should be home soon. You can’t remember what she went to study for. You can’t remember the last time you saw her. Her phone goes straight to voicemail.
  • The professor isn’t responding to your emails. The professor isn’t responding to anyone’s emails. As you walk towards her office, you hear a scream. Perhaps you don’t have any questions after all.
  • The study guide has strange markings on it, strange stains that you swear weren’t there when the teacher gave it to you. Coffee stains, you tell yourself. But coffee stains aren’t normally red, are they? You can’t remember.
  • There’s a final project, your professor tells you. You can’t find anything about it in the syllabus, but there’s a final project. “How is the project going?” your classmates ask with shadowed eyes and shaking hands. When you ask them what the project is about, they turn away. You never see any of them on campus again.
  • A student kills the curve for your final, but you don’t who the student is. He wasn’t in class, you’re sure. He’s not on the class roll. When you ask the other students about him, they back away. “Don’t ask,” they say. “Don’t ask about him.”
  • You can’t find the book you need in the library. “It’s there,” the librarian insights, but she wrings her hands and won’t look you in the eyes. As you wander down the stacks, you grow tired and sleepy, eyes drifting shut. Perhaps you’ll take a nap, you think. The last thing you see before your eyes close is a pair of red eyes.