Hi, this is Eric Harris, I’ve heard you’ve been saying some shit about me in your book and I don’t appreciate that. For you information I`m going to kill you- and I’m not a fucking psyhopath whatever you say. I respond to all the hot girls that write me. Fuck you, you bitch. Whatever. Adios.
While i am worried about Mabel and Dippers relationship and all the junk talking about how Ford is steering Dipper away from Mabel, i just keep remembering how Ford and Mabels first meeting went.
She was as pleasant and cute as always and wasnt weirded out by Fords six fingers. Ford laughs and says ‘I like this kid, shes weird!'
Also at the end of last nights episode after Grunkle Stan and Mabel save Ford and Dip, Ford is kinda smiling AT Mabel. Probably at her weird imagination and bravery.
While I agree that Ford and Dipper have a lot more in common and that The Mabel side of the picture in the basement being covered up is pointing towards Mabel and Ford having a strained relationship, I dont think we can rule out that they wont be friends. Mabel tends to be friends with everyone even people who dont really like her (Pacifica, Robbie). And also while I dont trust Ford a bit, I dont want to completely rule out a possible relationship with the two. Dipper may be a giant nerd but Mabels a weirdo too. Im not giving up on a friendship between Ford and Mabel!!
ok so this is my first one shot thingy so please forgive me hahah. Theres so many mistakes in this and stuff in this but do remember its 1:30am for me so I’m hella sleep deprived hahah ok
word count: 385
Summary: Bucky loses a game of Mario Kart to reader and is forced to do whatever punishment the she wants to give him.
It was ironic how someone so cold (he was the winter soldier after all) and closed off could be the sunshine in your otherwise dreary life. He was one of the only people who could genuinely make you feel happy; not just the fleeting type of joy but the type that makes your heart want to explode.
So, to see him like this shattered you.
Actually, no, it didn’t. He was being a jealous, pissy baby because you had just beaten him in Mario Kart. Again.
“That’s not fair! You cheated!” Bucky threw his controller onto the couch and slumped down on the floor next to you. You smiled smugly and picked up the box from the coffee table. You both knew what his punishment for losing was going to be. It had been his 8th loss that week, and the punishment had remained the same each time but you enjoyed it too much to change.
“I don’t need to cheat because I’m already queen, son” you say, pulling him over so you could get to his hair. He groaned as you took out a hair elastic from the box and began to braid his hair.
“I don’t enjoy this at all” he said as you finished off the braid.
“I’m sure you don’t,” you grin, pulling out your phone before quickly snapping a photo of his scrunched up face and braided hair, completely decorated with pins and clips that made would make a Christmas tree jealous. You patted his head gently, “you have to leave this on for the rest of the day.”
He grunted in reply and muttered something along the lines of, stupid Mario Kart, I hate that game, before walking off into the kitchen, where a sudden explosion of laughter sounded.
You only heard the footsteps in your direction and an angry,“I hate you!”, before you knew it was unsafe and dashed to your room.
Love, it is said, is inherently free. It cannot be bought, sold, or traded. You cannot make someone love you, nor can you prevent it, for any amount of money.
In some circles, it’s true. Love is romantic, love is fantastical, and love, more than anything else, is abstract. It’s in the skipped heartbeat of a young woman in love and the baited breath of a suitor waiting for a response, the bliss in a couple’s chests and the pain in a lover left behind. Love is in emotion, and its lure is a whisper of eternity.
In Yoshiwara, love has a price. Love is sensual, love is carnal, and love, here more than anywhere else, is fake. It’s in the practiced flutter of long, dark lashes and a coy smile inviting a client close, the company of beauty and charm given form and the slick slide of flesh along flesh. Love is in sex, and it calls with a siren’s song of just one night.
Tsurumaru knows this, and he knows it well. In the end, it’s not unlike a game to play or a play to enact, but always with the same lines, the same smiles, and the same touch. (Make them want you, is what they’re told when their asking price has been paid and their identities stripped away, when they’re given new names with cheap meanings meant only to please; with your mind, you find out what they like. With your body, you give it to them. That there is no room for the heart is something that never needed to be said.)
For years, it’s the same routine–smile, wait until they pick him (and they did, they always did, for who could resist the allure of the pure white crane with eyes of gleaming gold?), and please. He has his regulars, the men who lavish him with gifts of jewelry and clothing, and he has men like this–men who, prior to tonight, have never stepped foot within Yoshiwara’s heaven-hell.
(Welcome, the word still echoes in his mind. The smile that lifted his lips when he’d been chosen is perfectly in place.)
“This is your first time here, right? My name is Tsurumaru; what should I call you for tonight?”
in europe/france there was an uproar when it was suggested that maybe there’s no point anymore to teaching kids complicated cursive letters when nowadays they learn to type at the same time they learn to write, if not earlier…
i wonder if we have different cursives bc to me its never been any kind of complicated :|a like yes you can get fancy with it if you really like but as far as im concerned cursive is about simplish flowy lines that are there to make you put as little effort in writing by hand as possible, with like. handwriting momentum maybe, i dont know what to call it
also i feel this is also a cultural thing bc here youre not allowed to do shit like type up your lecture notes or anything, you always write it down by hand. when i was in school (up until later high school i suppose) i had to make reports and stuff by actually writing it by hand… i remember having to line a4 paper but my lines would always end up a little bendy anyway bc i sucked at rulers
anyway thats what its like for me, i dont know maybe in places like. moscow or sptb they allow kids/students to type shit down?? but i feel that would mean owning a pc or any portable computer and like, not everyone can afford that so i guess people still mostly stick to pen and paper for when they need to take notes