looking good is all about dressing

iwasapruneratfaverolles  asked:

PLEASE TELL THE CHILDREN THE STORY OF MS. STUBELS

Grace fuck, why would you invoke her name like that???

Okay, fine, gather round children, buckle up because we’re going on a bumpy ride back to everyone’s collective least favorite place: 7th grade.

Some background: I went to a very small Catholic school. One class per grade (we were the largest with 19 kids), everyone knew each other whether they wanted to or not. Despite basically every teacher and faculty members insistence that we were The Best And Most Special Class In The School and that everyone loved having us, the longstanding 7th grade teacher Mrs. O’Hara decided to retire in the summer of 2008, meaning the school had to find us a new teacher for the upcoming year. This would be like, the first new teacher in the school in a while, and as she was getting the ‘best class’, it was viewed as a Big Deal. Somewhere in like July or August we got a letter announcing Mrs. Stubel, and it came with a list of books to pick for the summer reading, and that was basically all the information we had.

So…the first day of class. She seems nice enough. Very…ditsy, I guess? It was very easy for her to get herself off topic while talking. She constantly paced around the room, never staying in one spot for longer than a second, complaining she has restless leg syndrome. Which like, I’m sure she did, but she was in the middle of introducing herself and then went on a 20 minute tangent about restless leg syndrome without anyone prompting her. It was almost like you could see her scattered thoughts flying around her head.

So anyone, she eventually gives somewhat of an introduction- she had only taught in public schools before, and kept worrying she ‘didn’t know’ how to teach in a Catholic school despite the entire class insisting literally nothing was different, you just teach the curriculum, twice a week we have religion class with Sister Mary King, that’s literally it (she still talked over us in worry), she told us about her kids, she told us about her obsession with Emily Dickinson, stuff like that.

And then she hands us this worksheet.

She’s like, “Oh, these are just some basic questions for you to answer! Just so I can get to know you guys better!” like in lieu of an icebreaker game, which is fine, but…the questions. The questions were all “What is your most haunting fear?”, “What is your deepest regret?”, “Have you ever experienced the pain of loss?”, “What was your worst injury?”, “What was your worst nightmare?”, all questions like that, and then on the back she wanted us to draw a gravestone and write out what we wanted our epitaph to be.

We were twelve year olds, mind you.

Oh my God and one girl missed the first day because of her grandmother’s funeral, so when she came the next day and saw what the teacher was insisting she do for homework, she almost had a panic attack? And the lady still made her do it? Literally who wants to think about death anymore at a time like that omfg.

Okay, so then we get to the summer reading book reports, right? Now, she had given a list of maybe, 20 books that you could pick from, read it, and then present an oral report on it. You had to have notecards and you had to be able to answer questions from the class at the end. All in all, I’ve had worse projects.

So, on this list, she apparently put Madeleine L’Engle’s entire book series on the list…only she did not make it known that this was a series and not multiple stand alone books, so when reports started up it caused mass-panic of kids trying to put together plot points and make connections on what the hell they had read.

I was the only kid in the class who had chosen to read “A Wrinkle In Time”, and that has since lead to a series of events that…really actually scares me, I’m still incredibly freaked out, I’m not going to get into it right now because it’ll take away from the current story, but just know that I’m not above wondering if it only happened because I read the book for Stubel.

Anyway, so like, I got through the report okay. The class asking questions about it was fine, but the teacher kept asking questions that didn’t make sense, like, at all. My friend Angie has always had super neat handwriting and Mrs. Stubel got like, obsessed with her notecards and asked if she could borrow them for something. When we got our grades back a few weeks later, Angie had points taken off for not having notecards.

And then her teaching just…didn’t happen. She’d never stay on a topic, she’d always get herself distracted! We were not learning anything. And like, this wasn’t a class of advanced smart kids that loved to learn. By all accounts we should’ve been thrilled. But it got out of hand. It got to points where we had to start teaching lessons to ourselves, asking teacher from other grades for help, always coming home in tears, complaining constantly to our parents and the principal because this woman wasn’t teaching us anything. There were two kids who asked her multiple times for extra help, and she told them each time to ‘talk to me after school’, but then she’d leave immediately after school so they wouldn’t be able to talk to her. They finally brought up the issue in the middle of class and she had a breakdown, yelling about how nobody ever thinks that maybe the teacher has a lot of work to do, and maybe she’s entitled to taking off early, but when we tried to argue she shouldn’t schedule meetings and then break them off in the name of relaxation, she stormed out of the room and tried to get the principal to give us detention. (Which, like, our school didn’t even do, and she was the only one in the wrong during this situation) We are still in September at this point, and already at least ten kids have parents considering transferring them to another school. (And remember, there was only 19 of us, and most of the class had been together since preschool, so that was a big deal).

Then, she starts coming in with all the weird bruises. All the Moms™ immediately started gossiping that her husband had to be beating her, and that’s why she was so screwy in the head. But the way she talked about her husband made it seem like he *might* be dead, and we actually did witness her fall and smack her head into a doorknob once, so no one really knew what to believe. (Also, I’m not trying to imply that abuse would make someone crazy or ‘damaged’ or anything, this is just what was being said. I think they were trying to turn her into a more sympathetic character, because if you feel sorry for her you don’t have to hate her for frustrating your kids so much, and Hate Is A Bad Emotion.)

Also…this woman and Emily Dickinson.

She talked about Emily Dickinson every chance she could get. None of us knew who Emily Dickinson really was before she got there and you could see in her mind it was a capitol offense. She found out the curriculum didn’t have room to cover her (because like, we had a text book), and was way too upset about it. She started reading her poems whenever she found the time (usually somewhere in history class), and always gave us very detailed accounts about her dressing up as Emily and reading her poetry at the library.

Now, two things to note here:

  1. The library did not hire her to do this. She would literally just get in the mood, put on an Emily Dickinson costume that she made by herself, drive to different libraries, and just read poetry out loud to everyone there until someone eventually asked her to leave.
  2. The way she described these events…her tone, the look on her face, her posture…you could just tell that she was getting some sort of sexual gratification out of this? Like dressing up as Emily Dickinson in public and reading her sad poems is really what got this lady’s jollies rocking? Got her all hot and bothered? Which is…a lot, but why would you tell a bunch of seventh graders about it holy shit. What about that sounds like a good idea! What about that turns you back on!

So anyway, we learned a lot about Emily Dickinson against our will.

One of the Davids™ was reading a book for pleasure- which shouldn’t have been a shocker, a lot of kids always had books on them, but Stubel got really interested and asked if she could borrow it from him. He was like ‘sure, after I finish it?’ but she took it that day. He asked her for it back for like five weeks straight.

And…the strudels.

Okay, so the school was trying some dorky thing to promote ~togetherness~ or some virtue or something, I don’t remember the specifics of why, but each class had to make a huge themed poster and hang it on the wall outside the classroom. Which was like, whatever, not the most thrilling project but at least it allowed us to be productive vs just sitting there as the teacher runs about the room rambling about her family vacation from four years ago. Mrs. Stubel decided we needed a quirky nickname and after like three days of deliberation we were christened “Stubel’s Special Strudels”!

(points for alliteration or whatever, but no one actually voted for that and what exactly do strudels have to do with Catholicism? It became a big running joke amongst the kids)

Also, in case you were wondering, she didn’t explain the assignment correctly to us- so every other class had like these beautiful, artistic, well-themed and put together posters, while ours was just…literally a bunch of shit thrown together on paper. Nothing fit with each other, it was literally embarrassing to look at.

But then…she wouldn’t drop the strudel thing. Like she kept bringing it up. She got really into strudels and would just tell us random shit about them. Finally, someone jokes that we should get strudels one day for a party (like instead of a pizza party), and she’s Freaking Out and On Board. She really wants to buy us strudels and have a breakfast party now. She talked about it for like two days straight.

So like… you know in school when you would have a pizza party, usually the teacher would buy it? That’s how they always happened in my experience (not counting the last day of 10th grade when some kid had pizza delivered to the school for lunch but it didn’t get there until math class lol). But especially in grade school? Like if it wasn’t a PTA made party that’s super organized, the school would buy the food, right? Right?

Yeah, so she was like, if this is happening you guys need to give me the money. Just give me the money and then I’ll pick them up on my way to work!! And after some arguing some kids are on board. Strudels should only cost a couple dollars right?

And she’s like, oh no, I’m gonna get them from this high end bakery near my house so it’ll be special, but they’re not cheap and it’ll be a big order! I’m gonna need like fifteen dollars from each of you!

And at this point I’m just like…lady. Come on. 

But she keeps insisting. She’s not gonna go until every student in class pays up.

And I’m like…I’m poor. I don’t even like strudel.  And some of the less-naïve kids are siding with me.

And then she pulls that “you guys are just spoiling all the fun for your classmates” shit, like the naïve kids who already paid up, so it gets to the point where we just gotta cave and give her the money.

(I ended up stealing it out of my Crazy Bitch Aunt’s wallet so it’s whatever, I guess.)

And then of course, shockingly enough, every morning she was met with “where are the strudels?” and every morning she went wide eyed, slapped her forehead and yelled in embarrassed horror “I totally forgot! Tomorrow, guys, I promise!”

Honestly, with how scatterbrained and confused she always was…like to this day I can’t tell you with 100% certainty whether she hustled us or was just actually forgetting about the damn pastries, I choose to lean towards the hustled us side because that’s just the type of people I’m used to, but if I found out it was innocent forgetfulness I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.

She couldn’t handle more than one person talking at a time. Like, we’d have break periods, or group work, or something and all the talking made her go wide-eyed and batty. She’d look overworked and anxious and would be darting around the room trying to do work or something but she couldn’t focus and she’d yell at anyone who tried to talk to her directly. I remember one time she was using this boys desk for something so he asked “where am I supposed to sit?” and she snapped “Sit on the ceiling for all I care!”. And this kid was the Class Clown™ , so he immediately grabbed a chair in one hand and started climbing the bookcase to try and reach the ceiling. She’s standing right next to this and doesn’t even notice. He got all four chair legs planted on the ceiling and was trying to somehow maneuver his way into the chair (I really don’t know what the plan was exactly- he was really tall and it was a small building, so I think he probably had the idea that if he can get his body upside down and in the chair, and stretch out his arms like a hand-stand to hold onto bookcase, he could arguably sit on the ceiling.) but he slipped. Crashed into my desk and the two desks next to me, knocked over the book case, broke the chair in half and hit the desks with enough force to knock them down lower. It was hilarious. Everyone was loosing their shit cracking up (he was fine) and it still took Stubel like five minutes to notice his lying out across the desks right in front of her eyes. She was pissed but how did she miss any of it in the first place? She was barely being helpful in whatever it was she was trying to do.

This was the year the Phillies were going to the World Series, and all the grades were having a Phillies Rally in the cafeteria so a news crew was coming to the school and each class was supposed to come up with fun little cheers for them to broadcast. Multiple cheer ideas were presented to her and she vetoed all of them, someone even suggested just singing the damn eagles theme song with replaced words and calling it a day but she vetoed that too, she was very adamant that she could come up with a cheer all by herself and it’ll be the best one (whoever had the best cheer was winning like an ice cream day or something idk). And then like…literally five minutes before the rally she just hands us signs with the letters and was like ‘we’re just gonna spell out Phillies it will be cute won’t it my strudels???’. We were the weakest class there, predictably. I think we lost to the kindergarteners. There might still be a video online of me yelling “ i “ passionately at the top of my lungs. It was online bc our cheer was so bland the news crew cut it out of the broadcast.

I literally can’t say enough about how she never taught us anything. She’d be going on some tangent about how she doesn’t understand the science behind skiing, and I’d be like “Okay yes but please can you just tell me where Romania is on a map???” And she’d start fights whenever someone actually wanted to learn. It was so easy to get her angry but so hard for her to stay on topic. Kids started teaching the class themselves! Like seriously, she’d be rambling and one of us would just go up to the podium, open the teacher’s guide textbook and just start reading out loud and talking over her. By the time she noticed we’d be halfway through a lesson. And we understood it better than when she tried! You know something’s wrong when pre-teens are more qualified for a job than an adult who supposedly went to school for this.

We were in the church having run-throughs for our upcoming Confirmation and she almost set the church on fire…fifteen different times. In less than half an hour. How hard is it to hold a candle?

Okay, and here’s when stuff starts kicking up. It was October 28th, a Tuesday, and it was our last day of school that week because they were having parent-teacher conferences the rest of the week. So we were just hanging out, watching movies in class and reading (lord knows we weren’t learning), and Stubel calls me over to her desk.

So like, she had given everyone little bags with candy for Halloween, but I get up there and she hands me an extra one. And she’s like “Molly I know your birthday is tomorrow and I bought you a present but I left it on my coffee table this morning by accident! So just have the candy for now!”

And I’m like….”Ma’am I’m like, the sixth birthday this year. You didn’t give anyone else presents?”

And she goes “Oh, I know but this is a special secret surprise. I just know you’re gonna love it! Do you wanna stop by my house later this week to pick it up or should I just give it to you Monday after school?”

And like…In writing this sounds like a non-threatening exchange, and like, it was, but I felt so uncomfortable holy shit. I’m looking over my shoulder and shooting my friends SOS signals. Something about this felt so weird in my gut omfg. I told her thanks and I’d just see her Monday.

So we flash forward to Wednesday- my 13th birthday, the day the Phillies won the world series, and also the day my mother innocently strolled into the school for her meeting only to be met with screaming, the sound of heavy destruction, and the school secretary Mrs. Daily running at her in a panic, waving her arms and yelling “YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!”

So my poor mother, who thought she could handle this whole meeting in a few minutes and barely be an hour late for work, is now barricaded in the front office with the school secretary, as the noises from down the hall get louder and louder. The woman explains that they had gotten so many complaints about Mrs. Stubel that this morning, when she got to the school, the principal Sister Patricia called her in and said “Listen, we need you to be professional and still have the parent conferences, but we have to let you go. We just don’t think you fit in well here, and the kids need to come first and feel comfortable in their school.” and like, I’m paraphrasing because I wasn’t there, but we all know she was very polite and professional about it.

Mrs. Stubel, however…was not.

She flipped her chair and stormed out of the office, and locks herself in the seventh grade classroom. She started wrecking the shit out of that place, screaming obscenities and the top of her lungs, they had to call the cops on her! She was locked in there for almost an hour! And let me just give you a nice little list of everything she did in that classroom:

  • Smashed three windows.
  • Threw everything off her desk and carved swear words all over it.
  • Got cleaning fluid that she knew would damage the chalk boards, smeared it all over.
  • Cracked the chalk boards by repeatedly smashing chairs against them.
  • Wrote swear words all over the walls and on desks
  • Went into students desks, ripped up their books.
  • Stole my glasses. (which were in my desk bc I only used them in class at the time)
  • Threw some desks around.
  • Carved swear words into the boards. (there was so much carving I’m assuming she just had a knife on her person, which has to lead to the question, did she have a knife on her while she was in class with us?)
  • Physically ripped the hooks to hang backpacks on out of the wall.
  • Knocked the closet door off it’s hinges.
  • Ripped up all the books in the bookcases and threw their pages all around the room.
  • Wrote lewd phrases inside student’s desks.
  • Broke multiple chairs.
  • Used her podium as a battering ram against the wall that’s in front of where the backpacks go. (the wall won but Damage Was Inflicted)
  • Set a fire in the trash can.
  • When the principal and other teachers started trying to get in, she tossed her rolling chair at the door to scare them off.
  • She was screaming curse words at the top of her lungs the entire time, and cursing the school and the kids and the principal and the church in general, and the school building was small, so all the parents and the smaller children that had to come to the meetings (who were locked in their respective classrooms in fear) heard everything.
  • So much more? But it’s 4:30 in this morning and this list is already long.

So my mom is in the front office and deadass the

entire police force

shows up, running down the hallway to the classroom yelling at her to stop, and it takes a while for them to get her out holy shit. They knocked down the door and she tried to escape out of one of the broken windows! But they got her and dragged her out.

So of course, in such a small school with very involved parents this shit spread like wildfire. The entire town knew within the day. The poor principal called the newly retired old-seventh grade teacher and was like “So we…need some help” and the lady was like “I already heard I’ll be there Monday” omfg. I remember I got a text from one of my classmates saying “if your birthday wish was for us to be set free from the beast I love you” omfg.

So, we eventually go back to school on Monday and everyone’s buzzing. The principal has us go to the cafeteria and she ‘delicately’ explains the situation, and that the old teacher is coming out of retirement for us, the school has a restraining order against Mrs. Stubel now and that she’s sorry we had to deal with this mess. Our classroom had to go under some heavy reconstruction before we could be let back in there, so for like two weeks we alternated between the cafeteria and the preschooler’s classroom, we had no books or anything, just provided loose-leaf paper and pens. It was like, surreal, but everyone was just so happy to be rid of her and to be in the presence of a competent teacher omfg. We eventually were able to get back into our usual classroom.

  1. It took a while for things to go completely back to normal, though. After the big spectacle she made, for weeks after she was fired we were all very scared of the possibility of Mrs. Stubel returning to the school with a gun in hand. It was always a topic we whispered about at lunch with wide eyes and shivers. Like…genuine nightmare scenario.
  2. About two weeks after she was fired, a boy in the back of the classroom gasped loudly during SSR, and when we all looked at him, he whispered in anger “She never gave us our freakin’ strudels!”
  3. About three months after she was fired, we were lined up at the door to go to Library when a few of us looked through the windows and saw something darting through the trees. It was fast and we couldn’t make anything out, so we let it drop. When the class and teacher returned half and hour later, the book she had borrowed months before from one of the boys was sitting on his desk. It was just laying there, the room was silent, nothing had been disturbed…but I have never seen a book look so threatening. People were freaking out. Someone kept insisting that she turned the book into a bomb. No one figure out how she got in the school, and no one could figure out how she got it on the right desk, as we had switched the seating arrangement since she had last been there.  
  4. A full six months after she had left, it was nearing the end of the school year and our class was dicking around during our last computer class. Someone found a website (that we weren’t allowed to be on) that pulls up any police records attached to whoever’s name you enter, so someone decided to search Mrs. Stubel as a joke. We ended up finding out she had like six DUI’s.

Aaaaand that’s the story of the horrendous teacher I had for two months in 7th grade. One of my favorite party stories but tbh she still haunts me™ .

I'm On My Knee

Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!

Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!

I’m On My Knee

“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”

    Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”

    Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”

    Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”

“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.

    Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.

    She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.

    “On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.

    Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.

    Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.

    “Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”

    Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.

    She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.

    The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.

    Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.

    The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”

    Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck.  Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.

    That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.

    Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and  made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings  that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.

    The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.

    Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”

    “No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.

    “Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.

    Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”

    Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.

    When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.

    “Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.

    As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”

    She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.

    As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.

    Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.

    He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.

    It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.

    Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.

    Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.

    Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

    As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.

    At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.

    His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”


Nursemaid

(Jimin’s crush comes over to his house to help him out after he suffers an injury that leaves him with limited use of both hands.)

Warnings: 6000+ words of smut, Jimin POV, I’ll let you guess what kind of smut takes place


“I can’t believe you managed to injure both of your hands on the same day.” Hoseok’s girlfriend, Sophie, stifled a laugh while she said it. “I can’t tell if you are dumb or just unlucky.”

 Jimin sighed.  He had been stupid and drunk when he and Jungkook went out into the street to play with fireworks.  One went off too close to his hand, burning his right palm requiring a trip to the emergency room where his injury was cleaned and bandaged.  The doctor gave him a lecture about drunk people and explosives and how fortunate he was not to have blasted off his fingers.            

While exiting the hospital, Jimin immediately tripped over the curb and landed with his full weight onto his left hand resulting in a small fracture and return trip to the emergency room to get a splint to immobilize his other hand.   Now, every time Jimin saw someone, he had to suffer the embarrassment of explaining what happened. People had a hard time not laughing when they heard how he managed to get hurt twice in one day.

 “Does it hurt much?” you asked him.

“Not really. As long as I don’t bump into anything or use my fingers too much, it’s okay.” At least you seemed to be genuinely concerned about his well-being. That’s one of the reasons Jimin liked you, you always seemed caring and sincere.  The other main reason he liked you was because he thought you were incredibly hot.  There were plenty of nights Jimin stayed up fantasizing about what it would feel like to be with you.  He wanted to ask you out, but had been waiting until there was some indication that you were even the slightest bit interested in him.  He was starting to think that maybe he had a chance with you, but he felt neutered with his injuries, unable to do things like casually touch you and see how you would respond to his advances.  Jimin resolved to make a move as soon as he had full use of his hands again.

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“Hey, does this look good?” Alec asks, voice getting louder as he shuffles into the living room, his dress shoes making small noises on the wooden floor.

For the past fifteen minutes, Magnus has been comfortably sat on the couch, waiting for Alec to finish getitng ready so they can leave for their date night. What’s strange is that his boyfriend has been unusually secretive about his outfit, immediately piquing Magnus’ interest. He turns quickly, one arm swinging over the backrest of the coach and all playful words die on his tongue.

Alec looks exquisite, even in the artificial lighting of the loft. He’s wearing a diamond-patterned dress shirt paired with dark pants and matching accesories - the fabric hugs his arms and chest, stretching with every movement of his hands as he buttons up the very top. 

Magnus swallows, his throat suddenly dry and nods in lieu of a real answer, eyebrows stuck near his hairline. He’s not that hungry for seafood anymore, he’d rather devour Alec, a five-course meal standing right before Magnus’ eyes. He smiles, thumb pressed against his lower lip and Alec picks up on the well-known tension between them, his mouth curving into a pleased grin, bold and comfortable. 

“Who do I need to thank for this outfit?” Magnus hums appreciatively as he stands, crowds against Alec to brush his palms down those broad shoulders hidden under a thin layer of expensive silk. Beneath the desire, beneath all of the fondness Magnus feels for this man, there is pride that Alec feels he can be himself, uninhibited, out in the open like this. 

“I may have gotten inspired by my fashionable, magical boyfriend.” Comes Alec’s nonchalant answer and it makes Magnus chuckle. He steps forward, guiding Alec back towards the wall nearby. 

“He won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, I’m sure.” 

When Alec’s back hits the wall, he gives a little gasp, his eyes twinkling with something mischevious; he knows exactly what he’s doing. Magnus kisses him, hard and like he’s falling, like it’s the last thing he’ll do in his life. It pulls a different kind of noise from Alec’s chest, as their mouths shift together, bodies like magnets until there’s no space left between them.

When they part moments later, both breathless, Alec doesn’t look so smug anymore when he speaks, hands pressed against Magnus’ chest. “Aren’t we going to be late?”

Magnus shakes his head. 

“Who cares?” 

{PART 18} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; The crowning moment arises when you and Jungkook arrive at the fundraising ball; but the storm clouds gather as you come face to face with your greatest fear.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 17} {Part 18} {Part 19}

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you didn’t know how to tell them that your life looks good but you don’t wish it on someone else. that yes you had a roof overhead and got birthday presents. you remember opening boxes with nothing personal inside of them. makeup when you were 15 because that’s what “all teenage girls” wanted. sometimes a dress in the wrong size, sometimes tickets to a band concert you no longer listened to and hadn’t in a while. no talking at dinner tables, missed performances, absent student-teacher meetings. no hugs unless it’s in public and only then by necessity. no conversations about real things, only requests for chores or screaming. it’s a house you don’t know anyone in, it’s a family who couldn’t care less, it’s never knowing love.  it’s empty things that slowly add up. but your home was fine, right? it was fine enough.

100 reasons to love Haechan
  1. his voice is so sweet oh my god
  2. how he has two sides to him and they’re both so Good (joking prankster vs super caring member)
  3. he’s so witty?? my quick boy
  4. king of concepts like he can pull off literally everything
  5. how proud he is of his skin like!!!! he’s glowing and he k n o w s
  6. idk if it’s talked about often but you can tell how much he loves dancing honestly and i love it a lot
  7. his english when he sings or speaks in english
  8. yaja time!haechan
  9. his performance face vs his general resting face/demeanor are worlds apart and i love it so much
  10. HAECHAN SORRY SORRY FANCAM
  11. his neck mole is so cute… 
  12. …and the scar above his right eye, too
  13. all of his moles actually they’re beautiful
  14. he’s proud of his legs and i’m glad like!! he’s so body positive about himself it makes my heart happy
  15. nct’s main visual
  16. sherlock!haechan was legendary 
  17. when they surprised jisung for his birthday and he started crying and haechan and mark immediately went to him to cheer him up..i think about that everyday
  18. the time on mySMT when they all had to smile and he looked at the camera and smiled SO WIDELY my heart was so full when i watched it
  19. pianist!haechan he loves the instrument you can tell
  20. the 19 second recording of baby don’t like it that he sang on NNN
  21. his affinity for bucket hats. can he see with that over his eyes? probably not but it’s okay because we can see how good he looks
  22. his freestyle in his boy video! look at my talented ult
  23. that time on NCT life where he put salt into everyone’s sprite and i think soy sauce into everyone’s coke #prankd
  24. when 127 was on nimdle and answering questions about each other and he asked the members if they knew what body part he’s proudest of and mark went “birdlike chest” or something along those lines and haechan made as if to punch him
  25. he just really loves monster by exo
  26. the almost tangible difference between nct dream haechan and nct 127 haechan
  27. i love his given name btw, lee donghyuck is such a nice name too??
  28. he’s so good at cooking 
  29. mark changed his laugh after being around haechan so much that’s #bffgoals
  30. that time he dressed up as a girl and ended up falling for yuta because..i
  31. his general love for taeyong’s face. like taeyong’s his aesthetic
  32. BOOMING SYSTEM U-UP, TY TRACK, TY TRACK
  33. pink hair pink hair pink hair pink hair (we young) (it looks s o g o o d)
  34. his role is moodmaker in dream and like!! he’s so proud of it i’m so glad
  35. when they had that “All about Dream” special or whatever and he was sucking up to the teacher lol
  36. he and jeno #prankd jisung by changing his ipad wallpaper to a cockroach #ripjisung2k17
  37. his michael jackson impressions are actually LEGENDARY
  38. his opening line in “heartbreaker” 
  39. that one line in Back 2 U that saved literally everyone’s lives (the one after doyoung’s towards the end of the song)
  40. king of 127′s backing vocals. listen to baby don’t like it stripped down. you will cry
  41. his solo dance in cherry bomb
  42. that one time he #prankd mark by acting like seulgi during the smrookies period
  43. i really like listening to him just speak btw like his voice in general is kind of teasing and just nice i really love it a lot
  44. idk if ive mentioned it but his laugh also just!!! pure!!!
  45. king of girl group choreo…king of boy group choreo…king of choreo
  46. “gimme that gimme that ice cream” 
  47. used to mess with his grandma’s makeup when he was younger 
  48. honestly just all of nct life in paju because haechan was so iconic in it like that soccer game oh my god and not to mention snack time and his failed karaoke that was so bad they never showed it and his god tier breakfast the last morning like wow
  49. when he and mark missed that nct life entertainment retreat because of schedules and chenle and jisung roasted them and haechan was like “when i get back you’re dead”
  50. his high note after mark’s “show them how we do it” in playboy
  51. haechan in headbands is a Look
  52. that one meme video with chenle, jeno, haechan, and that stick (i never found subs so i don’t…know what happened in that video)
  53. haechan looks really good in button down shirts…he’s unreal…born to be famous
  54. the harper’s bazaar shoot
  55. him and mark’s handshake has stayed the extra same in all aspects (include level of extraness <3) since predebut days
  56. “swag”
  57. KING OF WEARING CONTACTS
  58. he’s the entire universe in himself - his eyes sparkle like a thousand stars and looking at him is like looking straight at the sun and just wow
  59. whenever he tries to keep his laughter in he makes The Face and i love it
  60. when performing live he sounds like he ate the record for breakfast he’s that good
  61. he lisps and it’s the best thing to happen to me
  62. the ivy club photoshoot. just.
  63. he pulls off like.. everything from like massive sweaters and denim shorts to full like blazer/slacks/dress shirt like…wow
  64. airport fashion on point
  65. bought a radio because jaehyun and johnny host a radio show
  66. HAECHAN FOR SUPERCOMMA B
  67. haechan + confetti = name a more iconic duo
  68. the shape of his lips is so nice?? wow
  69. his nose too!!! perfect
  70. his teeth are like perfect too like so..nice looking idk
  71. that time where he gave no fucks and took off the heavy ass jacket and threw it to the side during that performance of cherry bomb because he knows what’s Good For Him
  72. the taste the feeling cf 
  73. the camera Look with The Eyebrows
  74. that iconic duet with guitarist!jeno of love yourself by justin bieber
  75. that expression/laugh he did that time he was going to do scissors during That Move in MFAL so he could win against mark but jisung thwarted his plans and mark played rock and haechan got roasted af onstage
  76. i know ive mentioned his dancing before but hes SO SMOOTh his moves are EFFORTLESS
  77. he looks A1 in denim jackets
  78. when he acts cute to get what he wants
  79. looks so excited and happy at fanmeets
  80. apparently he’s really touchy with the members and stuff that’s adorable
  81. never shows how sensitive he can be and tries to make everyone laugh
  82. his head tilt!! you know the one
  83. when he tries to get other members to talk on air (especially with the dreamies)
  84. is a member of the powerful af SM ‘00 line
  85. when nct dream tried to do that let’s dance and haechan kept messing them up because he wanted to dance to the other groups
  86. when he pretended to be a mime
  87. he danced to russian roulette and it was absolutely amazing
  88. his resting face is kind of “bored looking” so when he goes from resting to being really engaged it’s like a flipped switch i love it so much
  89. the cover of billionaire he and mark did predebut
  90. how he puts his hand on yuta’s shoulder to steady himself during the split move in cherry bomb
  91. the way he looks in a basketball uniform (credit: @whoisyuta )
  92. he puts his whole soul into his voice
  93. his vocal range is ridiculously versatile
  94. i love his wrists?? is it just me they’re so pretty maybe i’m going crazy lol but like watches and bracelets and stuff.nice
  95. the cherry bomb outfit with the black sweater and camo pants and camo jacket tied at the waist he !! wow
  96. when he wears glasses!!
  97. hes so young and he still keeps up with all the 127 members and works hard with them and does 12 hour dance practices with them like what a legend
  98. when his members do embarrassing things on air he buries his face in his hands out of secondhand embarrassment like…me too
  99. king of promoting other sm groups
  100. he just puts his all into everything and works so hard and deserves the world and!!!! wow just wow. an angel. an ethereal empyrean individual

My dear trans daughters, 

If you are trying out make-up, “feminine” clothes etc. for the first time, i want to tell you some things: 

1. First of all… *big mommy bear hug*! I’m so proud of you! This is a big step and it’s very exciting! 

2. You are likely excited, too - but you may also be nervous or even scared. Please know that those feelings are completely normal. They’re not a sign that you’re “faking it”. Trust me when i tell you that almost all of your trans sisters felt the same way. You’re not alone, darling. 

3. Nobody is born a makeup artist. Every girl - cis or trans - needs to practice how to put on mascara or lipstick without ending up looking like a horror clown. The only difference is that cis girls usually get taught how to at a young age. It’s not your failure that nobody taught you! So, what if you tried it and it looked awful? Don’t stress. You’ll get the hang of it eventually. It’s normal that it takes practice and time. 

4. The good thing about not being the only one? There were others before you who were in the same situation - and shared what they learned! There are tutorials on youtube, tumblr posts, websites etc. Don’t be afraid to use them. 

5. It’s okay to take baby steps. You don’t need to try it all at once. Maybe putting on nail polish, mascara and a dress today feels overwhelming - but just putting on clear nail polish sounds much less scary! There’s nothing wrong with slowly working your way up to the look you dream off. 

6. You don’t need to do anything. You tried lipstick and you don’t like it? That’s okay! You don’t need to wear lipstick to be a real woman. You don’t enjoy wearing skirts? Many girls prefer pants, don’t worry! 

7. Have i already told you how amazing you are? 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Mom 

ultimate back to school masterpost

it has come…the witching hour…the time of doom is now upon us…okay so obviously ignore me, i’m a huge nerd. but if you’re like me, going back to school is a terrible, nerve-wracking experience. so here are some tips to help you survive this.

1. Do. Your. Summer. Work. If you haven’t started on it now, turn off whatever device you’re reading this on and start working. Many teachers will test you on whatever summer work you were assigned, and occasionally it can count for a significant portion of your first semester grade. Seriously, don’t put it off until the last minute, because then you really won’t want to do it. Plus, then you’ll have more time to focus on binge-watching Netflix uninterrupted. 

2. Whether you’re moving to an entirely new school or just a new grade, things will change this year in some way. You have to be ready for it. And you-yes, you-can be one of those things. It’s never too late to reinvent yourself. Want to dye your hair? Try a new extracurricular? Break a bad habit? Learn a new language? Go for it. 

3. Push yourself, but not at the expense of your mental health. No test or project is worth breaking down over. That being said, procrastination is the enemy of progress. You won’t do it later-and if you do, you won’t do it as well as you could have. 

4. Make time for your friends and yourself. Don’t let school take over your life. Self care and having fun are important too. 

5. Wherever you are, whenever you are, people are going to judge you. It’s how we’re wired-we’re a judgmental species. There’s really no point in worrying about how other people perceive you because you can’t please everyone. You could be an actual saint canonized by the pope AND cure cancer AND negotiate an armistice between the forces of good and the rabid radioactive alien wolves sworn to destroy all humanity and still some people are going to call you “bitchy,” “fake,” “weird,” “trying too hard,” et cetera, et cetera. Be unabashedly you. 

6. You are smart. Really really smart. So what if you don’t have perfect grades or the best ACT score? If you’re trying your best-really, really your best-no one can fault you for it. 

7. People who are confident in the knowledge of their own intelligence don’t: 

  • play the “grade game” i.e. “whadja get??? i’m sure you did great…seriously whadja get tho?? c’mon show me, i won’t tell anyone.” (u know these kids) 
  • loudly complain about getting an A minus/B plus when they know other people didn’t do as well as them
  • say they “didn’t study” every time there’s a test
  • cheat
  • lecture people when they didn’t ask for it
  • brag about their grades/scholarships/other opportunities 
  • compare themselves to/compete with other students constantly
  • condescend to others
  • talk about how much “busier” they are than other students all the time
  • put others down whenever they talk about successes (”i’ve won loads of those; it’s not that hard to do.” “you do know everyone who applied for science olympiad got in, right?”) *the last one someone actually said to me-and it was a blatant lie so double wtf?? 
  • lie about accomplishments when asked (just say you don’t want to talk about it its? not? that? hard?)
  • make fun of people who don’t do as well as you

Bottom line: Be honest with yourself-do you do any of these things? If so, why? The truth is, if you view your academic life as this crazy competition, you’re not going to have any fun, you’re going to lose friends over it, and people aren’t going to see you as a role model to emulate, they’re going to think you’re well…an arrogant, self-centered tool. Everyone loves that you care about school, and everyone can see that you’re really smart and driven. You have nothing to prove, and everything to lose. If you want to do well for yourself, that’s great. But if it’s all about one-upping other people, it’s not worth it. Like in writing, show, don’t tell, how competitive of a student you are. 

8. Good friends don’t: 

  • put you down
  • exclude you
  • stifle you 
  • use you as an emotional dumping ground 
  • stop supporting you 
  • tell people your secrets
  • gaslight you 
  • manipulate you 
  • make you feel unsafe
  • abuse you in any capacity
  • threaten to rescind their friendship for small offenses
  • make jokes that you find offensive 
  • ignore you/give you the silent treatment without telling you what’s wrong
  • pressure you into doing things you don’t want to
  • only hang out with you when their “best friends” aren’t around
  • talk about themselves all the time but never ask you about yourself
  • mooch off you 
  • stop talking to you for no reason
  • refuse to stick up for you when people are being jerks

Bottom line-if you feel like you come in second, if you feel like you’re the one that has to do all the work in the friendship, you have to ask yourself why you’re trying so hard. Having healthy friendships is as important as having healthy romantic relationships. Of course, there are degrees to how toxic friendships can be. I’ve been in some fairly awful ones that I had to cut off completely, but I’ve managed to reconnect with other people who I didn’t have good friendships with (i’m always careful never to get too close to those people though.) If you’re being abused or manipulated by a friend, you need to CUT THAT PERSON OFF. You deserve friends who treat you with respect. If your friends don’t, you’re better off alone (at least until you’ve found some real friends.) 

9. No significant other or crush is more important than your grades, your extracurriculars, or your mental health. If your relationship is taking over your life, take a step back and ask, “Where do I see this going?” Don’t waste time with people who don’t treat you right or people who aren’t interested. When the right person comes along (and they will!), you won’t have to feel nervous or awkward around them. 

10. Study smarter, not harder. Use abbreviations in your notes and find shortcuts to difficult math problems. Of course, do all your homework. It’ll cost you big time in the long run. 

11. Buy some clothes that you actually want to wear, and get rid of the ones that you hate. It’ll make getting up in the morning that much better if you feel confident about how you look. Dress for yourself-you are not “slutty” or “trying too hard” for wanting to look good. 

12. Find your textbooks online so you don’t have to lug them back and forth every day. Don’t wait to buy your supplies-buy them now so you can get good deals and won’t end up scouring every office supply store for that particular brand of pencil. 

13. Participate. Seriously. I didn’t realize what a difference this made until I got to high school. Even if you feel like you’re going to get the question wrong, even if you feel like you’re not smart enough to add anything interesting to the class discussion, say something. Not only does it make the teacher notice you-which in a big class is super important-it’ll show that you’re paying attention and that you want to learn. If you participate, teachers will be more likely to remember you and you’ll feel more confident about yourself, as well as less tempted to doze off or talk to your friends. Do this in all your classes-even the ones you’re not as good at-and you will see better grades-guaranteed (especially if they grade on participation). 

14. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You’re not stupid if you don’t understand something. If you can, ask someone to tutor you if you’re struggling. Ask the teacher for extra practice on what you struggle with. If no one is asking your question for you in class, you have to ask it yourself, otherwise you’re never going to learn. 

15. Hard test? Start studying 3-4 days in advance. One day review notes and material; the others do practice exercises or quiz yourself. If possible, study with friends-as long as they don’t distract you. Take 5-10 minute breaks in between sessions so you don’t burn out. 

16. Make a studying playlist and a motivational playlist. You’ll be amazed at how much better you feel about studying. Only do extracurriculars you actually enjoy-not ones you just do because you think it will look good on some application or the other. Don’t load up on these activities either or your grades will start to dip. 

17. Know the dates and times of any big standardized tests you’re taking (SAT, ACT, PSAT, AP tests, IB tests, IGSE, GCSE, SAT Subject Tests, etc.). Plan to start reviewing for these at least a month before the exam. (and a month before only if you know you’re really good at that kind of test-taking.)  

18. Edit your essays, once by yourself and once with a friend. Know the format your teacher wants so you don’t have to waste time googling “MLA in-text citation” every time you have an essay due. 

19. This may come as a surprise to you, but you are not the center of the universe. So before you go on long rants about how hard your life is, remember, you have no idea what the person you’re sitting next to might be going through. You are not the only person ever who’s had to juggle hard classes, extracurriculars, a job, and family problems at the same time. Other people are also struggling-what you’re going through is not more difficult or more meaningful than what anyone else is dealing with. This year, make a resolution to ask people questions about themselves, to listen to others, instead of making everything about you. You will be surprised at how much more people will trust you and how many more friends you will make. Also, guess what? Bad days happen to everyone-so stop taking out your frustrations on people that you care about. It’s petty, it’s stupid, it’s not fair, and it’s the quickest way to make your bad day a little worse. 

20. Regardless of whatever happens this year, you will graduate, you will get a job that makes you happy, and you will be a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, successful human being. If you get nothing else out of this post, take this-don’t get yourself so taken in by that weird, hive-mind-toxic culture that school perpetuates that you lose the ability to deal with the people who are truly important to you. At the end of the day, you want to say that you came out of this school year a happier, wiser person than you entered it. 

Little things Harry would do to make Valentine’s Day special

Spend hours thinking of just the right words to put in your card, crafting the perfect way to explain how much you mean to him.

Insist on taking photos as you open your gifts. And when you protest, saying you’re still in your pajamas, he replies, “Gotta have summat to show our future children, love.”

Buy you a dress in the same shade of baby pink made of the same silky material as your favorite shirt of his. Not so that you’ll stop wearing his, god no; he loves coming home and finding you draped in his shirt, soft legs peaking out from the hem. He loves you in it so much he wants to see all the ways a dress of the same kind would flatter you.

Follow you around, gyrating and singing, as you get ready for the day, pleading with you to sing along. And when you finally let him take your hand, he spins you in a circle, crooning, “Girl, you know I want your love. Your love was handmade for somebody like me.”

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anonymous asked:

the gang seeing you all dressed up for the first time

(At first, I thought it said: “The gang getting you all dressed up for the first time” and omg, could you imagine? Like Sodapop is doin’ your nails while the other boys are looking through your closet to see what outfit you should wear.) anywAY

- Everyone’s jaw drops, like everyone. Their heads turn and they all stop to stare at you.

- Steve breaks the silence by WHISTLING at you like “Damn!” and Two-bit starts right after by hollering flirtatious things at you like, “Hey, baby, lookin’ good! I bet you’d look even better in my arms, huh??”

- Ponyboy’s face is beet red and he literally can’t look away. There’s so many things he wants to tell you. He’s already thinking of cheesy love poems to write you and how he honestly believes he found his ‘one true love.’

- Dallas is a sucker for girls being all dressed up so as soon as you stepped out, the cigarette he was about to light falls out his mouth and his eyes widen. He’s like,,, so stunned. Abort mission, he is a horndog, he’s going to follow you all night long and use every smooth line in the book to get a knockout like you. 

- Darry’s become light pink and he’s so speechless. He clears his throat and tries his best to look away but he kEEPS LOOKING OVER, HE CAN’T HELP IT. He wants to tell you how stunning you look in the most gentlemanly terms but he just can’t pull himself together.

- Johnny cannot keep his wide eyes off of you, he’s looking at you up and down and he just wants to smack himself because he can’t help it. He stutters and stumbles over his words when attempting to compliment your appearance. His mind is screaming “Wow

- Soda dead ass makes a move on you the first few seconds you step out. He literally slides over and leans against the wall in a suggestive and flirtatious manner and says the cheesiest fucking pick-up you’ve ever heard.

- Steve and Soda compete each other for you due to bro-code and Johnny is the next to try and make a move and he’s so nervous, he’s trying his best.

Breaking the Rules - part 5

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Modern!AU You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Word Count:2,326

Warnings: the usual 

Breaking the Rules - Masterpage

Originally posted by imissyourbattlecries

The next day was peaceful and quiet. The calm before the storm as Mary had said. You sat on the patio, cooking lunch with Bucky’s grandmother while he was playing basketball with his cousin, Peter.

When his grandmother caught you staring at him, she gave you a knowing wink and you ducked your head to hide your smile.

Winnie wanted to get to know you better and decided to take all the girls to the beauty salon to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Of course, Bucky whispered a stupid comment into your ear and you discreetly pinched his side, making him yelp.

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Jake English is the most intelligent character in Homestuck. And he hides it deliberately.

For a given value of “intelligence”, anyway. I don’t hold that much truck with the concept in general–there are different kinds of intelligence that run the gamut of human skills, and reducing that to a single concept is reductive, to say the least.

However, it’s hard to deny that there are real cultural forces in our society that do treat intelligence as a monolithic descriptor of skill and worth, and it’s a cultural idea as pervasive in reality as it is in Jake’s character arc.

For that reason alone, I’ll be using “intelligence” as a term referring to Jake’s awareness of and competence at identifying and solving problems throughout this sequence. The term as I am using it here is only relevant in the context of the themes and language Homestuck sets up. 

Intelligence, competence, and awareness are key parts of Jake’s relationship with the people around him, and particularly with the way he is dehumanized, taken for granted, and abused. 

In fact, almost every character Jake is close to in canon questions his intelligence at some point:

And this dynamic isn’t just present in the characters. It’s in the fandom as well. 
Fandom perception of Jake English often considers him comically unaware of his surroundings and reality, dense and slow or even straight up unable to pick up on ideas that come naturally to many of the other characters.

This is true across the board of opinions of his character: Some consider Jake a self-absorbed, thoughtless asshole, others still consider him a helpless victim who isn’t quite quick enough on the uptake to keep up with how he’s manipulated by others.

It’s hard for us–the fandom, I mean–to be sure of just how much Jake understood about how badly Lil Hal treated him (and by association, Dirk, in much of the fandom’s eyes). Or that Jane liked him. Among other things. It’s part of the general air of helplessness and incompetence that surrounds Pages, I guess, and air set up around Jake for quite a lot of his narrative:

(Note: This is Brain Ghost Dirk specifically questioning Jake’s intelligence.  
I hope you’ve got some good note taking pens, because this is going to be important later.)


It’s pretty much accepted that the degree and reach of Jake’s intelligence is, at the very least, a matter of debate. I am here to say that it is not. At all. And I can prove it. By allowing ourselves to doubt Jake’s intelligence, we–the fandom– have performed the equivalent of deciding Dave’s cool guy act is the real deal. 

We have fallen for Jake’s bluff. I’ll explain. 

Plenty of people are aware that Knights, as a class, tend to act out personas that reflect ideas about how they think they should act. 
For Dave, that’s the stoic Cool Guy archetype, which he eventually grows out of:

For Karkat, it’s his ideas of being a Ruthless Big Shot Leader, which he also outgrows by the end: 

And Latula has the thing about being a R4D SK4T3R G4M3G1RL!!! I don’t really think we need a quote to establish that–Dave and Karkat prove my point well enough, and this is pretty much common fandom knowledge. 

What I don’t think is common fandom knowledge is that Pages do the same thing, but for a different purpose. Pages and Knights both set up Personas that they project into the outside world. And both of them do it to control how other people perceive them. But for different reasons.

Knights do it because they want to be perceived as capable, in control, and unflappable, basically. Karkat wants everyone to rely on his executive ability as a Leader. Dave wants to be admired and validated by his friends, or. Well. Anyone. In essence, Knights want to be relied on by others. 

Pages, on the other hand, develop this fabricated identity for themselves. At this point, I should mention I’ve come to agree with Tex Talk’s view that Knights are a passive class and Pages are an active one. 

Knights use their aspect to benefit others. Pages use it to benefit themselves.

Horrus develops a strangely blank persona, so conspicuously fake it is hard to tell if he even reacts to input–so it’s easy for him to just pretend he didn’t hear it when Rufioh tells him he wants to break up–again, I don’t really feel like going through all of Openbound to get all the screencaps and I don’t think they warrant that much space on this post. 

Tavros does the same thing, enveloping himself in his games and fantasy so much that he veers away from almost any responsibility in the session, and does only what he wants to…unless Vriska is stealing that ability from him. However, even through her abuse,  Tavros manages through sheer presentation of his person to encourage the other trolls to help take care of him. 

Specifically, by giving him increased mobility–mobility and freedom of movement being concepts closely related to Breath. It’s worth mentioning Tavros is able to inspire this care not just in Kanaya, but in Equius, who looks down upon lowbloods and whose culture would have encouraged him to KILL Tavros for his weakness rather than help him. 

But because of Vriska’s exploitative and cruel influence on him, I’m not sure to what extent he really lives up to his full potential. That said, he DOES manage to completely live out his own personal fantasy, coming to embody both his childhood image of Peter Pan…

BUT ALSO being the only one of the Alternian trolls to accomplish his original childhood goal: Becoming a Cavalreaper.

Get it? He’s literally cavalry. Ha ha. Is this kind of a fucked up victory? Maybe, yeah. But it’s fitting that the character obsessed with the Peter Pan fantasy of leading a troupe of “Lost Boys” never really grows up with the goals he sets for himself. Maybe it says something about Tavros, or about the nature of Ghosts–either way, it definitely seems intentional. 

Anyway, the Ghosts are another essay for another time. Time to talk about the kid I actually want to talk about:

Jake English has a fabricated persona, too. For Horuss, it’s nothingness. For Tavros, it’s endless childhood and Peter Pan. But Jake’s persona is a contrast to Dirk’s (and Dave’s) Cool Guy persona. Personas that, for each of them, sit at the dead opposite end of the spectrum from who all three characters actually are. 

And for Jake’s constructed persona is that of the Hot-Headed Hero.

And like Horrus and Tavros, Jake indulges this fantasy version of himself even when he actively knows it makes no sense to do so, simply because it’s the fantasy about his life he wants to live out. 


But like Dave and Dirk’s presentation of themselves as cool guys unphased by anything, this persona is a complete lie.

Jake is demonstrably extremely nerdy…

He collects pointless minutiae about his favorite movies and comic books. He looks up to comic book heroines so much he wants to dress up like them. 

And also intelligent, curious, and good at evaluating the potential consequences of his actions–traits he literally willfuly holds himself back from. 


His Modus is by far the most complex of all the kids. He uses a Puzzle Modus that allows him to fit any amount of items he wants in it’s storage space…so long as he can successfully spatially fit every single object within a finite space. 

And Jake captchalogues a LOT of shit. Meaning he has to keep all of this inventory and know how to spatially navigate it to fit everything he wants at all times. And he does this casually, as a part of his daily interactions with the world around him. 

But perhaps more telling than that is how Brain Ghost Dirk describes his own creation: 

Brain Ghost Dirk implies that he is a Dirk splinter, but specifically a Dirk splinter that exists entirely through the ideas Jake has about Dirk. 

In other words, Jake knows and understands Dirk so well that he can pretty much perfectly remember his body, movements and mannerisms on command. Again, not even actively, it’s just kind of how Jake English rolls-thinking about Dirk all the time is the status quo. 

And Brain Ghost Dirk claims to be Jake’s literal brain, talking back to him.

Which means when Brain Ghost Dirk calls Jake out on something, he is forcibly communicating important information to Jake that Jake is actively choosing to ignore. It’s Jake talking to himself, not Dirk giving Jake information he doesn’t have by talking to him through Brain Ghost Dirk.

We have reason to believe the Ghost about this, since Dirk never expresses having any awareness of Brain Ghost Dirk’s existence. 

So what important information does Jake willingly ignore? Well, earlier we saw him justify beating up a random alien girl even though a part of his brain knew she wasn’t actually Sea Hitler, and he kind of just wanted to play the part. But surely we can do better than that. How about everything about his friends’ feelings about him that makes him uncomfortable?

Callmearcturus wrote this brilliant thesis outlining why she thinks Jake deliberately manipulated Jane into failing to confess to him
, but I’m gonna run over it real quick to ground it in this context and sell you on the idea that this is, in fact, not a theory and explicit canon.

Because we don’t need to guess at this by reverse-engineering Jake’s well-established feelings for Dirk. Roxy literally tells him Jane has these feelings before Jane herself does:

Jake recognizes what Roxy is saying, and guesses what she was alluding to on her own. Roxy doesn’t deny it by any measure, and when she asks Jake to drop the issue, Jake says he understands the dilemma this puts her in with Jane. 

To stress: He received this information in confidence and knows it for a fact. And he trusts the information he receives so much that he then ACTS on it. After talking to Roxy, Jake messages Jane himself, OPENING by mentioning Roxy told him Jane was going to be contacting him.

And then he himself broaches the subject of their romantic feelings for each other:

But when Jane outright asks him if he has something he wants to say to her, Jake expertly dodges the question, keeping his options open while putting the onus of taking the first step and revealing her feelings on Jane again. 

And then, once he’s got her trying to answer…

He KEEPS asking her, interrupting her several times while she starts to try sorting out her thoughts. He puts Jane under a LOT of pressure here, which…considering Jake literally KNOWS the answer, is a pretty shitty thing to do! Even if Roxy hadn’t LITERALLY TOLD HIM mere minutes ago, Jane’s reactions here would have confirmed Jake’s suspicions beyond a reasonable shadow of a doubt. 

Unless, of course, one has a reputation for not thinking things through or being aware of their surroundings. 

Once Jake has his answer, he doubles back, making sure to ask her AGAIN while she’s off balance….

And he then shuts her down when she tries to take the initiative on taking it back and being honest, quickly following up by IMMEDIATELY letting her know he’s relieved about this–signaling his disinterest BEFORE she has a chance to reveal she actually does have a stake in the matter.

He then uses his goofy, unaware, trusting persona to set up a status quo where Jane continually helps him by acting as a sounding board for all his thoughts about Dirk–essentially, putting Jane inside a gender-flipped version of the laughable stereotype of The Friend Zone.

But wait a minute. Jane is one thing. But if Jake is actually this smart, aware, and capable–then it kind of has ramifications across all of his character interactions. What else changes if we read Jake this way? I know I said my next post would be on Roxy, but, uh…yeah. This one kind of got away from me. 

In our next entry, we’re going to talk about Why Jake does what he does, and Why he seems so genuinely confused about it later into his narrative. We’re also going to look at some of the other consequences his Jake’s approach to his friendships has for his friends. 

We’ll also make a case for Why exactly Jake ultimately falls in love with Dirk Strider, how and when Jake demonstrates and acts on that love, and if I can manage to squeeze it in–maybe even uncover the way the Heart aspects’ two different themes of  Souls and Romance/Shipping are conceptually connected.

And on that note, it’s worth pointing out that there’s one notable exception to the list of people fooled by Jake’s presented persona. One character who not only never talks Jake’s intelligence down…

But instead talks Jake’s intelligence UP when he talks badly about himself. 

Dirk Strider.

See you again soon, everyone. 

Until then, Keep Rising. 

Jump me, bro?


Prompted myself with: “I just want a neighborhood AU where Stiles is the bro-iest bro to ever bro and Derek pines after him anyway.”

I’m trying to get better about moving my twitterfics over to a more readable format without overthinking them, so we’ll see how that goes. (Also on AO3)

Derek’s house is a couple doors down from what he’s pretty sure is a frat house-wannabe. He’d drop the qualifier—as an undergrad, he’d unfortunately lived close enough to frat row to recognize the distinctive loud parties, music thumping late into the night, a stream of girls constantly flowing in and out the doors, bros drunkenly crooning along to badly-tuned guitars—but as far as he can tell, all of the guys are at least a few years out of college.

Resisting the urge to call the cops with a noise complaint takes some effort. Derek doesn’t particularly want to be that guy, though; he still has to live in this neighborhood. And a part of him, much as he doesn’t want to admit it, simply wishes he’d been invited. It’s not that it sounds like fun, exactly. Derek didn’t enjoy those types of parties when he was in college, and he’s not nearly old enough yet for the nostalgia to kick in. It’s just that…well, it would be nice to be included.

He carefully doesn’t think about the fact that the shift from outright irritation to a sort of wistful longing happened around the time that he saw one particular guy hanging around in front of the house, surrounded by his friends.

Derek does not find frat bros attractive. He never has. He never will. A certain long-limbed guy with an infectious laugh and warm brown eyes won’t change that.

He finds other ways to channel his frustration, some more productive than others. On nights when he takes his trash to the curb, he makes his way down to the overstuffed bins haphazardly jumbled in front of the pseudo-frat house. Under cover of darkness, shielded by the noise pouring through the brightly-lit windows, he sorts through the upper layers of his neighbors’ trash, separating stacks of greasy pizza boxes from sticky piles of beer cans.

It’s primarily to be a good citizen. Every house in the neighborhood has separate recycling bins—they’re even color coded, making it incredibly easy to put the correct materials in the appropriate spot. Derek’s just doing his part for the environment, since his obnoxious neighbors refuse to take a few extra seconds out of their day. At least, that’s what he tells himself when he’s sticking his fingers in strangers’ trash. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t count as trespassing if he’s not actually going into the yard, and he’s not stealing anything. Just…moving things around a little.

The other reason’s one he doesn’t like to dwell on. The rational side of his brain recognizes that the guys in this house don’t even know him, so why would they invite him over? This isn’t like high school, when he was the nerd people intentionally ignored. They’re living their lives, he’s living his, and it’s perfectly natural for them to not intersect.

But one night, as Derek slaps the lid of the recycling bin shut, wishing he’d brought a roll of paper towels or maybe even some wet wipes, he looks up and finds one of the bros standing on the front porch, watching him.

Derek freezes in place. He can’t immediately identify the person; from the street, all he can see is a tall, athletic figure backlit by the open front door. He’s expecting to be chased off the property, probably cussed out in the process, but the guy comes down the steps and lifts the lid of the recycling bin, dropping his empty beer can inside.

“Thanks for doing that, bro,” he says. “The guys don’t spend a lotta time thinking about the environment.”

It’s not just a bro. It’s the bro. The one Derek hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. His first time speaking to Derek, and it’s because he caught Derek rummaging around in his garbage late at night.

“You’re uh, you’re welcome,” Derek says.

Fortunately, the guy doesn’t seem to care about getting an explanation. He introduces himself instead: Stiles. Of course his name would be equally intriguing, Derek thinks, annoyed with himself for even caring about this interaction.

Derek gives his name in turn, wondering if he should point out his house to make his presence here seem less weird, but Stiles doesn’t seem inclined to linger in the cold. He heads back inside, giving Derek a brief, friendly wave before shutting the door again.

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Muse’s First Halloween sentence starters

Starters for/to muses who have never heard of, or experienced, Halloween (the anon request was for non-human muses, but I feel this can be attributed to several situations.)

“It’s just a costume, don’t worry. We don’t actually shape-shift into monsters on Halloween night.”
“I’ve never heard of a holiday like this before.”
“There’s candy? I guess it can’t be that bad then.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Halloween before!”
“What kind of childhood did you have if you never ate Halloween candy?”
“Amazing. They shaped the peanut butter circle into a small pumpkin. How extraordinary.” 
“There are whole parties where everyone is dressed up like something else? How do you recognize anyone?”
“Uh, no, there aren’t any human sacrifices. They got rid of that a few centuries ago, I think.”
“You’ll love Halloween! It’s much better than Valentine’s Day, I promise.”
“Why do you have to kill the pumpkins? You put a face on them and then they rot. Isn’t that a bit cruel?”
“Is there any kind of brutal punishment if I don’t wear a costume?”
“So what deities are they praying to when they dress up like zombie nurses?”
“This is without a doubt the strangest holiday I have ever heard of.”
“There’s not usually a significance to the costume, no. Just whatever you want to be!”
“A whole holiday all about being scared and contacting the dead? Have you all gone mad?!”
“I’ve heard of holidays like this, but never experienced it.”
“It’s a good excuse to hang out in the cemetery and not look too suspicious.”
“No, we don’t just wear costumes or watch scary movies. We also egg peoples’ houses and throw toilet paper on their yard. We’re classy like that.”
“This is the only night you can contact the dead? Where I come from, we do that every day.”
“I think I like this holiday so far.”
“I’m not sure I like Halloween.”
“Don’t worry, Halloween is overrated anyway.”
“Costumes and candy are for babies. You and me? We’re going to raise the dead.”
“No, we don’t burn witches on Halloween. That’s so seventeenth century.”
“Black cats and pumpkins and stuff, it’s all just based on old superstitions and legends.”
“Tell me about the history of this holiday.”
“This isn’t one of those Santa Clause things, is it? I don’t want to know what kinds of presents he would bring.”
“Ugh! All of these costumes are hideous. And people dress like this for fun?”

ree-fireparrot  asked:

What makes an outfit practical or impractical to fight in? Would an acrobat's outfit with some decent shoes be okay to fight in? Any suggestions on how to make an outfit frilly/girly without sacrificing (too much) practicality? (Trying to come up with practical[ish] Magical Girl outfits - know it's not your genre probably - there are certain expectations for frilliness even for tomboyish characters)

You’re, basically, looking for three things: How well can you move in it, does it give potential foes anything to grab, and does it offer any protection?

If you can’t move freely in your clothes, you can’t fight in them. It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about them being tight enough to restrict movement, or if they make it difficult to walk around. Tight skirts, high heels, tailored suits; it doesn’t matter; they’ll all limit your ability to fight.

With footwear, you’re looking primarily at how well you can stand and move in it. Shoes and boots designed to grip the floor are (usually) the best options here. So, things like sneakers or work boots are good options. Rubberized soles will help you keep your footing far better when you’re standing in someone’s blood than a dress shoe or high heels.

Things like long coats, ties, free flowing skirts, scarves, hoodies, or of course capes, won’t usually limit your mobility, but they can give an opponent something to grab. Once that happens, that article of clothing will limit your mobility (some). This is also a factor that’s difficult to completely eliminate. Practiced martial artists can, and do, go for collar or lapel grabs on clothing you might think would pass. That said, there are some special cases here.

If the article of clothing will tear away freely, it’s (kind of) a wash. You’re still talking about losing clothes, which isn’t usually something you want, but it means you’re not getting dragged out of position by an attacker.

If the combatant is ready for it, it’s possible to use something like this as a firing point to retaliate. If you know, roughly, where their hand is, it’s much easier to extrapolate where the rest of them is in relation to you. This still doesn’t make fighting in long flowing garments a good idea.

The final factor, almost by definition, doesn’t really apply with magical girls as a genre, and can get a little weird when you’re talking about any superhuman characters.

Ideally, if you’re planning to get into a fight, you’ll want durable clothing that will take a few hits, and hopefully shield you from harm. Materials like leather and denim hold up much better than lighter fabrics. Insulation in a jacket will take some kinetic force from a strike (not a lot, but still), so it’s better than just jeans and a tee, or even a denim jacket. This also gets into a discussion we’ve had before. Protection is often about making tradeoffs.

An insulated leather jacket will (slightly) reduce your mobility. It will give an opponent something they can grab. But, it will also offer protection from stray hits and while parrying incoming strikes. It won’t protect against gunshots, or against a sword, and if that’s what your character was likely to face, they’d need armor to deal with those threats instead.

Somewhat obviously, exposed skin isn’t offered any protection. Technically, skin itself is protection for your body, and it does function as your first line of defense against infection, but that’s mostly academic in this context.

This is also where, magical girls, and most superhero subgenres, deliberately start straying from reality, without actually being unrealistic (in the literary sense). What matters is if your character has some kind of protection from the threats they’re facing. It doesn’t matter if that’s an ancient alien artifact, a mystical gemstone, or the weaponized power of friendship. That is what protects your character, not her denim vest. You’re also talking about characters where the threats they face are, effectively, impossible to mitigate through mundane means. Again, a leather jacket, no matter how snazzy, won’t do much against a death beam from some snarling murderbeast, or blows from a sword with an enchantment that drains the soul from anyone who touches it. As I’ve said before, you select your armor to deal with the threats you’re likely to face, and when it comes to magical girls, those threats are (almost always) going to be far beyond anything you could physically protect against.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to fight off an arisen god of war in a school girl uniform, but it’s not like a flak vest would offer any more protection against a threat like that.

-Starke

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Harry Smut// Anonymous

Masterlist || Part 2 (as requested)

A/N: Okay bIG MOOD

8:30 showed on your phone as you sat at the hotel lobby bar. A pianist played classical music in the corner of the room softly. The piece sounded familiar, but you couldn’t focus on the harmony. Your legs were a little chilly on the metal chair in your olive dress. You pulled down the hem wondering if it was too much for tonight; you told him to dress up, but you wondered if what you had on was too much.

Did it matter anyway? He was now fifteen minutes late at a 30 became a 31 on your clock. The bartender almost passed you until you caught his attention. 

“Dirty martini please,” you told him, tapping your coaster.

He nodded before starting to make your drink. Your patience was wavering. He hadn’t texted you or messaged you about being late or on his way. A simple text just saying, “traffic is horrible. be there in five,” would suffice. 

Your drink was delivered faster than you thought it would, but there was still no one walking into the hotel. You were the only one at the bar. Some had come to get a drink, but they were swept away by others, and that’s all you wanted. You wanted to be swept by someone; you wanted someone that demanded your attention but you always demanded theirs. 

“Scotch, straight,” a man dressed in a suit and tie said as he walked up behind you to order. He laid down some cash next to your drink; you weren’t an expert on the price of a scotch, but you were sure he laid down too much, “and hers as well,” he finished.

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I Want You [Jay Park]

Warning: Contains heavy smut. Do not read if you are underage. 

A/N: Thank you to @admincl for the input and helping me decide on how I wanted this to end. 


The first package had arrived just before a meeting on a Monday morning, the stark red of the large bow against the tanned box the only reason your secretary had called out to you as you left the office, her voice enunciating the curled white letters with a thick french accent.

‘Louboutin’s… Jay won’t be pleased when he sees the credit card bill this month.’ She’d winked slyly, sharing a knowingly smug smile with you.

‘Honey, I know you don’t think I use a man’s money to buy my shoes… They’re probably a gift from him to apologise for canceling on me tonight. Leave them on my desk, I’ll return them later. I don’t take bribes.’ You’d said with a laugh, swishing the thickness of your hair over your shoulders before leaving, loud heels clicking with authority on the tiles as you departed.

If it hadn’t been for the rush you’d been in, you would have checked them a lot sooner. You would have noted the blank card, gold script scrawling anonymous across it. You would have understood that the lack of sender was an indication the shoes weren’t for the reason you’d thought. But you hadn’t. With the stress of your day, they’d fallen completely from your mind. It wasn’t until you’d sauntered back from your meeting that you’d spied them, perched dutifully on your desk and patiently awaiting your return.

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