thanks cah

ATTENTION

This is Raivis Galante, also known as Latvia. He is a well known cinnamon roll, who hasn’t done anything wrong. Yet there are some crusty pineapples in the world who feel that it’s acceptable to start Latvia discourse. It’s honestly sickening. Help me blast those hecking meanies back into the shadow realm.

Story time: Shit my students say

My students have been struggling with topic strings/transitions in their papers. So today I brought Cards Against Humanity to class and passed out several cards to each of them and had everyone go around the room transitioning from one topic to the next. We got a couple beauties like, “While Raptor Attacks are a pressing concern, I believe that not enough media attention is given to Vigorous Jazz Hands.” We also had a few really nice threads of sentences, like: “Although many people might assume that The True Meaning of Christmas is A Sassy Black Woman, I will argue that The True Meaning of Christmas is, in fact, Tasteful Side Boob.” “First, however, I will provide context in which I place my discussion of Tasteful Side Boob, since it involves Dark and Mysteries Forces Beyond Our control.” “While some critics may argue that these Dark and Mysterious Forces Beyond Our Control are problematic, I will prove that they are not. Bitches.”

We then made a list on the board of various techniques/transition words that they used in the exercise, and then gave them the last ten minutes of class to edit/rework their transitions in their papers for homework. I’m looking at their submissions now and feeling rather euphoric because they are SO VERY MUCH IMPROVED. Thanks, CAH. You the real MVP.

The Notebook

For most of your life you enjoyed the quiet and rarely found it. Living with a couple siblings and a set of very loud parents, there was constant noise in your life. However, what you hadn’t been prepared for was that when you got an apartment to yourself, that it would be too quiet. Music, white noise, sound machines—nothing created a productive work environment for you when you were home.

It caused you to grumble to yourself about how you paid rent and could barely work there because it wasn’t noisy enough. You needed the low hum of the coffee shop to run through your head and focus your mind on important matters. While probably any old coffee shop would do, your shop of choice was this little bakery down the road. So nearly every afternoon, you would gather all you needed to grade, and walked to the lovely little shop.

The ladies that worked behind the counter always greeted you with a smile and made your coffee perfectly. Depending on the day, you would get a snack for yourself and eat while you graded. The shop was always busy—especially since Mr. Harry Styles gave it the publicity it deserved in his One Direction movie. His picture hung behind the counter and they gushed about him whenever asked. You only moved into town within the last year, you’d never met Harry, but you did enjoy his music and you loved One Direction.

There was of course, always more people in the shop when they heard that Harry was back in town visiting his mum and family. They hoped and hoped that he would stumble into the bakery and they could finally meet him. While it did help your grading, it made it difficult for you to find a seat in the quaint little place.

You were glancing at your phone to check the time when you felt your foot kick something. Looking down, you scooped up the object that got in your way. It was a small notebook, with a brown leather wrap around it. Hiking your own bag further up on your shoulder, you untied the strap around it and pulled back the flap to open to the first page.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the notes for songs and a few doodles and scribbles. And at the bottom of the page was signed, –H. You slapped the leather shut and yanked the tie around it tight. Peering inside the shop window, you didn’t see Harry, but everyone was anxiously awaiting his arrival—staring at the door in hopes he would come back.

Because clearly, he was already here. You turned on your heel and headed back to your apartment. It was known how private, personal, and important Harry’s journal was and you didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands because after figuring out who it belonged to, you had no intention of opening it again. Hurrying into your apartment you set the notebook on the coffee table and stared at it for a few moments. Your grading would have to wait; right now, you had to get this back to Harry Styles.

*

Harry sometimes wrote his dreams down as a possible idea for a new song. He woke up in the middle of the night and blindly reached over for his notebook. Not feeling the familiar leather-bound book on the nightstand, he quickly woke up with a start, realizing, he hadn’t seen his notebook since he went to the bakery earlier that day.

With a panic, he jumped out of bed and checked his messenger bag and he ran through the house checking every tabletop and surface as quietly as he could—so as not to wake his mum. Pressing his fingers around the bridge of his nose he inhaled as deeply as he could and tried to release all the negativity. It’s okay. The ladies probably found it. It’s nothing to worry about.

Except the ladies were closing the shop down for renovations for the next two weeks. Groaning, Harry put his head to his knees feeling dizzy and weak. There was so many personal things in that journal—all his secrets, songs he’s yet to write and people he’s loved and all the like. He was so incredibly sad and worried. Someone had the depths of Harry’s soul in their hands and they could break him so easily and they didn’t even know.

*

For the better part of that Saturday morning, you stared at the notebook sitting on the table. You went by the bakery—and found it was closed for the next two weeks. “Of course,” you muttered to yourself. You were sure the ladies would have gotten it back to him and now that hope was gone. The poor thing was probably so worried and you had no way of getting it back quickly to ease his worry. Finally, you picked the notebook up and shoved it into the cabinet that you locked—it was filled with personal financial documents and other important things.

The stack of papers that needed grading stared at you next and without the bakery to get to, you started in quickly—it would take a long time without the background noise you needed.

*

“Mum, I’ve looked everywhere,” he said and his eyes were sad and dark from not sleeping much. He was so worried about the person that found it and whether or not they were nice or if they were going to ruin his life.

Anne pouted and rubbed her child’s back. “I’m sure it’ll show up, love. You called the ladies at the bakery?”

He sighed. “They’re all on vacation due to renovations. They can’t even go look to see.”

She sighed. “Well, then you just have to hope that the person that found it is taking care of it.”

“Mum, it says who I wrote songs about and my plans for my next album and it’s so personal,” he face turned beet red in front of his mom as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was so worried.

“Darling,” she whispered. “People are good.”

Harry shook his head. “Not when it comes to my privacy, Mum,” he reminded her. “I can’t trust anyone. I’m so worried,” he said.

Pouring him some tea, Anne wrapped his hand around the mug. “Well, you can trust me and I have hope that someone is taking care of something so personal.”

*

Listening to the phone ring through the line you took deep breaths. When the secretary answered with an automated response, you took a deep breath and swallowed with difficulty knowing that your question was bound to be hopeless. “Hi,” you said sweetly. “I know this is going to sound silly, but I really need to get in contact with Mr. Styles,” you said. “I believe I have something that belongs to him and I don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands—”

And while you would have continued, your question was returned with mocking laughter. “Are you serious?” You could hear her smirk. You swallowed.

“Yes, ma’am. I know it sounds silly, but I just want to get his belongings back to him, they’re really—”

“His contact information is privileged information. If you have a fan letter you can mail it—he’ll get to it eventually. Thank you for calling.”

“Wait, ma’am I’m—” But the line was already clicked off. Grunting in frustration, you threw your phone across the couch and glared at it. Logging onto Twitter you tried to see if you could find any information on getting in touch with Harry—or if anyone knew his notebook was lost. Part of you wondered if it was his and you were wasting your energy, but you just had to know if it was his and if you could get it back to him.

Right now, you had to get to school though and you could try and deal with it again at the end of the day.

*

“…and who remembers the acronym for trig functions?” You asked your class. All twenty students stared at you blankly. “I’ll wait. I know you know this. I’m a math teacher. And it’ll get a lot more awkward for you before it’s awkward for me.”

Snorting, one of your students raised their hand from the back of the class. “SOH-CAH-TOA.”

“Thank you,” you nodded respectfully at him as you wrote the words on the board.

“Miss,” a student said. “I know we’re doing math, but did you hear Harry lost his notebook?” You turned to the young girl near the front of the class. They all knew that you adored Harry Styles—especially after you played it in class in between passing time.

“Oh?” You replied. “Where did you hear that?” You asked curiously as you gathered papers to be passed out for the next activity.

“The info was leaked on Instagram. Someone asked him where it was because he looked proper rotten this morning and it looked like he was searching for something down by that bakery he used to work at.”

Dammit. “That’s very sad…but right now we have to learn how to use those trig functions so Harry will have to wait,” you said. “And please get off your phone,” you said staring at her with a pointed expression.

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

Harry was distraught. He kept tugging at his curly locks and he felt like he was losing his mind. How could he be so careless to lose it? And now the whole world knew it was gone and he got one million tweets about finding it and he wanted to cry. No one wanted to help him.

Searching all over the little town he wondered who could have found it and what kind of secrets they were sharing with the rest of the world. It broke his heart and he wanted to write about it but of course, he had nowhere to write it.

*

It had been a week since you found the journal and now your students were on holiday for the week so you had more time to figure out just how to get in touch with Harry. You had tried Twitter, but you knew no one would contact him.

So, taking a day of your vacation, you drove to the studio address and stopped at the secretary. You recognized her voice and knew this was a lost cause, but you had to try. It was for Harry. “Hi, I spoke with you on the phone, I have—”

“Harry’s notebook? Join the others,” she said jerking her thumb in the direction of the overzealous fans who were seated in the waiting area just hoping for a glimpse of Harry.

Sighing you left without another word. You stopped outside for a minute to glare up at the studio label and you were nearly shoved to the ground when a group of fans pushed by. You noticed there was a shiny black car pulling up and out stepped a long lanky body with frazzled curly hair. Feeling your feet carry you before you recognized it, you ran full force toward him. You were stopped suddenly and nearly knocked the wind out of you as a bodyguard stepped in your path. “Please, I’m not kidding, I just want to give him his notebook back.”

“Miss,” the bodyguard said. “Everyone has claimed to have it—”

“But I do!” You said in frustration. “I don’t care if I never speak to him again, I just want him to get it back.”

Harry glanced over at you and you looked so miserable. Of course there were twenty other girls starting right for him and Harry could only look at you a moment longer before he was hurried in the door. “I found it at the bakery,” you told the bodyguard. “It’s got a doodle on the first page of a flower with a long stem and some thorns on it and lyrics about it. It’s the only page I read because I saw it had “dash, H.” Signed at the bottom. You rushed out.

The body guard just shook his head. “I’m sorry ma’am,” he said and pushed you to the side as you felt tears of frustration grow in your eyes. You just wanted Harry to feel at ease and you could see it all over his face that he was not.

Glaring at the stupid label sign one last time, you turned on your heel, and started for your car. As you sat in the driver’s seat you slapped the steering wheel a few times and then you noticed Harry’s car was totally untouched.

Scurrying over quickly you left a note with your name and number and then left hoping to God he would come get his notebook.

*

Harry put on a brave face for his fans as they ambushed him in the studio lobby. They weren’t too aggressive and shortly after they admitted they didn’t have the notebook they left, their tail between their legs, but happy to have met Harry Styles.

When all were gone, Harry asked the secretary and the body guard about that one girl, the one that his bodyguard stopped and the one that left without meeting Harry. “What did she say to you?” He asked.

The body guard shrugged. “That she found it at the bakery and she was keeping it safe—just wanted to return it.”

That piqued Harry’s interest. “You do know I lost it at the bakery, yes?” He questioned. He saw the body guard falter and the secretary looked nervous.

“Well, you see sir, she seemed just like—”

Harry didn’t typically get angry at anyone that worked with him but he was so nervous and worried and he was mad. “What did she say?” He hissed. Stammering the body guard retold the story of how she said she found it. Read only the first page and it was doodled with a flower and lyrics about thorns. “OH MY GOD SHE HAS IT AND YOU LET HER GET AWAY!”

Harry ran outside and glanced around the street and looked for his angel in the dark coat. He first gazed at you because he saw you getting closer to him. And he did think you were pretty. You had on black leather boots that reached just below your knee and they clicked when you walked. You were wearing skinny jeans and a long black coat that cinched at your waist. He didn’t think you had his notebook though. Your face was so sweet looking, long hair swirled over your shoulders and your eyes looked so kind. He would do anything to see you again.

But now you were gone for forever. At least he knew his secrets were safe saying you only read the one page.

Harry felt the tears in his eyes burning and he just wanted to go home. So he headed to his car flipping the bird at his body guard because he was mad and while Harry was usually quite peaceful, even right now, he was just too upset.

*

You were staring at the notebook again, trying to figure out how to get it back to the owner and you realized you hadn’t thought about how quiet your apartment was in a while and you were able to get some work done while you waited for some kind of news of Harry contacting you.

Hopefully he would get your note but you thought you would have heard from him by now. The paper stack you had to grade was getting smaller and you hoped that he would come find your apartment soon. Sighing you relocked the notebook away and you went back to grading. Worst case scenario—you would take his notebook to your grave.

*

Anne was rubbing Harry’s back as he laid on the couch in utter defeat. His eyes were raw from crying and he wanted to throw up a little. He was this close and he lost his lead. “Honey,” she said. “If she tried that hard to find you, you’ll meet her again,” she whispered.

Sniffling, he shrugged. “I want to thank her at this point for not reading it,” he muttered. “The first page isn’t so bad—could be expected to find the owner,” he explained. “I’m so sad.”

“I know, baby. I know,” she sighed. “How about some tea?”

He shook his head. “I just want to be sad right now.”

*

The following morning, Harry was supposed to head to the studio and so he walked to his car and sat in the driver’s seat feeling empty without the notebook still. He rubbed the back of his neck and rested his forehead on the steering wheel as he tried to calm himself and just breathe.

He heard paper fluttering and he looked up in time to notice something stuck beneath his windshield wiper. Curious if he got a ticket while parked yesterday, he opened his car door again and plucked the note off.

In beautiful but slightly messy handwriting it said I promise I do have it and it’s safe. Please trust me. I just want you to have it back. And your address was written beneath it. As he drove directly to the address, he thought that he definitely should have told at least his mum where he was going—especially when he called after the studio rang her wondering if he over slept. Then his mum called and he just told her to tell them he was sick and that he was going to visit Niall.

When he drove past the bakery and it’s renovations, he wondered how he dropped it in the first place. He was extremely careful with the secretive notebook. It wasn’t meant to be in anyone’s hands but his own. Stopping outside the apartment complex, he pulled the hood around his face and walked up to the door. He dialed your apartment.

You were just finishing your yoga exercises when the ringing call interrupted savasana. Scrambling to your feet you nearly slipped on your yoga mat. Quietly, you called back. “Hello?” You said curiously.

Swallowing, Harry took a deep breath. “It’s Harry, I’ve come for my journal,” he said quietly. Speechless, you allowed the door to open. Your heart hammered in your chest and you wished you looked prettier than the sweaty mess you knew you looked like. There was a gentle knock on the door all too soon and you hurried to open it.

Compared to himself, he felt you were much shorter than he remembered. He thought you looked very sporty and pretty, dressed in yoga pants, a loose fitted shirt that slouched on your shoulder and your hair pulled back in a messy bun with a headband around your hair line. “Hi,” he smiled sweetly.

The anxiety wore off almost instantly as you took in the black skinny jeans and the plain white t-shirt. He was very close and smelled much too good. Swallowing nervously—now only because he was actually here in the flesh, in front of you—you gestured for him to come inside. He entered quickly and stood by the door as he waited for you to speak. “I’m really glad you believed me,” you said and grabbed the key off the wall. Harry followed you, and he has to say he admired watching your bum while you walked in front of him. Shoving the key in the cabinet lock you released his journal to him.

Tears filled his eyes at the sight. “You really didn’t read it?” He whispered. “I’ll just ask you to please never tell any—”

“Only the first page to figure out who the owner was,” you told him. “I’m a teacher, you see. So privacy is really important to me. I wouldn’t read anything I’m not supposed to,” you shrugged. “I was really worried you wouldn’t get to me,” you said softly and passed him his journal.

He sighed with relief as he held it. “I will never be able to thank you enough, love,” he said. “I was a wreck,” he said. “Thank you for keeping it safe,” he said kindly. “I promise I’ll write about you.”

“Oh,” you blushed and waved your hand at him flippantly. “It’s okay, I just really wanted to get it back to you,” you said again with ease.

The tears were filling his eyes still as he looked at it. “I can’t believe you didn’t sell it or take pictures or—”

Frowning, you reached out and rested your hand on her forearm. “Harry,” you said gently. He couldn’t look up at you and so he stared at your hand touching his forearm gently. It felt nice the way your thumb rubbed over his skin soothingly. “I can tell you’ve been hurt, a lot. It’s not fair, I know,” you said. “I would never want to hurt you,” you squeezed his arm softly. “I really admire you and I hate seeing you so upset like you did when you found it was lost.”

His cheeks were getting wet from the slow tears falling down his skin. You watched as his chest shivered with a silent sob and carefully you pressed yourself to his body. He dropped the notebook on the floor and wound his arms around your body and he crouched to your shorter frame so he could cry into your neck. “I was so scared,” he said. “That it would fall into the wrong hands and—”

“Shh, shh,” you whispered running your fingers through your hair. This may be Harry Styles you were comforting, but first and foremost you were an educator and you always took care of someone in need. “It’s alright, now,” you whispered.

He nodded against your skin. “I know, it is,” he whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said and he pressed his lips against your cheek. “You’re my angel,” he said and pulled back to look into your eyes. For everything Harry knew, he could believe in miracles and he knew that you were one, because when he looked into your eyes he couldn’t see anything but pure unadulterated selflessness. “Thank you,” he breathed again. He could feel a song being written in his soul as he gazed at you. The angel that kept all his secrets even though you didn’t know any of them.

Smiling kindly at him you nodded. “Of course Harry,” you answered. “No trouble at all…would you like some tea or do you have to get going?” You asked.

Harry really needed to leave, but how often do you meet an angel? “Tea would be lovely, angel,” he whispered. “I’ve got nowhere to be but next to you,” he grinned and when you turned to the kitchen he plucked his journal off the ground and quickly scribbled on the first free page he could find:

And you said, “Would you like to have some tea?”
I said, “I only have to be right here with you next to me.”

Happy Galentines Day

Originally posted by totallyshady-book-expert

I used to be a huge parks and rec fan, don’t judge me. I don’t have many irl friends to celebrate this wonderful day with, but I do have some pretty fucking amazing online friends who I want to shine some light on. I appologize if at any point I get sappy during this. I’m a little sleep deprived. (I really did get a bit long winded so everything is under the cut)

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(( you read that right! the askblog celebrates its birthday today!

i can’t believe it’s been a year since i started this blog! tbh i would never have lasted this long without you guys. everyone who sent asks, whether as a user or on anon; everyone who liked and reblogged posts; everyone who followed the blog, whether from the very beginning or from a few hours ago; and anyone who supports this blog from the shadows. you’re all incredible people and i’m forever super grateful for your support!

sorry i don’t have any special plans - i tried to come up with something, honestly, but nothing seemed good enough ;v; all i can offer is this redraw of the very first thing i posted on this blog, haha…

thanks again, everyone! ♥ ))

The Claw (Lin x Reader)

Pairings: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: Luck? Nope. Skills.” - “If it’s skill then do it again.”

Warnings: Language? Maybe? Probably not but just in case.

Word Count: 464

AN: Um.. so this is my first fic and it’s going to be a part of a bunch of oneshots or drabbles in the same universe. I’m going to be tagging all of them with the tag #Life with Him. Also thank you to the CAH people who helped me with the title and who also encouraged me to post this.

________________________________________________________________

April 23, 1996 (16 Years Old)
A chilly spring day in April, found you and your best friend at a diner right across the street from your parents apartment in Washington Heights. It was a common afterschool study location for the two of you when Lin wasn’t in rehearsal for something-or-other or when you weren’t studying for all of your AP classes.

“Did you know I can get almost anything out of a claw machine?” Lin inquired over a plate of onion rings.

“How is that even possible? I’ve never been able to get anything out of a claw machine.” you asked as you plucked an onion ring off the bottom of the tower..

Lin grimaced as the rest of the fried onions fell to the plate, “Why would you grab from the bottom-”

“Answer the question!”

“I’ve just always been able to win anything from a claw machine.” He grabbed a ring from the top, sending you a smirk.

“That doesn’t seem possible” Lin being the super great best friend that he was reached across the table and finished off your drink, when he noticed that his drink was gone. “Why would you do that?”

“You know what? I’ll show you just to get you to shut up about it.” He shoved another ring into his mouth, before shoving backwards in his chair and grabbing your arm pulled you over to the claw machine in the corner of the restaurant.

“-But my onion rings!’

“Watch!”

You shut up, almost in awe at how fast he got into the zone. It seemed like whatever Lin does, he devotes a hundred percent of his attention to. It was why he was your best friend, he cared, almost more than anyone else you had ever known. You watched enthralled as he manipulated the little claw over a soft brown bear. Pressing the button triumphantly. Your eyes widened as the claw successfully lifted the bear by it’s belly, dropping it with a soft thud in the metal chute.

You pulled the door to the metal chute open, reaching in and pulling the soft bear to your chest. “That had to have been luck!”

“Luck? Nope. Skills.” He smirked, grabbing the bear from you, “I’m just that good.”

“Skills. Please? If it’s skill then do it again.” You grabbed the bear back, as he pulled a face.

“Fine. I’ll do whatever you want.” Lin shrugs, “but you owe me fifty cents.”
Grimacing, you rummaged through your pockets. “How about a gum wrapper-” Finding nothing, you smiled apologetically before shrugging.

“You know what, you can pay me back later.”

And you know what it turned out it actually was skills. Every time you passed a claw machine from then on Lin would attempt to win you a stuffed animal.


Masterlist

Dear Asagao Fandom

You guys are crazy badass. Seriously. I’ve said it on twitter, but I wanted to say it here too.

Y’all are so welcoming and loving and supportive of one another. It’s amazing to have been able to watch this community form. (I have been lurking like a right creep.)

Anyways, I just wanted to say my thanks. Thanks for playing our game and enjoying it so much and being great, creative, open-minded, amazing people!

- Cara

3

HOLY CRAP, CAPLINGS.

No, seriously. I can’t believe there are so many of you here! 3,000. That’s a LOT. When I started this blog (almost two years ago!), I was doing it with the expectation that I’d have a little fun and forget about the whole thing in a month, but WOW. I have met so many amazing people, and I have had so much fun here. I’ve found a loving, supportive community, and I’ve kept up with my goal of writing every day because of this blog! Steve is a part of me now, and neither he or I would have gotten so far without you guys. Thanks for playing CAH with us, reccing fics, drawing art, and finding movie links. Thanks for getting me to comic-con. Thanks for being so sweet. Thanks for being amazing writers. We are both so glad we get to know all of you, and all the characters you play.

I will choose winners via a random generator on October 14th. Please be willing to give me a physical address to ship to.

  • Reblog as many times as you want.
  • Only reblogs count, not likes.
  • Must be following me.
  • Must respond to the ask I will send winners within 24 hours.
  • You don’t have to be a RP blog to win.

Anyway! Down to the goodies :)

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