OH OH OH PLEASE TELL US A BOARDING SCHOOL STORY PRETTY PLEASE
so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!
spoiler alert: yes they can? THEY ALWAYS CAN.
200 years of american high school and teenagers still think that there is a cap limit on kids in detention and that you can leave after 15 minutes if the teacher doesn’t show up.
anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”
she didn’t say scab because she’s not from the 1920s and we aren’t newsies, though this story would be way more interesting if we were
what she said was “YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!”
except not yolo because it was 2009 and drake hadn’t been invented yet except as a dear sweet boy in a wheelchair.
we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.
I’M NOT ASHAMED, but in that way where like i kind of AM ashamed so i’m really aggressively NOT ashamed?
so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”
“hell no,” i said. “YOLO. they can’t punish all of us.”
elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.
WHAT KIND OF BAGELS?
off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.”
of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE.
but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.
at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.
all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE,“ and elle said, "did you hear that?”
‘that’ was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU’RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.
our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”
i held my breath.
i should add here that i seemed to be operating on like a scooby-doo level of logic where basically i thought that she was somehow NOT ALLOWED to investigate?
like, if she can’t see me, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that she could prove i’m in here, right?
she’ll just poke her head in and be like oH GOSH NO KIDS HERE and leave!!
you can see the flaw in my logic.
mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”
there’s no WAY she guesses i’m in the closet!!!
“mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet.”
NO YOU DON’T
I AM SCHRÖDINGER’S SENIOR
there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.
i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.
i said, “where’s ginna?”
YOU KNOW WHERE GINNA WAS.
“um,” said elle, “she’s in the—”
i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:
what have i done?
this was a mistake.
i regret a series of decisions that i have made.
is there a way out of this?
are those oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
why are there oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
mollyhall, you HAVE a food cupboard, what good is a food cupboard if you don’t—
she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.
ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”
I just saw yet another person griping about autistics “romanticizing autism” and it only makes me more determined to be openly and proudly autistic. it’s not “romanticizing” it, it’s loving myself in a society that told me not to.
I don’t care about straight stories. I don’t have time for your straight ships. I just don’t. I’m surrounded by them and bored by them and I want to see stories about me and my community. I don’t have time for one more. I don’t care.
I don’t care about stories where straight people fall in love. I barely care about stories where straight people do anything else. I. Do. Not. Care. And I’m not going to waste anymore time or energy on straight people’s stories.
Summary: Y/N and Jughead take a long drive out of Riverdale for a road trip and discover their hidden feelings for each other
Warnings: swearing, slight smut, drinking
‘Swerving on the 405, I can never keep my eyes off this’
We’d been driving for hours, we didn’t even know where we were going anymore, or what were running from. The sudden impulsive decision to get out of town and take a road trip was decided by Jughead. He had been distressed at school lately and said he had a lot of stuff going on in his head, and he needed to get away.
Me being the good friend I am, and caring a great deal for him, didn’t want him to be alone so I decided to make the offer on taking him away for a while.
Request: Could you do something fluffy w Lin, idk why but could you?- anon
Summary: “you’re talking to yourself in a silent library about how much you hate studying and how you’re going to fail, need help? i just so happen to major in that subject and oh shit, you’re really cute”
Warnings: first fic? otherwise just lots of fluff and a little awkward Lin.
A/N: have fun, and I’d really appreciate feedback!
I’m wondering if I should say anything about this (especially after a long, draining shift at work where two things went wrong – but those two things were enough to occupy me the whole entire night), but –
I just think it’s unfair that there have been callout posts for artists who have drawn Pharmercy in an offensive way, but have admitted their mistakes and have apologized for them.
It’s one thing to call them out if they didn’t. But the thing is, they owned up to their mistakes, and one of them is even reluctant to draw Pharmercy now because of it.
I just think Tumblr is too obsessed with being right and having this moral rectitude that’s personified in callout culture, to the point where even people who make simple mistakes are punished for them via death by crucifixion.
If you really want to help someone out, you’d engage with them one on one instead of getting thousands of people to shame them, and then smearing an entire subset of a fandom with the same brush, especially since there are members of that fandom who admit that there is a problem with racism, fetishism, whitewashing, etc. and have actively spoken out against it.
And in my case, I’ve even taken hits for it from members of my own fandom, and have lost people that I once considered friends because of it.
So yeah, Pharmercy fandom does have a problem with racism and bad portrayals of Fareeha, etc. And that should rightfully be discussed. Most of us are aware of this, and are trying our best to counteract it. But I do think it’s unfair to make callout posts for misguided artists who have made mistakes, and who have also apologized for them.
Hello babes! I hope your day is going well. So, by popular demand, I’ve decided to do a smutty part two to this fic. I honestly didn’t know that you guys would like it that much, haha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I love you guys, you’re all amazing. xoxo
Description:You just left Peter out by the pool abruptly after a hot make out session and hint at him to come to your room to finish the fun you were having.
You sauntered up the stairs, looking for Peter in your peripheral vision. He was still sitting at the edge of the pool, gaping at you.
I guess he didn’t take the hint. Jesus Christ, Peter. You thought to yourself, stopping on the small landing between the two flights of stairs, turning to face Peter. He could clearly see you through the glass wall as you extended your index finger at him, curling it back to you, beckoning him to follow. Peter scrambled out of the pool, grabbing his towel, quickly drying off.
As you watched him from above, you couldn’t help but crack a smile through your devious smirk as you saw Peter almost fall face first into the stone around the pool as he got up. You quickly slipped the rest of the way upstairs, trying to keep up your seductive and mysterious act.
Peter looked back up at where you were when he finished drying off his board shorts, finding that you had disappeared. He wrapped his towel around his waist and returned to the tower, following your route upstairs. A trail of water droplets led down the hallway, and he figured it was from your wet hair. It led all the way to your room where your door was slightly open. He stopped in front of it, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his arousal for you.
“Come on Peter, don’t just stand there.” You could see the shadow of his feet from underneath the door, and you crossed your arms over your chest, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a smirk. The door opened slowly, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him. You bit your lip as you scanned over his still wet body, watching the water droplets fall down his toned chest.
While you were off in a daze, Peter had began to walk towards you, watching all the water from your hair dribbled down in between your breasts. He pushed you against the wall that was a few feet behind you, colliding his lips with yours in pure lust. You threaded your fingers in his damp hair that was behind his head while he gripped your hips, surely leaving a bruise there to see the next morning. You moaned against his lips as he moved one hand up to your breast, kneading in roughly through your bikini top.
“Take it off of me already, damn it.” You breathed against his lips, biting his bottom one, and tugging on it lightly. In no time, your top was literally ripped in half, laying on the floor. You gasped as he lifted you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his torso.
“Jesus, F/N. You’re perfect.” Peter locked eyes with you before diving into your neck, sucking hard on your skin. You moaned underneath his touch, his hickeys leaving a trail to your breasts. Without warning, he latched on to one of your nipples, biting and tugging at it as he rolled the other in between his fingers.
“Fuck…” You moaned loudly, filling the room. He carried you to the bed, letting you fall onto the mattress. His eyes were completely dilated with lust as he threw his shorts across the room, leaving you to stare at his hard erection. God, you wanted him inside you. You’ve wanted him for a long time now. He hovered over you, leaning down to kiss your swollen lips. He groaned, as you rubbed his length, his open mouth giving you access to explore his mouth with your tongue. You swiped it across his bottom lip, entering. His erection was throbbing in your hand, and you let go, not giving him his release. He growled in his throat, biting your collarbone. He was sure to leave marks on your body, so that everyone would know what he did.
He threw your bikini bottoms across the room, positioning his the head of his cock at your entrance, swiping it along your wet folds. You moaned, your throbbing core unable to take the build up anymore. He pushed himself into you, the feeling of your tight walls around him, making his head throw back. Peter gave you time to adjust, and when you gave him the okay to move, he began thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. Both of you said each other’s names like your life depended on it, the euphoria rushing through your bodies. He quickened his pace, beginning to hit your g-spot. You screamed out, clawing at his back. The line on which your orgasm was walking on was thinning out. You were approaching your release.
“Shit.. Peter.. I-I’m gonna-” You were cut off by his interjecting voice.
“I know, m-me too.” He knew exactly what you were saying. You felt his length twitch inside of you. You chanted his name like a prayer as your orgasm washed over you, all the way to your throbbing core. He followed close behind, filling you with his hot, white cum.
As both of you came down from your highs, he pulled out, collapsing next to you. You both were breathless as you laid on your backs, staring up at the ceiling.
“That was..” You chuckled out, turning your head towards Peter.
“Yeah, like amazing.” He smiled at you, kissing you on the forehead. You cuddled up next to him, his arm wrapping around your body.
“We should do this again sometime, Parker. We really should.”
Ahhh I hoped you liked it! I hope you day goes well and that you have some good food, Because who doesn’t love to have some good food? Anywho, let me know what you think, yeah? I love you all, xoxo.
Looking back on your past, your life has never been anything out of the ordinary. Although your parents had left you on one mysterious night, leaving you little to no explanations, you live out the rest of your years residing in a new town under the custody of your aunt. That is, until you return to your hometown to investigate the whereabouts of your parents during your senior year in high school. It was that fateful decision that led you to find a boy collapsed on your front porch one night, wounds gaping and life fading when your entire life is spun out of control. Somehow being dragged into a life of crimes in the underground business of his, you discover the twisted secrets hidden behind the world you thought you had known all along.