write you off

Life Hack: How To Make Sure All Of Your Daughter’s Friends Know You’re A Fiscal Conservative

Your daughter and her friends are inseparable, but no matter how often they’re over at your house, it can be hard getting them to understand you’re a fiscal conservative. However, it’s not impossible, and there are easy, accessible ways to get on their level and drive home the fact that you understand a world of balanced budgets and monetary responsibility.

Take them out to pizza for your daughter’s birthday, but bring a few coworkers to show you can write the bill off as a work expense come tax season: This is a neat trick for dropping the hint that you’re a fiscal conservative. Let your daughter and her friends have their own table, but once in a while turn around and explain to them you see value in making events business-related, so you can write it off in your taxes at the end of the year. This way, come April there’s more money in your pockets and less for Uncle Sam to collect.

When you go to your daughter’s soccer games, yell “I’m a fiscal conservative!” whenever one of her friends gets possession of the ball:
Whenever one of your daughter’s friends gets possession of the ball, she’ll be listening for the coach to offer instruction, so take the opportunity to scream things at them like “I believe the free market is a self-regulating system!” and “A balanced budget should be the primary concern of government!” Be sure to remember their jersey numbers with the right name.

Redecorate the living room so they see your opinions on monetary policy more: This is also a cool DIY home project. Your daughter’s friends love seeing the photos of her when she was younger hanging around your home, so why not also put a tasteful, weathered piece of barn siding hanging next to one with “This is an anti-inflation household,” beautifully burned into the wood? This is great for both the new friends looking around for the first time and the regular friends who will notice some changes.

Every time you take them to Chuck E. Cheese’s, pass the projects to show them that government interference doesn’t work: Point at the buildings that are government subsidized, maybe even the local school that had to shutter due to underperforming test scores, as proof of your belief that Keynesian economics is a dead end. It may take 20 minutes longer to get to Chuck E. Cheese’s, but that’s just more time for you to explain to them through the rearview mirror, “I’m a small-government kind of guy.”

Cookie-cut her sandwiches into the shape of Ayn Rand’s profile: This is a fun, non-ostentatious way to get your daughter and her friends’ attention to let them know you believe the free market is strongest with the least amount of regulations, right in line with Atlas Shrugged author and conservative icon Ayn Rand, who your little princess and her pals will be staring at every day at lunch. You’ll be the cool dad who takes the extra step, maybe adding a note in her lunchbox saying, “You’re doing great today. If we don’t do something about this national debt, it’s going to kill your generation.”

hadjiiembercolgatenerdmctillhawk  asked:

how do you write? like, get off your butt (or maybe onto it) and sit down and do it? how does that work?

I sit there and i force myself to do it. It may just start off as drabble. I may have an inkling of an idea but then something comes up and boom. Before I know it I’ve written a whole ton of words. Basically just write. don’t worry if its a stupid idea just write. you might surprise yourself. 

I miss you.
Terribly.

Here I am, lying in my one-place-and-a-half bed, in the very place where you used to throw yourself to snuggle in, and I miss you.
The intensity that permeated your look when it touched me, the softness of your hair, the tenderness of your cuddles, the warmth of your skin against mine, the comfort of your presence, I miss everything.

It is so unfair. You are the person who has approached the most closely the frail little organ that is my heart, and here we are again strangers. It is even worse than being strangers, if we had simply returned back to this stage, there would remain hope, the electrifying excitement of having the opportunity to know each other, to discover each other, to marvel at each other of what we were, the visceral excitement of bonding to a new soul.
We’re not even strangers anymore. Even our eyes are fleeing each other as we both die of wanting to make them cross again.

I miss you.

You had to realize that we did not want the same thing for this utopia to end. It was too good to be true, you were too beautiful to be mine.
And here we are, both of us wishing deeply to reach the contraries of our mutual desires.
You, to love me with a flame of love that you do not have, in order to keep by your side the soul mate you found in me.
Me, to be able to forget that it is this flame of love that I have for you which gnaws me, in order to be able to meet again your almond eyes without feeling my world collapsing, in order to have the strength to keep you by my side, to have the strength to love you with that profound friendship you have for me.

I miss you.

We are but the sad spectators of a morbid scene, where we can only look helplessly at our plans to empty their blood by liters. The hope was extinguished in my hands when I tried to hold it to you and you did not know how to grasp it.
Love has given way to disarray, happiness has given way to loneliness, romance has given way to nostalgia, your kisses on my cheeks have given way to the erratic furrows of my tears, and you, you have given way to a gaping hole in the middle of my most secular hopes.

I miss you.

I wish I could hug you again, I would like to have the naivety to believe that you loved me, I would like to have the carelessness not to fear the nature of your feelings. I wish I could no longer be afraid to eternally continue to seek for you through all the people I meet. I wish I could not be terrified that I will never find someone else like you, someone who would have the same laugh, the same look, the same dimples in the corner of the mouth, the same hair, the same Way to kiss, the same way to get angry, the same tastes for music. I wish I could feel able to love something else than what you are.
I wish I could no longer feel a piece of me collapse every time I remember that you are now part of the past and that there is no possible future with you.
I wish that the thought of you leaves me a different taste than the bitter one of the salted pearls that flow on my cheeks.

I miss you.

—  are-you-ok-no-fck-off, The original text is in French and is on my tumblr here
4

Every time I come back to this AU, I get reminded of how pure these two are??

I adjusted Mika’s appearance slightly by adding more scales/fins on his body!! Yuu loves wearing his khaki shorts and fave matcha-green hoodie :-)

  • fanfic writer: *writing* Oh wow, they are going to love this. This is by far my best work!
  • fic: *witty lines* *perfect love making* *fluffy enough to kill us all* *a dash of angst, a smidgen of hurt/comfort*
  • fanfic writer: Oh man. This is it. This will be my legacy! *sweats into fic* *bleeds into fic* *cries into fic* *spends days perfecting the grammar and verbage and sex scenes* *has 15 betas look over it*
  • fanfic writer: Okay. It is finally time to release my baby on the world. Here you go fandom. You're welcome.
  • fandom: Ha, cute. *like* *kudos*
  • fanfic writer: :/
  • * * *
  • same fanfic writer: *writing* Whatever. This is shit, I don't even care right now. A singing squirrel? Sure, let's do it. Haha, cheesy lines that make no sense, sure. Grammatical errors out the wazoo? Why not. No one's going to read this piece of crap anyway, I literally wrote it on a scrap of 1 ply toilet paper with a broken yellow crayon.
  • fanfic writer: LOL *post*
  • fandom: OMG THIS IS THE BEST THING YOU HAVE EVER GRANTED US WITH, WHERE HAS THIS BEEN ALL MY LIFE, OMG, I NEED A SEQUEL IMMEDIATELY, PLEASE. WHAT THE. I'M NOT EVEN WORTHY. *kudosrebloglikereccomment*
  • fanfic writer: *sigh*
3

       Around them, the temple shook and trembled with the energy of it’s own impending destruction. The obelisk the sith-holocron had been placed in sparked violent currents that charged the air between them with sharp static, and for a moment, she almost forgot all about the sabers in her hands, the frantic sounds of Ezra and Kanan calling for her to hurry. The door was slowly inching shut, and yet she stood rooted to the spot, fixated by the terrible wheezing sounds made by the monster behind her. 

      Vader rose slowly, body straining under the pressure of a damaged breathing apparatus trying frantically to process oxygen to burnt lungs. She’d cracked his mask and exposed a portion of his face — exposed the charred skin and sith-yellow eyes underneath.  Time slowed. 

      “Ahsoka,” the monster rasped.  The sound came out distorted and broken, but the voice was achingly familiar; she’d heard it in her dreams, and in memories so old that they felt as if they were from another life entirely. She could’ve wept at the sound. This was Anakin.

       “I won’t leave you,” she said, heart aching. “Not this time.”

      The lone eye stared back, and for a moment she could’ve sworn that she saw the yellow give way to blue. 

  • Just because your fic doesn’t get a lot of notes doesn’t mean it’s not good.
  • Just because your fic doesn’t get a lot of reviews doesn’t mean it’s not good.
  • Just because your fic doesn’t get a lot of favorites doesn’t mean it’s not good.
  • Just because your fic doesn’t get a lot of kudos doesn’t mean it’s not good.
  • Just because your fic doesn’t get a lot of follows doesn’t mean it’s not good.
  • Just because your fic doesn’t get a lot of comments doesn’t mean it’s not good.

Don’t make the mistake of associating popularity with quality.

*An anon requested a blurb with Harry talking about you and yalls future when he thought you were asleep but really weren’t. So here is it anon, hope you enjoy! 💕*


He had been running his fingers across your back while you two laid in bed. You weren’t sure what time it was, you were just enjoying laying in bed with Harry. Because laying in bed always made you sleepy you were drifting in and out of sleep. Also his fingertips which were so soft, and a continuous motion, were not helping you stay awake either.

When you’d drift in and out of consciousnesses you would hear him speaking softly. At first you figured he was just going on about something silly. I mean you two were debating best superheroes before you starting falling asleep, so you figured he was still going on about that. But when you heard him say “our future” you started to listen in more.

Nights like this is what harry loved most. Just laying in bed talking and cuddling into the early hours of the morning. Moments like this he reflected on your life together. How much he loved it, how much he loved you, how lucky he was to have you, and how much he couldn’t wait for your future together.

“You know I think about our future a lot.” He whispered into the darkness. He didn’t want to speak too loudly because he figured you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t spoken in quite awhile, and your breathing was evening out. Also he had to be honest, he was a bit afraid to lay out all his hopes and dreams of your guys future together. You two had said I love you. But that was just recently. And you two weren’t married. He didn’t want to freak you out with all he dreamed and wanted with you, but he could imagine it all.

“I can see it all with you love. Marriage, children, growing old together.” He smiled to himself imaging all of it. “You’re the one for me. I just know it.”

Because your face was hidden in the elbow of your arm facing away from him Harry didn’t notice you smile to yourself. He didn’t know you were awake and you planned to keep it that way. You wanted to hear all he had to say, because you felt the exact same way but we’re too afraid to tell him.

“You’re so good with my friend and family. Honestly I get jealous of how close you are with Niall. And for you to be that close with Niall says a lot. Yeah Niall is friendly and such, but like he’s one of my best friends so he’s kind of protective over me? And you? He instantly just warmed up to. I think it was cuz you loved golf almost more than he did!” He chuckled to himself.

You fought so hard not to burst or giggling at that line. To be honest you were terrified of meeting his friends and family. Especially Niall. You knew how close they were, I mean come on who didn’t know the Narry bromance?! So when you met Niall you were shy at first, but once the subject of golf got brought up you showed your true passion. After that you and Niall were best friends.

“And mom and Gemma already have accepted you into the family. You join in on their teasing of me, which rude, and they love it. Plus I think they can see how much I love you. And as long as I’m happy, they’re happy”

The more Harry talked the harder it was to fake being asleep. Your heart was racing, you were smiling like a fool, and you were tearing up. Harry always showed you love, and how much he cared. But him pouring his heart out like this was a rare occasion.

“I’m gonna marry you someday ya know? I am. I love you so much and I never want to be without you. That would kill me. Because I have so much thought out and planned for our future. We’re gonna get married and have a house here in London, and maybe L.A. too if you want” Harry closed his eyes and sighed happily to himself.

“And we’re going to have children. I already know how many you want. 4 because you like even numbers” He chuckled and blew out a shaky sigh. He was getting teary eyed himself thinking about all this.

“I’m totally fine with four, as long as it’s 2 boys and 2 girls. I’d like it even that way as well. But I know we can’t really choose so whatever combination we have I’m totally fine with. As long as I have children and you as their mother I’m set for life” Harry was imagining those children in his mind. Children who had your eyes, and his hair. Or vice versa. It didn’t matter. Children with you would be the best thing to ever happen to him, besides you, no matter if they were boys or girls or looked like you or him.

You were really getting choked up as Harry went on. You weren’t sure how much longer you could fake being asleep.

Harry sighed shakily again, “The amount of love that I have for you is unexplainable. I’ve tried to write it down, put it into words or songs, but I just can’t. None of it seems right. It’s our love, just you and me. No one else’s.” He blew out a breath, sniffed, and wiped his eyes. “God, I can’t wait for our future. I wish I could tell you all of this, but I don’t want to scare you away. We just said I love you. We haven’t even discussed moving in yet, but oh man do I want that. I want all of it, with you.”

Harry stopped running his fingertips across your back and rolled over to spoon you. Yes he did like being the little spoon, but tonight he just wanted to hold you tight. He pressed a kiss into your neck as he felt himself getting sleepy. “I just love ya so much…It’s just insane” he mumbled, drifting off into sleep.

That was the last thing you heard from his mouth. After a few moments later you heard light snores and knew he had fallen asleep. You pressed a light kiss to one of his arms that were wrapped around you and drifted back off to sleep yourself with a huge smile on your face.

Writing a Sunset: A Shitty How-to Manual for Writing Angst

Someone recently asked me the best way to write angst. Honestly, there is no best way. But I’ll do my darndest to explain what’s worked for me so far.

The best way to write angst is to write loss.

Now, I’ve seen this done so many ways before. I’ve seen death, I’ve seen destruction, I’ve seen cities burn and knives find their mark. With writers there’s an endless way to build and then knock down. Like lego bricks, you just have to find the best place to plant your foot for the entire structure to tumble down onto the carpet.

But my favorite kind of angst is actually something smaller. 

My favorite is what I call “Writing a Sunset”.

A character is created. Someone that we all know and love. They’re build from the bone to the skin to every lash and every smile line. We watch them learn and grow and sink and fall and tower and realize and live. And I, as the author, make sure to give you every detail of her life until you can look at the page and want to reach in and steal their hand in yours.

I also make sure that this character loves sunsets.

It’s the most important time of day for them. That time when the earth is still and silent. That time when the warmth begins its slow travel past a seemingly infinite horizon. Thick in it’s colors, it sinks below and drowns, and in its panic it sends out flares of reds and oranges and pinks that shoot across the sky, burning holes into the atmosphere and letting the stars breathe. 

And in that moment, when Orion is lounging against smothering blue and the tips of a nebula soak in the receding magma, this character owns their own world. All they have is the sky and all the sky has is itself and everything is perfect.

And it’s then that I make them blind. 

There is something to say about taking away what a character cherishes most. Because in the end our families and our smallest loves are what keep us together. We crave things, it’s true. And material possessions help to find their places in our lives. Losing a grandmothers necklace could be sad and misplacing a treasure map leading to adventure could be devastating.

But I always found it best to not take away what someone loves. But to take away access to it. To know that every day there’s a sunset waiting for them same as always but no longer can they seek it out. 

Don’t take away what someone loves.

Take away their hope of seeing it again.

If they’re a couple who want a child, take away that ability.

If he’s a dragon who needs to defend his keep, take away his fire.

If she’s a fairy who needs to fly, take away her wings.

But what I also find is that angst is not complete without hope. It’s pandoras box, really. And after sunsets, though it might seem dark, the dawn will eventually come.

And that’s where my favorite part comes in.

Taking away an ability doesn’t stop someone. It merely gives them a reason to try something else. And though it might seem bleak and hopeless, there’s always a chance. And that chance is sometimes the saddest and most joyful part of all.

When our character learns that by stretching their hands out and spreading their fingers like starfish to an aching sun, they can feel its first rays gliding though yearning fingers. Feel tears against their face and a smile stretching lines into permanence. Know that the darkness will always be there, but oh how the sunlight touches their skin… 

If they can’t have children, have them adopt.

If the dragon can’t breathe fire, have it befriend the blacksmith.

And if she can no longer fly, then run until the wind burns her face and scars her feet and she feels free again.

Writing a Sunset is my favorite kind of angst because it’s the one we can relate to most. The fear of losing what we don’t realize we love and the need to reach out and tell them it’ll be okay. Writing a Sunset means having the will to accept a fate you had no choice in, and finding a new way to see once more. 

Writing a Sunset reminds us all that sadness is real. But so is courage. And you can’t have one without the other.

Fall For You (M) | 03 (Final)

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Summary: You hate a lot of things about Jeon Jungkook; you hate his arrogance, his reputation, and his pet name for you to name a few. But most of all, you hate how right it feels for you to fall into his arms, and how easy it is to fall for him.
Word Count: 13,742
Genre: fuckboy!Jungkook, college au, sprinkling of feelings
A/N: I feel like I’m sending my child to their first day of kindergarten oh my goodness. I hope you guys enjoy the last part!!

Part 01. Part 02 + Drabbles

Mood music: X

A mistake.

It absolutely had to be a mistake.

There was no way you were in love with Jeon Jungkook, absolutely no way in hell you had feelings for him that ran any deeper than discontent. It had been the moment, the conversation with Jungkook, the awe you’d felt when he showed you his forest. You had gotten caught up in that moment, and your mind had tricked itself into thinking you liked Jungkook.

You didn’t love Jungkook.

You loved his dick. And that was all.

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All Too Well | Pt. 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU
Word Count: 5,848

.

Min Yoongi knew he was royally fucked as soon as he stepped through the doorframe into the dance studio—a time that seems so long ago, while in reality it’s barely been more than a week since the unthinkable happened.

The unthinkable, taking the form of hair he’s run his fingers through, a jacket he’s peeled off, skin he’s nipped at, shoes that led to daily departures, eyes that filled with tears, a heart that he’s broken, words that crushed his own.

It had been 2 years since he had last seen you or heard from you, and yet he responded so intensely to the mere sight of your backside that some people would have thought it had only been 2 weeks since you last saw each other. Or maybe even 2 hours, especially taking into consideration the way his heart lurched, the memories bubbling up so quickly across his consciousness as if they never truly had time to settle below the surface.

Just like the very first time he ever saw you during his street performances, the first time he talked to you to ask you out for coffee, the first date, the first kiss, the first time—they’ve all been moments in his life that made him feel like his heart had been set aflame, knocked him off his guard. Yet, they’ve all been moments in his life that consistently remained special and important to him, times that contradicted his initial belief that his existence would never matter to anyone. It was the first time someone had ever looked at him as if he had created the world and all its beauty within the confines of his own two hands. You made the time he wasn’t an idol, the time he spent longing and daydreaming and yearning for a better future, significant. You made his life mean something.

Until he abandoned you, so desperate to create a name for himself that he thought that belief would be enough to drive you out of his mind and therefore out of his life.

Yoongi has always loved you just as much as he loved his career—if not more.

And now you were back in his life, your physical presence haunting him even as you stood mere inches away from him, telling Bang Si-Hyuk that he didn’t need to worry about any sort of implication or possibility happening between the two of you, that the two of you were no longer under an qualms of being serious, that you had made the best of the life he left you behind with.

Keep reading

you leave prometheus thinking shaw and david are otp and leave covenant realizing walter and daniels are the true otp

  • It calls itself Jimothy, in a voice that bypasses the ears entirely. It seems very proud of this Human Name.
  • On all fours, it’s roughly the size of a horse.
  • Its skin (?) is a black that reflects so little light that it looks more like a nightmare-shaped hole in the world than an actual creature.
  • Despite looking like, let me state this again for emphasis, a goddamn nightmare, Jimothy is probably the most benign of the Fair Folk who show up regularly around campus over the last decade or so (they come and go).
  • It has virtually no interest in the favortrade, it very very rarely takes offense to anything, and it doesn’t seem to mind being seen. It’s attitude towards the students is best described as vague disinterest.
  • It’s not entirely clear that it understands human hand gestures (thumbs up, finger guns, peace signs), but it does its level best to mimic them back at you, and seems delighted about it.
  • It fuckin loves plastic jewel beads. It exclusively buys them with its own teeth.
  • Anyone who has been close enough to make this trade will tell you that the teeth go all the way down. There are more teeth lining this thing’s mouth and throat than from the outside it appears to have mouth and throat.
  • Jimothy is a particular favorite among science-minded students of the Forbidden Major, as its teeth are both the easiest biological material from Elsewhere to acquire and the safest to own, being fairly purchased.
  • It follows that in a heavily, heavily salted room on the third floor of the chemistry building, students of the forbidden major carry out experiments on the teeth. They have discovered nothing useful yet.
  • A few of the cannier students wonder why Jimothy is so content to bargain away pieces of itself, when such a thing is so taboo among the rest of the Gentry that even asking for a lock of hair can bring fierce, sudden punishment upon you. Most write it off as an oddity. They are not entirely wrong.
  • Due to its laid back attitude and apparently harmless quirks, it’s regarded with a kind of cautious affection by Involved students.
My Little Problem

Summary: Phil Lester is a great student council president. He’s got pretty much everything under control. Everything, that is, except a punk kid that keeps skipping class in favor of following Phil around.

Genre: High School AU, Student Council!Phil, Punk!Rebel!Dan, Fluff, First Confessions, Humor

Warnings: mentions of cigarette usage

A/N: Honestly? I enjoyed writing this. It’s just a little one shot to try and get rid of this writer’s block. I love high school AUs, and I saw a prompt for this I couldn’t ignore. Hope you like it! Let me know what you think!



He just couldn’t seem to figure that boy out.

Phil closed his locker, and his thoughts must’ve been obvious on his face, because his friend Louise grinned at him.

“Is Howell still skipping class? I thought you’d’ve stamped that out by now,” she remarked, closing her own locker and following him down the hallway. “Although, it isn’t like you’re the first person to try. The last student council president, Mark Fischbach, tried to get him to go. That was the first time I think I’ve ever seen Mark get fed up.”

Phil rolled his eyes, adjusting the tie of his school uniform. “That may be, but I’m the president now. He’s the only guy that’s given me actual trouble. The teachers don’t even want to help me out; they’ve all given up on him.”

The pair rounded the corner, and Louise waved. “I’ve got French, so I’ll see you later. Lunch?”

Phil nodded and waved back before entering his own class, English Literature. He was particularly fond of this class, and was ready to tune out his problems for a little while.

However, halfway through class, he heard the familiar sound of someone plopping into the desk behind him. He sighed.

“I suppose you have a good reason for skipping your science class to come here?” Phil asked, turning around to come face-to-face with none other than Dan Howell.

Dan smirked. “I have my reasons.”

Phil sighed.

Dan Howell had been Phil’s little problem for the past three months. Ever since he’d been elected student council president, he’d been doing his best to maintain order and peace within the school.

That wasn’t to say Phil was a complete stickler for rules; he’d let people pass with a warning sometimes or overlook something if they were generally a good student.

But Dan Howell was the one problem that stubbornly refused to go away.

Dan was a punk boy with an attitude. He had no problem back-talking the teachers, skipping class, and generally only scraping by with the bare minimum. Phil had tried, and failed, on many occasions to force him to go to class. He’d even memorized the punk boy’s schedule.

Dan had seized the opportunity to start pestering Phil wherever he went. He followed him to his own classes, waited for him outside the school, and generally enjoyed being a part of Phil’s routine that he didn’t ask for.

“Well, you should be in science. Mr. Deyes won’t be too happy to see you somewhere you don’t belong.” Phil tried to sound authoritative, but it was an empty threat and they both knew it. All the teachers had given up punishing Dan, because he’d simply leave the school.

Dan smiled, unaffected, and Phil ignored the quickened pace of his heart. “But I don’t wanna be in science. I wanna be here.”

Phil sighed again, turning back around. “Fine. But you’re going to your next class, Dan.”

“Whatever you say, Prez,” Dan sang, and he was actually quiet for a little while.

Soon enough, however, Phil felt something touch his head and he rolled his eyes. Dan liked to play with Phil’s hair, earning a reaction from the other boy. But Phil was determined not to give him the satisfaction, and resolutely kept working on his paper.

As the time ticked by, Dan’s hand began to wander. He ran his fingers through Phil’s hair, then paused as it got close to his hairline. Slowly, the soft touch moved lower, to Phil’s neck, rubbing a bit of sensitive skin there.

Phil squeaked, as Dan had never pulled this one before, and whipped around. His face was red but he didn’t care. “W-What are you doing?”

Dan withdrew his hand, but that familiar unaffected smirk was still there. “What? It looked so soft. I bet no one’s ever touched there before.”

Phil pursed his lips, not about to reveal that he was right. “Don’t you have homework you could be working on?”

“Nah.” Dan leaned back. “I just wanted to see you.”

Phil blew out a breath just as the bell rang. He glanced at the clock. Lunchtime.

By the time he looked back at where Dan had been sitting, the other boy was up and moving. “See ya later, Prez,” Dan called behind his shoulder, winking.

“Fix your school uniform,” Phil called after him halfheartedly. His eyes lingered on Dan’s retreating form just a second too long before getting up and heading to the lunchroom.

~~~

Phil was walking out of the school.

He’d stayed after school with student council duties that day, so he was much later than normal. Everyone else had already headed home. He ran his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, adjusting his bag slung over one arm.

Phil paused at the gate, looking around. Usually, Dan would be standing there, just waiting for Phil so he could follow him home. Of course, there was no Dan today. He refused to acknowledge the twinge of disappointment in his chest, turning to keep walking.

However, he noticed the door to one of the clubhouses was left open, and decided to go close it quickly before heading home. As he approached the door, he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. His nose wrinkled and he groaned to himself. Now he’d have to kick out whoever was smoking on school property.

He stood in the doorway, flicking his eyes over the scene of three boys he didn’t know lounging in the room, taking puffs of the cigarettes.

“Guys,” he began, his tone resolute, “you know there’s no smoking allowed on school grounds.”

They looked at him, and their eyes grew steely as one of them pushed off the table they were leaning against. “If it isn’t little Phil Lester.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. Little? He was six-foot-two.

The boy took a step towards him. “Look, Lester. Why don’t you just let this slide, and we’ll pretend this never happened?”

He stood his ground. “Sorry, guys, but rules are rules. Go smoke off school property.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and Phil felt a twinge of worry. Surely they wouldn’t get violent?

The leader had taken another step towards Phil when he heard a familiar voice behind him: “You heard the Prez. Get out.”

Phil nearly jumped in shock. That was Dan’s voice, but he sounded different. Rough and angry, with an undertone of a threat.

The leader backed off immediately, spotting the punk standing directly behind Phil. Dan’s hands rested on Phil’s shoulders. “Yeah, sure, Howell…we were just teasin’ him a little…”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” Dan growled, and Phil’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d never heard Dan sound like this before.

The pair moved aside as the three others left, and Phil finally turned to face the other boy. “Why are you still here?”

Dan’s face was still dark, and he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He didn’t answer.

Phil softened a little as his pulse returned to normal, and he stepped towards Dan. “Hey, thanks for helping me out. I didn’t–”

“You always do that,” Dan interrupted him, glaring at the floor. “You always fucking go off and try to fix everything without thinking about it. Especially those guys…”

Phil frowned. He wasn’t really sure what Dan was trying to tell him, but an unease was crawling in his stomach. He didn’t like seeing Dan so agitated, but he wasn’t sure what to do to calm him down.

So he did the first thing that came to mind: he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him in a hug.

Dan tensed, but Phil just squeezed, saying: “I really appreciate your help. Sorry for causing you trouble.”

Dan laughed a little, and Phil suddenly felt strong arms incase him. “You causing trouble? You cause me trouble every single day, Prez.”

Phil huffed. “Me? What about you? I can’t even get you to go to class!”

He tried to pull back, but Dan’s grip tightened. “Another minute.”

Phil sighed, leaning into Dan and let the moment happen. He wondered if the punk could feel his rapid heartbeat. But he had to admit it was a calming moment, both of them seeming to regain a balance.

They pulled back, and Phil looked up. Dan’s eyes were warm, and for a second Phil thought he was going to say something, but then he smirked.

“See you tomorrow, Prez. Thanks for the loving embrace.”

Phil reddened. “Just go to class tomorrow!”

~~~

Phil hadn’t seen that familiar smirk all day, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend like it didn’t bother him.

His eyes would snap to the door every time someone entered, but it was never Dan. He was starting to get jumpy. Had something happened to him?

When lunch rolled around, Phil marched all over the school, searching. If Dan Howell was here, then by God, he was going to find him.

Eventually he did find him, but not in a place he expected.

He pushed open the door to the music practice room, only to hear the melancholy sound of someone playing the piano. He looked over, and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of a particular brown-haired troublemaker seated at the piano.

Dan continued playing, apparently lost in the music. Phil closed the door quietly and leaned against a nearby wall, listening. Dan was pretty damn good. He was slightly surprised at the melody Dan was playing; it was a quiet and almost mournful dirge.

The piano stopped suddenly, and Phil opened his eyes. Dan was sitting quietly, staring blankly at the keys.

“So this is where you run off to instead of class,” Phil finally spoke, snapping Dan out of his reverie. The punk whipped around to face him, startled, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

“You gonna turn me in, Prez? Write me a detention slip?” Dan teased, but both knew Phil wouldn’t do that.

Instead of answering, Phil padded over and stood next to the piano, his hands lightly skimming the keys. “I didn’t know you were so good at the piano, Dan.”

Dan followed Phil’s progress with his eyes. “I never meant for anyone to find out I liked it. I’m not that great.”

Phil withdrew his hand. “I beg to differ. You’re incredible.”

Dan was silent, staring at a key as though his life depended on it. He seemed to be struggling over something, and Phil was about to ask what was wrong when Dan stood abruptly, turning to face the other boy. His eyes were burning, and Phil blinked.

“Prez.”

Dan sounded fed up, and Phil was about to apologize when Dan continued.

“Do you have any idea how frustrated you make me?”

Dan had Phil crowded against the piano, staring at him intently. Phil swallowed, hoping his face wasn’t red. “Um…sorry?”

“I don’t like class. I don’t like school. I’m fine with barely getting by and eager to get out of this fucking place. But then one day, we get a new president.” Dan kept creeping closer. “And I’m skipping class like normal, when suddenly this guy with the bluest eyes and a lopsided smile and a pretty face lectures me about skipping. A guy I find I can’t ignore.”

Phil’s brain is short-circuiting. He coughed out: “Uh?”

“And then this guy has my whole world turned upside down. I’m suddenly following him to class. I like it when he lectures me about my uniform. I wait for him after school because I like talking to him. Then I start caring about this boy.”

Dan’s face was flushed, and Phil isn’t about to interrupt to say how cute he looked.

“I notice he does everything by himself and cares about others. He works hard but doesn’t use his status to his advantage. He’s kind to me even though I give him so much shit. I watch him every day and I find myself actually wanting to do the things he tells me. That fucking guy. The guy that ruined everything. D’you know who I’m talking about, Prez?”

Phil swallowed. Dan’s extremely close, and his head was buzzing. “Um. Well. I-I don’t know, but I can tell you something.”

Dan tilted his head, waiting.

“My life was going great until I suddenly had a reoccurring problem. There was this punk kid in my grade who kept skipping, who kept causing problems, who kept waiting for me after school…and then I realized maybe I liked having this problem…”

Dan’s smirking again, and Phil suddenly can’t help but to smile, too.

“Suddenly, I found someone I wanted to play the piano for,” Dan whispered, and then the gap between them closed and Phil’s mind is reeling. He can feel Dan’s lip ring on his mouth, the same lip ring he often tells Dan not to wear to school, and he suddenly gets the urge to tell Dan never to take it out again.

They broke apart, panting, and Dan’s smiling in satisfaction. “I knew you’d taste as sweet as you look.”

“Shut up,” Phil murmured, turning even pinker. “You’re still breaking school rules. You’re supposed to be in class.”

“So? You’re helping me break those rules, Prez,” Dan grinned, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into Phil’s neck. “Lemme see that spot I touched yesterday. I couldn’t stop thinking about your damn neck.”

“Listen,” Phil squeaked. “I have a name, you know. It’s Phil.”

Dan hummed against his neck, taking his sweet time. “Yup. But it’s so satisfying to see you get all worked up when I call you Prez.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “You certainly like to tease me.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Dan mumbled, finally pulling back to grin at the other boy. “But you like it.”

“Yeah,” Phil admitted. “I do.”

They took a moment to smile at each other, and Phil felt his fingers interlocking with Dan’s.

“But I’m still giving you detention for skipping class all day, Dan Howell.”

~~~

There’s a new power couple at the high school.

If you were acting up and got caught by Phil Lester, the student council president, it was an unspoken rule to just accept punishment. If you caused Phil any trouble, you’d have to answer to his boyfriend–Dan Howell.

Dan Howell was still the school’s most famous punk, but it was rare to see Phil at school without him. Some said he actually went to most of his classes now. What a feat.

As for Phil Lester, pretty much everyone liked him. He was a pleasant guy, funny and friendly with a heart of gold. You just had to be careful, as being too flirty would set off the hot guy always slung over Phil’s shoulders.

Some were daring enough to call Dan Howell whipped, but he’d shrug his shoulders as the Prez would neatly hand them a detention slip. Phil would claim it was for “rude and disruptive behavior,” but everyone knew that if you talked bad about Dan you’d hear from the student council.

Sometimes, if you’re really lucky, after school you may be able to hear the piano being played in one of the music rooms. You might even glimpse the famous Dan Howell playing it, with a smiling Phil seated next to him, leaning on his shoulder.

That’s just a rumor, though.

As if either would admit to breaking the rules or playing the piano.

The transition between But It's Better If You Do and I Write Sins Not Tragedies on AFYCSO. Reblog if you agree.