#i feel i should at least try to have my own life. im just working towards living. i haven't felt my life was my own.

[toastsnaffler]

sometimes I wish I was a more interesting + charismatic person just so I could keep conversations going bc I like sharing space with other ppl but they routinely lose all interest and leave once I run out of things to say/start talking abt things that don't concern them :-(

[bunnihearted]

🍷

[kazoologist]

holding bitch sessions with my friends in this program wherein i make itemized lists of complaints about my roommate and then read them aloud like a pettier and lamer martin luther who couldn't even summon the nerve to start a fight with my roommate

[todayisafridaynight]

I may just be delirious but I kind of feel like there's something there about some of the most traumatic events in Arakawa's life arguably stemming from/being made worse by being loved too much.

Like, Toshio's death, right. The death of a parent is always always going to be traumatic, particularly when your other parent is abusive, but I feel like being there, being the first to the scene, made it so much worse. Especially when it should've been a good memory.

Non-zero chance I'm just projecting because I was there for my own father's death and I was around Arakawa's age at the time, but it's like... it did have very specific life-long effects, didn't it... the way he keeps coming back to Peking duck and talks about it like he's had it before when he can't even bring himself to eat it unless he's with family (and indeed, never did, up until right before he died)...

And then there's his former patriarch. Of course, he seemed to see Arakawa as more of an object--fully under his control and something to be thrown away at the first sign of autonomy. But I feel like, before then, Arakawa must've been his "favorite," if he was willing to arrange a marriage between his daughter and Arakawa. Which I expect is what made his reaction when Arakawa told him he was (technically) having an affair with Akane and wanted out of the family that extreme in going as far as to send men after Akane and Ichiban.

The last one I can immediately think of is not exactly traumatic for him, though it is traumatic For Me so I'm counting it, but it's of course what we were talking about with Jo hesitating so much at the thought of killing Arakawa that he passed up the chance to save him.

I Dunno I Am Delirious but... there's a pattern somewhere in there... Anyway. Uh. "Happy" Father's Day am I right

happy fathers day :]]]]

[raksh-writes]

Ive spent most of yesterday doing all my uni stuff for finals and a couple hours today too, and I should be doing much more, but I can actually feel my brain giving out on me rn. Im starting to develop a headache and that's very much Not ideal. I have A Lot to do and not a lot of time to do it, ughh...

Forcing usually doesn’t work on me though, so even though my anxiety will prob have a field day, I guess I'll try to take a break, maybe play some Skyrim, maybe write a lil' more fanfic if my head feels better, and who knows, if in the evening it feels up to it, I can try to add some more to that big project Im trying to finish or start on a presentation for a different class. Either would be nice, but if its not possible tonight, then I guess I just gotta hope taking a break today will help me get back at it tomorrow.

Here's to hoping!

[orcelito]

Man. It's not even a good fic.

Probably wasting my time trying to read this.

[asundine]

X

[ratioaven]

spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!

aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong

something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.

from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.

i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.

that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.

so why does he act this way

all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.

as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.

but this brings me to my next point.

aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.

but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.

that says more than enough about his character.

and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.

and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.

i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.

let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

[tojisun]

thinking about biker! simon going out with his girl and the other guys at a biker bar. reader hasn't really seen how scared people are of simon - who they all call ghost - until she goes to get him another drink. while she's at the bar, a guy comes over trying to hit on her. then this hulking, 6'4 guy in a skull mask appears and the guy is ready to run out of the bar. simon didn't even have to talk just glare. while readers like ???

ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE THIS WAS SENT IM SORRY FOR JUST REPLYING NOW :(( BUT YES ABSOLUTELY YES!! my stomach swooped when i saw this hhhhh im actually kicking my legs n twirling my hair n everythingg!!

naturally, im bad at making drabbles because this turned out long again :’) im sorry

biker!simon mlist // star divider by @/plutism <33

simon’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you further into the bar. you shuffle along his languid steps, head swivelling as you try to find familiar faces in the crowd – so far, none yet.

simon chuckles from beside you, and you peer up at him only to see his eyes crinkled from underneath his balaclava, no doubt smiling at you. he bows his head closer towards yours, trying, in vain, to devour as much of the space made by the height difference between you two.

“what?”

“nothin’, sweet girl.” he presses his covered lips on the top of your head, breathing you in. “come on, i see ‘em.”

he shifts the two of you, the hand that’s settled on the small of your back gliding until it hooks around your waist, pulling you ever so closer to him. protective. possessive. it makes you hum in delight, happiness thrumming underneath your skin.

(you don’t notice the way many people shift to get out of simon’s way; heads downturned as though afraid of even meeting his eyes. you don’t notice the way they turn to each other when you two passed by, as though making sure that it was simon they saw. simon – ghost – with a sweet darling pressed to his side, his bulk warding away stray gazes. you don’t notice the way they huddle with each other, whispering promises that ghost’s girl should always be protected. because yes they fear ghost, but more than that, loyalty to each other is stronger.)

he leads you towards a small pack by the far side, the table doused less in light than the rest of the bar. johnny’s already turned towards you and simon, watching with a grin as you two make it across. kyle’s seated beside him, the younger man leaned to watch the ongoing hockey game. then you see the back of john’s familiar head, his beloved boonie slung around his neck.

“finally made it, huh lass?” johnny says in greeting, snagging the attention of both kyle and john, the two of them chiming in their own hello’s. you smile, waving at them as you claim the empty seat between simon and john.

“had to make a quick stop at 7-11,” simon responds, his hand curling at one of the legs of your chair before pulling you towards him. the metal squeaks against the tiles, the sound thankfully drowned out by the loud bass.

“oh did you?” john asks, ignoring whatever simon did given how they’re all so used to his soft displays of possessiveness. he offers you a smile when you turn to him with a nod.

“had to buy, um, medicine for my stomachache.”

it’s endearing how their faces shift so fast, little smiles falling as worry takes over. even simon, whose hand is draped on your thigh, tenses, gripping as though he was remembering how he heard your pained whimper or saw you sniffling as the ache echoed, throbbing just below your ribs, choking you up.

“are you feeling any better? did it subside now, at least?” kyle asks.

you nod, quick to reassure them. “the medicine worked! i’m feelin’ better, i promise!”

they relax, tensed shoulders going lax as life flutters back into the table. you smile before sinking ever so closer to simon’s side, shying away from the intensity of their affections for you – your own little band of brotherhood, visceral in the way they care for you.

simon’s grip loosens on your thigh, choosing instead to massage the muscle tenderly. you hum, turning to ask him what he’s getting.

“whiskey, maybe,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by his mask. “you getting your bellini today, love?”

“yes please,” you reply, blinking up at him.

his eyes crinkle again, a telltale sign of his smile, before he pats your thigh and gets up to place the order.

you turn to the group, tuning into johnny’s rambling, listening to him recounting his rally. it was the one you weren’t able to go to because of work, johnny having to reassure you multiple times (even through text) that it’s fine that you’re missing it. so you listened, enraptured, nose scrunching in confusion whenever johnny slips into heavy scottish in his excitement.

“english, mactavish,” simon sighs as he falls back to his seat, startling you. you see johnny flip him off and you make eye contact with kyle, sharing twin looks of exasperation.

simon slides you your bellini and you whisper a thanks, trilling when he noses the top of your head again – your clingy boy.

the conversation rises and falls, sometimes leaving your mind wandering when they start talking about shop, sometimes catching your attention so much that you find yourself leaning on the table, breathless and wide-eyed as you listen to their bike stories – johnny had continued about his rally, kyle talked about the repairs he did for a client who he’s sure is on the run, and john shared that horrifying experience he had on his way home where he thinks he saw a floating woman by the east side highway.

“your turn, big guy,” you say, tapping simon’s knee.

simon finishes his whiskey – his balaclava tugged just enough to show his chin and his lips – before plopping the empty glass on the table with a sigh. you huff a fond laugh, knowing that one glass isn’t enough to satiate the thirst so you dust imaginary dirt off your skirt before standing up.

he tilts his head up in question, arm still hooked around your waist.

“gonna grab us more drinks,” you say. “oh, tell ‘em about the gas station incident!”

he grunts, nodding, and yet he refuses to budge. you fondly roll your eyes and turn to the others. “drinks?”

they all shake their head, johnny specifically saying he’d have to order for himself because he’d want to try the house specialties. you nod, pinching simon’s arm as you dance away from him with a bitten grin, before making your way to the bar.

you prattle away your order, telling the bartender to add the tab to your table, and hover, swaying to the music. it’s a foreign rock band playing, the bass and drums reverberating loudly, you can feel the vibrations pulsing along your body, and you almost get lost in your own thoughts when a hand slides to your back.

you startle, mind quickly cataloguing that this isn’t simon. because simon, for all his impressive silence and his displays of possessiveness, never sneaks up on you like this. he has never let you doubt your safety while with him. so you back away from the stranger’s touch, your hands pressed close to your chest before finally turning to see who went up to you.

the man, who seems to be about your age, smiles upon seeing your face. “hey there, angel.”

the pet name makes you nauseous and your stomach churns once again. you have to ask for the medicine from simon when you return to the table.

“hi,” you squeak, not letting him off your sight.

“you seem new here. i am too.” he laughs, scratching his neck. then, “it really ain’t my scene.”

“uh-huh,” you say, not knowing what else to tell him.

his chuckles peter out, a suave smile replacing what had been an awkward display of forced laughter. he clears his throat. “so, what’s a sweet thing like you doing alone here?”

“she ain’t alone, kid,” the bartender answers for you and you turn to him, surprised, before thanking him as he presents you with your whiskey and bellini.

the bartender nods to you in reply before crossing his arms in front of his chest and addresses the stranger again. “go bother someone else.”

the man arches a brow in question, his lips pursing in distaste. “oh yeah? she seems pretty available to me.”

the phrase hits you badly.

your anxiousness bleeds away to make room for your ire and you snarl, dropping your hands from where they’re pressed on your chest to rest them on your hips.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice a measured anger. “i’m fucking what now?”

he raises his hands up like he’s pacifying you. “hey, hey. didn’t mean that, my pretty girl-”

“she’s not your anything, you mad wanker.”

the sound of simon’s voice makes you settle, a wave of safety and comfort washing over you, dousing the angry churning in the pit in your stomach. simon steps from behind the stranger, towering over him, before moving to stand beside you. his hand hovers, questioning, and you give him a soft nod that gets simon pulling you close to him. his hand falls to the small of your back, caressing, and you wonder if he knows that the man had grazed his hand there just minutes ago. if simon’s doing this to overwrite the unpleasant feeling that was sticking to you.

“oh,” the stranger breathes out and you notice the way his hands are trembling, the tight balls of his fists turning his knuckles white. “i, uh, i’m sorry, ghost.” then he’s off, running out of the bar with his tail tucked between his legs.

you huff at the realization that the mad man didn’t even apologize to you. what a fucking prick.

“you doin’ alright there, baby?” simon asks, pulling you to him. he settles on an empty bar stool – you are sure those were filled just minutes ago… – and tugs you so that you are standing between his legs.

he cups your cheeks, thumbs tracing lines just underneath your eyes, and it makes you drag a shaky inhale.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve accompanied you.” simon sounds distressed, his eyes furrowed in the intensity of his worry.

you coo at him, it’s your turn to cup his jaw this time. “i’m alright, si. i promise.”

he shifts his eyes between yours, searching for anything besides the truth, and he folds himself into you when he sees that you mean it. you laugh, patting at his head, wishing that he doesn’t have his balaclava so you can play with his hair, before turning to the bartender who, in the sudden absence of customers by the counter, is watching you two with a pinched smile.

“thank you again,” you tell him and he grunts, nodding. simon straightens up and groans as he stands, his big body unaccustomed to the tiny bar stools.

“yeah,” he says, addressing the bartender. “thanks for bein’ here for my girl, alex.”

the bartender – alex – just waves his hand around in dismissal. “it’s nothin’, really. now go away, i want customers.”

simon and alex laugh, sharing an inside joke, and you swivel your head around in confusion because now that alex had mentioned it, where did everyone go? and why are they all huddled together, far from the bar?

simon closes his hand on your wrist and pulls. you barely manage a goodbye to alex who waves at you in reply.

…alex?

“wait. that’s alex?”

best believe that simon has connections anywhere he goes. if not for himself, it’s for his girl!!!

me, shamefully staring at the word count (1.8k) of what should’ve been a drabble: well now…

[toastsnaffler]

one unfortunate thing abt watching bloody violent up-close-and-personal movies is that it makes me even more crazy touchstarved than usual after.. I need to wrestle someone NOW

[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

[paper-mario-wiki]

hey, can I ask you for some advice? sorry if this is uncalled for or you just can't answer this, I understand if so

how did you work up the courage to actually get to HRT so fast? I've found out I was a trans woman around when I was 15 and im about to have my 23rd birthday, and due to my financial/working/academic/housing (I live w my fairly conservative parents) situation it does not look like it's in the cards for me any time soon. but also I feel like I should just try to find a way and try to start out ASAP, for the sake of my own happiness. but also im afraid of whatll happen if things go Topsy turvy and I need housing from a family that thinks I'm a freak. how did you do it? again, apologies if this ask feels unwarranted or to big to ask to "Funny lady play tf2 dot blog", but I'm fine if this doesn't see an answer

First of all, I don't have insurance, so keep in mind that I did it out of pocket (note: I am broke).

I used Zocdoc (America only, sorry) to find a hormone therapy consultation, went to that appointment, and they referred me to an endocrinologist. After I got some blood tests done, I got prescribed a 30 day supply of sublingual Estradiol for about $16, again, without insurance. Now, this is of course in Biden's Seattle so it might not be as easy where you are. But at least for me, the process from booking the first appointment, all the way to taking the first pill was about half a month, because I got lucky finding a doctor. During covid, according to my endocrinologist, there was a HUGE explosion of people wanting to medically transition, so a very common thing I've heard is that a lot of doctors are booked out for months. I was lucky enough to get this appointment on Sep 1st, because the next person available in my area wouldnt have gotten me in until November.

Critically, here's my main piece of advice: You can't start until you take the first real action towards accomplishing it outside of your head. You can think, and plan, and crystalize how great it would be if it happened, but you have to actually make the first step and google "HRT doctors in my area", and schedule an appointment. To do it, you must first do it. This goes for many things in life. Simply starting the processes instead of keeping them in my head had me accomplishing many things I never thought I actually would, like starting HRT, going to university in Japan, and moving to Seattle.

Many people like me, including maybe you, are really good at getting in your own head and thinking of every possible way something could go wrong, or could be denied to you. And you get so tied up in the reasoning that you forget about the Doing. To the best of your ability, try to stop thinking, and just start doing. Anything. Choose to do something that you have wanted to for a while. Just one thing. Doesn't have to be buying a plane ticket to France, or confessing a huge secret, maybe start with that thought you had the other day of "ya know I bet pottery on those big goofy wheels is fun" and google 'pottery wheels near me' and see where it takes you. It's easier than you'd think to try. And who knows, at the end of this process maybe you'll have a beautiful vase. Or, even better, a vase with a personality, flaws, and a new hobby that you're excited to get better at.

[ma1dita]

🐥

okay I dont wanna seem annoying but it's 10:53pm and the ideas r coming in but I already sent an ask in so do whichever u want first 😭

bf!Luke when he's sick headcanons? (can be in an au where they're js normal ppl or can be them at camp, your choice !! 🫶🏼

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: LIVVVVV i truly believe that if this man was sick with an SO that would take care of him he would be the biggest bitch alive just because he can

at camp:

it starts with a sniffle, luke trying to be oh so brave about it until he can’t ignore the sneezes that sound like they could shake the earth and all of cabin 11 (if you think those kids barely got sleep in general, you should see them get mad at luke’s dumbass going ACHOO for the 47th time that night)

so they rightfully complain to you to go get your man and drag his ass to the infirmary, because the cabin counselor he is loves taking care of others but throws a fit when they tell him to get checked out by the apollo kids talking bout “i don’t get sick, i’m too cool to get sick! heroes don’t get—”

yeah so he has the flu

one stern look from you sends him packing towards the infirmary, dragging his feet in the dirt and complaining the whole way

he puts up a fight the whole time, swatting the healer’s hands away to the point they want to tie him to the bed, and luke doesn’t like not winning

“luke just listen to the fucking healer and you’ll be out of here faster.” “bedrest! they want me to be strapped down here forever, babe, you know i don’t like not moving for that long! though if you were the one tying me down…” *sniffles innocently*

a cold towel smacks him in the face

you end up nursing his nasty germ-riddled ass back to health in a corner of the infirmary that you have to make your own for the next week and a half. 

but if you ask him, he felt fine after a few days—he just likes being taken care of by you

im bored lets do modern hcs too:

in this universe he’s still a little shit but at least you two live together in a cute little city apartment

luke’s laid out on the couch wrapped up in some of your coziest throw blankets as he scrolls through old reruns of friends, laughing at chandler’s humor because i imagine it to be a lot like his own (of course, if rick let him be funny instead of traumatized and an antagonist)

you’re making chicken noodle soup in the kitchen and the smell wafts through the air of your apartment even if he’s so congested his voice sounds funny when he talks

i think you guys would have two cats, brother and sister—absolute menaces, pouncing on him in turns trying to resuscitate their dad from his lifeless form on the couch to throw their little mouse toy around

that or a really big senior dog who sleeps at his feet and turns its head every time luke makes a funny noise

oh he’s still annoying in this one trust—you gave him a little silver dinner bell to ring if he needs you since you’re working from home in the other room but the problem is this man always needs you

ring. “babe!’ ring. “baby!” ring ring. “love of my life, absolute goddess among—*wheeze* humans, can you come here a second?”

“what’s up, honey?” “oh i just needed to see your pretty face. feeling better already!” 

you toss a pillow at his head and get back to your meeting.

when it’s over though, you join him in his little blanket fortress and he lays on your chest, sniffling and smiling as he pulls you into a kiss and thanking you for existing

you get sick after but it’s worth it. sort of like payback

[prettieinpink]

im the south american anon, thanks for your kind words, i love your account so much ♡. just wondering if you have a guide on how to prepare for a new school year or for 2024, have a wonderful morning/night 💗

GO BACK TO SCHOOL AS HER

ACADEMICS

Try to recreate your ideal study routine before. Study any subject you want using that specific study routine that you can when school opens. This gives you enough time before school starts to make any adjustments needed.

Get a head start. If you do have access to your curriculum or syllabus, read or actively study content on those topics. If you don’t, you can usually search up your class and your state which shows what you’ll be learning.

Experiment with study methods + note-taking. For study methods, search up different ways to effectively study, and pick at least three that appeal to you. Then pick any topic you want, and use those methods to study that topic. See which one worked the best for you and which wasn’t. 

For note-taking, search for some ways to take notes, and choose at least 3 that appeal to you. Then watch a video/lecture on any topic, and use those methods to take notes on it. See which ones that worked the best for you.

Create a planner or diary. Use it to keep track of your assessments, assignments due dates, events at school or any after-school activities. This planner would be just purely for school-related things. 

I think a digital planner would work best with most students, but some traditional ones are equally as good. It’s up to you to choose how you want to plan your school life, but you need to have at least one planner. 

Find a good study website/app. There are so many academic websites/apps out there that can aid you while studying, which are just at your fingertips. 

I recommend Duolingo, Quizlet and Khan Academy. Of course, there are so many more out there so I encourage you to explore your options. Some websites are just dedicated to one subject. 

Set SMART goals. Set academic goals that are achievable and realistic. Wanting all A’s or 100’s all the time is just way too unrealistic, and the pressure of wanting to reach the standard you set for yourself is just going to stress you out. 

Wanting a certain award, or A’s in certain subjects allows you to allocate your focus properly and is within reach. While you should definitely strive for good grades, avoid getting caught up in the mind trap of trying to achieve ‘perfect’ grades. 

Create a study place and ritual. Before school starts, choose a place anywhere in which you study regularly. Avoid having more than one, because having just one allows you to settle in and focus better. 

If this place is in your house, ensure that the space around it is clean and free of anything that wouldn’t serve you while studying. Plus, you can put up some cute motivational quotes.

A study ritual is habits that you do before studying, that help you while studying. You can create your own of whatever things that help you to be more productive and focused. 

HEALTH

Establish a sleep routine early. A week before school preferably, start waking up at the time you’d have to go to school and sleeping at your desired time. This is so that when school starts, you’re not feeling groggy while getting ready because you’ve already adjusted to the time. 

Talking about sleep, ensure that you practice good sleep hygiene as quality sleep enhances brain performance and improves energy levels throughout the day. 

Plan your meals at school. For us who have canteens or cafes near our schools, we tend to just eat whatever and we forget to nourish our bodies. You still can buy from them, but the night before, try to think about what you can eat for lunch the next day instead of impulsively buying. 

Carrying small containers of fruits or vegetables to go with my canteen lunch is my favourite combination. 

Carry a water bottle. I used to always forget to stay hydrated during school, so instead of drinking from fountains, I now prefer to carry around my water bottle from class to class. 

Wear SPF.

Just having it sitting on my desk while I’m working, reminds me in my mind to drink water. Water also boosts brain performance! 

Create a stress management plan. There are going to be times when you feel stressed, but we want to avoid stress impacting our academic performance and mental health. 

Before school starts, plan what to do if you feel heavily stressed. This could be like a menu of things you can choose from or a step-by-step guide that you follow through. This plan should contain things that relax you, make you happy and distract you from stress. 

Practice good posture. Once school starts, we sit at a desk all day, and most of us forget the proper way to sit while studying/working in class. This can lead to slumping or hunching on a chair, which encourages bad posture. 

Remember throughout the day to practice good posture, if you can, put a little reminder on your device. Posture stretches before the school days also help. 

Try to incorporate exercise into your schedule. Exercise is frequently neglected when we just have so much studying to do and we’re busy with other activities, but exercise is essential to leading a healthy lifestyle. 

The good thing, is you don’t have to do it every day. Doing it 2-3x a week should be enough. Going on walks during lunch/recess, cycling to school or participating in gym are easy ways to incorporate during the school season. 

Keep your bag lightweight. Carry the absolute essentials to school, having such a heavy bag can do a number on your back and also affect your posture. If you do have one, try to keep most things in your locker instead of bringing them to and from school. 

Engage in social media mindfully. There are so many toxic studying accounts out there that encourage unrealistic expectations or offer harsh ‘motivation’ to students. 

Please don’t interact with these types of accounts, even if they provide motivation to you, it is not sustainable at all. 

SELF CARE

Choose your favourite way to take a break. Not just once a week, but always take breaks every day. If you want these breaks to be somewhat productive like reading a productivity book or exercising, then go ahead. 

However, your breaks can also be ‘unproductive’. Play some games, go online shopping or just take a nap. One break is not better than the other, I just encourage you to take any kind of breaks you want daily.  

Plan to engage in hobbies regularly. It is easy to neglect our passions and what brings us happiness when we’re focused on school. If you can, have a chunk of the day just purely for doing hobbies. It can be for 1 hour, 30 minutes or 10. 

Or, join an afterschool club that focuses on that specific passion or hobby. Not only is it time for you to engage in the things you enjoy, you meet like-minded people who also enjoy it. 

Try to plan things with friends and family. Before school, meet up with your friends or family and do things with them. Once school reopens, opportunities to hang out with your loved ones are scarce. So, do it now. 

Create a no-hard productivity day. Plan a day in which you are doing the most minimal amount of productivity that you can. While you can include a few productive things, nothing that is mentally or physically exhausting is allowed on this day. 

If you are way too much of a productive or goal-oriented person to spend one day of no hard productivity, create a catch-up day. Choose one day of the week that you focus on completing or doing anything that you didn’t do all the other days. 

Keep a journal on you. Sometimes things happen during the school year, and it does cause conflicting or upsetting emotions within us. Creating the practice of journaling before school reopens is a good way for us to process our emotions and situations. 

Carry a book you like in your bag or locker. When you finish all of your work in class, or you just want to take a break, you can read a good book. This is also a good alternative to spending your lunches and recesses when you’re not in a sociable mood. 

Create a reward system. For example, if I study for x minutes, I can do x for myself. Or I can x grade, and I’ll get x. These don’t have to be big or extravagant rewards, but something simple like one episode of your favourite show can do. 

MINDSET CHANGES

Practice a growth mindset. You are going to experience failure at least once (if not more) during your school career. You mustn’t take these experiences to heart, and instead, use them as lessons to encourage self-growth within you. 

Practice this mindset now, so that when school reopens, you won’t have a problem with extracting lessons from failures. 

Use comparison as a source of inspiration or motivation. It is easy to compare ourselves with our peers, as we are similar ages, but their skills can exceed ours. Instead of using up all of your energy to be envious of the, channel that energy into bettering yourself. Not to beat them, but to beat yourself. 

View studying as a time to develop your skills. While yes, we do study to get good grades, studying can help us to grow our other skills as well. We build our discipline, focus and critical thinking as well. 

So when you don’t get the best grade from an assessment or assignment, don’t beat yourself up and think all that studying was for nothing. You were building those skills, so next time, you can apply them when you have to study again.

Set firm boundaries with others and yourself. There are times when you just have to say, I have to study. Not just to others, but to yourself. Practice these boundaries before school when it comes to more general productivity. 

There is no rejection, just redirection. Change your mindset that rejection is nonexistent, and there is only redirection. Incorporate it in your daily life like;

‘there’s no more stock left of my favourite product, there’s probably something better out there.’ 

That being said, I’m not saying that if there is a barrier to your goal, you just move on. However, you should not be chasing things that are not meant for you and shift your focus when necessary. 

Detach when needed. Stop attaching your value or worth to things that are external and can easily be gone. This doesn’t have to apply to just grades, but also other situations. 

Try to start reading or researching about detachment before school reopens.  

Time is your most valuable resource, use it to invest wisely. Your teen years are going to be the most suitable time in your life to start investing in yourself. 

You have fewer things to worry about(aside from grades) and you have a lot of opportunities now to explore the things that you want. Please, don't spend this time doomscrolling or any other time-wasting activity. 

[mysticpenguincreation]

okay. im going to post again and break my own promise because i also want to address another side of the argument.

people saying how they can’t watch part 2 now because luke manipulated the fans and they feel that the magic is ruined.

remember. we are talking about real people here. they are not the fictional characters they play on screen. let’s go over this one by one, i LOVE making numbered lists for arguments:

1. Luke and Nicola provided us with a fabulous tour. They owe us NOTHING.

It’s US who should be greatfull to them for doing hard work. A long press tour with that amount of promotion must have been absolutely exhausting no matter how much you love your job.

2. Luke isn’t obliged to fall in love with Nic and date Nic.

3. Nic isn’t obliged to fall in love with Luke and date Luke.

4. MULTIPLE times they addressed the fact that they are good friends. People were giddy making gifs saying “no, ur lying”.

Now imagine someone coming up to you and saying “You’re in love with me”. You answer “No i’m not”. They tell you “Nah, you’re lying”. It’s all in good fun until it grows into a straight up disrespectful delusion.

5. The personal life of actors shouldn’t affect how you feel about fictional characters. ESPECIALLY if they did not a fucking thing wrong. I wish really creepy and predotary people in the industry got at least half of the shit Luke is going through right now because Luke dared to have a fucking relationship. Or a relationship not with Nic.

6. We should be thankful to Nic and Luke for being kind, professional and respectful. We should be in love with their beautiful friendship, and not push either of them to cater to desires of fans who cannot, will not, do not want to distinguish between show and real fucking life. They have no obligation to you to start dating because their onscreen counterparts did and you liked it.

7. Again, I do not want to speculate. I have no idea if it was their decision or if it was PR. If they were encouraged to hide their relationship during promotion (imagine waiting this fucking long), or if they were encouraged to show that they’re together right after the show dropped. I do not know AND IT DOES NOT MATTER. Even the idea of restraining your personal life due to PR is sad and makes me sick. I hope they’re just going with the flow, staying true to themselves and are being HAPPY.

“Was it a wrong PR decision?” does not fucking matter because it should be their fucking decision to begin with. The fact that PR is created for this exact reason - to do damage control when people lose their shit over something normal is bind-boggling. It is insane that we came to this fucking point in human history.

8. The phrase “Luke’s hard launch” disgusts me. Fans are talking about Antonia like she’s an object and not a real person. JUST STOP!

9. Try to be fucking kind and touch the fucking grass once in a while. Grass is lovely - take Penelope’s advice.

Seeing this makes me think that the comments are coming from two groups of people:

1. Toxic stan’s who want Nic with Luke and can’t grasp the idea that they are not their characters. “Luke is a lot like Colin” from interviews does not fucking equal “Luke is in love with Nic”. Following this delulu logic he should have fallen for Claudia then because they said multiple times that Claudia is a lot like Pen and Nic is a lot like Eloise. There is no fucking connection in these statements. Fucking none.

2. People who loved the idea of Luke being single because it allows them to fantasize about Luke falling in love with them. It’s okay, we’ve all had celebrity crushes, but when it gets to the point of you throwing hate at the person, it becomes creepy and unhealthy.

To all the haters and “sympathizers” - get some help and get your shit together.