#now that i have been using colored pencils more for classes and stuff i

[bestomato]

i know your heart,

and you, mine

[sleepii-moth]

watching sketchbook tours makes me so sad because its not even like im watching things that have very curated pretty drawings in sketchbooks instead of messy stuff- its just. they have color in them, like they use paint and markers and washi tape and stickers and it makes me soo jealous because i love color i love using different colors and mediums and making a big mess and i wanna do what these people do too but i cant because i dont ever have this stuff with me when i use my sketchbook :( nor do i have the time to play with materials when im just doodling in class and im sooo upset

[schemmentis]

Somethin' Stupid

Prompt: Melissa, as a teenager, needs you to help her with her lessons. Her dyslexia keeps her from writing an essay for class. Stubborn as always, she doesn’t want anyone to help. You make it your mission to help her anyway.

Warnings: Dyslexia and my poorly researched use of Philadelphia things from the late '70s/early '80s

Word Count: 2.6k

You look up from the paper you’re working on at a groan across the table from you. A head of red hair lowers until a forehead lightly thunks against the wood of the kitchen table. You smile slightly at the dramatics of Melissa across from you. 

You met Melissa in second grade when your family moved to Philly. The two of you became fast friends with your shared interests. Though at seven years old it’s not really hard to have shared interests. Still, your friendship grew as the two of you did. Even as you aged and found your own interests, you and Melissa were inseparable. 

Now, you’re in high school and as close as you’ve always been. Most afternoons after school you walk home with Melissa to her house. You spend an hour or two going over homework with her in companionable silence. Sometimes you stay for dinner, others you head home in time to eat dinner with your parents. Your house is Melissa's second home just as hers is yours. Your parents have become friends simply because the two of you are and insist on being with the other so much.

“Do you want me to help?” You ask, propping your chin in your hand as your elbow leans on the table.

“No.” Melissa’s answer is muffled into the table.

You roll your eyes. She’s always had a hard time accepting help. You remember in third grade offering to help her color just to be doing it with her. She had looked at you and said she ‘didn’t need help’ but you could color with her as long as you weren’t helping her color. You smile softly at the memory. Your stubborn Mel, just like always.

“What are you working on, anyway?” You ask, still looking only at her hair since her forehead is pressed to the wood.

After a heavy sigh, Melissa lifts her head to look at you. She huffs one more time, extra hard, to blow the hair in her face away. “English.” She grumbles. “I have an essay for midterm.” 

“Midterm?” You repeat, your hand falling away from your chin to the table with a thud. “Mel, that’s next week. How much have you done?”

“My name?” Melissa sheepishly answers with a small shrug of her shoulders. She looks more at her paper and the table than at you.

“I can help, Mel.” You repeat your offer, quietly. “You know I’m the weird one that likes essays.”

“Yea, you've always been better with that stuff than me.” Melissa agrees, reclaiming the pencil she’d dropped onto the table. “No, I don’t need help. I’ll figure it out.”

You sigh. You know she’ll never ask for help, or accept it. You know, too, when not to push her though. So, you let it go. You refocus on finishing your own paper as Melissa returns her attention to her own. Though, when you glance across the table at her after a few minutes, you can tell she hasn’t added much, if anything. You’re about to make a comment when the door to the kitchen opens.

You quickly get up to help Melissa’s mother with the groceries she’s carrying in. She gives you a smile you know Melissa inherited when she thanks you for helping. A small, light, slap to the back of red hair. “How come Y/N gets up to help me and youse don’t even move an inch.”

“Okay, Ma, we all know by now Y/N is your real favorite child.” Melissa answers.

“If her parents weren’t who they are, I’d have adopted her already, yes.” Melissa’s mom agrees without hesitation. “Are ya stayin’ for dinner, Y/N?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Schemmenti, but I promised my mom I’d be home tonight. Something about how I’ve practically moved in here and she never sees me.” You roll your eyes but smile. You know Melissa’s mom has had times where she’d say something similar about Melissa always being at your house.

You start packing your notebook and textbooks back into your backpack. “Are we still going to The Gallery this weekend?” You ask with a glance back to Melissa.

“Duh,” She answers without hesitation. “I’m not stayin’ home with Kristen Marie. Oh, Joey said he might come.” 

You roll your eyes. Both at Melissa’s ongoing annoyance with her sister and the mention of Joey. “Ugh, does he have to?” You ask.

Before you even finish asking, Melissa is giving you those puppy pleading eyes. She really likes Joey, for what reason you don’t know. You think he’s just like any of the other boys in your school and neighborhood. All of whom you really just tolerate. 

Still, in the middle of the school year last year she apparently noticed he was kind of cute and kind of funny. From then, Joey was slowly entering your friend group with her input. You’re just waiting at this point for him to actually ask Melissa out. You’ve seen him stare at her the same way you’ve seen Mel stare at him. You’ve entertained giving them a push once or twice just to get them moving but you figure it’s better to let them figure it out themselves.

“Please?” Melissa pleads. “I promise I won’t let him bring all of his friends, too. We’ll keep it small.”

“Fine.” You reluctantly agree as you tug your backpack over your shoulder. 

Melissa rises from her seat at the kitchen table and hugs you as she says thank you a few times. You guess if it makes your friend happy you’re okay with enduring Joey for a few hours.

“Want me to walk ya home?” She offers.

“Why, so you can put off your essay another five minutes?” You tease, kissing her cheek. “Nah, you know it ain’t far, I’ll be fine.”

“Call me tonight?”

“Duh.” You answer with a grin before you make your way out of the Schemmenti house.

You make good on your promise to call Melissa after dinner and a bit more studying that night, She acts like she didn’t know you made it down the block safely until you call. Like she does every time you leave somewhere without her. You assure her you’re as put together as you were when she last saw you. 

The two of you occupy the phone lines of your houses until your mother is insisting you have to hang up and get ready for bed. You’ve already convinced her to put it off until nearly an hour and a half later than usual. You see Melissa all the time, every day. Neither of you necessarily have anything new to say, but you remained on the line anyhow. You didn’t need anything new to want to talk to each other and would gladly do this same song and dance tomorrow. And you do.

That weekend, you join Melissa at The Gallery. Window shopping through Gimbel’s and the other department stores there. Halfway through the afternoon Joey does join the two of you. You slip into the role of third wheel with as much grace as you can. Melissa at least still includes you and doesn’t shut you out of conversation or pretend you aren’t there at all. Joey…well, you don’t really care that he pretends you aren’t there. You do the same thing to him all the time. Today included.

“How’s your essay?” You ask Melissa as you walk home with her Monday afternoon. You share a few classes with the redhead but the time to actually check in between those classes are rather short. Plus, she’d had lunch with Joey. She offered you to join but you had enough of the Melissa and Joey show that weekend so you opted to sit with your other friends instead.

“Oh…” Melissa shrugs, her eyes darting away from you. “It’s fine.”

“You haven’t worked on it at all, have you?” You ask with a squint at her.

“No, but it’s fine, I got it under control!”

“Mel, it’s due Friday!”

“I told ya I got this, Y/N”

You sigh, shaking your head as you follow Melissa into her house. You’re staying the night tonight, thankfully. So, you decide you’re going to get your friend as much through this damn essay as you can. Otherwise, you know Melissa will just keep avoiding it.

You don’t mention it in the hour before dinner that you’re both working through homework. After dinner, though, once you and Mel have migrated to her bedroom for the night, you begin your plan.

Melissa, to her credit, is really trying to start her essay. She has her book in her lap as she sits at the head of her bed. Her notebook is on the bedspread next to her and she’s absentmindedly biting the pencil in her hand. She’s squinting at the book. She hasn’t turned the page since you came up here. 

You shift away from your chair at the desk in her room, joining her on the bed. You can see she’s trying. Just as easily as you can see her frustration building. Without saying anything you tear a blank page from your notebook and slip it beneath her hands over the page she’s trying to read.

Melissa looks up at you, something close to a glare at you for your unwanted help. You don’t let it deter you. You gently lift the finger she’d been trying to follow the line she was reading with. The paper held just below the line to block the rest of the text. You don’t say anything. You return to your own project in your new space next to Melissa. After a long moment, she whispers a thank you to you as she turns the page.

You knew Mel had dyslexia. You were the first person she told when she found out. You had hugged her and reassured her it didn’t mean she was stupid like she kept saying once she found out. She didn’t speak about it often, and neither did you. It was something she preferred to pretend didn’t exist most of the time. Still, you try to make things easier for her when you can. Even when she’s obnoxiously stubborn about it.

It’s a few hours later that the comfortable silence you’ve been sharing is broken. Your project is nearly done, and you know Melissa has gotten through quite a bit of the reading she needed to do.

“Okay.” Melissa says, the frustration she’s feeling practically leaking into her voice as she tosses the book away from her. She lifts her notebook, shaking it. “How the hell am I supposed to even understand what the requirements are when it’s so many different things? The page count, and the words, and then you have to make sure it’s structured right. It’s too much shit, Y/N!”

You wince when you hear a distant shout from Melissa’s mother about her language from somewhere else in the house. The detriment of your Italian friend’s passion. Sometimes she doesn’t realize her volume.

“Sorry, Ma!” Melissa yells back half-heartedly before she turns back to you, deflating once more.

“How about this…” You say, carefully fixing the book she’s thrown before the pages get stuck bent. You re-situate her notebook to her lap, gesturing for her to be ready to write. “Let’s start with the introduction, right? So, what is it you’re writing about?”

You press your index finger to Melissa’s lips when she goes to tell you. “Nuh uh, write it.” You say, your hand moving to point at her notebook. “Even if it’s just a sentence or two, write it down and we can come back.”

Melissa looks at you, ensuring you’re looking back before she rolls her eyes. Only once she’s shown you her exasperation with you does she look away from you to write.

“Okay, great.” You say when she looks back up at you. “So, then, let’s write…” You pause to consider how long her essay needs to be. “Three different important points from the book.” You watch as Mel’s pencil scribbles against the notebook. You’ve always been jealous of her handwriting. It’s easy for her to write nicely despite how she sometimes struggles to write. Her handwriting always looked nicer than yours. You guess it’s because she’s always moving her pencil so carefully and meticulously. 

“Now what?”

You blink as Melissa prompts you, realizing she’d written a few ideas down and was now looking at you for what to do next. “Now, what’s the most important takeaway from the book?”

After she writes a sentence for your prompt, Melissa looks up at you. “I dunno how but you made it way less overwhelming.” She grumbles. 

You smile despite her trying to sound upset. “You know I’m always happy to help.” You lightly bump your shoulder to hers. “And it’s okay to need help, y’know. It doesn’t make you any less capable, Mel.”

“I’d be a hell of a lot less capable without you, Y/N.”

“Nah, just getting in your own way more.” You tease her, turning back to your own assignment to finish it now that Melissa seems to have a better idea of how to approach her essay.

You finish your assignment after a few more minutes. You put your things for school away in your backpack, ignoring Melissa saying you don’t have to put things away immediately all the time. You’re the more neat of the two of you and you’re not about to leave things scattered around her room. You might consider the Schemmenti house your second home but you wouldn’t do that. Especially not to Mel’s space.

You check if Mel wants you to help any further. She waves you away but this time you can tell she’s in a working groove and not just being stubborn. You disappear to steal her bathroom for a shower and to get ready for bed. By the time you get back to Melissa’s room she’s just finishing writing.

“Will you look it over for me while I shower?” She requests as she hands you her notebook. You smile at how shy she sounds about it. You know she doesn’t like anyone reading anything she’s written. She’s always self conscious of it but you’re glad she trusts you at least in instances like this.

By the time Melissa returns, you’ve gone over her essay twice. “This is great, Mel!” You say as soon as she walks in. “There’s only a few little spellings I found proof reading but you did great. I think you could ace the midterm with this.”

“Yeah?” She asks, smiling with a brief duck of her head. “Well, you got my ass in gear. I owe you.”

You wait a half second for a yell about language from somewhere but it’s quiet. You’d guess Melissa’s parents are asleep by now. You doubt Kristen Marie is but you haven’t seen much of Mel’s sister today, anyway. 

“You don’t owe me. It’s what I’m here for.” You retort with a shake of your head, setting Melissa’s notebook to the top of her desk.

Once you’ve set it down, Melissa is lightly pulling your arm to get you both back to her bed. Though she’s tugging her covers back and over the both of you now. “I’m glad it’s good enough ‘cause I’m sick of staring at it.”

You laugh. “At least you don’t have to worry about it the rest of the week now.”

Melissa nods, curling up at your side. You’ve shared beds too many times to count in your years growing up together. You don’t even second guess or hesitate before your arms are wrapping around the redhead as her head lands on your shoulder. “Thanks, Y/N. For bein’ there for me.”

“Even when you’re a stubborn asshole.” You add teasingly.

Half heartedly, Melissa shoves at you but she’s also still cuddling into you so she doesn’t really try to get you away. “Even when I’m a stubborn asshole.” She agrees quietly after a beat.

[limeandlightonwater]

people like us

pairing: steve harrington / eddie munson summary: Five times Amanda Driscoll hears about Mr. Harrington’s wife and the One time she realizes it’s his husband. warnings: some angst in #4 and a slight coming out (to herself) arc, hinted at homophobia (nothing explicit) word count: 7.5k a/n: (10/18/2023): a little after a year from the original post date, i decided to go back and edit it. it's still the same story any rereaders know, but all the little plot holes and issues have been fixed and there's 200 more words to read! thank you for reading <3

(og note): this is based off of this post i made! i will be doing a second part to this that follows eddie's bandmates and meeting steve! i hope you enjoy and any feedback, likes, reblogs, comments, ask, are all appreciated!

Read it on AO3

taglist: @zed-zeppeli @valenschmidt @expectocrucio @rel312 @jonathanbyersbbg @beeing-stuupid @ataztuv @noahzanehethey @ludabug @mavernanche @casualherolightbailiff @purplebellybell @phenomenal-bird @persephone13 @gleefully-macabre @darkqloszed @the-baby-goblin @aryanightshade @jojobeaner @specialagentslut-24 @goodomensgurl

1.  Monday, August 21st, 1995

Amanda was not one to be late, especially on the first day of school. Her steps echoed in the empty hallway as she rushed to her first period class. In one hand she held a tardy slip. In the other was a ripped piece of notebook paper detailing her homeroom class in smudged blue ink. 

Mr. Harrington

 U.S. History

Room 114

Having lived in Hawkins her whole life, she’d been attending the same middle school her older sister and both parents attended. This made her rather familiar with the staff at Hawkins Middle and yet she hadn’t recognized Mr. Harrington’s name. Reaching her classroom, she grabbed the handle and pushed it open. 

All the desks were arranged in groups of four and there were four groups. Hanging from the ceiling, were pieces of laminated paper designating each desk group a number. The walls were covered in different iconic historical quotes, maps of the worlds, and black and white photos of people Amanda assumed were important. On her teacher’s desk was a small globe, a pencil cup, and a clay pot full of various origamis. Her teacher was leaning against his desk, in the middle of a speech when he was interrupted by the squeak of the door being opened. All eyes landed on Amanda and she squirmed under her peers' watchful gaze. She walked shyly over to Mr. Harrington and handed him her pass. 

“Ah, Amanda! Welcome to U.S. History. Uh, here! Grab a syllabus and there’s a free seat at table two! I’m just telling the class a bit about myself.” He smiled politely at her, and motioned toward table two. At table two, Mary and Lj were sitting on the same side, facing the windows, so Amanda chose the seat across from Lj. She quietly sat her stuff down and paid attention to what her teacher was saying. 

“Like I was saying, I was born and raised in Hawkins. I walked these very same halls you did once before! It’s actually where I met my current partner, I just didn’t know it at the time. I started at Ivy Tech college before I transferred to Indiana State Teachers College to get my degree. I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years and taught at the local high school, before we moved back this past summer to take care of their dad and here we are! I’m also the coach for the basketball team so information about try-outs will go up soon. Now, enough about me. If you’d take a look at your syllabus…”

Mr. Harrington’s voice faded into ambient noise in the background as she looked around her classroom. He’d met his wife right here in this building, and he didn’t even know it at the time. The person Amanda would marry could be sitting right in front of her and she’d never know until she was finally with them. She glanced around and her eyes landed on Louise-Jane Brooks, or Lj as she was typically called. Amanda immediately looked away, a fierce blush painting her cheeks the same color as her hair. That happened almost every time she looked at Lj. How weird is it that someone she’s known since kindergarten made her so nervous? The sun fitted itself through the blinds behind Amanda and illuminated Lj, like she had her own personal spotlight shining down on her. Brown skin, long braids, deep dark eyes turned to honey, and freckles left over from summer time glittered underneath the light and it stirred up something within Amanda that her mind had trouble reconciling with.

“Any questions?” Mr. Harrington’s voice cut through the Lj related fog in Amanda’s mind and her hand immediately shot up.

“You said you met your wife in middle school. How did you know she was the one?” Amanda forced her eyes to stay on Mr. Harrington despite the strange urge to look back at Lj. 

“Well I didn’t know I’d marry them in middle school. I didn’t know that I’d marry them until way after college. We met in middle school. We were desk partners in our science class and they taught me how to make origami out of our homework sheets.” He picked up the little clay pot on his desk and pulled out what looked like a pencil. “They made me this little pencil for my first day teaching here.” He returned the origami pencil and the clay pot back to their spot on his desk and looked back out toward his students. “Are there any other questions?...No? Alright we’re gonna head down to the library and grab your textbooks so line up!” 

A symphony of chairs screeching against the ground and whispering voices erupted as the students lined up by the door. Much to the delight of Amanda, Lj ended up in front of her. Lj was wearing a baby pink dress with white polka dots and white flats. Amanda tapped Lj’s shoulder and waited for her to turn. She turned and Amanda had to ignore the warmth in her cheeks as she spoke.

“I like your dress!” Lj’s smile grew in response to Amanda’s compliment.

“Thank you, Amy. It has pockets!” and she stuck her hands into the pockets of the dress to show them to Amanda. Amanda went to say something but the line had started to move so she kept her response to herself. 

2. Friday, September 15th, 1995

In the weeks that passed, Amanda found herself looking forward to her first period class more and more. Mr. Harrington made learning about history much more fun than her previous teachers had. Though they had to check out the textbooks in the library provided by the state, Mr. Harrington told them to stack them along the window sill and they sat there everyday, untouched. In class, he told them the real history and explained what actually happened, what the textbooks glossed over or lied about. Instead of reading page after page in their textbooks they got to do fun projects creating poster boards, making dioramas, and even creating their own political cartoons. 

Amanda has also been early everyday. She was sitting in her regular seat waiting for class to start, when two boys walked in, talking excitedly about some band she’d never heard of. 

“Did you hear about the first Corroded Coffin show last night in Indianapolis? Apparently people were camping outside the venue for 2 nights to try and score tickets! I want to see them on tour so bad!” Mr. Harrington peaked his head up from the paper he was writing on and joined the boys’ conversation. 

“You guys like Corroded Coffin? I know those guys, we all went to high school together.” Mr. Harrington said. He looked off to the side, brows furrowed as he thought about something. “Maybe I can ask them to come for career day in October?”

The two boys gasped excitedly and started asking their teachers questions about the band and how he met them. Mary, who sat diagonally across from Amanda, sighed. Amanda watched, Mary, who had her head in her hands, gazing dreamily at Mr. Harrington. 

“Isn’t he just so handsome, Amanda?” Mary said, turning to look at her. Amanda wrinkled her nose in response. Sure, Mr. Harrington wasn’t ugly but she couldn’t see what it was about him that made all the girls trip over themselves. No matter if they were in the cafeteria during lunch or in the library for study hall, she was subject to hearing theories of what Mr. Harrington’s wife looked like, and whispers of ‘She’s so lucky’. Amanda didn’t get any of it. Still, she wanted to fit in, so she pretended. He wore the same style glasses that she did, so at least she could compliment him without lying. To herself or her classmates.

“Um, I like his glasses.” She replied. Avoiding Mary’s piercing gaze, she decided pulling her pencil bag out was a smart move. 

“I don’t know, Amy,” Lj said, looking up from her book. “I think Miss. Rosario is prettier than Mr. Harrington. She would never come to school with her shirt so wrinkled.” Lj glanced at Mr. Harrington once more before going back to her book. Mary flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, before she raised her hand. Next to her, Amanda’s eyes were glued to Lj. Miss Rosario was pretty. Super pretty. If everyone was talking about that, she’d understand one hundred percent. She forced herself to look away when Mr. Harrington started speaking. 

“Yes, Mary?” 

“You don’t normally come to school with your shirt so wrinkled. Why today?” She asked. Mr. Harrington looked down at his shirt and inspected the wrinkles and huffed. He was wearing a plain blue and white striped polo, and jeans since it was a friday. 

“Thank you…for pointing that out, Mary. For your information, normally my partner irons my shirts every morning while I make breakfast, but they’ll be away for the next month on a work trip, and I was in a rush and forgot to do it.” He walked back around behind his desk and grabbed the hawkins middle hoodie that was hanging on the back of his desk chair and put it on. “There, Now no one can see the wrinkles.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘is this okay’ and Mary nodded as she giggled

“Why does your wife always iron your shirts? Why don’t you iron your own shirts and she makes breakfast?” Janet asked. 

“Well, Janet, if you must know, they like to pick out my clothes, and I’m the only one who can cook so it just works out.” Mr. Harrington replied. A few awws came from the crowd and he waved them away. “Yes, it’s all very sweet and domestic and all that jazz. Now, who can tell me where we left off yesterday.” 

 3. Tuesday, October 3rd, 1995

“Yo, Mr. H, what’s that thing on your nose?” It was right before class began, and Mr. Harrington had just turned around from writing their new essay prompt on the board. Right in the center of his face was a scratch, from the bridge of his nose to underneath his eye. Amanda was by the door, sharpening her pencil for the lesson.

“Well Good Morning to you too, Gerald. That thing on my nose is a scratch. My partner came home for the weekend and we ended up adopting some kittens last night. Three of them actually, so in the whole mess of transporting 3 kittens back to our home…” He gestured to his face and then shrugged. 

“What did you name the kittens?” A voice said from the back. 

“Sabbath, Kirk, and Abba.” His lips pursed, as if he was trying to suppress his smile. 

“Why those names?” Amanda asked before she could stop herself. She recognized Abba because her older sister was always blasting it through her walkman, but the other two names were unfamiliar. She assumed they probably also had to do with music but she wasn't sure what they were references to. 

“Well Sabbath and Kirk are nods to my partners favorite bands. The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’.” Mr. Harrington had an exasperated look on his face, but you could hear the fondness in his voice as he talked about his partner. He glanced over at his origami pot, which Amanda noted now had a black cat added to it. She spun to walk back to her desk with her newly sharpened pencils when Lj walked into class, beating the bell by a few seconds and immediately caught Amanda’s attention.

“Woah, Amy! You wore your hair down today?” Lj said, and stopped when she saw the redhead by the door. Amanda typically kept her hair in a ponytail and her bangs neatly trimmed just above her eyebrows to keep her curls from falling into her face while she worked. Today though, she had a black and white striped headband settled behind her bangs, the rest of her curly hair falling down to her shoulders. “I really like it like this. You look extra pretty.” Lj offered her a small smile and made her way to her seat. Amanda's hand flew to her hair and her jaw fell open a bit, eyes tracking Lj’s movements as she walked away. 

Lj thought she was extra pretty with her hair down. Extra. Like she always thought Amanda was pretty, but with her hair down…she was more, pretty. Additionally pretty. Especially pretty. Her gaze slowly left Lj and landed on Mr. Harrington who was watching her with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head in amusement and then pointed to her desk with his chin. It took her feet a few seconds to catch up with her brain and move, but she made it to her seat. As she sat down, Gerald called out to her teacher.

“Wait Mr. H, I’m confused. Why did y’all get 3 kitties in the first place?” Mr. Harrington sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing when he made contact with the scratch. 

“We couldn’t separate the siblings. Or, my partner didn’t want to separate them and…who am I to stop them. So we got three kittens.” His eyes widened like he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Will you bring them in so we can meet them?” Kendra asked hopefully. Amanda knew she wanted to be a veterinarian so it made sense that she’d ask. That was the cool thing about going to school with the same kids all her life. She knew so many little things about them and what their aspirations were. Gerald was out of this world smart so he’d decided he would either be a lawyer or a doctor, whichever paid more. Mary wanted to be a famous actress, Janet loved science, and Lj was a writer like no other. 

Amanda imagined hanging out with Lj in the future. Lj as a world famous journalist for the New York Times and Amanda working somewhere with numbers. They would both live in New York because Lj would want a friend there and they’ll live in the same apartment to save money and they’ll share a room because what if it’s lonely and she’ll get to wake up to Lj and fall asleep with Lj and grocery shop with Lj and

Amanda sat up straighter in her seat and shook her head as if to shake those thoughts out of her mind. She reminded herself to leave those types of thoughts to when she was alone and tuned back into the ongoing conversation.

“Sorry Kendra, can’t do that. I have a kid in my third and seventh period classes with allergies to fur.”

“What if your wife brings them, and then after this class period, she takes them back home?” Someone else suggested. Mr. Harrington chuckled to himself and dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment.

“That won’t be possible, they’re on a work trip, remember. Maybe I’ll bring a picture in so you all can see.” He offered, looking around to see if that would appease his students. 

“But we want to see your wife! You’re always talking about her!” That comment came from Mary. Mr. Harrington laughed again and Amanda wondered what was so funny. 

“Ok ok, I see what’s going on here. You’re trying to get me to talk about my personal life so we don’t start those essays today huh? Unluckily for you, I was a student once so I know all your tricks! Come on, let’s get class started.” A few tried to protest, but eventually they grabbed their notebooks and flipped to fresh pages. 

As Amanda worked, her hair continued to fall into her face. She resisted the urge to tie it back into its signature ponytail, instead opting to tuck her hair behind her ear constantly. Louise-Jane Brooks thinks Amanda Driscoll is extra pretty with her hair down and Amanda decided it was normal to want another girl to think she’s pretty, so she kept her hair down.

 4. Friday, October 13th, 1995

“Mr. Harrington, what was high school like for you?” 

That day, the eighth grade class had a field trip to the high school now that their first marking period was nearly over. The class was pretty chatty now that they were back in their classroom waiting for the dismissal bell to ring. They were all standing around Mr. Harrington’s desk, a few sitting on the student desks behind them. They quieted down when they heard the question asked. 

“I was pretty popular in high school, was co-captain of the swim team, fought some monsters, skipped prom, then I graduated and met the love of my life.” Mr. Harrington was staring upwards, like he was checking off an imaginary list in his mind. Immediately, a gaggle of questions were shouted out at him. His eyes widened in shock and he put his hands up in surrender. “Woahhh guys, one a time, let me see some hands. McKenzie, what’s your question?”

“I thought you met your wife in middle school?” A few ‘yeah’s came from the group as they recalled what Mr. Harrington told them on the first day of class. 

“That is technically right. I did meet them in middle school and we were friends for that science class we shared. Then we drifted apart until after I graduated. We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school and ever since then it’s been me and them.”

“What do you mean by fighting monsters?” Another person asked. Mr. Harrington only shrugged. His arms, which were hanging down by his sides, wrapped around his stomach. “Whatever you think it means, Kevin.”

“He’s probably talking about some game or movie,” Someone commented from the back of the group to their friend. Mr. Harrington didn’t acknowledge them, only staring out the window. The kids begin to break off into separate conversation when the bell rings to dismiss for the day. 

“Hey Amy,” Lj said, approaching her as the crowd started to disperse and leave Amanda, Lj, and their teacher behind. Mr. Harrington yelled out a ‘See you tomorrow and made good decisions!’ as he sat back behind his desk. The two girls were standing in the aisle between table one and table two, a few feet from the front of Mr. Harrington’s desk. She noticed her teacher start to look for something on his desk. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here, normally you're first out the door.” She commented. Amanda smiled at the thought of Lj paying that much attention to her.

“I have Chess Club afterschool today so my mom will get me at four. I don’t have to catch the bus.” Lj hummed in acknowledgement before speaking again.

“So…I just moved to a new house, and I finally finished decorating my room. If it’s okay with your mom, my mom said I could invite people over now.” Lj had a delicate smile on her face as her fingers played with the hem of her t-shirt before being stuffed into the pockets of her jeans.

“Um, yeah of course! I’d love to! How do I tell you if my mom said it’s ok?” Amanda said, smiling so widely she knew her cheeks would ache later. 

“Uhhhh,” Lj looked around, before taking a few steps and grabbing a marker out of Mr. Harrington’s pencil cup. Amanda trailed behind her. Lj grabbed Amanda’s arm and wrote down a series of numbers on her forearm. Amanda could see that Mr. Harrington was now fumbling for something within his desk. Lj let her hand fall from Amanda’s forearms to her hand. 

“There. That’s my home phone number, just call me when you ask your mom! I hope she says yes. I got this jewelry making kit so we can like, make bracelets and stuff! Bye, Amy! Call me! Even if you can't come over!” Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and walking out the classroom. 

Amanda was rooted in her spot, the path LJ’s fingers took burned into her skin. Having feelings for Lj had gone from manageable to completely unbearable from that one interaction. How was she supposed to walk around everyday not aching to touch her again? To feel the weight of Lj’s hand in hers and have her small, kind, infectious smile directed at Amanda. Her fingers traced the numbers on her arm as she reimagined her Saturday plans. She was shaken from her daydream when a throat cleared. Her head snapped to the source of the noise, and she met eyes with Mr. Harrington. Realizing he watched that entire interaction, her smile dropped. She knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the same things her parents whispered in the kitchen when they thought she was asleep in the living room.

“That wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t have a crush on Lj.” Mr. Harrington only raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. 

“I…I didn’t say you did.” He replied. 

Amanda’s cheeks burned a deep red as she realized he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. She assumed she knew what he was thinking and just dug herself into a hole. She looked away embarrassed, feeling the burn of restrained tears behind her eyes. She’d just come to terms herself with what those feelings inside her meant. She wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant to openly like girls. But now she’d have to, Mr. Harrington was going to tell her mom. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” She whispered, looking away when a few tears fell. Mr. Harrington’s eyes widened in shock. He jumped up from his desk, walked around to the front, and kneeled in front of Amanda.

“Hey, hey, hey don't cry. I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to. There’s nothing for me to tell, Amanda. Promise.” He reassured, his hands flailing about in front of him as he spoke. He offered a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before shifting to sit criss-cross in front of his desk, using it to lean on. 

Amanda watched Mr. Harrington as he sat on the floor and made himself comfortable. He looked up at Amanda and patted the spot next to him. She sat down with him, legs stretched into the aisle in front of them and her back pressed up against Mr. Harrington’s desk. She took her glasses off and wiped her eyes, and Mr. Harrington pushed his glasses into his hair and began to speak. 

“If I may ask, what is it… that I'm not telling?” He asked, voice gentle. 

“I don’t think you’d understand.” She said, voice shaky with unshed tears. 

“Maybe…maybe not. But you never know unless you tell me. If you want to, of course.” He said as he watched Amanda carefully.

“How do you feel about your wife?” She asked him, finger aimlessly prodding at the linoleum floors. 

“My partner is the best gift that I could have ever been given. They’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The kindest, most compassionate, and genuine person I know. And they’re hilarious, they make me laugh like never before. I used to dread going home, but now that they’re there, I can’t wait to get back to them everyday. Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them. They are the center of my universe and every planet surrounding it.” 

The two sat in silence for a moment after. Amanda wondered what it would be like to love a girl so fully. To love a girl so much that her mere presence made the stars shine brighter and air seem crisper. To love a girl, and be free to tell anyone who asked. 

“I want,” she started. “I want to be allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Amanda nearly whispered the end of her sentence, the force of hearing her voice admit that out loud for the first time knocked the air out of her.

“You are allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Mr. Harrington said, shifting to face Amanda better. She turned to look at him, red rimmed eyes meeting earnest ones. “My best friend and her wife moved to San Francisco so that they could. They’re much more open minded out there. When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us out there way more than you did here in Hawkins.” Amanda’s brows knitted in confusion. 

“People like us?” She asked. Mr. Harrington nodded. 

“People like us,” He confirmed. Amanda let the weight of both their confessions settle in the air. Other people felt this way. Mr. Harrington did. And so did his best friend and her wife. And the people in San Francisco and in Chicago. She wasn’t the only person who felt. Amanda let her worries be temporarily soothed by the comfort of knowing she wasn’t a freak or a mistake. She wiped her eyes again, put her glasses back on, and pushed herself off the floor. She looked up at the clock which read 3:12. Chess Club started in three minutes. 

“I have to go, I don’t want to be late…but thank you, Mr. Harrington.” Amanda said, voice quiet. 

“Anytime, Amanda. My door is always open.” And she didn’t doubt that. Not many people in Hawkins knew how she felt, but Mr. Harrington did and that was more than she thought. 

 5. Monday, October 15th, 1995

When Amanda walked into her homeroom class the following day, the first thing she noticed was the new poster up by the chalkboard. It was a plain beige rectangle with rainbow patterned letters, spelling out “YOU ARE SAFE HERE.” Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes immediately searched for Mr. Harrington, but he was busy talking to one of her classmates. She walked to her seat, reveling in the warmth that grew in her chest from how nice it was to be cared for like this.

As Amanda placed her arm on her desk, she felt the delicious bite of the gems on her bracelet sink into the skin of her wrist. She lifted her wrist to inspect the new jewelry she made with Lj. There were pink, orange, and red beads patterned on her bracelet, while Lj’s had a pink, blue, and purple pattern. Both bracelets however, had “LJ&AMY”. Her right hand came up and she ran her fingers over the beads, and smiled fondly as she remembered her weekend with Lj. Memories of bracelet making, pizza, karaoke, and sharing a banana split sundae filled her mind. Amanda looked ahead of her and saw that Lj was already staring at her. She smiled at her and waved shyly. Lj giggled and waved back. 

“I like your bracelet,” She said, smiling back at Amanda. Amanda stuck her hand wrist out proudly to show off the bracelet Lj helped her make. 

“Why thank you, it’s custom made, one of a kind,” She laughed again, but was interrupted by one of her classmates yelling over the chatter in the classroom. 

“How was your weekend, Mr. H,” Gerald asked. 

“It was pretty good. I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner and they had a picnic set up. It was very sweet. They even made me a flower crown by hand. We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.” He responded.

“Wow, Mr. H, your wife sounds mad sweet.” Gerald responded, his fingers absentmindedly twirling one of his locs. 

“Right,” Kendra piped in from the back corner. “Everytime you say something about her it’s always something so gentle. Like she taught you how to make origami, and she irons your clothes, made you adopt all those cats, now a picnic at Lovers’ Lake and a handmade flower crown? She’s like, the sweetest woman in the world.” Kendra said, recalling all the kind things Mr. Harrington’s partner did for him.

“I wish you guys paid this much attention to what I say when i’m teaching, how did you even remember all of that?” Kendra only shrugs and Mr. Harrington sighs. “Anyways, what about you guys, what did you get up to this weekend?” Immediately Lj’s hand went up and Mr. Harrington called on her. She reached her hand out to Amanda, who immediately clasped her fingers around Lj’s.

“Well Amy came over to my house and we did a bunch of fun stuff like go to the mall and get pizza, but we also made these matching bracelets.” Lj then stuck their conjoined hands in the air so their classmates could see the bracelets, even if it was a bit awkward with all that space between the two girls. 

Amanda’s grin grew impossibly bigger and she looked at Mr. Harrington who raised his brows in pleasant surprise.

“That’s very nice girls, my partner and my best friend have a matching pair of purple converse that they decorated together actually. Janet, what about you? How was your weekend?” Mr. Harrington went on, letting his students tell him all about their weekend before they started class. Amanda couldn’t pay much attention to what her classmates were saying though, savoring every second Lj kept her in hand in Amanda’s.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of weird how Mr. Harrington never just says ‘my wife’?” Mary whispered to her tablemates. Amanda froze for a moment, considering Mary’s words. Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and picking up her pencil to take notes since Mr. Harrington was now starting the lesson. Amanda didn’t follow her lead. Instead, she ran back every time Mr. Harrington brought up his wife. 

“Then I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years…”

“...normally my partner irons my shirts every morning…”

“Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them.”

Why didn’t Mr. Harrington just say ‘my wife’ instead of ‘my partner’? Why did he always say ‘they’ instead of ‘she’? Amanda’s mind reminded her of their conversation afterschool on friday. 

“When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us way more than here in Hawkins.”

People like…us. 

Her eyes darted to the new poster hanging up in their class. You are safe here. Her eyes drifted to Mr. Harrington as the realization dawned on her. Why Mr. Harrington was so specific about how he referred to his partner. Why he didn’t have a picture of them on his desk like her other teachers do. 

Mr. Harrington…doesn’t have a wife. He has a husband.

 +1. Tuesday, October 16th, 1995

It was career fair day so after lunch instead of heading to her algebra class, Amanda met up with Lj in front of the gym to browse all the different jobs that came to present that day. She almost tripped over her feet in excitement once she spotted Lj. She quickened her pace, nearly running over one of the 6th graders. The two girls embraced before linking arms as they walked into the gym together. 

They stopped by the doctor table and the accounting table, and ran past the construction table giggling. They visited the journalism table so Lj could talk with the woman there. She had a short, curly bob and a name tag that read “Miss Wheeler”. Amanda looked around and spotted Mr. Harrington toward the back of the fair talking with another man with unruly, curly hair. The long haired man smiled at Mr. Harrington and knocked the educators shoulder with his own. 

Amanda told Lj she would be right back and headed in their direction. Upon arriving, Mr. Harrington’s friend stepped away from him and approached Amanda. He was wearing a t-shirt that said “The Devil Was Once an Angel” and ripped black jeans. He had many rings on his fingers and various chains hanging off his belt loops. He had multiple tattoos all along his arms and stuck to the front of his chest was a name tag that read “Mr. Munson”.

Looking at his display, she saw a speaker, quietly playing metal music and a black and red electric guitar on a stand next to it. There were pictures of the long haired man on stage with 3 other guys and a notebook open with what looked like song lyrics. Next to the notebook, there were some tickets for a band called ‘Corroded Coffin’. Amanda racked her memory trying to remember why the name sounded familiar. 

“Amanda!” Mr. Harrington greeted. He turned and faced Mr. Munson. “Mr. Munson, this is that student I told you about. Amanda, this is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist, lead vocals, and songwriter for his band.” Mr. Harrington looked at Eddie proudly, and placed a hand on each shoulder, in a weird sort of side hug.

“Thank you for that lovely introduction, Mr. Harrington,” Mr. Munson said, grinning widely. He then turned to Amanda. “What kind of music do you listen to, Red?” He had his hands clasped together, his two pointer fingers pressed against his lips. 

“Uhh, I guess I listen to a lot of pop music. My older sister introduced me to someone called Madonna? I mainly listen to my sister's old tapes so whatever she has,” Amanda responded. 

Mr. Munson gasped, dramatically clutching his hand to his chest where his heart would be. 

“Oh you poor thing! You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.” She giggled and Mr. Munson smiled at her in a way where she knew he was only teasing. Amanda could see Mr. Harrington roll his eyes but smile, as Mr. Munson grabbed the speaker that was on his table. He pulled it closer to the front of the table so she could hear the music playing better. Mr. Munson looked around quickly before whispering to Amanda. “You won’t tell anyone if this song says any bad words will you,” His questioning gaze turned into a devilish grin when Amanda smiled and shook her head. “I knew there was a reason you were his favorite” Her feet tapped in excitement as she glanced quickly to her teacher. 

Mr. Munson turns the music up slightly and lets the heavy bass and electric guitar fill the air around them. 

“That is my band's latest single, ‘Trials’. It’s about some stuff that your teacher and I went through back in high school.” He said.

“You guys knew each other in high school?” Amanda asked, bewildered. How did her polo-wearing, mr. popular, not a hair out of place history teacher become friends with a man so completely different from him?

“Well we knew of each other in high school, we were friends in middle school for a little while. We reconnected around this time of my senior year. 1986, can you believe that was 10 years ago, Stevie?” Where had she heard that before? Where did she know this man from? She can’t recall ever seeing him before, so why do his words sound so familiar? Amanda pushed those questions out of her head, and instead decided to ask him questions about his work since that is what he was there for.  

“Do all the inspirations for your songs come from your life? How do you not run out of things to write about?” Amanda asked. 

“What a wonderful question, Red. I do get a lot of inspiration from my real life. Take this weekend for example, Me and Mr. Harrington—or Mr.Harrington and I, Miss O’Donnell would kill me if she heard me say that.” Mr. Munson said that last part to Mr. Harrington before he turned back to Amanda. “Like I was saying, Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends. I got some inspiration from that experience to write about reminiscing on good times. The song that just played for you right now, is also about the past but it’s about how the past changes us today. So while I may use the same base for songs,...” 

Amanda started to lose focus as Mr. Munson explained his songwriting process. Mr. Harrington also said he was at Lovers’ Lake with his partner and that he met up with old friends this weekend. She understood them hanging out as old friends, they knew each other since middle school apparently. But how could Mr. Munson have been at Lovers’ Lake too? 

Amanda looks at Mr. Harrington, opening her mouth to ask a question when she stops herself. Mr. Harrington. That’s who she’s heard this from before. She looked back at the tickets on the table. “Corroded Coffin” She realizes that’s the band he was talking about that one day. She runs her entire conversation with Mr. Munson back in her mind matching it to the things she heard Mr. Harrington say in class. 

‘’The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’”

“You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.” 

“We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school.”

“We reconnected around this time of my senior year.”

“Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends.”

“I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner…We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.”

Amanda looked away from the table, looking between both Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington was watching Mr. Munson as he explained something Amanda wasn't paying much attention to with rapt fascination. His eyes were soft and his smile was adoring. His arms were crossed casually across his chest and he leaned slightly toward Mr. Munson, like the musician had a magnetic pull on him. 

Like Mr. Munson was the center of his universe. 

Amanda gasped loudly, effectively cutting off Mr. Munson’s spiel and drawing attention from a few of the neighboring tables. They all turned away when Amanda’s face broke into a wide grin, assuming her gasp was from excitement. Both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson were staring at Amanda with confusion on their faces. 

“Are you…okay, Red?” Mr. Munson asked as he stepped backwards to inspect Amanda, consequently getting into Mr. Harrington’s personal space. Her history teacher didn’t budge when there were only a mere few inches separating them. She peeked around them, searching for Lj and finding her talking to Gerald in front of the lawyers table. She turned back to the two men in front of her and kept her voice low when she spoke. 

“Mr. Harrington doesn’t have a wife,” She paused for dramatic effect, something she learned from Mary, and let the two men share a glance before looking back to her. “He has a husband.” She clapped her hands, excited by her discovery. It all made sense now. Realization washed over both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. They looked at each other, Mr. Munson pursing his lips to suppress a smile and Mr. Harrington with both hands on his hips and an exasperated look on his face.

“How did you piece that together from my presentation?” Mr. Munson asked, head tilted in amusement.

“It wasn’t your presentation, it was the stuff you said before you started talking about the music. Mr. Harrington talks about you all the time in class. The stuff you said right now matched up to what Mr. Harrington said before and all the signs, the poster, ‘People like us...It just clicked right now. What all that meant.” Amanda said, hands waving wildly in front of her. They froze mid-air when another realization washed over her. Her eyebrows knit up in confusion as she looked Mr. Munson over once more. 

“You…with the tattoos, and the rings, and the chains, and the all black clothes…adopted three kittens? And you iron Mr. Harrington’s clothes every morning? And planned a picnic out on Lovers’ Lake? You taught Mr. Munson to make little origamis? Made him a flower crown? That was you? But you look so…” Amanda paused looking for the words. Mr. Munson glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Harrington with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “You look so, not the type.”

“I told you all those years ago, Stevie. Forced conformity. It’s killing the kids.” He turned back to Amanda. “It’s 1995 Little Red, people are so much more than their stereotypes.” 

Amanda stared at Mr. Munson, soaking in all the new information, when another question popped in her mind. 

“Wait. If you’re both boys, how did you get married?” She kept her voice low, so the other tables wouldn’t over hear her. Mr. Munson crouched down to Amanda’s level. 

“Well, to the government, marriage is a piece of paper saying ‘This is who I chose!’. And tax benefits. We didn't need a piece of paper and a big fancy party, though we did have one, to say that we chose each other for life. I love him. And the government doesn’t get to tell me if that’s okay or not, it is okay.” Mr. Munson then looked up at Mr. Harrington from his spot on the floor. They shared a look, one that said a million more words than they’d be allowed in such a public place.

Amanda looked away from them, the connection between the two becoming almost suffocating. It was so surreal to be standing in front of two people who understood what she was going through. They went through it already and came out the other end. They were living breathing proof that it’s not always this hard, and it’s not always this confusing. That one day you’ll be able to wake up every morning next to the love of your life, no matter their gender. You’ll get to visit your favorite spots from your childhood as you grow old together. That we get a fancy wedding and the promise to be together forever too. They were proof that our fate isn’t subject to becoming a forgotten name in the newspaper for a case the police won’t try to solve. People like us, get to have our happily ever after, and Amanda was looking right at one. She couldn’t quite put into words what that meant to her.

On top of that, Mr. Munson wasn’t anything like she’d expected. Besides the fact that she was expecting a woman up until yesterday, he wasn’t anything like she expected for someone who presented themself like he did. He was kind and gentle while being loud and dramatic. He picked flowers for his husband with the same hands he used to shred electric guitar. He was unapologetically himself, even if that confused some people. Amanda looked forward to the day she could say the same about herself.

Mr. Harrington offered Mr. Munson a hand, and helped him off the floor when Lj approached the table. 

“There you are Amy, I was wondering where you went,” Lj immediately reached for Amanda’s hand and interlocked their fingers, like she couldn't go another second without touching Amanda. Mr. Munson offered a small, knowing smile.  “Are you done here? I heard the veterinary table is giving out cookies shaped like dinosaurs!” 

Amanda looked away from Lj and back up at Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington. 

“After the promotion ceremony, and we’re officially high schoolers…am I still allowed to come back and say hi?” Amanda asked. Sure, it was only October but Mr. Harrington had already changed her life in such an irrevocable way. When she gets her first girlfriend or when she moves away to find people who are like her, it’ll be because Mr. Harrington was the first person who told her that it was okay and that she wasn’t alone.

“Of course, Amanda. Come back anytime! I’d love to hear about how high school goes for you. Even beyond that!” Mr. Harrington said. They shared a smile, and she let Lj pull her away. 

“So you talk about me in class all the time, huh?” Mr. Munson teased as Amanda walked away.

“Go back on tour,” was her teacher's reply.

—

I don't know if i really have the words to explain what this fic means to me and how cathartic it was to write. Thank you for reading <3

[darkbluekies]

A oneshot let's see if I do this right, can you do a oneshot of Hedwig meeting the reader? As in the start of it all I wanna see a little mini story of all that

I've got my eye on you

female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: A new students catches the eye of the popular, rich girl and she finds herself falling for you harder than she's ever done before. Hedwig comes up with a plan to lull you in and make sure you'll be hers only.

Warnings: none really, I think, maybe manipulation? Hedwig changes in front of reader (back towards them) but still-

Word count: 2.1k

Senior year. Only one more year until she’s free and gets out of here. She’ll go to Paris. Or Milan. Maybe travel around the world?

Hedwig steps into the classroom and greets her friends. Her father has forced her to go to a normal school to understand the normal people. They’re nice, but she feels like they’re not understanding her in the way her rich friends understand her. Hedwig can’t talk about her life in the same way without getting jealous looks. But she’s come to terms with it now. Her wealth isn’t only negative, she's gotten quite popular by it. If you don’t want her, you want to be her. 

Everything is normal … until she steps her foot into the art classroom for the first time this semester. Someone is sitting in the very spot she normally sits. Someone she’s never seen before. 

“Excuse me”, she says. 

The person — who happens to be you — looks up. 

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“This is my desk”, she says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry … I didn’t know …”

You’re about to take your stuff and leave, but she stops you. 

“No, no, no”, she says. “It’s okay. You can stay. There are two chairs, aren’t there? I’ll sit beside you.”

“I’ll remember it for the next time.”

“Thank you.”

Hedwig's friend has to sit somewhere else. The friend gives you a nasty look before sitting down in the front of the class. 

You start working on your new projects. Hedwig glances over at your self portrait and finds herself smiling. 

“Pretty”, she says. 

“Oh, thank you”, you say quietly without looking at her.

“I don’t know what I should do. I can’t come up with something.” She drops her pencil down on the table. “My brain isn’t working.”

You look up from your portrait and meet her hazel eyes. 

“Why don’t you paint a scenery?” you ask. “That always works.”

Hedwig smiles. “What kind of scenery should I paint? 

You think. “Maybe … a winter landscape? You won’t have to use too many colors and details.”

“Thank you.” She blushes. “What’s your name, by the way? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Y/N, I’m new.”

“Really? No wonder I didn’t know who you were. I’m so sorry for not noticing you earlier.”

She can’t understand how she hasn’t. You’re gorgeous! How has she not noticed you until today? Now that she has, she can’t tear her eyes off of you.

“It’s okay”, you whisper, suddenly embarrassed. “I was actually trying my best not to be noticed.”

“Why?”

You shrug and look away. Hedwig can feel her entire body heat up. She looks down at your hand holding the pen and wants nothing more than to take it in hers. 

“You’re good at drawing”, she says when she realizes that she’s been staring at your hand for a few minutes. Playing it off as staring at your drawing. “It really looks like you.”

“Thank you.”

“Could you help me with mine?”

You nod and turn to her. Hedwig’s holding her pen and you take it out of her hands in a gentle manner that makes her heart flip. Your fingers brush against her hand and it sends electric shocks all throughout her body. She gulps and watches how you help her sketch out an outline of a few mountains before turning back to your own drawing. All nerves in her body are screaming at her to make you touch her again. She can’t understand why she’s suddenly feeling like this, but she knows that she needs more. 

“I-I’m Hedwig by the way”, she says quickly, desperate to pick up the conversation again. 

“I know”, you answer quietly. “Everyone talks about you.”

“Oh.” Hedwig’s suddenly terrified of what you’ve heard about her, maybe people’s gossip has made you dislike her already? She feels a weird longing for you to like her, to give her approval. “What are they saying?”

“They talk about you like you’re a celebrity. They’re talking about your parents and how they think your life is. I’m not really sure, I haven’t heard much.”

“Don’t listen. People are always talking.”

You nod and the situation grows silent again. Hedwig bites her lip. 

“Could you help me again?” she asks. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You give out a small sigh and turn to her again. Unlike last time, you place your hand over hers, guiding her hand and the pen. Hedwig can swear that her heart stops at the feeling of your soft hand against hers. She feels dizzy. 

WHen it’s lunch time, Hedwig asks if you want to eat with her. You nod shyly. You’ve never sat with the popular kids before and you don’t know any of these kids. Only Hedwig and you only met her an hour ago. To your surprise, she barely acknowledges her friends. Her full attention is on you, asking you where you’re from, what made you move here, how your family life looks like, what your interests are, what makes you scared and happy and what kind of person you are. Not a single time during lunch does she look away from your face. She has a sparkling hint in her eyes and a smile on her perfect face. 

The very next day, Hedwig looks up from her desk when you enter the classroom. She’s sitting alone today.

“Y/N, do you want to sit with me?” she asks and removes her bag from the chair beside her. “I saved a seat for you.”

Without answering, you sit down beside her. She’s quick to turn to you and ask you about your morning. 

“Y/N, would you like to come over to my house after school and study?” she asks. “We have a test coming up in two weeks and … I need a study buddy.”

You nod carefully. A bit of help on geometry wouldn’t hurt. And that’s how you come home to Hedwig’s gigantic villa for the first time. It looks more like a smaller mansion than a regular house. A white — almost yellow — Georgian house with lots of details. The entrance to the driveway is a pair of giant black gates to keep unwanted people from coming in. She has a chauffeur who drives her to and from school each day and he greets you nicely, adding honorifics. 

“My parents aren’t home”, Hedwig says over her shoulder as you enter the big hall.

A maid welcomes Hedwig home and offers to take your bag, but you shake your head, too intimidated by the sheer size of Hedwig’s house to be able to think clearly. 

You follow Hedwig upstairs, bag clutched in your hands. 

“This is scaring me a bit …”, you whisper. 

“What?” she asks in worry. 

“All of this … it’s a bit intimidating.”

Hedwig smiles reassuringly. “Don’t be scared. It’s not a museum, it’s a home.”

Hopefully it’s your home too, but Hedwig doesn’t say that.

“Are you hungry?” she asks and opens the door to her room. 

Even her room looks like money. 

“A bit” you admit.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you didn’t eat the school lunch”, Hedwig smiles and. “I don’t blame you. I’ll go tell the chef to prepare something for you, okay? He makes fantastic food.”

“You have a chef?”

“Yeah! You’ll love his food, I promise. He makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches you’ll ever have. I’ll go tell him to make some for you.”

Before you can stop her, she’s already darted out the door. You decide to pass the time by looking around her white room. You find pictures of her and alleged friends on cruises and yachts, her in pools and in the mountains plastered on the wall. This girl seems to have been everywhere. 

“I’m back!” Hedwig smiles and creeps up beside you. “What are you looking at?”

“Just your pictures”, you answer. “Are these your friends?”

“Yeah … they are. I don’t meet them as much because my father wants me to be in a public school with all the other children of our city. They go to a private school together. But I spend a lot of my vacations with them. We’ve been all around the world.”

“I can tell.”

“Do you like to travel?”

“Who doesn’t? I like to explore new places, but it costs a lot to go somewhere.”

“What’s your favorite place to visit?”

You shrug. “I haven’t been to so many places. What’s yours?”

“I really like Paris. It’s a beautiful city and they have such tasty food.” She turns around. “Should we study a little?”

You nod. You sit down at her desk and bring out your calculators.

A knock on the door interrupts you. It's the chef with the grilled cheese sandwiches. Hedwig thanks him and brings the plate over to you. Two perfectly grilled sandwiches are placed on the porcelain. Your mouth waters. 

“Bon appetit”, Hedwig smiles. “They’re all yours.”

“Thank you”, you say shyly but you don’t dare to touch them. Somehow you feel guilty.

“Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Yes … I just feel weird for making your chef make this for me.”

“It’s his job, don’t worry about it. Eat up now!”

This time, you dare to pick it up and take a bite. Heaven has granted access to your mouth.

“I told you it was good”, Hedwig smiles. 

You eat while you study and when you’re finally done, you notice how much time has passed. 

“It seems like you’ll have to stay here overnight …”, Hedwig says and the next sentence she says is nothing but a great lie. “The last bus has gone and my driver has finished for the day. Can your parents pick you up?”

You shake your head. They wouldn’t be pleased to drive you at this hour. It only makes Hedwig smile. Perfect. 

“You can stay here, my bed is big enough for two”, she says. “Just send a quick message to your parents and tell them that you’ll stay here.”

You sigh and do as she says. Your parents send you a heart back. They’re only happy that you’ve made a friend. 

You eat a delicious dinner in the kitchen made by her chef. It hits you that you haven’t seen her parents at all, but you don’t question it. From what you know about her, they’re busy.

When you’re going to bed, Hedwig walks over to her walk-in closet to grab herself a new pair of pajamas for both you and her. One of them being in your size. To your great surprise, she turns her back to you and removes her clothes. You gulp and try to look away in embarrassment. 

“S-Shouldn’t you go into the bathroom to change?” you stutter. 

“Why?” she asks and turns around. “It’s my room. Besides, if models can change in front of twenty people they don’t know … I can change in front of one person I hold dearly. But if you want to change in the bathroom, it’s down the hall. If you want to take a shower, there’s a white towel for you hanging on the hook.”

It sounds like she has planned this. Because she has. 

You do take a shower before you change into her pajamas and return to her room. She’s lying in her bed, scrolling on her phone. 

“We have to be up by seven tomorrow”, she says. “Otherwise we’ll be late to school.”

You nod and walk around the queen sized bed. This feels so wrong somehow. You’ve never shared a bed with someone before and especially not a beautiful girl who changed in front of you fifteen minutes ago. Hedwig turns off her phone and lies down with her front facing you. You try to mirror her motions and soon you're both lying down, facing one another.

“Goodnight, sleep well”, she smiles and turns off the light. 

Her fluffy sheets and soft mattress lull you into a deep slumber. Hedwig, however, can’t seem to be able to close her eyes. She’s staring at your features, wondering how she got so lucky to get you here. Her plan worked! She’s a genius! Soon, you’ll agree to be hers and these kinds of nights will be a recurring thing. Soon, she’ll dare to wrap her arms around you as you go to sleep. She’ll be able to kiss you and give you everything you want. 

Oh, Hedwig can’t wait until you’re fully hers. Then, no one will be able to take you from her, because what Hedwig wants, Hedwig gets … and so has it always been. The ones that cross her always get shoved aside one way or another. 

“You’re mine, my wonderful little Y/N”, she whispers and lets her fingertips brush over your cheek. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. My beautiful Y/N.”

[lemonyko0]

Mr. Jeon: Obedience

you know you're fucked when you forget your homework for a third time. you didn't know just how fucked, you were going to be.

» genre: series, smut, fluff

» description: innocent, virgin, student reader x soft dom jk. lots of touching, f!ngering (f receiving), oral (m receiving) rough sex, overstim.

» word count: 3k

Part 1 | Masterpost

"y/n-ah~" soojun whines, laying his head against my desk as soon as i sit down. i look at him and laugh. "why so whiny?"

he puffs his cheeks out and pouts. " i can't find my math homework and you know how mr. jeon is about that stuff, can i copy yours?" my eyes widen at the mention of homework. "wait we had homework?!" soojun looks at me wearily, "you didn't do it? oh now we're all screwed." he slouches against his seat and plays with his pencil, and i think of the hundred ways to get out of this mess.

"you know y/n, that's the third time you've ‘forgot' your homework. and you're the head of the class, isn't there some kind of punishment for that?"

i whine and run my hands through my hair, "yeah, death." i sigh, a horrible and almost nauseous feeling growing in my stomach. the usually loud classroom quickly falls quiet as i feel a presence behind me, "actually, the punishment is up to me."

i cautiously turn around to the voice, coming face to face with my very intimidating maths teacher. instead of scolding me, he smiles. "we'll figure that out later, for now, everyone who did do their homework, pass it forward."

he walks up to his desk as the students hurriedly get out their homework and do as instructed. after collecting them all, he puts them in a neat stack on top of his desk, and continues his lesson.

throughout the hour i stare continuously at the clock. not as if i'm excited for his punishment, i'm actually dreading it immensely. no one has been punished by mr. jeon, ever. most students have 5 chances, but because i was head of the class, i only had 3.

i knew i had a valid reason for being so forgetful, but i didn't like using excuses, and i wasn't even sure he’d ask for an explanation.

the bell rings and i almost jump out of my seat. soojun notices and laughs, collecting his stuff and standing he pats my back, "good luck y/n-ah, it was nice knowing you!"

i throw a pencil at his back and he only laughs more, "mrs. y/n, now you're throwing things in my class?" i blink rapidly at him, sitting at his desk. "n-no sir, i'm sorry." he nods, his face completely slack, no emotions whatsoever. "pick the pencil up then come here" all students were already out, not wanting to stick around to help me or anything. i slip out of my desk and bend down to grab the pencil.

as i bend over i see him shamelessly checking out my ass. i stand back up and tug at my skirt, thinking it was all of the sudden too short, and it would be yet another thing i would be in trouble for. i stand in front of his desk and he leans over the table, "so what's your excuse?" my thoughts race, "i-i have none."

he raises his eyebrows and sits back against his large dark colored chair, “you don't have any reason for not doing your homework?” i shake my head, not daring to make eye contact as i stare at my fingers.

i hear him pull a chair beside his, he pats it, silently asking me to sit down. i walk over and beside him, slipping into the chair. he turns to face me, "tell me the truth, y/n."

i shake my head, staring at my feet. he takes a hand and lifts my chin to look at him, "look at me when i'm talking to you." i nod quickly, staring into his dark eyes, "and use your words."

"y-yes sir."

he smirks and leans back, "good girl, see? you can listen. you just need a little, disciplining." i nod my head as he stares at me, almost like he can read all of my thoughts. "tell me what's going on. i promise i can help you, but you have to tell me first." he places a reassuring hand on my exposed thigh, but to me it feels hot.

"i-i'm just stressed."

"what's stressing you?" his fingers run along my leg assuringly, and i stare at them distractedly.

"s-school. family. everything." he hums, letting his hand gently stroke my thigh, "i understand, school can become a lot. if you needed a break you should have told me."

i shake my head, "im fine, just, forgetful. it won't happen again."

he smiles, "i know it won't, because after i'm done disciplining you, you'll do anything i ask."

i look up at him, his words confusing me, "what do you mean?"

"y/n-ah," he starts, grinning mischievously. i notice his hand significantly higher on my thigh than it was before, his fingertips dipping under my skirt. i open my mouth to speak but he interrupts, "do you know the best way to relieve your stress?" i stare at his hand and gulp, shaking my head. he leans in closer, whispering beside my ear, "i wouldn't offer this if it weren't for the fact that you respond so well to me."

i hum and nod, his hand disappearing completely into my skirt, as the other one slowly pulls at my knee, spreading my legs just enough for him to lay his hand over my heat. he watches contently as he applies pressure, making me jolt slightly, these feelings all so new and weird to me. i don't know what's happening, but i don't want him to stop.

"look at how well you respond baby, you're already doing so well." i nod and keep back the noises growing in my throat as his fingers begin to move in circles against my panties. my knees instinctively try to shut but he holds them open with a chuckle, "you're so sensitive, has anyone ever touched you like this?"

i close my eyes and shake my head, already lost in the feeling. he takes his hand away, resting it on my hip. i look up at him and he smirks, "wanted me to keep going? i told you to answer me with words. so let's try again, has anyone ever touched you like this y/n?"

“no, no one.” he nods his head, his hand grabbing at my panties, "good girl. can you take these off for me?"

"yes sir." i quickly comply, lifting my hips up as i pull them down and off. he watches me carefully, holding himself back no doubt. i may be a virgin but he's not very hard to read. he leans back in his chair, taking in my embarrassment. he pats his thigh, "come here." i walk over to him, stepping between his thigh as his hand directs me towards his thigh. "straddle it."

i do as told, one leg on each side of his. the hand he has on my hip pulls me down to sit. i feel the pleasure slightly pulse through me again.

he grins, seeing my eyes widen. "go ahead baby, feels good doesn't it?" he gives me a little push forward and i get the memo. i begin to slowly work my hips against his thigh with his hand guiding me on my hip, feeling my stomach grow tight and my body feeling more and more hot the faster he makes me go. it becomes too hard to hold in the noises and a few begin to slip out, he hums and sprinkles gentle kisses against my neck, "i want to hear you baby, let it all out."

"y-yes sir." he starts to leave hickeys on my neck, claiming me as his and the pleasure between his lips and him grinding me onto his thigh becomes too much. "-sir i feel hot." he pulls away and looks me up and down. "you gonna come for me baby? go ahead, cum all over my leg."

he moves me faster against him and i feel his thigh flexing underneath me and i let out a loud yelp that turned into a moan. "-it's too much, i-i can't." i grip onto his other hand, not knowing what was happening to me.

"yes you can baby.” i shake my head, ny eyes screwed shut as i fight my high, “f-feels like m gonna pee.”

he hums, “you're okay baby, just let it out. if you do this for me i'll give you a reward" he holds my hand in his and guides me through it, i feel my first orgasm wash over me, my back arching and my legs shaking as i pant. he groans at the sight, letting the hand that was once on my hip rest against my back, i fall into his chest, feeling suddenly tired, he holds me close and plays with my hair. he gently kisses my forehead, "do you feel better?"

i nod against his chest. i hear him chuckle, "don't fall asleep on me yet, you deserve a reward for that show."

i glance up at him, his dark eyes glossed with lust and need. "what kind of reward?"

he presses his forehead against mine slowly, "a special one, for being a good girl." he steadily leans closer, my eyes stare at his lips, imagining what they felt like, and as if on command, my wish is granted.

he kisses me softly, carefully, treating me like a glass doll. the further he leans my back the less balance i have, causing me to grab down for support. instead of his leg i reach for his hard on instead, causing him to break the kiss with a groan.

"you think that's funny baby? are you that needy? gonna beg for your teachers cock?" he growls in my ear, biting at it in the process.

i whimper and shake my head, "no i-i didn't mean to sir, it was an accident."

he hums, connecting our lips again in a chaste kiss before pulling away to tell me, "don't be afraid then, you can touch me too princess." my cheeks heat, having absolutely no experience with this stuff. "like how?" he grins at my innocence, "want me to walk you through it?" i nod eagerly, wanting to please him for helping me. "okay baby, on your knees."

i comply quickly, shuffling down to the cold tiled floor of the classroom. he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down just enough to pull himself out. my eyes widen, never having seen anything like it before. my confusion is even more arousing for him, he grabs the back of my head firmly, tugging me towards his crotch as it's now just inches from my lips, and i suddenly feel the need to taste. i look up at him for further instruction, "open your mouth princess, use your tongue, and when you're ready, use your mouth. no teeth."

i nod, letting my hands rest on his thigh, and the other coming to his hands hardly grasping it. i begin to lick at the tip, not knowing where else. i swirl my tongue around, more and more as i feel his thighs flex and he moans quietly, "more baby.”

i'm all too eager to oblige, attempting to take as much of him into my mouth as i can. he lets out a long groan, his hand pulling at my hair before forcing me down further. "you're doing so good baby, you listen so well." i hum against him, not being able to adhere to his spoken rule, this only adds more pleasure as he keeps me bobbing at a steady pace.

"if you need air or want to stop, tap my leg." he instructs, not knowing i was perfectly fine as i was. instead i speed up on my own, taking him almost all the way. "god fuck baby," he curses and groans, throwing his head back in pleasure, "do you like mouth fucking your teacher?"

too focused on making him feel the same way as i did only moments ago, i ignore his question. thus causing him to tug on my hair and pull me away from him. spittle running down my lips to my cheek and my baby hairs dancing across my forehead, but to him i was the picture of beauty.

"i asked you a question. answer." i whine, "yes sir, i like how you feel in my mouth." i tell him honestly. he smirks, "you're so eager, how about we both help each other out?" i look at him with questioning eyes, "how?" he stands, the smirk on his face growing, "let me show you."

i follow his example and stand up, he's quick to grab my face and kiss me wildly. he bites at my lip and i recognize that sign, opening my mouth as his tongue dominates mine with ease. his hand, once tightly on my hip, tread lightly down my thigh, then around it to my heat. he drags a finger along my slit, feeling my arousal. he groans, "you only came once and you're this wet? or did you actually get off on my dick in your mouth?" i moan and close my eyes in embarrassment,

"both." he reconnects our lips, being just as aggressive as he was to begin with. kissing me sloppily as a way to distract me from the possible pain he would cause as he slips a finger inside of me.

i yelp from surprise, the feeling all too new, "focus on me baby." take his advice, getting lost in his lips yet again as he begins to slowly move his finger, pushing further and further into me. it eventually becomes distracting, causing me to whimper into his mouth. he chuckles, "want more?" i nod quickly, "p-please, more." he grins devilishly, slipping a second finger inside of me, stretching me out much more than the last one. i flinch and grab onto his other hand and he hushes me, "you're okay, it'll go away," he gives me a few quick pecks, “want me to kiss you again?”

"mhm" i choke out, wanting another distraction. i know i'll have to get through this for the good feeling to come back. it's not long until my grip on him loosens, and he takes it as a sign to begin to shove his fingers further. he goes faster and faster until i'm struggling to kiss him back. he gives up and opts for watching me instead of kissing me. he begins to pump his fingers expertly inside of me, curling them as well. i let out a long moan and grip onto his arm, needing something to hold onto as he brings me so close to orgasm again, only to rip it away.

he pulls his fingers away, looking me in the eyes as he licks them clean, "think you're ready now princess?"

"yes, please, i want you sir." he tucks my hair behind my ear, then pecks my forehead, "since you asked so nicely, here's your reward."

he lifted me to lay on his desk, wedging himself between my legs, running his hard cock against my slit to collect the wetness. instead of immediately pushing in, he grabs my hand, and puts it around his wrist, "squeeze me when you want me to stop, let go when it's okay, got it?"

i nod, "y-yes, please put it in me already sir."

he chuckles and shakes his head, "whatever you want princess." without further hesitation he begins to enter me, being as careful as he can. after a few minutes of struggling, he bottoms out, giving me a few moments until i let go of his wrist, the pain subsiding enough to make it bearable.

he leans down, his chest against mine as he mumbles cuss words in my ear, "you're so fucking tight princess, you're gripping me so well." i hum at his praises and he slowly starts to work his hips back and fourth. the pleasure being a good starter, but after a while, not enough.

"s-sir, more." i whimper out. he speeds up in an instance, obviously wanting to pound into me for some time now, but too scared to hurt me. i decide to let him hear exactly what he wants to, "fuck me harder sir, i-i can take it." he groans in my ear and lifts himself up, gripping my hips and slamming me onto him each time he pulls out, "don't beg me to stop now, you wanted this baby."

he slams into me harshly, causing me to cry out and screw my eyes shut. i begin to clench around him sporadically, being so close to orgasm before.

he notices and goes even harder, his hands gripping onto my hips only adding to the mosaic of marks he's left along my body. i moan uncontrollably, feeling him twitch inside of me. "fuck, come on baby, come on my cock." his words twist something in me, not being able to hold on longer i burst, tightening around him and cumming hard on his cock. he groans and continues to thrust inside of me, overstimulating me quickly. "s-sir too m-much." he ignores me and chases his own high, abusing my insides, "be a good girls and let me finish"

my body goes numb from pleasure, and after a last few thrusts he spills into the condom with a loud groan.

he catches his breathing and wipes his sweat on his arm. then pulling out and disposing of the used condom. i lay still, not entirely sure if i could move at all if i tried. he laughs lightly, "did i go too hard?"

i hum, eyes closed and dozing, "felt good. so tired." he cleans himself off and puts his pants back on before taking some tissues and asking to help me out. i nod my head lightly and he touches me gently, wiping away at my area. once he finishes he lifts me up and into his lap, "i’ll take care of you baby, you can sleep, but on one condition."

i hum and cuddle into his chest, "no more forgetting your homework okay?"

i nod and smile childishly, "yes sir."

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚

this is a new mini-series!! ive got good things planned for this, both smut + actual plot 😩 if you'd like to follow along you (with either this series or all posts) i've opened a taglist, it's linked in my masterlist! thank you for reading and i sincerely hope u enjoyed! have a fantastic day <3 - ara :)

masterlist | taglist

[dearsnow]

PEACH FUZZ BOY

- ponyboy has never been in a relationship before, and now that he’s started one with his best friend, he feels as though something is different. (ponyboy curtis x gn!reader, fluff, based on peach fuzz by caamp)

word count: 924

a/n - yeah 90% of my fics are based off of songs, sue me 😞 but i love ponyboy and i love this song and they just fit together so perfectly!!

This is new to Ponyboy. Hand-holding, kissing, trying to talk to you without stumbling over his words, all of it. When he sees you, his mouth just goes dry and his pencil cracks and all his poetic euphemisms fly out of his mind like he threw stones at birds. He’s in love.

He’s been in love, but something about making it official has knocked away all of the familiarity he built with you.

Ever since he saw you in the third grade, eyes watery and a wet book clutched in your shaking fists, he knew there was something electrifying about you. He felt like he had to walk up to you and help you pick up your things from the puddle, glaring at the backs of the people who threw them down. He had to walk with you to class, and he had to join you on the swing set during lunch. In a sense, he fell head over heels for you on that foggy September day.

Everything else just came easily to the both of you. You sat with him in class, you whispered behind the pages of your books, you fell in step with his unruly gang of older boys, and you were together so frequently his parents joked you were attached at the hip. Pony never really thought about you in any other way, until the night of a seemingly ordinary rumble.

You were always worried about him fighting, so when he came back with a black eye, multiple scrapes, and a busted lip, you were (understandably) very upset. And, like you always did, you cleaned him up and gave him a stern talking-to with a voice laden with care.

Something scared him that day. During the rumble, all he could think about was you. You getting hurt. You seeing him hurt. Coming back to your house with new-forming scars and seeing your eyes tear up. A little thing inside of him broke, and when he felt your breath on his cheek, your hands deftly placing a bandage on his forehead, he just couldn’t stop himself. He leaned in and kissed you, and you kissed back.

It was natural, like breathing or the beat of his heart. All of a sudden, he wanted to see more of you than the colors he had already been shown. He wanted it, and god, would he get it.

“Pony?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s been up with you lately? You seem really out of it.”

He hesitates. He would hate to confess all of this, that the quick-as-lightning transition from best friends to dating has tied his tongue and shaken his palms. “Nothin’, honest.”

You absolutely do not believe him. You know him too well. The curve of his lips, the movements of his eyes, how he hides his hands- he’s lying, and you know it. “That’s not true. Seriously, what’s up?” You move to place your hands over his, and his breath falters. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

He doesn’t want to, he seriously doesn’t want to, but your eyes are so earnest, and just like a few days ago, his feelings are beginning to slip to the surface.

“I…” he hesitates. You patiently listen, like you always do. “I don’t know how to do stuff like this. I’ve never done it before, ‘n I guess I’m just scared I’ll mess up.” He gives a heavy sigh. “It’s like I still have peach fuzz for, like, love and stuff.”

“Peach fuzz?” Your voice has a humorous ring to it, but a kind one all the same.

“Yeah. It’s stupid, sorry.”

You lean your head on your shoulder and feel his body stiffen. “Don’t be sorry, Pony. I get it. I have it too.” His entire being relaxes as soon as those words leave your mouth. If you have it too, if you feel the same way he does, then surely there’s nothing wrong with him. Maybe it’s normal. “All I know is that I love you, and I want us to be normal again.”

He looks down at you, eyes slightly widened. “You don’t wanna date me anymore?”

“That’s the exact opposite of what I was trying to say.” You giggle, and the panic blooming in his stomach stills. “I just mean that we don’t have to be awkward. I know you as well as you know me, and dating doesn’t have to mean we forget everything we’ve learned. If anything, it’s an excuse to learn more.”

“Oh.” The moment is quiet for just a second until he realizes something, his voice cracking as his eyebrows raise. “Did you say you love me earlier?”

You smile, eyes squinting in their usual way. “Yes.”

He runs a hand through his greased hair, his heart beating wildly. “Cool.” You look at him. “Sorry, sorry. I mean, I love you too. A lot. More than a lot, probably. I don’t know.”

You laugh, and he joins in with a nervous chuckle. Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you collapse into his lap, and he’s bent over with a hand pressed to his mouth.

When the laughter finally stops, he stares down at your face and leans closer. “I’ll be normal, I promise. From now on, I’ll be the same old Ponyboy.”

You wrap an arm around his neck and pull him down further, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly. “And I’ll be your same old best friend, I promise. With a little more love involved, of course.“

[boremore]

hey there, stargirl / eddie munson

New York is cold this time of year. December here is fucking crazy, and half the time Eddie still isn’t use to it. Even if he has lived here for the last six years of his life.

He’s twenty six, the cold shouldn’t bother him.

But his nose is pink and his cheeks sting and his bangs feel a mess. He’s got bags of groceries on each of his arms as he climbs the three flights of stairs. He lives above a bakery, there’s no damn elevator. Just stairs.

His teeth maybe clatter as he fishes for his key from the pocket of his thick jacket. He barely gets the door open before a bag slips out of his hold, a fresh baked loaf of bread thumps to the floor. He huffs. Kicks the door shut with the heel of his shoe with a little too much aggression and slides bags onto the counter from his arms. He then grabs at the runaway bread.

He doesn’t see you during all of this. You’re usually greeting him as you exit the hall. But you’re not there.

Eddie locks the door before his eyes glaze around the apartment. Your stuff is everywhere. Little things that have gathered over the few months you’ve been living with him. Hair ties. The ribbons you lace in your hair sometimes. Earrings. Makeup brushes. A lot of lip glosses. Silver bangles. It’s like his apartment has collected little things of you. He won’t ever say this out loud because he looks annoyed all the time, but he loves your scattered shit everywhere.

He doesn’t call out for you as he steps more into the home. He finds you rather quickly. You’re a small girl and your sitting on the floor like your five. You’re hidden before the couch, slumped over the coffee table. Your hands move quickly and your bottom lip is held captive by your teeth.

“Hi, Eds.” He flinches at your voice, surprised you’ve even noticed him without a glance. He’s not as quiet as he thinks.

His hand drags over the couch as he rounds it, peering down at you and your movements. He can’t quite see what you’re doing, like you’re keeping it hidden with hunched shoulders and a cramped up back. “What we doin’, star?”

He sees the sides of your cheeks lift. You’re smiling. At his nickname that he’s been saying since he’s met you two years ago. He’s your boyfriend, but not your boyfriend who calls you his stargirl. You don’t mind the no label. You’re happy and Eddie likes holding your hand. He doesn’t hold people’s hands.

“Did you drop something?” You say sweetly, completely ignoring his last question.

He hums and slouches into the couch behind you, his knee gently grazes your back and the tip of his boot slips past your bottom. “Runaway Bread. What are you doing?” You finally take notice of his question, but your hands don’t stop moving. He can hear pencils on paper and markers with felt tips drag color. “New designs for my class.. I think they might be okay.”

They’re probably more than okay, he thinks.

And finally, your hands stop. He notices the dark shading of led on both sides of your hands and fingertips. You have marker splotches along your skin too. He smiles. “You let me see ‘em?”

You finally look over at him, smiling soft. “I suppose I can.” Your nose wrinkles as he scoffs a laugh. You look so warm. He still seems cold.

You gently pass him the sketch papers, and with his free hand he takes yours and helps you climb onto the couch. You settle in next to him, your sock covered toes slip under his jean clad thigh. He smiles at the feel of your wiggling toes. He squeezes your closest ankle before he looks through the couple of designs. You love fashion school. Eddie loves that you love fashion school.

You notice his red bitten face as you try and rub off led from your skin, its smudges a bit more. “You cold?” You mumble, chin now resting on his shoulder. He shrugs a bit, your face moves up with the movement. “Stop talking, I’m trying to focus on the masterpieces in front of me.”

You roll your eyes fondly and slip off the couch. You wash your hands at the kitchen sink before grabbing a soft blanket from the basket by the end of the couch. You come back to him and he has a hand opened for you, his eyes still on the sketches. One in particular, one that’s based off his own style. “This one is my favorite,” he mumbles.

You smile, “sit up, please.” He does what he’s told without realizing what you’re doing. He’s looking at the details. Your work is fucking amazing.

You drape the blanket over his shoulders and gently tuck it into his front. His eyes gaze to yours at the sudden warmth. “Star.”

You beam. “Eddie.” You sit down next to him again, two fingers dragging over his pink nose and rosy cheek. “You’re cold, handsome.”

Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile and gently places your papers back on the coffee table, that you’ve turned into a mess.

“C’mere,” he mumbles. You gasp as his hands snatch you up, slumping into his lap. Now the blanket covers you both.

“You warm now?” You hum, forehead resting on his own.

He scoffs, a soft peck to the corner of your mouth. “Obviously. But I was never cold to begin with.” You stare at him, amused. He pushes out his chin a little with a glint in his eye, teasing. You roll your eyes, “right.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth now, but it isn’t enough for him. He takes your lips against his, squeezing your sides till you pull away giggling.

“So, you dropped bread earlier? Poor bread.”

Eddie scoffs. “Star.”

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 5 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Class starts in 15 minutes. First period is History of Magic- should be easy to find, right? After all, Vil made sure to give all of Pomefiore easy access to a map of the school. First floor, somewhere on the left...is this it? The room numbers match up.

The room is about half full. The paper says we have assigned seats, but it doesn't say where those seats are, so... where the hell do I sit?

"Grim... where's our seat?"

"Says we're in seat 34... so, third row, fourth seat?"

Counting the seats, we take our spot and hope for the best. Soon after we remove our notebook, textbook, pencil case, and folder, a boy with dark blue hair and an upside-down black heart on his face bursts into the room, panting heavily. The red color of his vest indicates that he's a Heartslabyul, but I can't tell if he's in the right room or not.

"Myaah? Hey, are you in class A?"

"Yes," the boy pants out, "seat 24... I'm not late, am I?"

"Nope! You're right in front of us."

The boy looks up, seemingly suprised at the sound of my voice. Our eyes meet- his are a beautiful, bright cyan. He'd fit right in at Pomefiore, at least visually.

"Wh...what?"

"We're in seat 34. Your seat is right in front of ours."

"Oh, okay." He looks grateful now, jogging to his seat and turning around to reach us.

"Ah, Deuce Spade- it's a pleasure to meet you!"

He sticks out his hand. I shake it.

"I'm Yuu- Y-u-u, not y-o-u."

Grim follows suit and sticks out his paw. Deuce takes a moment to catch on, but he does.

"And I'm Grim! Pleasure to make your acquaintance. "

Deuce looks relived, but that look soon turns to panic when he hears someone much older behind him.

"We are still missing someone."

A panicking #24 sits down quickly and puts his stuff down. The man- who is probably Professor Trein- lets the door shut behind him, but someone catches it. Another Heartslabyul, by the looks of it.

"Hey, teach! I'm on time, right?"

"Hey, Yuu! That's Trappola, from the entrance ceremony," Grim whispers. "He's claustrophobic. "

I laugh quietly. "That he is, Grim. That he is."

To Spade's horror, Trappola plops down right next to him, in seat 25.

"Heya! Nice to meet'cha. I'm Ace."

Deuce is visibly horrified. "I'm Deuce Spade. Please try not to be late in the future. "

Entrance Ceremony Claustrophobe scoffs. "What's up your ass this morning?"

Grim raises his paw. Trein calls on him. "Yes, Grim?"

"Trappola just asked Spade what's- and pardon my language- 'up his ass this morning.' It's distracting."

Now it's Trappola's turn to look horrified. Deuce, taking the opportunity, raises his hand. "I can confirm that. I can also add that he said that in response to me asking him to try to be on time more."

Trein looks pissed. Trappola looks terrified. I raise my hand, ready to put the final nail in the claustrophobe's coffin-box. Trein calls on me.

"I can confirm that both Spade and Grim are telling the truth." Trappola is very pale. He should get more sun. And more time management skills, but that's been pretty obvious for a few minutes at this point.

Trein's cat meows, and Claustrophobe's fate is sealed.

"Trappola, see me after class."

Deuce, Grim and I smile. Time to learn.

The rest of class goes by without a hitch. Ace's detention is that he has to wash all of the chairs in the classroom after school. Fitting, I think.

Deuce walks with me and Grim to alchemy. Crewel seems strict, but kind, so long as you stay in line. We don't brew anything just yet- big whoop, first day- but we do get a lot of notes. Deuce is turning out to be e great friend, too! He's an honor student, recovering delinquent, and generally great guy- Vil would approve. He doesn't look like he has much of a skincare routine, though.

The big thing happens during Phys Ed. Grim and I faint during the laps- Vil is going to be pissed when he hears about the lack of water- and Deuce is the one to single-handedly carry us both to safety, and then the nurse's office. Apparently, we already lacked energy. Oh, well. Nothing eventful occurs until lunch.

Back at Pomefiore dorm, where lunch is free, Rook stops to talk to us.

"Monseur Mystery, Monseur Chat! I heard you fainted today?" The concern in his voice sounds real.

"Yeah... the nurse says we already lacked energy."

"And we weren't drinking enough water. There's that too, Grim. "

"Why weren't you?" Vil sounds rather intimidating right now.

"Myaah, no water bottle."

Vil just sighs.

[electromignion]

Bridgewater fanart! (Who is surprised? /lh /j)

This fanart has been inspired by Lauren Shippen herself, from the # she put on the reblog she did of my Jeremy Bradshaw sleeping fanart “also: new headcanon I now have vipin started TAing for Jeremy when he was still in undergrad soJeremy also has one photo of the two of them at Vipin's graduation in his office”. So I had to draw it of course, I’m so thankful for Lauren’s support, feeling truly so honoured so this is the least I can do 🤧

This is to me, what Vipin asked to do to Jeremy, and so he did because he has always appreciated Vipin (a beginning of friendship there?? They both cherish that pic for sure and yes I plan on drawing Jeremy’s office, and yeah I only drew this to put it in a small frame in Jeremy’s office, that’s my dedication 😭🤌 I’m putting a read more for a further explanation of my headcanon and also the outfit (regalia, cords, medallions wise) because yeah there is a whole day of research behind this and also finger cramps because my Apple Pencil decided to slowly d word on me as I was trying to finish this fanart so I used my fingers jejdjd)

So: please know that I’m French, so it was very hard to find information about graduation ceremonies: we do not have that in France, so I’m sorry if something is off!

First of all, professors and whole faculty members must wear their regalia at graduation ceremonies hence Jeremy having his academic regalia. And it made me learn that the velvet colour on some parts of it + the hood colour differ depending on the field they had their phd in, Jeremy’s is white because to me he has his phd in history (at least from what I understood, as even in S1 EP01 he talks in his lecture room about getting credits in history) which counts in the “art, social and humanities” section because history counts as humanities which is white. (Which also explains why Vipin’s tassel on his cap is white because to me he also went in that field) Jeremy’s hat is a velvet tam with a gold tassel which is the formal hat for the doctorate level.

Then… come Vipin’s cords and medallions. I headcanon Vipin as a really high achieving student, I might be wrong though, but he is too great of a TA to not be. So as a disclaimer: all the information I gathered there come from things linked to the Bridgewater State University because I really wanted to be accurate as much as I possibly could (Yes I truly spent a day for that and I might have drunk one or two Monsters).

For the medallions: the one with the black neck ribbon is “the Diversity Champion medallion recognizes and honors those students who have worked tirelessly for the advancement of diversity and inclusion during their time at Bridgewater College.” I really see Vipin trying to really be actively trying to make it go for the best in clubs and such at BSU and the second one with the blue/green neck ribbon is “The Alpha Chi medallion symbolizes the honor and distinction of being a member of the national academic honor society.

The supporting neck ribbon is in the colors of Alpha Chi.”

Which brings us to the cords he has on his regalia: the green and blue cords represent Alpha Chi as well.

The gold cord represent his level of achievement it’s for “summa cum laude” (“meaning "with highest praise", typically awarded to graduates in the top 1%, 2%, or 5% of their class, depending on the institution.” Which is the highest distinction one can have when you get a diploma at uni in the US).

Then the red and blue cords “Graduates wearing blue and red cords with mixed tassels are members of the national history honor society, Phi Alpha Theta.” (Which for me also was a good idea as Vipin is truly going through so many documents linked to history for Jeremy, our guy is that interested into academic stuff)

Then for the purple rainbow scarf… it’s a real thing I’ve seen on graduating pictures from BSU!! And I gotta admit… I’m quite fond of the idea of Vipin being pan 🫣 (just my own hc always)

I’m sorry for the extra lengthy explanation but I feel like it was needed (maybe it is to flex my research /j) as I think it was really interesting in the development of the hcs around Vipin and even Jeremy!

And to me needless to say but Jeremy has been greatly moved that Vipin asked him to do a picture together where they throw the cap in the air because to Jeremy, Vipin could’ve done it with his fellow classmates. And Jeremy is fully aware of how much it was important for Vipin. (And maybe own little headcanon: I’m sure Jeremy doesn’t even have much pics from his own graduations)

I truly imagine that during the whole graduation ceremony Jeremy was feeling uncomfy in his academic faculty regalia because it’s way too formal (although it’s quite mandatory to wear it) so he is just 🧍🏻 standing being no thoughts head full of folklore only (he is of course very proud of his students nonetheless) therefore, Vipin asking him to do that picture must have been THE highlight he had during the ceremony (even counting all the ceremonies he ever had to attend to)

And to finish in case you missed it, here’s the fanart Lauren reblogged and where she talked about her new headcanon (saying this like that sounds surreal to me, I’m so honoured once again 🥹): https://www.tumblr.com/electromignion/716771521320878080/i-finally-finished-my-bridgewater-fanart-this

[cosmowes]

paper notes ❤️

sorry notion girlies… i’m a biased paper note taker. i actually have a notion, but i never use it lol 😭 doing stuff physically works sm better for me

i just wanna talk about some benefits of physical/digital notes, and how i keep mine cute :)

THE BENEFITS

taking notes physically has been shown to help improve memorization (01). another thing i’ve noticed for myself is that i tend to just copy when i take digital notes since there’s more space, but with physical notes i rephrase and consider the notes as i take them.

this venn diagram (taken from 02) shows some basic information about different ways of taking notes. paper is slower but generative; laptop is faster but nongenerative.

for me, i’m willing to make that sacrifice because long term retention is my goal, not quick memorization. but if it isn’t a class you’ll need for a long time (eg. my drama class) i think digital can work.

one last thing- when i’m studying, i have trouble going over my notes again bc i find it boring. with physical notes, this is usually when i highlight and make them cute, so it forces me to look over them again. speaking of which:

THE AESTHETICS

so fun fact: you don’t need fancy supplies for cute notes. i use a three ring binder from staples, some cheapy plastic dividers, office depot pencils and some pastel bics.

if you like pens, then def get some in cute colors! pentel are my holy grain, but they are sort of expensive. i had every color but most of them have run out of ink by now.

thin mechanical pencils >>> i don’t have any at the moment but i’m definitely getting more soon. love them. perfect for details.

good highlighters!! these are so important to me. i have pastel bics but i wanna get mildliners sometime soon.

cute bullet point shapes. i do hearts, stars, flowers, etc…

stickers sticker stickers! i put stickers on everything they are so amazing, they make everything cuter

if you wanna get fancy, try washi tape

also little cutouts are great!

sticky notes for trivia q’s and corrections and such since you can flip them up :) i have see through ones and they’re great

[thesimofmanu]

15 Questions for 15 Mutuals

Thank you @plumbtales , @polynovskaya, for tagging me! Never would do this without a little push 😄

1. are you named after anyone?

I got my name from my father, I was born the first son so, I got his name.

2. when was the last time you cried?

When my chihuahua died a year ago.

3. do you have kids?

No, I don't hate it but I don't see any in the future though.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

Just a little bit🤏, specially where arguing about politics

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

I played football as a kid, as all the kids, if you didn't at least once you were a weirdo (spain). Also as a teen I played basketball, badminton and volleyball... that was my favourite but I would prefer to done individual sports tho.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Their eyese, makeup, beard, and hair etc. Also.. pecs and legs🫣

7. scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies, I always loved them since the first time I watched one with 8 years (poltergeist), after that it came many favourites"the grudge (all american and japanese), the Dawn of the death, the blair wicth project, the cabin in the woods", all "evil dead" saga stuff..." and many others, and of course... I love also the "scary movie" saga.

8. any special talents?

Drawing and painting, specially traditional artwork, I love paint with watercolors, but I always prefer to do pencil [black and white] or ink and markers for colors. I also do a lot of photoshop and 3D with blender... also studied

9. where were you born?

Spain, andalusia, cordoba, been all my life here, yet I've always felt like I'm more of a world citizen, I don't like patriotism and nationalism, it's all religions but workshiping states.

10. what are your hobbies?

Sims 2, taking walks while listening to music (mostly singing like a weird~oooo🎶), drawing, history, series and movies.

11. do you have any pets?

Yes... My boyfriend and I lost our little chihuahua "lilly", but my parents have still our bichon maltese "Dora", she is 12 years old now, I'm kinda worried when the inevitable will happen

12. how tall are you?

I don't know, maybe later I'll check my height

13. fave subject in school?

Art class, Science and History.

14. dream job?

Getting paid for my art work, something related with art or something fair, so I can just spend time on my hobbies.

15. eye colour?

Dark Brown

Don't judge us on the photo we were kinda drunky in a wedding 🤭

Tagging @lamare-sims @katatty @khal-ulti @mdelaunay @andrevasims @microscotch @kestrelteens @elvisgrace @gagashaa @myweirdslimblr @mystery-pixels

[themasterpostblog]

Pencil/2D Animation Resources Masterpost

5/10/24:

Hello, I broke into my old account so I could make a little masterpost of resources I come across for learning pencil/2D animation. (Free or affordable classes, places to get tools, videos to give insider insight, etc.) I may not be able to get everything included, so if you think of something, you can reach out and suggest things to add! I will be updating this over time, with notes on when it was last recently updated. And maybe I'll end up giving the old blog a refresh too. I likely won't be making new masterposts outside of this one any time soon, nor updating any old ones. It's been SEVERAL years, and the internet is a different place. I would assume most of the old links are out of date by now, unfortunately. I hope that this list is helpful to you as well, and if I'm incorrect in anything I list, I'm learning too! So please be patient with me and feel free to reach out with a correction. It's not finished yet, but Tumblr deletes my posts before I finish them, so I'm starting with posting the skeleton and slowly updating this)

Find a Community to Learn From!

(recommended groups to lurk/join/make connections and ask questions)

What Tools Do I Need?

PDF Guide to Animation Desks, as written by David Nethry

(next line)

Where Do I Get Tools?

(Places where you can buy art supplies, software, etc)

Cartoon Supplies

(Online seller who carries Ingram Bond paper, lightboxes, storyboard pads, blank cels, etc. See also: Lightfoot LTD, which is identical in every way to Cartoon Supplies and for the life of me I'm not sure the difference, though both are equally recommended along side each other.)

Jet Pens

(Ah... I love window-shopping this site. If you love stationary like I do, you'll be on this site for hours adding things to your cart... and inevitably removing them because it's not feasible to spend hundreds on pens and sticky-note pads.)

Dickblick

(I've found they have good prices on name brands, but I haven't purchased from them yet. Often, I'm too overwhelmed by all the choices.)

Improve Your Art/Learn the Basics!

(anatomy classes, starter tools, etc)

Aaron Blaise (Co-Director of Brother Bear)'s Online Classes

He runs very good deals on the classes occasional, but you can also do a year's access to all classes and keep what you download, which is very useful! They're short, quick lessons, and tend to veer into more "helpful tips" than teaching, from what I've personally noticed, but it's well worth the price if you get them at a good deal!

Inside Look at the Industry -- aka: the Special Features:

(behind the scenes stuff, etc)

Books are more useful than you might think!

(Richard Williams Animator's Survival Toolkit, etc) (check out gently used copies of these books on Thriftbooks for a good deal!)

Nifty Free Resources

(Things like height charts, references, color wheels, blog posts, videos, etc)

What Artists Can Learn From Aladdin's Incredible Color by J. Holt [VIDEO]

(spacing for formatting)

The Art of Color Theory: Guide for Animators, Designers, and Artists (Animator Artist Life)

(space for formatting)

Free software!

GIMP

(A classic, GIMP is an old friend of mine. The first software I downloaded for art, I used to use it almost entirely to create animated GIFs for the Warrior Cat forums. Ah, how time has passed. Nowadays I can't even remember how to animate a GIF on there, but such is life. I still use it to this day for digital art, even having Corel Painter. Before GIMP, I animated the old fashioned way -- MS paint and Windows Movie Maker. With determination, I scripted and animated a handful of Warrior Cat characters frame by frame. Each frame of Hollyleaf or whoever it was blinking was the likely source of death for our old computer, may she rest in peace.)

Storyboarder

(Storyboarder is a free software with which you can use to create professional and clean storyboards. It also provides printable storyboard templates so you can do you work traditionally and re-upload it easily into the software! It also works with Wacom tablets. Check it out! It's actually super cool.)

Pencil 2D

(A free, open source software. Simplistic design, switch between raster and vector, and best of all, again, it's free. I haven't used this one much yet, but I've seen it positively talked about by many! I'll update with more research when I have the chance.)

Krita

(I haven't used this one yet, so I can't speak on it either! But it's going on the list so I can come back and research it later. My poor laptop is not going to handle this many downloads lol.)

OpenToonz

(I also haven't tried this, but see above, haha.)

Blender - Grease Pencil

(Blender is well known for 3D animation, but they added a 2D feature called Grease Pencil as well.)

WriterDuet

(Free for up to 3 projects, very simple, but upgrades to a $10 a month plan, which is... eh, I'll keep my Scrivener for now. I used to write scripts in Microsoft Word or the Notepad on PC back in the day, I don't think I personally need the fancy features.)

Trelby

(A free screenwriting software, very basic and simple, good for beginners.)

Keep an eye out for

(Humblebundle occasionally does software deals -- a good art bundle at a discount can give you an easy start!)

[mielkexnn-miraculous]

M. Dupain-Cheng (aka Ladybug) Headcanons <3

Honestly she’s just a lil clumsy dummy and I love her lol. Nothing more to say, just that.

She used to do ballet when she was little. She was in the same class as Chloé (and Adrien). She used to make fun of her for being clumsy however, and this transferred over into academic school.

She really likes tea. Jasmine’s her favorite.

She also really likes gardening; she hangs out at a garden top building she knows a lot.

I retcon that a lot of the plants she has growing on her roof are actually herbs and stuff.

Lots and lots of basil.

She knows flower language and has a few books on it.

She rlly loves candles but barely ever lights them so she’s got this huge assortment of brand new candles sitting around in her room.

Tbh she does this a lot.

She has a huge collection of stationary that she never uses. She just has to get them when she sees them.

She has gel pens and post-it’s and stickers galore. It can’t be constituted but she does.

Also doesn’t really color traditionally often; she just does a lot of sketching and drawing in pen and pencil for the most part.

On the other hand, she’s an expert at digital color.

Did y’all see the Jagged Stone album??

Her parents didn’t let her have a sewing machine until she was like 12 bc yikes automated sharp thing.

Thus, she’s rlly good at sewing by hand.

There was a long period however where nearly all of her fingers were constantly covered in bandaids bc she kept sticking herself; she could have just used thimbles but honestly they just made it rlly hard.

At one point she figured out that preliminarily putting on bandaids prevented any sort of actual hurt and she began to do so, replacing the ones that had fallen off each time she went to sew again.

She’ll stick her tongue out when she’s concentrated on drawing or will make the facial expression she’s trying to portray.

Really good at pretty much anything creative that she tries her hand at. Drawing? Great. Fashion? The best. Jewelry making? Like a pro.

She uses mascara and gets into using different colors like pink n stuff.

Eyeliner that could kill a man.

She still has all of her old stuffed animals bc she was too attached to them to give them away.

She doesn’t really listen to rap music too much but she can rap rlly rlly fast which is a surprise given how much she stutters n stuff.

She can wrap the entirety of fergalicious on request.

Both of her parents unironically listen to bring me to life by evanescence and it’s subtlely driving her insane.

She’s French, Italian, and Chinese, but is like 4% aware of her own cultures.

Like, she’s not entirely French but she has no idea what’s going on in the Italian and Chinese scenes rn?? The cultural identity crisis is real lmao.

Also she calls it “patsa”. She couldn’t pronounce it as a kid for some reason and never bothered to stop. Her parents think it’s funny.

Also also Marinette is the daughter of the best baker in Paris but she’d give an arm and a leg for Little Debbie’s cakes and Hostess snacks (like zebra cakes and cosmic brownies and cherry pies and marshmallow/cream filled crap).

She eats a lot of them as of becoming ladybug bc she can afford to tbh.

Her parents chalk it up to puberty + the runs she’s been going on lately.

Hint: the runs are to cover up how she’s actually getting as fit as she is.

Sometimes Forgets to Hide her Strength and will Pick Up people or Heavy Things.

Adrien would be embarrassed to admit that he actually liked it when Marinette Carried him once.

The class secretly shares photos of her Forgetting and Picking Up.

Also, after becoming Ladybug, for some reason, flowers and plants seem to be a lot easier to care for now.

She could forget to water her basil for a week and it’s still as big and bright as ever??

This bouquet should have wilted two weeks ago?? Cut flowers literally never last this long??

Those weren’t supposed to bloom for another two weeks?? Those weren’t supposed to bloom at all??

She’s basically her own little cell tower too. Need a better connection? Go stand by Marinette.

Flexibility is insane. Also reflexes.

If you catch her by surprise, you will be thrown.

Marinette will literally talk shit abt Chat Noir and then someone will simply agree with a lil mhm or a yeah and she’ll turn around and give dozens of counterpoints to what she was just saying two seconds ago and absolutely go for the throat and slaughter them for ever even thinking about saying anything bad about Chat Noir like that like the audacity.

She keeps all the flowers he gives her as Ladybug and presses them and puts them in this giant, heavy ahh archaic lookin book she has lying around.

Tbh even she doesn’t know where it came from but yk, flowers :)

No but actually she doesn’t question it nearly as much as she should.

Or at all. Marinette what is that thing.

We all know that she thinks of her role as Ladybug and her powers as a responsibility more so than an escape like Adrien does, but I like to think that at some point (maybe after the Santa Claws incident?), she loosens up about it and begins to understand Chat’s pov on the miraculous. Obviously, she still thinks of it as something not for personal use, but she’s more open to wandering.

Sometimes when she can’t sleep (particularly because of superhero-related stress), she’ll sneak out to find a nice place to sit and look out on the city, letting the drowned-out ambience lull her to sleep.

Sometimes on cold nights, she’ll bring a blanket or a jacket or something. She also likes bringing her sketchbook.

She’s more than once awoken to the sun on her face, on the roof of a building after accidentally dozing off and had to rush home.

We love her 💞💞 ok that’s it, bye.

[doctorguilty]

Some random thoughts

One of the worst things art professors did to me in college was insist I wasn't allowed to have a lined notebook as a sketchbook for class. I had to use a proper sketchbook. Before that happened, I would fill lined notebooks passionately with art, but for whatever reason I'm my brain, I just can't do it with plain blank paper..

So I didn't do good on the class sketchbook assignments anyway because the quality of what I did was shit if I ever did it at all. And I really internalized the whole thing, because the way I felt belittled and mocked.. so i tried to stop using notebooks, I tried every kind of sketchbook I could find, big, small, thin paper, thick paper, textured, off white.. I just drew less and less for pleasure. It genuinely fucked me over. And for what?? I do less art, I'm less passionate about it, because notebook paper is too pedestrian? Yeah so worth the tens of thousands of dollars of student loan debt I'll have for the rest of my life. (I could talk at length about how I wish i had more agency and did everything different about college entirely but.. that's a whole other thing)

Over the years I've gone back to my notebooks and have done a good amount in them, though I still couldn't get over some of my reservations, like how i shouldn't waste my Good drawing materials on lined paper .. I'd stick to pencil, ballpoint pen, fine tipped inking pen/sharpie, thick sharpie, and cheap markers like Crayola and whatnot (and highlighters though I still LOVE coloring with my highlighters)

It's been a rough past several years, I've barely done any art both traditional and digital alike.. but I'm working on changing that. I busted out a notebook recently and have been doing some doodles and I decided not to hold back using the fancy stuff, like these really nice watercolor markers I think bog may have given to me cause he didn't see himself using them? Idk where else I would have gotten such nice markers. They're SO nice. I'm using them on the lined paper. If I use them up I'll get more. It's not the end of the world. (I'm really trying to live more of the "use the nice things now, don't wait for a special occasion that never comes" philosophy in general)

I'm going to like Michael's or whatever when I can and picking up some colors and things I want and don't have, cause they sell like lose stuff like that..

Anyway just some thoughts.. as I procrastinate going to sleep even though I gotta get up in ~4 hours to go to the doctor 🥲

[cartooncreaturelover]

Hello it's me again!

So I have some more asks, some relating to art, some just random stuff I think of XD

1. Favorite character of yours that you like drawing?

2. What's your favorite show/movie? (If you don't have a favorite, just name ones you like)

3. Oldest oc you have? How did they change throughout the time you had em?

Thanks in advance!

✨ Hi! Thank you so much for asking more questions! (You're literally the first person to send in more than one ask before! Thank you for bringing some life to my ask box, lol!)

Question 1. I don't know if I have a favorite character of mine to draw, but the first character that popped into my head was Darragh, probably since I used to draw him A LOT & know how to draw him pretty well from all the times I've drawn him before! (I'm hoping to get a light board this holiday season so I can actually finish an updated version of his reference sheet soon!)

Question 2. I like a lot of shows & movies, so I'll just list the many that I like instead!

Some Of The Movies I Like Include... Back To The Future (trilogy) Little Shop of Horrors (1986) Ferris Bueller's Day Off Gremlins Gremlins 2: The New Batch How The Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie (2004) Wolfwalkers Shrek 2 Puss in Boots: The Last Wish The "Spider-Man: Spider-Verse" series The "Kung Fu Panda" series The "Sing" series The "Trolls" series

Some Of The TV Shows I Like Include... Bluey The Owl House Infinity Train Ducktales (2017) Gravity Falls Steven Universe My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005) Our Flag Means Death Bob's Burgers Central Park SpongeBob SquarePants (Seasons 1-3)

(You know, writing this list out has made me realize how much I like musicals... & DreamWorks Animation???)

Question 3. The oldest OC that I have is my first OC! I haven't drawn her in a long time, but her name is Magic & she initially was one of those classic "character a child likes, so they barely recolor the character & call it their own;" the actual character was Spyro from the Skylanders series! (Yes, I love "Pug Spyro!") Initially, the only difference was that she had white accent colors instead of gold/bronze. As I got better at drawing & designing characters, I began to actually make her more original & less like Skylanders' Spyro (pictured below!)

The first drawing (which is actually the first drawing I ever made of her!) is from 2014, I think in April; I believe we were going on a school field-trip that day to a trampoline park as a reward for the good students? I drew her with no reference in class with my pencil & colored pencils on a piece of notebook paper! Whenever that day was, it was the day I decided to take art seriously & was the start of my journey to getting as good at drawing as I am today!

The second drawing is (I think) from around 2018 when I really started to try & make her legally distinct from Skylanders' Spyro; different shaped horns, fin-like ears, furred belly & (not pictured) tail tip (kinda like Banjo's)! I made that drawing with my old & cheap watercolor set on what (I think) is sketchbook watercolor paper; & yes, that tiny little portrait is in a tiny little picture frame!

The third drawing is a concept doodle for a 4.0 design for Magic from around 2021 or 2022? I never finalized the design, but the idea was to really change her body type into being more chubby & pear-shaped like some stuffed animals I have, as well as adding stars to her design since I think of her as my "spark of inspiration" for where I am now! Since I've been working on redesigning another dragon-like character of mine recently, perhaps I'll finally get around to finalizing Magic 4.0, who knows!

You (or anybody else who may see this!) can totally ask me more questions about my interests or old/new characters of mine if you’d like! Thank you so much for taking the time to ask me fun questions to answer! ✨