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secretsbehindthenine · 1 year

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*pokes head out of the void*

Hey. You. Have a sneak-peek at the upcoming chapter of the Idol!AU

It was a week before the Norrisville High Talent-athon, and he and Howard knew with absolute certainty that 30StM had the first place spot in the bag. Call it what you will—misplaced confidence, overzealous overestimation, shoobish narcissism, or a serious case of teenage hubris—but it was the truth! The whole, gospel-worthy truth. There was just something about the two best friends that separated them from the rest of the clowns and baton twirlers and accordian players that signed up for the talent show. Something major league that no one else had, that they tried so hard to master while Randy and Howard had it on lock since day one. Whatever it was, that special something was their ticket to victory. The coveted Carp-dallion and all its bragging rights for the rest of the school year belonged to them and only them. They were going to bring the house down and leave behind their status as faceless freshmen with nothing at their disposal but their good looks, killer vocals, and Bruce-tacular instrumental work.

And boss-ass equipment. Especially the boss-ass equipment.

“Levander has the best rock gear!”

They were at their usual hangout (AKA, the janitor’s closet closest to their lockers), practically drooling over the industry-grade amps, the top-of-line hybrid electronic/acoustic drum set, and the not-yet-on-the-market keytar Levander managed to nab for 30StM the day before. Had it been anybody else, it would’ve taken an honest-to-god miracle for them to score something this expensive and exclusive. But Levander? All he had to do to get them was ask his dad, who happily complied in the name of supporting young indie artists. Randy knew there must’ve been a lot of perks when your family owned the biggest record label in North America, but he wasn’t expecting said perks to transfer over to the friends of the kid from said family.

“Dude, it’s the straight-up cheese,” Howard called out from his perch atop the stool behind the drum set. “Letting him in the band is probably the smartest thing we’ve ever done!”

As if on cue—with as much grace as a bull in one of those mega-fancy stores that sold the most ornate and fragile-looking decor pieces ever created—Levander came barrelling in, his signature guitar in hand. He greeted the two with a wide grin and the single most horrendous guitar riff either of them have ever heard before in the entirety of their lives. Randy and Howard almost immediately slammed their hands over their ears, cringing so hard that the flinch their bodies did looked more like a violent shudder than a startled jump.

“HOLY SHIT, HE’S TERRIBLE,” Howard called out, his voice barely registering.

Randy hissed at an especially ear-piercing chord. “DUDE, ARE GUITARS EVEN ABLE TO MAKE THAT KIND OF NOISE?”

“I DUNNO, CUNNINGHAM!” The shorter of the two shrugged helplessly. “BUT I THINK WE JUST MADE THE MOST STUPIDEST MISTAKE EVER.”

“YOU THINK?!”

They glanced back at Levander, who was pretty much dead to the world. Eyes shut tight, humming and scatting along to some pseudo-song only he knew how to play. His guitar, the poor thing, cried out like nails on a chalkboard or a cat screeching bloody murder.

“WE GOTTA KICK HIM OUTTA THE BAND!” Howard yelled, half annoyed and half desperate. “OR ELSE HE’S GONNA GANK OUR CHEESE WITH HIS OWN SHIT-ASS PERFORMANCE.”

The black-haired teen vigorously nodded along. “RIGHT THERE WITH YA! JUST ONE PROBLEM—IF WE KICK HIM OUT, HE’LL TAKE ALL OF HIS PRIMO EQUIPMENT WITH HIM. I MEAN, LOOK AT THIS GEAR!”

Howard swept his gaze across the room, only to freeze in place.

“Uh, Cunningham—”

“IT’S AMAZING!” Randy turned his eyes up to the ceiling with a disbelieving chuckle and a wide grin on his face. “I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE WAS ABLE TO HOOK US UP WITH THIS KIND OF STUFF.”

The ginger quickly jumped off the stool and stood in front of the taller of the two. He viciously waved his hands in front of his chest.

“Cunningham—!”

“LIKE, I KNOW THE ONLY REASON WE LET HIM IN THE BAND WAS BECAUSE HIS FAMILY OWNS A RECORD LABEL AND HE GETS UNLIMITED ACCESS TO THEIR GEAR, LIKE THAT SICK GUITAR HE CARRIES AROUND LIKE SOME WEIRD PSEUDO-BABY. BUT, STILL! WE SHOULD—”

“CUNNINGHAM!”

Like a bullet, Randy ducked his head down, snapping his eyes towards his best friend.

“WHA—” A pause, followed by narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. “WHY AREN’T YOU COVERING YOUR EARS?”

Howard motioned towards the door. “He stopped playing 30 seconds ago!”

Lowering his hands, Randy turned his head and instantly winced. There stood Levander, teary eyes as wide and round as the glasses he wore. His shoulders were slumped, body hunched forward.

“Hoo boy…” Randy gulped. “He…he heard what I said?”

“Y-You…You used me?” Levander choked out, as if to answer him. He took a step back, planting himself firmly at the threshold between the janitor’s closet and the empty hallway outside.

Twin grimaces plastered themselves across Randy and Howard’s faces.

“Levander, wait—” they both tried to say.

“You used me,” he repeated, harsher. More strained. Like he was holding back either a scream or a sob. “I-I thought…Y-You…Y-You said you—”

“Hold on!” Howard cried right as Randy pleaded, “Hear us out—”

“NO!” Levander ripped his guitar right off of him and threw it onto the ground with a deafening bang. “FUCK NO! I…I…”

He looked Randy straight in the eye, holding his gaze for just a beat. Then—

“I HATE YOU!”

#rc9gn idol au #rc9gn #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #randy cunningham #howard weinerman #levander hart #you have no idea how many times i watched unstank my hart while writing this part of ch5 #frankly too many times to be considered sane #i still cant believe levander faked having a british accent while he was famous #like HUH??#what was the reason??#other than to be a dramatic gay with far too much dedication to whatever he believes is the Ideal Rockstar Aesthetic #also this episode provides another wonderful example of how awful randy and howard are #truly they are the epitome of teenage boys trying WAY TOO HARD to be cool #honestly cant wait to explore randy's toxic traits in the au #and how similar/different they are to howard's toxic traits #it's gonna be SO FUN!!

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roaringroa · 1 year

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oficially diagnosed with adhd babeyyyyyyy

#this is so funny to me cause if you asked me a year ago if i thought i had adhd i would confidently have said no #but then in the middle of a therapy session i could almost see the imaginary lamp over my therapist's head turn on #and she said you know what? i think you should investigate if you have adhd #and i was a little skeptical about it but i mentioned it to my parents and they were like hold on... she's right #and then on the same week i was hanging out with a newly made friend and outta nowhere she stopped me and asked if i had adhd #so i was like welp... maybe i do #and then i made a psychiatrist appointment who sent me to a neuropsychologist to take multiple tests involving logical thinking memory #attention span etc etc #i did very high on logical thinking but the attention part was low and the memory part was average #which means i can't pay attention well but the moments that i do i retain and can understand well #it explains a lot cause i had literally no trouble with school like i was top5 students in my school up until 9th grade cause we didn't have #to do any long term studying or projects or whatever #but then in high school when things got more complicated and i HAD to pay attention to understand concepts things got much harder #i couldn't just logic my way out of exams anymore and also i had way more classes #like when i had afternoon classes (two times a week) i literally just gave up cause i knew i couldn't pay attention #but i mean i still passed every class with no final exams or anything but i went from a 90% student to a 65% one #(except in humanities i love you humanities)#and then i got into college and the pandemic hit and online classes were absolutely awful like it was truly bad for me #i was a portuguese major for a year and a half and i honest to god don't remember 5% of what i was supposed to know #again i did well on my tests and stuff i had a 88% average but like #that was solely from panicking pre due dates and crying and doing the little reading i absolutely had to do 10 hours before the exam was due #and then immediately forgetting everything the second i hit send #i think there were maybe 5 ocasions during the whole year and a half where i was able to actually pay attention during an online class #most of the time i tried for like 3 minutes and gave up #and it really made me sad cause i thought i was just a lazy ass throwing my college experience away #which made me extra upset cause i was studying in like basically the best college in the country #and it's a public one so the people were paying for my studies only for me to throw it all away??#anyway it was a tough time for me mentally and this diagnosis makes me feel so relieved #like when i can't pay attention it's because of the way my brian opperates and not my character #my post

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ravenkings · 2 months

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tbh one of my more strongly held opinions is that the lack of proper, comprehensive sex ed in the united states is the source of many more societal problems than we'd like to admit

#i say this as someone who went to some fairly good schools but who somehow got through basically never having taken a sex ed class #the most i got were a few ''puberty'' talks led by the school counselor during 3rd-4th grade #and then they made our 8th grade biology teacher do a ''human reproduction'' unit at the end of the year #and even in my 9th grade ''health'' class the teacher spent the whole time talking about nutrition and made us watch supersize me (🤮)#to be fair in my friend's section they had to put condoms on bananas which sounds awful but at least it's SOMETHING lol #anyway sorry for the rant #personal #text

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worldlxvlys · 1 month

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i NEED a wedding day typa thing with matt where hes just stressing and his vows are cuter than anything and he admires u while ur walking down the aisle that typa shit

long enough

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: noneeeee

a/n: hope you likeee <33

don’t cry. don’t cry, don’t cry.

i took a deep breath as i stared at the doors, waiting for her to come through them.

i’ve waited for this day for so long, and now that it was actually happening it felt surreal.

“please stand”

as i watched everyone collectively stand up i felt a rush of nerves take over me.

this was really happening.

i wasn’t in my 9th grade science class, watching her expertly mix chemicals together, day dreaming about marrying her.

we weren’t studying for our math test together, her explaining how to solve the problem while i zoned out, imagining how amazing she would be at planning our wedding.

i wasn’t watching her walk down the stairs on prom night, finally seeing which dress she chose, thinking about what it’d be like to see her in her wedding dress for the first time.

now, i was living it.

every minute i spent longing for her, all of the pain i went through waiting for her, it all led up to this exact moment.

chris, most likely picking up on my nerves, patted my shoulder lightly from his spot beside me.

i momentarily glanced over to him, and he gave me a slight nod.

nick, who was on the other side of him, gave me a quick thumbs up.

i took another deep breath, attempting to relax, as i watched the doors in anticipation.

the moment they opened up, i lost it.

i let out a quick breath, tears welling in my eyes when i saw her standing there.

i held my breath for a second while i took in her dress. it was perfect for her.

the white seemed to make her glow, only adding to her natural beauty.

the top of the dress was lined with intricate designs, with a touch of lace to top it off.

the straps were thin, but not too thin, a detail of the dress she was adamant about being perfect.

the bottom of the dress was long, but not long enough where she had to worry about it dragging behind her too much.

the dress had a small slit going up her leg. it wasn’t anything too crazy, just long enough for me to see the lace garter decorating her thigh, peeking through when she walked.

it was unlikely that anyone else even saw it, however, i was purposefully looking for it.

the dress just screamed her. it was simple, yet so unique. the extravagance wasn’t in the dress itself, but in the details.

it was clear that she put an abundance of time and thought into picking out the dress, and it paid off.

“oh my god” i whispered under my breath, attempting to blink back my tears.

READER’S POV

“take a breath” mary lou spoke as she rubbed my back gently.

i was currently staring at the doors in anticipation, my hands shaking lightly.

i did as she said, inhaling through my nose and out of my mouth.

“i’ll be next you the whole time, sweetheart” she smiled at me.

my parents and i were on less than optimal terms, as they liked to call it.

at least, that’s what they said when people asked about it.

they were never there for me, but mary lou and jimmy were. i never even had to ask her to be the one to walk me down the aisle, we both always knew it would be her.

“i’m so grateful for you” i told her, my voice wavering slightly.

she pulled me into a hug, giving me a slight squeeze.

“good, cause you’re stuck with me” she chuckled.

after waiting a few more minutes, the doors finally opened.

everyone’s head turned to me, and my eyes widened slightly under the pressure of so many people’s gaze.

“you’re ok” she whispered to me, knowing how i would react.

my eyes found matt’s across the aisle, and my focus on everyone else completely faded away.

tears were streaming down his face as he stared at me in awe.

i took in his appearance, and almost melted right there.

he looked so good.

his suit was crisp, no doubt the result of him making sure it was hanging at all times. knowing him, he probably never even took it out of the protective bag, wanting it to stay wrinkle-free.

his tie was tied perfectly, the result of him watching youtube videos repeatedly, needing to master the skill. (mary lou ended up having to teach him how to do it over facetime.)

every piece of his tuxedo matched perfectly, his meticulous planning shining through.

the tux fit him better than i ever could have imagined.

he wore a few rings, knowing how much i loved them on his hands. i was excited for one ring in particular, though.

as mary lou guided me down the aisle, i noticed matt’s gaze run up and down my body, stopping at the garter that i let him pick out.

i smiled lightly at that, watching as he met my eyes again.

once we got to the end of the aisle, we stopped directly in front of matt.

“hi baby” i whispered to him, watching as he began to laugh lightly.

his smile grew even wider as mary lou, handed him a few tissues for his tears.

we both laughed lightly at this, “where did you get that?” i asked. everyone around us laughed at that.

“no, i’m serious. where did that come from?” i asked, confused.

we were met with more laughter, my question left unanswered.

she gave us both a kiss to the cheek, before placing my hand in his.

i felt tears of my own start to fall at the gesture.

“you may now be seated” everyone sat down at the request.

“family and friends, thank you all for coming today to share in this wonderful occasion. today we are here together to unite matt and y/n in marriage”

“and now for the vows” the officiator spoke. matt decided he wanted to go first.

“ok, hi” he breathed out, a large grin spreading on his face. “y/n, i have spent such a long time dreaming about this day. for so long, i would tell chris and nick that i was gonna marry you one day. but then you started chasing after other guys and you seemed so unattainable all of a sudden. but we’re finally here, we’re getting married” he whispered excitedly, as though he couldn’t believe it, “and there’s no one else that i’d rather be with. i love how deeply you care about the things that are important to you, like this. i’m pretty sure i’ve seen everything in this room on your pinterest board at some point” the room filled with chuckles, “ you’ve put so much love and time into this and i’m so grateful to have found someone who cares about this, who cares about me so much. and seeing you walk down that aisle with my mom, i-” his voice broke as his lip began to quiver slightly.

i sniffled softly, blinking rapidly as more tears fell from my eyes.

“you mean everything to me, and i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you” he finished.

when the officiator gestured to me, i began my vows.

“ geez, that was really good” i breathed out, making everyone laugh.

“ok” i spoke as i took a deep breath, “matt, i have loved you for so long. i can’t even pinpoint when, we were so young. but, i always thought that i was just gonna be in the crowd, watching you do this with someone else. i never imagined, for a second, that you felt the same. and growing up, your mom would always tell me that when we got married, she’d be the one to hand me off to you. and i never believed that i would actually get to experience that”

“i love you more than words can describe, and i’m so happy to be able to call you my husband. i’m so grateful to be marrying my best friend, because i couldn’t imagine life without you, and now i never have to. thank you for accepting me, thank you for loving me. just- thank you” i finished.

“do you matthew sturniolo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“of course i do” he spoke, staring at me.

“and do you y/n , take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?

“i do”

we were then given our rings to exchange.

as i slid the ring on matt’s finger, i spoke “with this ring, i thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever”

matt did the same with my ring, “with this ring, i thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever”

“by the authority vested in me by the state of massachusetts , i now pronounce you husband and wife!”

“you may now-” he didn’t even finish the sentence before matt wrapped his arms around my waist, placing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss.

the room was filled with cheers and applause as our lips moved against each others for a few seconds, before pulling away.

he pulled me into a hug, kissing my forehead. “you could’ve let the man finish first” i spoke, teasingly.

“i’ve waited long enough”

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @charlotteblogs777 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

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spiderfunkz · 3 months

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✦ I LOVE THE SMITHS, AND YOU!

summary : you love the smiths, peter loves you.

word count : 0,8k

warnings : fluff, reader is oblivious & peter is just peter, not proofread btw.

a/n : based on this request!! my requests for peter are like always open so feel free to send in your thoughts <33 also this is inspired by that one scene in 500 days of summer but on a budget.

peter parker was in love.

sorry, correction, is in love.

he didn't know when this little crush started.

maybe it was in the 5th grade, when he was paired with you to do a project together, that's when he first met you. he remembered how he'd admire you as you glued those stupid looking dinosaurs on the cardboard.

he remembered how your overgrown bangs were almost covering your eyes. he remembered how he'd ask why you didn't cut it, and how you replied with — "i dunno, i don't want to cut it yet. my mumma told me hair holds memories. and i don't want to forget those memories."

he remembered how that reply made him smile. how he'd knew you two would get along somehow. and also, since then he became really picky when it comes to haircuts.

or maybe it was in the 9th grade. when you were one of the few people that wished him a happy birthday. he remembered that you gave him a really big smile, and he always noted how it was the prettiest smile he has ever seen, well, other than aunt may's of course.

or maybe it was last week. when you sat next to him in french class.

maybe it's because he noticed how your bangs were now blended with the rest of your hair, how he'd realized you never cut it since 5th grade. he wondered how many memories you have kept because of it. he wonders if he's in any of those.

he also wonders if you ever noticed that he liked you. how he'd always steal a glance when you're not looking, how he had your birthday marked on every calendar he has owned, or how he'd save up to buy you the things you looked at for too long.

maybe you did. and maybe you didn't know what to think of it.

to be completely honest, you were never much of a romantic.

never really. in your entire life you only liked two and a half things. the pasta your mom cooked, your hair, and sometimes, peter parker.

well, most of the time, peter parker. i mean he's your friend of course you like him! he's funny, he has nice soft hair that you just want to run your fingers through, he's smart and witty but he never brags about it, he cares for you, and his hand intertwines with yours perfectly.

okay, maybe you like him more than a friend. but that's another story you don't want to get too deep into.

"how about this?" you ask, holding peter's 'the smiths ; the queen is dead' cd in your hand.

you were supposed to do your english essay with peter today in his room, but like every other work you do with peter in his room, you both end up getting distracted.

"i forgot i had that, i loved it." he smiles, "put it on." he says, gesturing to the cd player.

"i love love this album! i can't believe you forgot you had this." you turn the player on as the song starts to play.

"you can keep it if you want, since you like it so much." peter says. "really?" — "of course." peter nods.

"thanks, peter. you're the best." you sat next to him.

peter hands you the paper you were supposed to do your essay on. "i wrote half of it with a pencil, you can just trace it with a pen." he smiles. "oh my god, peter. you know i could've done it myself." — "yeah but then it'll take you 5 hours and no sleep. besides, i'm almost done with mine too, so."

"aw, thanks." you lean your head on his shoulder as you read what he wrote on the paper. you focus on the paper, not noticing that peter's face is turning bright red.

a few minutes pass by and peter's calming down, he leans his head on yours. but when he does your head immediately jerk up. "oh i love this part!" you turn the volume up. "don't you?" you turn to peter, he nods.

"to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die!" you sang. "ugh, i love the smiths." you lean forward to grab a pen so you could finish the essay.

peter looks at you as you hum to the song. he notices your cherry tinted lips, and how your hair is clipped to the side with a clip that peter bought you years ago. he looks at you with such care and love. though unfortunately, you don't notice that.

you look to peter, "what do i have something on my face?". peter looks away, "oh uh no, sorry."

you furrow your brows. "you sure?" peter nods. "okay..." you laugh.

you continue to nod to the song, the pen in your hand overwriting peter's messy handwriting. "i loveee the smiths." you repeated.

"i loveee you." peter blurts out. he hopes it wasn't too loud, but you seem to be focused on the song and your paper.

"huh?" you turn to peter. "what? huh." peter awkwardly looks away, again. you look at him for a bit before smiling, "did you say you loveee the smiths too? i thought you weren't that big of a fan anymore." you clearly misheard him.

peter was dumbfounded, sure he didn't want you to hear that. but at the same time he did want you to hear that. "no i uh- i said, i love you."

"you love, me?" you ask.

"yeah, l-o-v-e."

"love love?"

"yeah. love love."

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dear-ao3 · 8 days

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what is the worse homework assignment you have ever had

(I had a 1 question 5 parts 3 pages homework assignment once in high school)

mmm very recently i had to code a website page through a vpn that didnt work and then upload a doc to it that would not upload that was fun and filled with tears

for one class one time i had to use qgis and that was bad

big fan of all the writing assignments i had that had a secret rubric that they teacher didnt give us

and oh!! the worst of them all!!! 9th grade honors english. teacher was god awful. every few months we had to write "10 grammatically correct compound complex sentences" what does that mean? no one fucking knew and i never got higher than a 70. one time i got a 30. no one did well on them. still dont know what a split infinitive is and guess what its been 10 years and that hasn't held me back once!

#not a tag #from saph

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mxqdii · 7 months

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omg i loved the chris imagine so much holy shit

if youve heard the song, could you perhaps do an imagine (chris sturniolo x reader) based on the song Ant Pile by dominic fike?

it doesnt have to be a song fic necessarily, but like just kinda based on it yk? completely up to you!!

fave song fr 🙏🙏

ant pile - c.s

pairings: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: based on the song 'ant pile' by dominic fike

warning(s): mentions of drugs

a/n: i'm not too familiar with this song so i'm sorry if anything is wrong!! i tried my best :)

not proofread

"remember the day we met?" he asks and i groan

"i wish i didn't" i say laughing

"wait what happened?" matt asks and i look at chris, letting him explain the story

"first grade, someone tied her to a fucking ant pile" chris explains

"how do you tie someone to an ant pile??" nick shouts

i remember back then, i always knew chris liked me.

then we went to highschool and we started dating..

9TH GRADE:

i push chris against my locker

"hey! ow!" he says and i shush him

"sorry! i just missed you" i say hugging him

"lets go home before my mom gets there" i say, sadness evident in my voice as i grab chris's hand and lead him outside

chris has always been there for me, espically in highschool when the whole thing with my mom went down..

the triplets and marylou let me stay with them for a while because of that whole incident

ever since my dad passed away, she'd bring home a different lover everyday

she even threw her wedding ring away, i had to ding through the trash to find it.

the worst part was, i still loved her, a lot.

chris knew that and even though i didn't understand my feelings, he was good at helping me understand them

espically when all my mom did was drugs.

8TH GRADE:

it's the first day of 8th grade and i'm terrified.. i haven't seen chris since last summer

i look so different..

i walk into school, on my way to my locker, but i stop in my tracks seeing chris

we catch eye contact and he immediately walks towards me

he kisses me unexpectedly and i smile, hugging him.

9TH GRADE:

chris has decided to take me on a date..

i'm really nervous, espically because i didn't have anyone to help me get ready

but i think i look fine, i hope i look fine atleast..

chris picks me up and go to watch a movie.. which was awful

so we then went to dinner, what could go wrong at dinner?

turns out everything because i ended up being allergic to the pasta they gave me.

as chris is driving me home, silence filling the car, he pulls over looking towards me

"let me get a redo. anywhere you wanna go, you can pick it and i'll meet you there"

whats the worst that could happen next evening?

today was the worst it can get.

10TH GRADE:

"i love you" chris says and i look at him, wide eyed

"i've seen you fall to pieces, i've loved you since that day in first grade when you got tied to that ant pile, i love you y/n" he says

theres no more ways this boy can suprise me.

i look at him, seeing his expresssion one unfamiliar, one filled with love.

i run up to him, hugging him.

putting my hands on his face, i kiss him.

"i love you too chris" i say

"how the fuck did we go from you telling us about y/n being tied to an ant pile.. to now telling us your whole relationship story??" nick asks

"sorry! i got carried away" chris says and i laugh

"chris you're a little too enthusiastic at our weird cringe love story" i say and he rolls his eyes

"yeah yeah sure i am" he responds and nick and matt look at eachother in disgust

"can we talk about something else now?" matt says

a/n: i'm not even gonna re-read this because i think i hate it, so i'm so sorry to whoever requested this and i hope i did okay!!

TAGLIST:

@strniolo @stargirlv0id @annaisabookworm

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo headcannons #matt sturniolo #fluff #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #matt fanfic #matthew x reader #madispeaks!

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keypaa · 2 years

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Astrology Observation No.2

Keep in mind that there always will be some exceptions ;)

Saturn in 12th house possibly visiting an asylum once in yo life time especially if your 12th house is in one of the water signs—> 12th house (asylums…) and Saturn is standing for hardships etc…

Golddiggggggerrrr? a lot of Taurus placements combined with taurus degrees (2,14,26) and some 8th house or scorpio energy I‘m sorry babes

Capricorn men with sag placements 😩

Sun-Pluto hard aspects have some toxic traits (as we all have) Ego/death| Sun-Pluto

Blunts just for leo moons why you may ask¿. Irrelevant which sun sign ppl I’ve met had if they were a leo moon they always had a history with blunts lak wha?!?!!?!!

Mercury-Neptune using your phone or doing everyday chores etc… without realising you are constantly dreaming & tings like that til it‘s night and you wonder why the time went by soooo fast

Just observed my aquarius teachers talk a lot but it’s adorable

Virgo mars gets shit done they are sooo hardworking and freakyy

My grandfather, dad and ... have saggitarius venuses and they all have a passion for the outside especially for going on walks etc... tHaT cAn‘T bE a coincidence

Mars in pisces yeah nah nah they are not innocent. They would kill you if they just would not have that huge feeling of regret yeah they would throw your dead body overseas but honestly if you are dead because of them hon hon than it WAS your fault

Gemini venuses are the ones you think are bad guys/girls (I know a lot of people myself included that have the reputation to be a player and I don’t mean inside the astro community) like why I just breathed

Lilith in scorpio are good at hiding their dark side and trust me you would in no way be capable of standing still if you knew what they hideeeeeee

Mars in gem VoCaL during that shingzzelingg trust me bro (and I also talk about the boyzz)

Theory: Hard mercury-saturn aspected people think about being successful in school a lot but it‘s really really hard for them to just sit down and learn Mercury: school, thinking, learning…. Saturn: responsibility, discipline, restricting planets aspected

Aries mars or mars in aries degrees possibly thought about going to war, they were soldiers or are just obsessed with the idea of war while playing war games. (war is ruled by mars and aries is also ruled by mars)

9th house mercury always talk and think about school stuff (even if you don‘t like school) like oh God "I need to do soooo much homework. How should I do that do get this grade?" it‘s just so awful so it‘s constantly on your mind

Scorpio mars can be quite and go unnoticed but you can just feel the freak inside of them ( I also attract a whole bunch of scorpio mars but I am more than glad about it)

Lilith-Saturn in mens chart indicates serious problems with accepting a woman being more successful than themselves

all the comments *cry cry kinda adorable but I CAAANANNNNNNNN‘T ANSWER THEM

Luuuuuv muah

04:30 AM

555

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radwere · 2 months

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I’m tired of going on like this. I’m tired of trying to find peace with living through literal hell, and still having people make a joke out of it.

Every day I wake up and immediately have to take my PRN/anti-panic attack meds. Because if I don’t, the flashbacks start getting worst and worst.

I dropped out of highschool after I was about to retake 9th grade for the third time. I live at home with my foster mom, and can’t do any normal teenage things. I can’t drive because I’ll dissociate, I can’t work because I’m agoraphobic, I can’t have friends.

Until 12 I was trafficked. I don’t want to go into detail about my trauma, but it was awful. For a year I lived on a leash in a room. My legs are permanently deformed from this.

I’m begging you to stop trying to take our identity from us. Already no one believes ramcoa survivors, and now we have people actively trying to claim they can transition to being one. Not only can you not, because you can not be psychologically tortured consciously, but it turns my trauma into something you can turn off and on at will. If I could identify as not having ramcoa I would, but it’s a scar I will carry around forever. It is something that is likely to end my life. It’s like claiming to be trans cancer. Ramcoa kills people. A significant portion of survivors don’t escape their abuse alive and able to tell their story.

"I’m begging you to stop trying to take our identity from us."

Beg harder!!!

also, please note!!! i am incapable of feeling empathy!! these asks do jack shit to me!!

#antis dni #proship #pro radqueer #transramcoa #transharmed #transharmful

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jamneuromain · 1 year

Text

Creative Writing

Andy Barber x Reader (You)

Warning: Professor-Student relationship (possibly?), College AU, a lot of curses. A bit enemy to friends(?)lovers(?) vibe

W/C: ~4k

Summary: based on this prompt

A/N: dividers are from @firefly-graphics, and I spend another couple of hours on fanfic instead of my deadlines, yay!

Dancing in the Daydream M. List

Week 1

Three minutes into the class, you feel like not only you are listening to complete nonsense, but also you disagree with each and every word that comes out of your professor, who is currently standing on the podium, criticizing the shit out of your favorite author.

You regret selecting Creative Writing just because it sounds fun. Although you have been fairly warned by seniors, who took this class last year, Professor Andy Barber who taught Creative Writing runs his class with a tight fist, and of course, not kind with his comments and his marking. Not only does he want the “best” answer from students in class, but also ask everyone in the class to address him as “sir” or “Professor”.

Though he is fairly hot, as the seniors have warned you, with the trimmed beard and occasionally slipped-out Bostonian accent, with the suit and shirt and tie.

To be honest with yourself, you have been writing fanfic and whatnot for over five years, and you hoped that you could learn something from this class to improve your writing. And you love writing. If anything, this awful Professor Barber just gave you more reason to stay, because you want his approval, even if it would only be demonstrated via your grades.

You are not a quitter.

“Now speaking of a writing example that I highly recommend; this is a work I recently come across. Twenty thousand e-copies have been sold so far, now that’s a pretty good number for an author. I don’t expect you to read it thoroughly after class, but the writing style and the balance between story-telling and own reflections of the main characters are something that you should learn from.” Professor Barber takes off his glasses, twirling the frame between his fingers, hitting the button that would let the computer display the next slide.

You huff. You seriously doubt he would present anything barely readable to actual humans. Considering his comments on your favorite book, you take a rough guess that the only thing he will recommend is ancient European Lit.

Except ancient European Lit wouldn’t be in creative writing class.

You lift your head from your iPad, and you widen your eyes, unable to contain the astonishment on your face. Your jaw slams on the table – if it could, while in reality, you press your palm to your mouth, crushing your cheekbones so hard, that you feel your jaw will disconnect the next second.

Your mind blank, unable to come up with any thoughts. Apart from “THIS IS NOT HAPPENING”. In all caps.

On the slide, there is one picture, cropped out from a chapter online. Two paragraphs on the picture, the first describes the action and the verbal communication of two characters; the second describes the mental activity of one character. Below the picture, there is a bracket that contains the source of this snapshot.

The bracket and what’s in it catch your eyes, before the picture.

Well, if it isn’t your damn penname from 9th grade staring right at you in the face.

(A. Vulpecula, 2020)

Your dumb idiot self wanted something unique and stand out among all the writers in the world. You were, unfortunately, in your Harry Potter phase, and wouldn’t it be a brilliant idea to pick your penname out of constellations, just like a lot of Slytherins?

You ponder what on earth have you written in 2020, raising your head to read your own writing.

Shit, at least it wasn’t your College AU.

This piece is a long story about a witch and a demon. The paragraphs he cropped out happened to be where the witch and the demon didn’t know each other’s true identity.

Your face is burning. You don’t know if you are humiliated by reading your own fanfic in your fucking college class, or if you are gloating because the man who criticized your favorite author thinks your writing is exceptional.

Yes, that “thing” on the screen started out as fanfic.

You also don’t know whether you want to quit this class right this second or stay to hear his opinion on your work.

Or if there’s any value in his comments at all.

Your humiliation doesn’t stop there.

Oh no, it gets way worse.

At least ten slides are focused on your witch/demon au. Barber actually likes your concept of a magical world. He goes on to explain the importance of details, which runs along your story, complimenting how your designs fit perfectly into your story and your characters.

You are flattered, you guess?

But also extremely awkward when he pulls more examples from your fanfic to illustrate his idea.

“Alright, for the upcoming three weeks, we are going to look into more stories. Here is the reference reading, remember to take notes. If you want to, send me a short story or a few paragraphs you have written via email before Wednesday, no more than 500 words, and I’ll see you here next week.”

Before you even notice, the class is over. You, however, are still shocked over the fact that your mean professor likes your work.

You grab your iPad and your bag slowly, scoffing as a bunch of girls swarm up to the podium and giggling, asking Professor Barber for his contact information.

“My email address is in the course handbook, so are the office hours. If you have questions, send an email or make an appointment prior.” He nods them off coldly, though this does not discourage the girls from swooning over his broad shoulders and back under his navy-blue suit.

Your barely-friend sighs, jumping off the podium, obviously displeased by Barber’s cold demeanor. She counts as a “barely friend” because she’s just as active in class as you. Though you sometimes don’t like the way she disregards the lecturer and whisper-yell in your ear when she doesn’t understand.

She pouts: “Can’t get a hold of him.”

“You can always book an appointment for his office hour.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, shrugging, “seniors said he was harsh. I wouldn’t recommend you ‘contact’ him too much.”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

“True.” You wave your hand as a goodbye, leaving the lecture room and a bunch of disappointed girls.

Week 2

On second thought, you should have quitted this class.

Because then you wouldn’t be listening to this ridiculous remark about description over characters.

“I’m just going to let you sit on it for a minute.” Professor Barber pauses his lecture, “think about why Vulpecula describes the man’s blue eyes and red flannel.”

Then there’s silence in the room.

Knowing how easily he gets disappointed, you are not surprised.

Barber wants the “answer”, the best one, the correct one. Well, shocker that students don’t know what he has in mind.

However, in your opinion, which is: For Christ’s sake, the celebrity, Chris Evans, on whom you are basing this fanfic, has a red flannel.

What else are you going to write? Him wearing a suit being a lumberjack? In the middle of nowhere? In a fucking forest?

“What do you think?” Your barely-friend whisper-yells to your ear. Sitting in the front row, she probably makes herself heard for Professor Barber.

You lean away from her, toying with the hem of your sweatshirt, whispering back: “No idea. I’d probably say brings out the characteristics and stuff like tha-”

“Is there something interesting you’d like to share with the class, Miss …?”

Professor Barber lands his piercing sharp gaze on the two of you. Your friend ducks her head to read on her laptop. While you spare a glance at her, you silently spew a curse in your mind.

“Well, Miss…? What do you want to share with the class?”

Great. Now his gaze lands solemnly on you.

You state your name, most unwillingly, and usher out the only reasonable response you can think of: “… because the character the author is basing on has blue eyes and red flannel?”

He repeats your name, “I’d like you to address me as Professor, or Sir. Anybody else?”

He didn’t even say if your theory was interesting, needs work, or some other commentary, which he normally does, trying to inspire thinking and criticality. Like that’s going to work with his tight fist.

You roll your eyes out loud.

“I think red flannel brings out the main character’s – Christopher’s -warm and welcoming character. Red symbols the feeling of fire and warmth, and it’s only plausible that he’s wearing that color, Professor.” Your barely-friend fake coughs, then chirps “her” answer with great confidence.

Professor Barber nods, humming with approval, “very well, you are on the right track. Anybody else?”

Yeah, like anybody is going to know better than you, the author, about how and why you choose to describe his red flannel.

You begin to ponder the question, how is it possible that people interpret too much into the text they are reading? How much people are reading these days are actually the thoughts of critics instead of the authors?

But you are not standing up and revealing that you are A. Vulpecula.

Maybe in your next life but not now.

However, seeing the shocked expression on Barber’s face would be worthwhile.

You can almost imagine how his red lips form an “O” and he stutters due to the bomb you deliberately drop in front of him.

You bite your lips from smiling, too indulged in your imagination to notice Barber glaring at you a couple of times.

“Just a quick reminder that I wouldn’t be looking into more works that are submitted after today. If you want a little feedback on what you have written, send me an email before 12 o’clock midnight. Again, this is not compulsory, it wouldn’t affect your marking, think of it as a fun exercise.” Professor Barber announces once more, shutting off the projector, “we will discuss the coursework for this week next time. Class dismissed.”

Students take their belonging and move slowly toward the exit. You are sitting in the middle of the front row, which means, you are going to be stuck here for a while. A few girls go to the podium to ask questions, which you tune out completely when their questions become giggles.

You are scrolling through your phone when someone calls you by your last name.

Surprise, surprise, it’s Andy Fucking Barber.

“Yes?” You put your phone away, confused as to why he is talking to you.

“Yes, Professor. And I would expect you to pay more attention in class,” his blue eyes feel like ice, numbing your body inch by inch, “that’s all.”

Mother – Fucking - Idiot dickhead - Thickest skull in the fucking galaxy - Every curse word inside your head is cut off by one another, tangling together because none of them is able to describe your fury.

How dares he?

You were paying attention to class compared to at least two-thirds of the students present here. Focus on the word “present”, because you are fairly certain some of them skip this class because Andy Shithead Barber is too harsh.

So what you didn’t provide the answer he had in mind? And the answer he liked was not even close to your thoughts when you wrote that chapter.

You are fuming. You grab your bag and go to the library, sit there for the next two hours, and post a chapter on your Tumblr account about a love story between two vampires.

Your anger blend into your motivation to write. You wrote four thousand words in two hours, which is a record.

Yeah, you will show Mr. Professor Sir your “attention to the class”, see if he likes it next week.

Week 3

You are sure this would be the death of you.

He sent you an email two days prior, asking you whether you have time to discuss your piece of writing in his office, right after his class.

Of course, you RSVP-ed yes, but you have completely no idea why he wanted to talk to you, while other students have already received their feedback.

“OOOOOhhhhhhh, he said I am creative, but my descriptions are a little too detailed.” Your barely-friend squeaks dramatically, earning herself a silent eye-roll from you.

You can’t think of any reason that could explain his email. You wrote as yourself, you have given him a piece of your ongoing work, which was about two vampires. You are satisfied with your work. He could have just written feedback and sent it to you, even if he didn’t like your writing. What could possibly be the problem here?

Professor Barber takes off his suit jacket, rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbow, his calm voice circles the classroom, “coursework from last week, anyone has any idea about why the author wrote ‘There are two trees in the yard. One is a jujube tree. The other is also a jujube tree’?”

You turn to the page of your notes, not looking up at him, “because that’s exactly what the author sees when he looks out of his house?”

As if it couldn’t have been worse, with an extra reminder for you to call him “Professor”, his cold blue eyes glide over you, commenting on your answers to his questions that your ways of thinking and dissecting texts are “far from those of an author”.

His words, not yours.

At this point, you don’t even bother listening to his comments, instead, you start writing on your iPad.

Might as well use the time to do something at least meaningful.

“Did you make an appointment with him before, like during office hours?” When the class is over, you ask your barely-friend in a low voice.

“No.” She shakes her head, a smirk on her face, “I’m trying my best not to get on his bad side. Why? Why’d you ask?”

Like you were trying to. You get on his bad side so very easily. You grunt a “nothing”, waiting for Barber to finish packing his things.

“Okay, see ya!”

Your barely-friend slips out of the room.

You highly doubt if Barber wants you in his office because he would like to give you a compliment.

Andy Barber calls your name to snap you out of your mind. He has shrugged on his suit jacket, his lecture notes in hand, “shall we?”

At least his office is in this building so you don’t have to endure the long and awkward silence when you are walking.

You follow him into his office.

His office is a small room. Three desks are put together, taking up most of the space. His desk is by the window, equipped with computers and office supplies, while he points at the empty desk near the door, “please, have a seat.”

He drags his chair over to sit on the same side of the same desk as you. He sighs, taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally, he puts on his glasses again, rubbing his bearded chin, “do you know why you are here?”

“The homework of 500 words …?” You chew on your lower lip, hesitant to give him the answer.

“It’s Professor or Sir. And yes.” He sits straight on his chair, his blue eyes staring into you, his voice sterner than ever, “and?”

You let out a long breath, gathering enough courage to say what you have always wanted to say in the last three weeks, “to be honest, I have completely not the slightest clue what you want me to say.” You pause, then add a word for good measure, “Sir.”

He sighs again, taking a moment to organize his words, “the reason you are here today is that I want to talk to you about academic malpractice. Now it might not be stressed enough in your past studies, but the university takes academic malpractice very seriously.” He slows down as if trying to imprint you with each and every word he says.

Your brows furrow: “And how does that have to do with…”

He is NOT implying what you think he means, right?

He is NOT implying that you copied someone’s work, right?

Or you let someone copy your work?

“I don’t understand what you mean.” You cross your arms, almost defensive, looking back at him in disbelief, “I can guarantee there’s no academic malpractice.”

Pause.

Oh right, you nearly forget, “Sir.”

“I’m gonna cut to the chase here.” Sir Professor Andy Barber pulls over his own laptop, turning it toward you so that you can clearly see the content on his screen, “the document on the left is your work, the one on the right is a chapter of A. Vulpecula’s stories.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms too, allowing what he said to sink in, “can you see the similarity?”

Um.

Okay.

You did not expect this. Not one bit.

Of course, what he shows you are two identical snippets.

But since when is “presenting something that you have personally written” a crime?

You cannot hide the amusement on your face. No matter how hard you try to suppress your grin, it just keeps getting wider and wider.

“I know that it’s only homework, a practice at writing, if you will,” he gestures at the screen, unaware of your grin at first, “it won’t be reported to the university, but I strongly suggest you, not to copy other’s work just because you would like to impress your lecturer.”

He stops talking when he sees your expression, which must be a mix of half-laugh and holding back, though none of the above successful.

“I’m sorry, is there something funny?”

His voice ice-cold, clearly not pleased with your reaction, your behavior, and you as a human being.

Yeah, you can tell he is pissed.

“No, nothing,” you nearly snort out because of suppressing your laugh, “please, continue.”

“No. Indulge me.” He purses his lips into a thin line, blue eyes so sharp that they could pierce your skin.

Silence.

You thought about letting the misunderstanding of “academic malpractice” grow, but if there’s one thing you simply could not abandon, it would be your academic integrity.

You cross your legs, loosening your arms, “I just … I find it funny because I submitted my own work.”

You wait for your words to sink in.

Barber shakes his head in disappointment, “academic malpractice is what -”

“I have submitted my own work.” You cut him off, “I am A. Vulpecula.”

You really don’t mind beating the information into his thick skull.

But, alas, battery & assault is a crime here.

You pull out your iPad, opening the folder of manuscripts. Clicking on the vampire AU, you show him your own manuscript and what you have written in the past hours.

“I can post this chapter early to prove my point, if you like.” You lay your iPad in front of him, leaning back in your chair, “anything else, Professor?”

More silence.

“No. Nothing.” His mouth slightly agape, not entirely what you had in mind, but close enough, “thank you for coming by.”

“No worries.” You pack your things, heading to the door. “For the record,” you turn on your heels before stepping out of his office, “week 2, the discussion about the red flannel?”

“Yes?” He raises his head.

“That was really because Chris Evans has a red flannel, Sir.” You look at him one more time, then lower your eyes, “goodbye, sir.”

Two months later, you are celebrating with your friends in a pub, that the finals are over.

Your real friends, not your barely-friends.

“Phew! Tell me about what you wrote for your Creative Writing!” Your friend fans her tongue for having swallowed a shot, nudging you to tell them more about your major and your classes.

You down your shot in one gulp, wincing due to the burn in your throat, “well, I did learn my lesson. I wrote a new piece, about a cheesy princess-bodyguard romance.”

Your friends don’t know about the full story. You altered the details a little, not telling them about you being a part-time some-what-famous writer, but enough for them to understand your situation.

“We also had this ridiculous lecturer, a skinny guy, who keeps asking you why about everything and every question-” Your friend rambles about her life story, with a round of “No way” “No shit” “What???”.

“I’m gonna need drinks, not shots.” Another one of your friends stands up, dragging you along with her to get drinks, only for her to dump you at the bar while she hurries to the bathroom.

You wait for the bartender, slightly bored.

“Hey,” your first name was called, a slight tap on your shoulder having you turn around. Andy Barber is standing in front of you. He is wearing a casual shirt without ties, and denim from the waist down. With a beer in hand, he smiles at you, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Likewise,” you nod curtly, “Sir.”

He waves his hand as if it was nothing, “please, no need for that, Sir or… just no.” He smiles nearly apologetically, “I never get the chance to say I enjoy your writing. I’m sorry for discouraging you in class. You are an exceptional writer.”

This takes you by surprise.

“Oh! Okay…? Thanks?” You twist your fingers together, unable to think of anything that could respond to him, “I’m … flattered?”

“Please, if anyone is flattered, it’s me. I am very glad to meet an author I appreciate.” He extends your hand for you to shake. You shake his hands lightly, engulfed in his large and warm hand for a second.

The friend who abandoned you for bathroom slings an arm around your shoulders, although she can barely walk straight, “oooohhhhhh, I think he’s cute!” She yells in your ear, giggling, “you should sleep with him!”

You are pretty sure Professor Barber heard that.

He looks flustered, his neck a shade redder than before, mumbling, “I suppose I’ll leave you with your friends.”

Speaking of your friend, she disappeared – more like dashed - to your table with your drinks, yelling to your other friends about how you are “getting laaaaaaaaid” tonight.

“There goes my ‘said’ friend.” You chuckle, “it’s nice seeing you, Professor.”

Barber lowers his eyes before looking into yours, his blue eyes sparkling with joy, “please, I’m not teaching you anymore. Call me Andy.”

#andy barber #defending jacob #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber fanfiction #college au #angst with a happy ending #sort of?#enemies to friends to lovers (?)#also sort of #professor andy barber #student reader #creative writing #dancing in the daydream

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