#this is why the upper sixth hates us we were in the library and she was just like ‘the mullet!!! the MULLET!!!’

[sonicenvy]

library mission statements about equity and justice are empty and meaningless bullshit until the day they practice them with their staff.

thinking about how much of a hot fucking mess my library is at the moment. sooooo many people are getting out because there's nowhere to go from where you are, the pay sucks, the benefits are nil and the admin also sucks. a lot of people who are getting out are also getting out of libraries and education in general because these are problems that are endemic to education in general. the rise in anti-intellectualism and misogyny are fucking us over as a field and i hate that for all of us.

when will the reckoning come for our field?

when will it come for the hypocrisy of our higher ups and admins for presenting institutions of learning as places of justice and equality while they ask educators and library workers to give our time and labor for free, because our work is "a moral imperative" an all important "pillar of society" etc etc, treat us like shit, pay us poverty wages, fight employee efforts to collectively bargain and unionize, over saturate our field with 30 hr a week "part time" positions like mine, and give the majority of front line, public facing staff no health benefits to go with our poverty wages, and require graduate level degrees for positions with "competitive" $40K/ year salaries.

oh you're heroes of society and your work is important, we wish you a very die in a hole.

i want to stay. i really really do, because I love this work and because i am good at it and because i think it's valuable and important work to be doing but god what the fuck. i hate how two-faced so much educational and library admins are about the work we do.

our institution stands for equity, liberty, and justice!

where the fuck is the equity and justice for the people who work in this field huh? why do teachers, college professors and librarians have to work for peanuts and be all fucking grateful to admin who have no fucking clue what the daily reality of our lives are and who don't give a shit about us??? for patrons and students that don't see us people??? what's the goddamn point??

There were college professors at my expensive private college who had to work in local bars to make ends meet because the pay was so trash and a professor of mine who lived in her fucking office one summer because she was fucking homeless for two months. sometimes our patrons talk to me and i think that we must live on completely separate planets or maybe in completely different universes. some of my colleagues are scrounging around for quarters to maybe be able to do their fucking laundry this week, while the patrons send their kids to $60k/year private grade schools and the upper admin talk about heading to their weekend vacation homes.

the admin at my library made a big splash at our last staff day about how they cared about employee mental well-being and that to that end they were going to give all employees an annual $100 well being fund. my mental well-being will be shit until i can afford fucking medical care that y'all don't care to help your 30 hour people get. fuck you and your $100.

there are states and municipalities that ban school teachers from unionizing. admins keep us in fear and near poverty because they know it divides us and it keeps us from organizing because we're all just barely scraping by and need our jobs. they use our passion up and spit us back out. it's no wonder that so many teachers and library workers are leaving.

the fact that our society doesn't do the real, hard work and show the real cash to support and nurture education workers is something that is a rot on our society and the lowering literacy in this country is a shining example of the consequences of this wilful anti-intellectualism and devaluing of our work and our personhood.

54% of american adults read at or below a sixth grade reading level, and we're seeing all the hot steaming garbage effects of this across this country in dreadful and tragic ways. say all the pretty, correct jargon-filled words that you want, but until you put your money and your care where that mouth is we smell the bullshit and see the lies. the rot is inside the house –– in the admin offices, in the legislatures and in the municipal governments that withhold funding from us and attack us on all sides with book bans, punitive rules and regulations for teachers' classrooms, the capitulation to ridiculous demands of parents and others who are not education professionals, and markets full of insulting pay. the rot is in the gop who hate us and the christians who want to make public education uniformed christian cult education. fuck all of you.

we smell the bullshit.

come read about the shitty realities of our work on the various education professional subreddits and look at insulting compensations on library and teaching job boards. if you care at all about libraries and schools I am literally begging you to fucking listen to us and amplify our voices about the state of this field. Go to your local officials, your school board meetings and your library board meetings and tell them that education professionals deserve living wages, decent health benefits, the guaranteed and protected right to unionization and safe, non-hostile working conditions.

we deserve to be treated with respect and decency in our workplaces and by our employers. we have a right to personal safety in our workplaces. we deserve to be treated as the educated, capable professionals that we are. we deserve to be paid living wages and paid for ALL of our time and labor. we deserve to be able to do OUR JOBS without having to do 50 other jobs we didn't ask for and weren't trained for. We deserve to work for employers who will practice what they preach when it comes to equity, inclusion, and justice. We have the same right to basic personhood and respect that everyone else does.

until y'all can support and agree that we deserve our rights and our pay, your support libraries and schools words are empty pretty words. support your striking school teachers, your library workers attempting to build unions, your striking museum workers and your underpaid college professors.

those unionizing ARTIC faculty and staff said it best:

“United we bargain,” they chanted. “Divided we beg.”

there is no national or international library workers union as far as I can tell. i wish that i wasn't so afraid to loose my job. i wish i could speak out and advocate for myself and my colleagues in my real life without fearing for my employment prospects. i wish we weren't all living in so much fear of unemployment because of the low pay we have now that we could speak up. i hate this situation we're all in so much.

also, like fuck the GOP so hard. with a cactus.

rant over for now. thanks for coming to my absolutely fucking furious ted talk about the state of library science and education.

#personal bs #margaret babbles #issues #politics #unions #library stuff #edu stuff #cw: swearing #so much swearing #ok so im once again angry about this specific topic sorry y'all gotta hear about it from me .... again #also admin had the audacity to make us listen to the fucking c*ps speak at our staff day about how they 'totally cared' about dept reform #sure jan sure jan #please enjoy my lil gif that i made with a flaming text generator webbed site in 30s #also this ones ok to rb if you're thinking about that i guess #it's not as articulate as id like to be but it is important i think

[newdayslinguine]

My friend sat me down for a full hour and a half after school just so she could simp over young k

#this is why the upper sixth hates us we were in the library and she was just like ‘the mullet!!! the MULLET!!!’ #ma’am i just want to do my homework and listen to my sad music from the 50s or smth #day6

[mrsren]

👀🤓

I’ve been sitting on this since the end of July, and I’m determined to get to the end of it and post it all this year! There just aren’t enough Remus/Hermione stories out there. 

Chapter One

October 29th, 1998

Hermione exhaled, blowing her stubborn bangs from her face as she made her way through the castle. Of course, Harry and Ron wanted to leave their assignment for the last possible moment. That was so like them, wasn’t it? Though when she stopped to think about it, there was a falter in her step. 

After everything they’d been through, weren’t they owed the chance at a regular year in Hogwarts? A regular year—not that any of them had ever had one—would include procrastination when it came to assignments, Quidditch, and breaking curfew. They had done the last one quite a few times, but only when it came to underhanding a psychopath. 

She heaved another sigh. Apologies could come later, which her two friends would milk until the novelty of it wore off. A part of it was a result of her own issues, ones that could hardly be placed on their shoulders. 

It wasn’t as if Hermione had been reasonable, and just talked to them. That would have been too simple! 

Ginny passed her in the corridor with Luna’s arm looped through hers. “Hey, Hermione! We’re headed down to the pitch for a while if you want to come by later. I know it’s not as entertaining for you... “ She trailed off. “Is something wrong?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not at all. I’m going to work on a Charms assignment, but I’ll try to make my way down there soon.” She smiled. “Hi, Luna.” Ducking around the two girls before the more eccentric half could say something, well, eccentric, Hermione escaped through the nearest entrance of the library. 

There was something to be said about the way her heart pounded during the simplest interactions with the classmates she considered friends. As if there were something just below her skin, itching madly until she escaped, it was all she could do to hold a conversation or half of one. 

Shouldering her bag, Hermione made her way down the shelves, dragging her finger along the ageing spines, until she landed on the book she needed. It was a ragged copy, the spine collapsed, and the cover was about to fall off. It would completely fall apart within a few more terms, and magic wouldn’t be able to stitch it back together, she imagined. 

Carefully holding it together, she spotted a slip of parchment sticking out from the front. A student probably left their notes. She settled into the chair she always used, crossing her legs at the ankle as she opened the cover. “Mother of Merlin,” Hermione gasped. 

It was well of six hundred years old if the title page was to be believed. Surely it was the oldest tomb in the Hogwarts library, or close to it. Why wasn’t it kept in the Restricted Section for safekeeping? Madam Pince was overbearing when it came to her books…

She chanced a look at the librarian, half expecting the woman to notice the tome she held, and rip it from her hands. For some reason she didn’t understand, Hermione hated the idea, and angled herself with her back faced toward the front of the librarian. 

The spine gave a low creak, and her eyes widened. She would just need to be very careful to not damage the book anymore. As was her habit, Hermione pulled the parchment from between the dusty pages. It was curiosity that led to it. Sometimes she found meticulous notes, or other times a girl had doodled on the edges of an assignment. 

In second year, Hermione found a note that was a love letter addressed to Harry, from one Ginny Weasley, and she’d set it on fire. It wouldn’t have done anything but cause a dilemma had Harry received it. 

Hermione unfolded it, laying it on the table and flattening it with her hand. 

Do you believe in this rubbish? was written in a messy script, rivalling Harry’s. 

Yes. The reply was written in cursive, the loop of the first letter neatly looping into the second, and Hermione lingered on that. Just because you only believe in getting into a girl’s knickers and leaving doesn’t mean everyone else does, you ponce. Though the parchment was aged, it was clear that the one to write the second had been pressed down roughly, the ink bleeding furiously from their quill. 

It was interesting. 

I don’t just leave them, Moony. 

Sixth year. Prove me wrong. 

SIXTH YEAR WAS DIFFERENT. YOU SAID YOU UNDERSTOOD!! 

About that mate…. I lied. 

Hermione’s hands shot to her mouth to stifle her laugh. She wondered who the two arguing were. Moony was clearly a nickname, and one she’d heard before, but evidently, someone else had thought of it too. 

You’ve taken one or two tumbles in a broom cupboard. Don’t pretend that you’re any better than I am. 

Yes, I snogged my girlfriend—a key word missing from your vocabulary—in a broom cupboard after patrols. You wouldn’t know what those are, but when a student is very, very good, they get a shiny badge. It gives them powers to take points from you for being such a dumbarse. 

That’s shite. Where’s my shiny badge then? 

You’ve never been good in your life. 

Neither have you, shitehead. 

Yes, well, I’m better at hiding it. Just this morning, you openly flirted with McGonagall. 

She was giving me detention. Minnie loves me. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. Minnie? 

Sure she does. That’s why she gave you three detentions instead of the one. 

Hermione folded up the parchment, her lips curved into a wide smile while her shoulders shook. She set to writing her notes, fact-checking the information she’d already learned as she went. 

As she scribbled a soulmate charm can transcend time and space and it can invoke itself without a caster, Hermione neglected to notice the pages sparking below her left hand, hidden by a curtain of riotous curls. 

October 30th, 1978

“Moony…” Sirius sang. 

Remus buried his face in his pillow, covering his ears as he bent the pillow around his head. “Go away. It’s Saturday.” 

His bed dipped below a sudden weight, probably Sirius’ knee. “Wake up, you said you’d come with us today. James and Peter are already downstairs.” 

He groaned. “I don’t want to go.” 

“Are you mental? Marlene McKinnon and a bunch of other birds are doing yoga by the Great Lake. How can you not want to go?” 

Wearily, Remus lifted his head just long enough to glare at his friend. “I don’t want to watch them, Sirius. It’s a bit too creepy for my taste.” 

“Creepy?” Sirius echoed, looking aghast. 

“Lecherous, whatever,” Remus waved his hand. “Why is James going? He’s already won Lily over.” 

“Lily is also doing yoga, and we both know James isn’t going to give this chance up.” Sirius shook his shoulder. “Come on, you can have a lie-in anytime!” 

“No, I really can’t Not with you lot always waking me up for something. Leave me be.” Remus ripped the blanket over his head. “I’ll meet you later, but not before noon.” 

Sirius grumbled under his breath, calling him several colourful names, but the door swung shut moments later. 

Finally, Remus thought. He’d been running behind on sleep since the full moon and had yet to catch up. It was already difficult to drag himself through classes in the week following, but why Sirius thought he was going to tag along to watch yoga, he had no idea. 

As he was on the edge of sleep, dreams skirting around him, the bedside table seemed to be...vibrating? Remus shot up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. His glasses tipped over the edge as the entire table rocked back and forth. Opening the drawer warily, Remus found the book he’d checked out yesterday was glowing. 

He ought to not pick it up. It would be better to involve a professor since he didn’t know what could happen, but Remus stretched out his hand anyway. The book written on soulmates was decrepit, a few users away from disintegrating. At first glance, it didn’t appear to be particularly interesting. 

At a later glance, considering it was glowing around the edges, it might have been special. 

He picked up the book, magic pooling around his fingertips as they made contact. Remus sat crosslegged, rubbing his eyes, as he opened the book. Curiously, the parchment that held his and Sirus’ squabble had vanished. 

There was a set of notes in place of it. “What?” Remus quietly mused while he lifted it. The notes were much like the ones he had in his own bag, detailing soulmate charms, the causes, and effects. Only they hadn’t come from him. The writing was feminine, the i’s dotted neatly, and the t’s crossed with a straight line. 

He stared at the parchment for a long moment, several seconds passing as he searched it. There wasn’t a name, but he found the initials H.G. and there was a date in the upper corner of 29/10, the year left off the end. 

He’d checked the book out yesterday morning, just as the library opened. How could someone have put their notes inside of it, and taken his when it had been with him since? 

Between the next two pages, he found a short paragraph. It seemed to be a journal entry, and dread filled him as his eyes focused on one word: war. 

I’ve decided not to meet Harry and Ron at the pitch even though I know I’m acting like a coward. Something has shifted since the end of the war. They make the effort to remain friends, but I know they’ve moved forward, and I’m… I’m stuck. I remember everything, a sick replay in my head, and I can’t forget. I don’t know how they can adjust to being back at Hogwarts where everyone—

I can’t even say it to myself. I don’t know how they can stand to walk into the Great Hall. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach that point. 

Parchment was thin, light, but as he held it, he found himself with a weight that only grew heavier. The war was ongoing, current, just outside the castle walls. Remus didn’t know where all of them would go after school, but he was certain that all paths would lead to violence, one way or the other. 

She spoke as if the war were over, as if Hogwarts had been ground zero. 

Remus didn’t know why he pocketed her thoughts. They weren’t his, but he found that he was unable to help himself. Reaching for the table, he plucked a quill and scrap of parchment from inside. 

Who are you? He shut the book, trapping his words amongst the pages, and waited. 

October 31st, 1998 

Hermione stared at the note for twenty-four hours, opening the book several times throughout the day to be sure she hadn’t imagined it. Her paper was gone, and her stomach was in knots ever since. Everywhere she looked, she wondered if she was looking at the student who had nicked her words for themselves. 

Over the day, nothing happened. No one stared at her in her classes, and not one person approached her. 

“‘Mione!” Ron yelled. 

Her head snapped up and she slammed the book shut, wincing immediately at her harsh treatment of a book that was already going to fall apart. She didn’t need to speed up the process any. “What is it?” 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You didn’t hear a thing, did you?” Ron laughed. “They’re throwing a party in Hogsmeade for Halloween.” 

She knew that, she just hadn’t planned to go. “It’s for Samhain, Ron. There will be rituals for it.” 

He’d already tuned her out, as soon as her tone switched to the one she used for academics. “Yeah, yeah. Adults will be doing that, but we’ll be up to our ears in Firewhisky in the Three Broomsticks.” 

It sounded like a time that would result in her throwing up for the majority of the next morning. “I’m not getting drunk.” She muttered, and Harry bumped her shoulder without breaking his conversation with Ginny. “I’ll come, but I’m bringing my book with me.” 

Ron sighed, but let it go since it was the only way she could be coerced into going. 

How did you get my book? I’ve had it since yesterday. 

Hermione finally swallowed her pride, unsure of what would follow, but one thing was for certain: it was a mystery, and she wanted to unravel it. The Three Broomsticks was a flurry of chaos around her, her friends clinking their tumblers together, and booze sloshing from the edges. She cast a water repelling charm to keep the book from being ruined. 

After sixty-nine agonising seconds--she had counted while the contents of her dinner rolled over in her belly--Hermione watched the paper she’d just slid against the spine vanish. Squeaking, she lifted the book, her high regard for keeping it in pristine condition slipping as she held the book by the cover and shook it. 

Nothing fell from the pages beyond dust. 

“Hermione?” Ron said from beside her, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” His speech wasn’t slurred, not yet, but his breath smelled of booze. 

She swallowed. If Ron had noticed her odd behaviour, it was likely everyone else would too. “I lost my notes. I just didn’t want to rewrite them.” 

He laughed lightly. “I’m sure they’re in your dorm. Why don’t you have a drink? You’ve been on edge, haven’t you?” 

Her eyes widened. “You noticed?” Hermione breathed. 

Ron looked offended. “I know I used to have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but I’ve got at least the range of a tablespoon now.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her. “Come on, just drink something. It doesn’t have to be firewhisky.” 

Surprising him, but mostly herself, Hermione ordered just that. She sipped it slowly, the liquid burning a path down her throat. 

She couldn’t be sure when the reply appeared because Hermione had been too busy talking, or drinking, or some combination of the two. Still yet, there was a folded piece of parchment tucked inside where hers had been. 

I ought to ask you the same thing. I checked this out days ago, and no one has had it since. Who are you? 

Hermione glanced around her. No one was watching her, too busy minding their own business to notice that while she always had her nose in a book--they thought that, but she hated that she was put into one category--this was no normal book. 

My name is Hermione. 

Then you don’t go to Hogwarts. The reply appeared instantly, and Hermione rose from the bar after downing the rest of her glass. 

“I’m going to head back to the castle.” Hermione whispered to Ron, apologetic as she interrupted his retelling of Gringotts. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He nodded. “Do you want me to walk you back, or are you okay?” 

Hermione murmured that she was fine before stealing out of the building. Off the path, she sat on a bench that was halfway to the castle, sitting cross-legged. 

Pardon? I’m currently a student here. 

What’s your house? 

Gryffindor. 

Impossible then, because there is no Hermione in Gryffindor. I would know. 

Since you’re a prefect? It seems to me that you’re slacking then. As Hermione replied, and the note vanished, a stone sunk in her stomach. She didn’t fancy herself as popular, far from it, but there wasn’t a witch or wizard in Wizarding Britain that didn’t know her name. You don’t recognise the name, Hermione Granger? 

Should I? I’m a seventh year, and I can assure you that I’ve not once heard of you. 

Seventh year. Seventh year. 

That didn’t make any sense. Hermione picked up the self-inking quill, scribbling a reply that would either force the other party to admit this was a far-fetched joke, or that--

She gulped. The other option was that she was toying with magic she didn’t understand at all. 

Have you ever heard of Harry Potter? 

Seconds turned into minutes, and Hermione thought she’d won. It was all just a juvenile prank, nothing to work herself into a tizzy over. It wasn’t as if--

The only Potter I know is James Potter. There’s his parents, Charlus, and Dorea, but. I’ll ask him if he knows a Harry. 

Her screech echoed in the trees, forcing several birds from them. She scribbled furiously, digging her quill into the parchment. DO NOT DO THAT. 

Why not? He’s right beside me. Granted, he’s pissed, but he’ll remember the names of his relatives. 

Please don’t. Hermione couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest as something vicious twisted her stomach. Can you tell me the date? 

It’s Halloween. 

No, I mean the year. I need to know the year. Do you have a newspaper clipping you could place inside the book? 

You’re very strange. Her worst fears were confirmed as a clipping of the Daily Prophet appeared to her. She lifted it, panic clawing its way up her ribcage. 

31. 10. 1978. 

DARK FORCES GATHER IN THE WIZARDING WORLD

She vomited, the firewhisky burning her throat as she heaved in the brush. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, her hands growing clammy. Twenty years. 

There were twenty years between the two of them. The realisation that she could be speaking to someone who was dead now weighed on her, and she glared at the book, still open on the bench she’d abandoned. 

Hermione? 

What is your name? She had to know, didn’t she? Speaking to someone from the past could have devastating consequences. What if it changed the timeline and the war they had gone through was for nothing? 

Yet she still asked, still had to know, and she didn’t look away when a familiar name landed in front of her. 

Remus. 

She slammed the book shut as if it burned. 

This wasn’t happening. 

It couldn’t be allowed to happen. 

#Remus Lupin #Hermione Granger #Remione #MrsRen #Sneak Peek

[onewfantaesy]

“I can’t wait for the Yule Ball,” Key gushes one Friday when the three of them are in the library. It’s only a month into Taemin’s second year, and he’s already confused beyond belief at something that isn’t even part of the curriculum.

“What’s the Yule Ball?”

Key looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Uh, only the single best night of the school year,” he snaps. Then he slumps in his seat and has a dreamy look on his face. “The one night when we get to dance and drink punch spiked by the seventh years and wear dress robes.”

“Is this new?”

“It’s for fourth years and up only, unless you’re asked by an upper year,” Minho explains.

“Why did I not notice this last year?” Taemin asks.

“Because you were too busy being a confused firstie,” Minho says, nodding his head wisely at his own words. He also patted Taemin’s hand very condescendingly. Taemin glared and snapped his hand back.

“Well no fair,” Taemin whines. “I wanna go now!”

“Too bad, I’m asking Boa!” Key says.

“She’s a sixth year,” Taemin says slowly, like Key is stupid. Boa is a sixth year Slytherin who has every guy in their house drooling over her, let alone all the other houses.

“And I’m taking her,” Key says with a glint in his eyes.

“Does she even know who you are?”

“Fuck right off, Taemin.”

Taemin just huffs, closes his Potions textbook loudly, and storms out of the library. He needs to set new wards on his dorm bed anyway.

Key does not ask Boa to the Yule Ball, having been beat by seventh year Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, Yunho. The two are dating by the next Wednesday.

Minho asks a Hufflepuff girl in their year, and she starts gushing about him wearing periwinkle blue robes that will match her dress.

“Girls are annoying,” Taemin says one week before the Yule Ball in the library. “I’m glad I’m not going, it’d be a pain to match my dress robes to some stupid dress.”

“You wanna go with me, Taemin?”

Taemin snaps his head to look at Key, who’s not even looking up from his Ancient Runes textbook. Taemin is stuttering and turning red and stumbling with his quill.

“I’ll charm your dress robes to match mine,” Key says.

Taemin bolts from the library after muttering a quick, “Yeah-sure-I’ll go-with-you-if-this-is-a-joke-I’ll-hex-you!”

He runs straight to Jinki’s office.

“Uncle Onew!” he pants, his book bag hanging off his shoulder. “I need dress robes!”

“Why?”

“I got asked to the Yule Ball Uncle Onew how do you dance how do you get dress robes I dunno what to do!”

Jinki loves the nickname, he can’t help but be confused about Taemin’s need for dress robes.

“You’re too young to go to the Yule Ball,” Jinki says. “Who asked you?”

“Key did! Uncle Onew, I really don’t know how to dance.”

“We’ll get you dress robes on Saturday then,” Jinki says softly. “And I’ll teach you to dance when we get back.”

Jinki takes Taemin to Hogsmeade that weekend, and when they get back that afternoon, he teaches him the traditional ballroom dancing that’s expected at the Yule Ball.

Key really does take Taemin as his date, but they don’t do any of the traditional dancing. Instead, Key gets them both punch that’s been spiked by a seventh year Slytherin and tells Taemin to just eat a cookie if he can’t stand the taste so much.

Minho’s date also gets them into a Hufflepuff after party that’s thrown in an empty classroom on the fifth floor.

“Password?” A fifth year asks.

“Devil’s Snare,” Minho’s date says.

Because Devil’s Snare hates sunlight, and that’s when this party is over. There’s smuggled booze and mixed drinks and a ridiculous amount of food from the kitchens. Taemin feels so young and out of place and he can’t figure out how he didn’t notice any of this shit going on last year.

When he shivers and gags at the taste of firewhiskey someone shoved in his hands, it’s Boa of all people who hurried to his side and coos at him.

“Are you alright? Who gave that to you, you’re way too young for this, I’ll jinx them!” She gushes. “How did you get in?”

“I came with my friends,” Taemin says softly, gesturing to where Key is making out with some Ravenclaw in his year and Minho is playing drinking games with his date on his lap.

“Who’s this?” Yunho asks, one hand on Boa’s waist and the other on Taemin’s shoulder. “Did you just do a shot? Do you want some pumpkin juice? I’ll get you some pumpkin juice.”

Yunho summons an entire pitcher just for taemin. The couple stays by him all night, until he admits after the fifth time Yunho asks that he does in fact want to be walked back to his dorm. Key seems to have snuck out with the girl he was making out with, and Minho is still busy beating upper years at drinking games.

“I’ll walk you back,” Boa says softly. “And Yunho will come with us. You’ve seen him play Quidditch, haven’t you? He’s strong and smart and he’ll get rid of any boggarts we might come across.”

She had winked at Taemin when she said it, but it only made him nervous that there really were boggarts roaming about the halls. But she’s also obviously tipsy, so he’s not entirely sure he believes her or trusts her. But she’s being nice, and she’s looking out for him, and Key has a ridiculously huge crush on her, so she must be alright.

“Thank you for getting the pumpkin juice for me,” Taemin says softly once they’re outside the second year boy’s dorm, Boa having snuck Yunho inside to probably go do something raunchy in her own dorm room. “And for, y’know, being nice to me.”

“Anytime, cutie-pie,” she giggles, and Taemin’s realizing just how tipsy she must be. “If you wake up with a hangover, just bug Heechul until he gives in. Don’t tell anyone Yunho is here! If you do, I’ll drown you in the lake myself. G’night!”

And with that, she drags Yunho over to the girls dorms.

Taemin takes her threat entirely too seriously and goes to hide under his covers, pulling his curtains tight and warding them when his roommates start asking for details about the ball.

Taemin isn’t hungover the next morning, having only really had three drinks the entire night, but he does feel entirely too sleepy and achy and weird, and he goes straight to Jinki’s rooms to collapse on his couch.

“Did you have fun?”

Taemin only stares at Jinki, his eyes large and blinking slowly.

“You can tell me if you did anything you weren’t supposed to,” Jinki laughs. “Uncle-nephew confidentiality, of course.”

“I went to an after party,” Taemin says slowly, testing if Jinki will become angry or start questioning him.

“Was it fun?”

“It was a Hufflepuff party,” Taemin says. “Firewhiskey is gross. Key ditched me to make out with some Ravenclaw. I think Minho drank a bunch of sixth years under the table. Yunho and Boa were nice and gave me pumpkin juice and walked me back to my dorm at three in the morning.”

“It sounds like you had a pretty normal evening, to tell you the truth,” Jinki laughs.

“Upper years are weird,” Taemin huffs. “Why does anyone drink firewhiskey? I thought I was going to puke!”

“How much did you drink?”

“I couldn’t even do the whole shot, it was horrible!” Taemin whines and makes Jinki sit on the couch with him and buries his face in his uncle’s side. “And the spiked punch tasted even worse!”

Jinki laughs, runs his fingers through Taemin’s hair, and sighs.

“Your very first school party,” Jinki says in a dreamy voice. “I wonder how many more you’ll actually tell me about.”

Taemin whines and grasps at Jinki’s robes, an eye peeking out to stare at him.

“You won’t get anyone in trouble, will you?” Taemin whispers. “Yunho was really nice to me. He coulda just kicked me out.”

“No one is in trouble,” Jinki promises. “Yunho is a good kid. I’m glad he took care of you. But I am worried that your friends ditched you.”

“S’okay,” Taemin mumbles. “I’m just glad Key didn’t try making out with me.”

“Me too,” Jinki says seriously. “Otherwise we would have way bigger issues. You’re too young to kiss anyone.”

Taemin lets out a shuddering breath, buries his face in Jinki’s chest, and closes his eyes.

“I’m really tired,” he whispers.

“You can nap here today,” Jinki says softly. “And tomorrow we go back to the manor for the holidays.”

Jinki puts a soft Hufflepuff-themed blanket around Taemin when he falls asleep on the couch, and keeps a fire going so the living room stays warm. By the time lunch rolls around, Taemin is bleary-eyed and dragging his feet to the Slytherin table to sit next to a worried looking Key. Jinki can’t hear their conversation from the staff table, but he can tell that Taemin is filling Key in on parts of the night the fourth year can’t quite remember.

#taemin #shinee #onew #key #minho #snake den au

[timelord-winchester-22b]

Winchester Protection

What is this? A REQUEST? How odd... Anyway, I think this was from a whole year ago by now, but I wrote it anyway. You never know, I might actually write all those requests I’ve been gathering for ages...

@phantom-adele-24601-deactivated asked:

Hello! Can you write a Sam Winchester imagine in which he is super protective? But not in an annoying but in a cute way? Thank you!

I kinda strayed from this a lot and... I don’t even know if this person will ever see this, but this fic is finally here...

Your clothes, as a hunter, were mostly denim, flannel and leather. So it was kind of refreshing in a way to put something else on. Of course, the clothes you were day-to-day were the durable kind of comfortable. They had to be, considering your job. The leather jacket you’d taken a liking to had delayed vampires and werewolves from biting before, so it comforted you a little. You had to remind yourself as you dressed to leave that you weren’t going to go up against one tonight. Just maybe a ghost trying to pull all your hair out. Well, that’s what it’d been doing to it’s victims so far.

You tried not to think of that possibility while you were getting ready. You had spent too long fixing your hair for this for it to be torn out by a sadistic ghost. And you didn’t fancy your make up being ruined by blood tonight. But who were you kidding, that was likely to happen anyway. You sighed at that thought, deciding you’d done enough to look decent. There was a knock at your door just as you were adjusting your dress one last time and grabbing your sparkly purse.

“Come on out (Y/N), taking longer doesn’t make you more of a girl” Dean joked. You heard Sam snap something back and the sound of them bickering all the way back down the hall. You smirked, remembering the fact that the boys had never seen you in anything but your jeans and flannel. It had become a joke between you and the brothers, you weren’t much of a girl on the day-to-day. Oh but this would be fun.

You headed out after being sure they had gone back to the library to wait. The place you’d have to get into would be far more upper-class than any of you were used to. So you were of course also excited to see them dressed up. That thought had you walking a bit fast down the hall, your heels clicking on the hard floors as you entered the library. The brothers were still bickering as you walked in, both looking quite handsome. They didn’t look up for a moment, too caught up in their argument.

“Hey, (Y/N)” Sam spoke up, cutting off his brother. “Would you tell Dean that-” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp as he finally took in your appearance. Dean glanced over at his reaction and whistled loudly.

“You look damn good (Y/N)” Dean pointed out, smirking. “Hey Sam” He nudged his brother, who was still staring at you with his mouth slightly open. “Sam, doesn’t she look good?”

“Oh, yeah” Sam nodded, snapping out of it. “Yeah she- you look really good (Y/N). You look… yeah” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You smiled, trying to hide the smirk in it like Dean wasn’t.

“Thanks boys” You grinned. “You both clean up good” You pointed out, joining them by the table. You couldn’t help but notice how closely Sam’s eyes followed you. “We ready to go?”

~~~~~~~~~~

You nearly laughed when Sam opened your door for you when you got there, but only grinned at him. He grinned back, offering a hand in a gentlemanly manner. You did laugh that time, taking his hand and letting him help you out. Dean rolled his eyes as he tugged at his cuffs. He was obviously having a much less pleasant time than you two. You both simply ignored his grumpiness, and you hooked your arm through Sam’s as you headed inside. The place was big and elegant and to put it frankly, not a place you thought you belonged. But you were dressed right for the most part, at least tonight.

“Hey” Sam called quietly, drawing your attention. He looked slightly concerned, maybe he’d realized your train of thought. He smiled reassuringly. “Can I get a drink for the most lovely lady in the room?” He offered, tilting his head in the direction of the drinks table. You grinned, unable to help yourself in the face of his flattery.

“We should really be trying to find this ghost-”

“We know who the guy’s after, and as long as she’s in our sights..” Sam glanced at the drinks table again and that time you noticed the hostess; a very glamorous looking up woman with elegantly styled bleach blonde hair and a dress that sparkled more than the chandelier above your head. She appeared to be scolding a waiter. “We’re still doing our job” Sam finished. “So, drink?” You smiled again, giving a short nod in response. Sam assured you he’d only be a moment before he headed over to make your drink the way you liked it.

You were barely standing on your own for five minutes, scanning the room for any signs of the ghost you were expecting, when a stranger in a black tux and a sleazy smile sidled up beside you.

“Hello gorgeous” He greeted, taking a sip from his drink, obviously a very diluted alcohol, probably thinking it made him look cool. You sighed, glancing away. Maybe you should’ve just gone with your usual outfit.

“Sorry, I’m here with someone” You informed him curtly. He laughed a little.

“I don’t see anyone here, babe”

You rolled your eyes, catching a glass of the strongest thing you could see off the tray of a passing waiter. You held up a hand to keep him there for the moment it took you to down the drink and return it to the tray. Definitely not the nicest taste, but you decided you needed it if this guy was gonna keep it up. You thanked the waiter as he moved on. Speaking of the guy still standing beside you, he was now staring at you with wide eyes.

“So you like the strong stuff, eh babe?”

“Figured I’d need it with you hanging around” You sighed. He frowned. Sam rejoined you at that exact moment and you took your drink from him gratefully while he frowned at the man beside you.

“Who’s this?” Sam asked, glancing at you.

“Guy who wouldn’t leave” You shrugged.

“Guy who’s a bit fed up with you treating me like trash. You didn’t even ask me my name!”

“Didn’t want to know” You shrugged.

“Why you-” The man narrowed his eyes at you, passing off his drink to a nearby waiter.

“I think that’s about enough” Sam told the man in a warning tone, getting between him and you while you sipped your drink. The man glared at him and then you one last time before taking a step back.

“Fine, you keep her” He sneered, stalking off.

“Gladly” Sam muttered under his breath. His gaze softened when he looked back at you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine” You assured him, trying to hide the fact that you were a little struck by his last comment. You glanced away from him, hoping to ensure he wouldn’t catch you blushing. Sam tried to get your attention back but before he could achieve this you had taken off, striding across the room towards a doorway. A doorway you had just watched your glamorous hostess disappear through. Sam followed you without questions, sensing the down-to-buisiness vibe and trusting you to have picked up on something.

You placed your glass on a small table decorative just beside the doorway as you passed it and heard the clink of Sam copying. You heard shuffling in a room not too far down the hall and slowed your steps, quietly kicking your heels off and pushing them to the side of the hall as you pulled your gun from where it was hidden; strapped to your thigh beneath your dress. Sam blinked in surprise from behind you at the reveal of your weapon, silently retrieving his own. You paused at the edge of the doorway, listening, before dashing inside.

To your disappointment, your ghost’s target was alone. The noises you’d been hearing were not the sounds of someone being attacked, but the sound of her frantically searching papers. She looked up and gasped at the sight of you standing there, a gun held pointed at her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, horror in her voice. “Didn’t you say you were FBI?”

“Yes, we are” You agreed, lowing your gun.

“Except you’re not” The woman sneered suddenly. “Because I ran your silly little badges with your silly little rock band names. You don’t exist. Which makes you hunters…” You frowned, but before you could say anything you felt a hand tangle itself in your hair and pull sharply, tugging you backwards. You cried out and Sam turned with wide eyes. You dropped to the ground, but the hand didn’t loosen it’s grip. Thankfully, that’s not what you were going for. Sam now had a clear shot, and he took it. The ghost disappeared and you clambered quickly to your feet, pointing your gun again at the woman at the desk.

The blonde now held a long lock of dirty blonde hair, grinning with glee. The hair was braided and woven with herbs and other creepy stuff you didn’t want to think about. She had control of the ghost. Just great. You made your way back inside the room and up to the desk, Sam slamming the door shut behind you and keeping a look out.

“This ghost killed all of your friends, the reasonable assumption would be that you were next. The only survivor of the family business founders. Why kill them all?” You growled out.

“Why wouldn’t I? Go from a sixth of the profit to being the sole owner of one of the most profitable businesses in the state! Next up, nation wide!”

“And what, kill anyone who gets in your way?” You sneered. You hadn’t liked her from the start.

“Well I hate to sound predictable, but of course” The woman laughed. “And who else would be in my way now, but you two?” She smiled. It was at that very moment that the door burst open and Sam was knocked backwards with it. By the time you turned to confront the ghost it had already reached you, throwing you backwards against the wall. You gasped for breath, trying to spot your gun before you were attacked again. There it was, by the desk, some three feet away.

The ghost swooped down on you with a shriek, one hand in your hair and one around your throat. You really weren’t happy to find that one hand seemed to be all it took to completely cut off your air supply. It felt like only a moment, and simultaneously a lifetime before the ghost released you, stepping back and turning her attention to the woman behind the desk.

“No. No, you can’t do this” The woman begged, backing away. Sam knelt down at your side, looking you over while keeping one eye on the other occupants of the room.

“I burned the hair, why is she still here?” He questioned, frowning warily at the ghost.

“I couldn’t risk loosing her” The woman gasped. “But I only bewitched that piece! Please! Stop her!”

“I’m willing to bet that’s what your partners said to you when you set her on them” You responded evenly. “Sorry, it appears business is closed”

When the woman was taken care of, the image of the ghost faded into a much more civilized picture, turning towards you and Sam.

“Thank you” She spoke for the first time. “Please know I never wanted to hurt anyone. I never would have wanted to harm you”

“I know” You told her. She smiled and with a soft flash of light, she was gone.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Told you that woman was damn creepy”

#supernatural #sam winchester #winchester #sam winchester x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert fic #x reader fic #supernatural x reader

[owls-and-potions]

The Note

Ship: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff

Requested By: @sassy-spork-and-housplantsa>​

Hey, thanks for the request! Honestly, I’ve re-blogged 2 prompt lists so I was just like a tad confused, and the one that I wrote only had 35, but I went through them and these are the ones that sound the most teasing, so yeah. If there’s a problem, leave me a note and I will fix it! =) Also this may seem a bit creepy but I was checking out your page and I LOVE how my mouse has a little hamburger attached to it when I click around. SO ADORABLE!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>!!!!!Prompt List Credits: @deathlyhogwarts​ (her page is amazing you guys should check it out!) <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<!!!!!!

# 29: “You’re better than my favorite fictional character, and that means something.”

# 37: “I’m not a man-whore! I just love women!”

# 39: “You’re the most adorable thing in the world.” (me @ that tiny hamburger) (sorry I’m such a creep)

I tried to make it as fluffy as I could, but there’s a small section of sadness but don’t worry!

Okay I’ll shut up now.

________________________________________________________________

         In your first year, you hated Draco Malfoy. He was always mean to you and your friends, and he seemed exactly like the villain you would read about it picture books when you were younger.

       By your second year, you realized that perhaps all that those villains needed was a friend. So you decided to give it a try. He had dropped his Defense Against the Dark Arts book in the hallway, and being the pompous-ass-but-secretly-insecure annoying boy he was, he simply glared at it as if it threw itself out of his arms. To save him from what probably seemed like total embarrassment at the time, you quickly walked over and picked it up for him. And that began what would blossom into a great friendship.

       However, as the years went on, you felt a bit strange around him. In the third year, you found yourself becoming extra giggly around him, and you even found yourself twirling your hair around you finger. You never twirled you hair around your finger. After explaining your bizarre situation to your friend Hermione, she erupted into a fit of giggles, explaining how it seemed you had a crush, and your face twisted up into disgust.

    Yet as you thought about it more, you realized that you did, in fact, have a crush on the Slytherin prince. And you made a vow to yourself that nobody, especially him, would find out.

         Now you were in your sixth year. You and Draco had decided to study for the potions assessment you had coming up together in the library after classes. You agreed, of course. He was your best friend.

_____________

         You groaned a little, letting your hurting head fall down onto the book dramatically.

“What now? Miss Straight A’s is pretending to have trouble so she seems normal?” Draco teased, poking you in the ribs. You raise your head and glared at him, yet it quickly melted into a poorly-suppressed smile. He chuckled.

“No. I’m short on mandrake leaves and we need them for the assessment. And the ones that Snape has in the closet are all the bad ones, heaven knows he keeps the ones worth using in his own private supply closet.” you grumble.

“You can use some of mine.” Draco says, flipping through his book.

“Thanks.” you say, a small smile on your face. You turn back to your book. “You know, sometimes Draco, you’re better than my favorite fictional character, and that means something.” When he simply hums, you look up at him to find him staring at some Hufflepuff’s arse.

“Oh my god.” you say, rolling your eyes. And here I was comparing you to Mr. Darcy.” you mumble quietly. Then you turn pink, hoping he hadn’t read the muggle book.

“Who’s Mr. Darcy?”

“Oh, just some prat.”

“Sounds like me.” he mumbles, causing you to giggle. He turns back to his book. “Hey, Y/N?” he says softly. You turn to face him again, copying down a sentence from the textbook. “I wanted to tell you…” he says softer. You look at him, your heart pounding. “You look a lot worse then normal lately. Are you sick or something?” he says with a smirk, leaning back in his chair with a goofy smile. You groan, laughing.

“I hate you.” you say. You turn back to your book and he does the same. A few minutes later, he looks at you. You ignore him, sure that he’s just ready to bug you again. A few more moments pass before you finally look at him. He turns pink and turns back to his book. You shake your head a little and flip the page.

    And then he looks at you again.

“What do you want, Draco?” you murmur. He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it quickly.

“Nothing.” he replies softly. His cheeks are pink. He takes a deep breath before turning back to his book. The Hufflepuff moves and he looks up. He turns to you, the signature Malfoy smirk on his face. “Actually Y/N, there is something I want.” he says. You look up. He cocks his head toward the blonde. “Her name.” he says with an obnoxious wink. You groan a little.

“You’re such a man-whore, it’s unbelievable.” you say, shaking your head. He gasps, pretending to be offended.

“I’m not a man-whore! I just love women!” he says. You look at him.

“Yeah. Man-whore.” you say. He opens his mouth to protest but stops, sighing. He then shrugs, causing you to giggle. He turns pink and turns back to his book, burying his face in it. You frown. “Hey, what’s the matter?” you ask as you catch a glimpse of his now very red face. Was he angry? Was it something you said? You put your hand carefully on his upper arm, squeezing a little. It causes your heart to pound but it doesn’t matter. You have to focus on your friend now, not you. “Draco?” you ask. He lowers his book, his cheeks still pink. Silently, he puts his hand on yours. You look at him confused.

“It’s…nothing.” he says. You roll your eyes, laughing a little.

“Are you sure? Because that seemed like quite a lot of drama for nothing.” you say.

“You read to much into things.” he mutters, turning the page in his book. You sigh. He was right, but not in he way he thought he was. You close your book, standing up.

“I’ll be right back.” you say softly. “I just need another book.” he nods and you’re about to take a step when he says your name. You turn around, only to find out to late that your foot was wrapped around the strap of you book bag. Your eyes widen as you feel yourself falling back. You hit the floor with an “oomph”, the air knocked out of your lungs. You pant, your face twisting in pain. Then you hear his clean, ringing laugh. The laugh that sounded like a joyous bird song. You sit up, glaring at him as he walks over to you.

“You’re the most adorable thing in the world.” he says, pinching your cheek. You glare, but can’t help but smile.

“I hate you.” you say. He offers you his hand, and you take it. He helps you up.

“Merlin, your hands are cold.” he says. “Kind of like your soul.” He smirks as you stick your tongue out at him.

_______

     It’s close to dinner time when Draco gets up to leave. “I’ll see you at dinner.” he says. You nod, telling him that you’re just going to finish up your notes. He nods and puts his hand on your shoulder. It’s a simple act but still causes your heart to race. He then leaves.

     As he walks away, you notice a piece of paper fall out of his bag. You furrow your brow, walking over to it. “Draco!” you say, but he’s already gone. You shrug, supposing you can give it to him at dinner when you see your name written neatly on it. You frown and go back to your seat.

     You debate for what seems like hours. Should you open it, or would it be a complete invasion of privacy? It would either way. But your name is on the envelope. It’s a letter to you. You bite your lip. But maybe he didn’t want to post it for a reason. Or maybe he was going to later? You were at what seemed like a world war with yourself.

       You hear Madam Pince clear her throat behind you. “It’s dinner time. Unless you plan on skipping, I’d suggest you go downstairs.” she says. You nod. You then sigh. You were seeing him next anyways. You nod before very carefully opening the letter, so you don’t break the envelope. You frown a little. It’s a small piece of paper, no bigger than your hand. You take it out, your hands shaking. It was probably just “Let’s do our Herbology homework together.” Why were you so nervous? You take a deep breath.

Dear Y/N,

      I don’t think we should be friends anymore. I’m sorry, but I’d much rather be-

After that, the ink formed a straight line, as if he had dragged his quill across the paper by accident. Your mouth hung open, and you felt as though you couldn’t breath. Tears came to your eyes as you felt like you were suffocating. Without Draco, you didn’t have a best friend. Sure, you had friends, but nobody could replace Draco. You sniffle, stuffing the letter into your pocket. You were not going to dinner.

      You picked up your pile of books and left as fast as you could. You heard the loud chatter downstairs but walked past it, holding back your tears. You quickly ran up all the flights of stairs, up to your favorite place.

     You ran through the doors, dropping all your things and walking over to the balcony. The Astronomy tower was where you came whenever something was very wrong. Nobody knew that, except Draco. You took off your shoes, sitting crisscross applesauce and finally falling into sobs.

       You didn’t understand. What did you ever do wrong? You were one of Draco’s only good friends and he was, well, your only one. You sob, shaking. The night breeze chilled you. You took a deep, shaky breath, looking up at the stars as you toss the envelope backwards angrily. You wait for it to hit the floor with a satisfying rip-like sound, but it never came. You wait a few more seconds before turning.

    Your eyes widen then narrow at the sight of the familiar blonde haired boy. He looked down at the envelope, his mouth opening and closing. He had a panicked look in his eyes, and as he looked up at you, you turned quickly, not wanting to see him leave. But you hear his footsteps walk toward you.

“Y/N…” he struggled.

“No need to explain. I get it. I-I’m a boring, annoying Gryffindor, and you’re the…”

You laugh bitterly as you wipe your cheeks.

“You’re the Slytherin prince.” you whisper, your voce breaking.

“No, Y/N, that’s not what this letter was meant for.” he whispered, hesitating before sitting next to you, but a good length away.

“No, let me guess, it was meant for, I don’t know, who, Crabbe? Did he change his name?” you say.

“That’s the rough draft.” he said very quietly. He opens his bag and takes out an another envelope, handing it to you.

“What the fuck? Do you think I want to read that stupid-”

“Just…Just read it.” he said. You feel fresh tears in your eyes as you open the letter. It was written in very extra, silver ink. The parchment seemed very expensive, like you could only find it at a certain place. You bite your lip and start to read.

My Dear Y/N,

       I felt that I’ve held my silence for too long. I should begin from the start, shouldn’t I?

    I must admit, my first year at Hogwarts, I had quite the sense of loathing towards you and your friends. Same goes for the first half of Second year. And then you helped me, and everything changed.

    At first I was satisfied with being your friend, and everything seemed blissfully perfect. But then after the summer, when you sat with me on the train for third year, I saw you in a different light. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but I did. And my feelings have only grown in the past few years.

   This is difficult for me to write, Y/N, but I must say it.

      I love you.

                                   Your dearest friend, and perhaps something more,

                                               Draco

                You take a rather shaky breath as you turn to face him. “You…you do?” you ask quietly. He clenches his jaw as he nods, his face looking grim.

“And I’m sorry I’ve just ruined everything. I-I’m going to go back to dinner.” he said, about to stand up. But before he can, you grab his sleeve. He looks down at you. “Y/N-”

“I love you too. Since third year.” you say quickly, your cheeks resembling the color of a beet. His cheeks turn pink and before you can comprehend what is happening, you feel his warm lips press against yours. You take a deep breath and lean in more, wrapping your arms around him. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing gently as he pulls you in closer. You run your fingers through his blonde locks, your thumb eventually running over his cheek. A few more blissful moments pass before you pull away.

“Be mine?” he whispers as he leans your forehead against yours.

“Of course.”

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #hogwarts #teasing #harry potter universe #requested #crush #x reader

[snapshotsofateenagersigh]

LXIV.

Yesterday was my 18th birthday, a day which was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. 

I woke up in the morning, immediately energised and ready to start the day, something that hadn’t happened to me for quite a while. It was my coming of age; I can finally drink (legally) and I can finally set up my bank account without parental consent (which is why it took so long for me to do in the first place) amongst other things! All of these things I can now do which I couldn’t before, and it’s absolutely thrilling - or at least it was to me, yesterday morning. Back when I felt that maybe something had finally changed.

It was a Thursday, and I had organised my birthday party to be on the same day. I invited ten or so friends (friends, sometimes, in the loosest possible sense) in the hope that some of them can come, so that I can actually have this party this year. In turned out that all of them could.

Or at least that’s what I thought. When I got into school that morning, buzzing, the first lesson was enough to kill that buzz - finding out that one of my “friends” - the one that I had so much history with (that ignored me, completely cast me aside, never really considered me to be her friend - or at least, not the type of friend you can share things to) - could come earliest at 9:30, when the party ended at around 11, and hadn’t even told me. She’s someone who I had extended an olive branch to, an olive branch that I felt she was slapping away.

I was livid.

I asked her that break time whether she had anything she wanted to tell me, and she said that no, she did not. But we’ve been at this passive-aggressive war for too long now, and she knew that I knew about it, and I knew she knew that I knew about it. So I wasn’t very surprised when she stormed off somewhere, unable to stomach the conversation on my birthday party any longer.

The librarian, someone who was close to both of us at the time, begged me to find her and talk to her. I decided to finally confront her about everything I had felt (that was partly due to her), her pushing me away without warning a year ago, and the silent war between us. I would open all the cans with all the worms.

And I did. I finally vented about everything - told her how horrible of a person she was, and how toxic that whole friendship was (I was in a state of dependency, she was my only emotional outlet), how toxic she had been to me. The funny part was that she had already realised all this, but couldn’t bring herself to confront me over it and apologise.

if the story ended here, it would’ve been brilliant. You would’ve seen us turning a new leaf, making a tentative attempt to have a surface-level friendship, where, we wouldn’t be each other’s number 1′s any more (although, I’m not sure if I ever was... to her)  but we would be open and honest, and attempt something other than hate.

But people can never seem to stick their noses out of other people’s business. The librarian came over, asked us whether we were still friends - and when I said no, we probably won’t ever be real friends considering how much I hated her every time I looked at her and how toxic she had been to me - she demanded that we make up and be friends. When I told her that this was something very private, she said that the conversation we were having was in the library, her library, her workspace, automatically giving her the rights to our private affairs.

I walked out, apologising for using the public space, and telling her that that was a mistake. It turned out to be a very large mistake.

She involved the Head of Upper Sixth, a P.E. teacher that forced my to rehash all of my issues to him, the very large argument over something very very large, and told him that of course it was his business to know everything and that the other party involved had gone out of school.

I was at the end of my rope. The tantrum that ensued was quite epic, if I do say so myself - which I do - I shook so hard that I bit my hands thrice, making them bruise (I’m surprised I didn’t puncture through the skin, to be honest) and I cried so much that I dry heaved into the toilet. I was so panicked I couldn’t breathe. Everything was shaking, everything seemed to be falling apart, and I couldn’t even have the cognizant thought to throw myself out the window, which I could’ve done thoughtlessly anyway considering the state I was in. Two people that I didn’t want to see me saw me, and the whole thing caused so much upset, grief, and drama. I wanted to cancel the party.

But in the end, that fucking P.E. teacher didn’t ruin my day, even though had someone recorded what I did after his “talk” with me, I could’ve ruined his career. He did this exact thing to me once before - finding me when I’m at my weakest to scold me (the last time it was for falling asleep on the fucking desk - my only respite after staying up so, so late doing homework - when I wasn’t even in lesson or meant to be in it!), causing nervous breakdowns without a care. 

I continued with the party, and it was the best party I’ve ever had, the best thing I’ve ever thrown. We played Cards Against Humanity, Truth or Dare (even though everyone complained when I suggested it!), and Never Have I Ever (discovering the dark horse of the group). Someone threw up on the hard wood floors in the corridor, and I tried to set up two of my good friends, and one of them dared me to make out with Byron. I did.

The night was wonderful, and I was sad to see it end. But everything ends eventually; my teenage years will end soon; this atrocious piece of writing; my life.

But for once, I’d like to be positive, and think about 18 as the new beginning rather than the end.

#18 #adulthood #legally drinking #SnapShots of a Teenage Life

[iwantasecretgarden]

Taggetytagtag

DoBrought up by the freaking awesome and strong @nachodiablo

Rules: Answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions.

1. Coke or Pepsi: Diet Coke in a glass of ice or a can or a bottle or a fountain or anywhere, always. “Is Pepsi okay?” is probably the worst sentence in all of human history.

2. Disney or Dreamworks: Disney Renaissance (90s kid)

3. Coffee or tea: Coffee. I want to like tea, but it’s leaf water. And drinking it tastes like hot leaves. I try and I try and yet still...clogged pool filter in a cup.

4. Books or movies: Books. Books, I’ve never seen so many books in all my life. Best weapons in the world. But seriously in 2016 I read 42 books - didn’t quite get to my 52 I had hoped for as my upper goal, but far surpassed the 25 I had planned.

5. Windows or mac: Mac since birth. Born with my dad getting me a tiny apple jumper as he used the old timey rainbows apple with the startup OS face.

6. DC or Marvel: Marvel characters are deeper and more interesting, especially because I WANT to like Wonder Woman but every single writer just changes her backstory and nothing is consistent and I hate that. X-Men are my favorite because it’s embracing difference in an exclusive, bigoted world.

7. X-box or Playstation: I wasn’t allowed to play video games because my parents thought they would make me violent so now I’m WOEFULLY AWFUL at them. But does Wii Lego games count? Because I really like Wii Lego Harry Potter. I know. I know. But it’s actually adorable. I also play Wii Lego LOTR and Batman and Star Wars (but SW one sucks).

8. Dragon age or Mass effect: Er...what. 

9. Night owl or early riser: I do better working at night because I like to have an hour or so to wake up. So if I leave at 9 I get up at 6:30 so I can drink coffee and blink awake and watch a tv show before doing chores and getting ready.

10. Cards or chess: Cards - more for the memories that accompany them and because I’m hellishly impatient for Chess.

11. Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla not because I’m vanilla but because chocolate can either be overwhelming or when in ice cream doesn’t taste like chocolate? Like why? It tastes like mystery brown flavor and I’m not into that.

12. Vans or converse: Converse for life. Black. With doodles on the white parts. Quotes and drawings. Being a cool kid way past the age I could pull it off (since I never could). I also have a blue pair that I drew the TARDIS on during the DW fanvolution but now don’t wear because they don’t match.

13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: I feel dumb. I don’t know what these are. 

14. Fluff or angst: Angsty fluff. Like when the angst drenches your soul and in the darkest moment someone says the right thing that no one in real life has ever said to you and it’s like a sweet sweet salve. 

15. Beach or forest: Forest. I hate sand. I’m stupid annakin. And deep in my heart of hearts I’m still the wolf girl I was at 13 where I wore braces and boys jeans and tie dyed wolf t-shirts and braids in my hair with a bunch of friendship bracelets and wanted to be a psychic dragon rider or be raised by sentient wolves. So in the end...it’d be untrue to my nature (and to my secret shame wolf patronus) to not say forest where I used to dream of running away and finding my true pack.

16. Dogs or cats: I have two greyhounds (Fred & George), and a cat - Gandalf. That way I can introduce the bunch as Gandalf (and) the Greyhounds. Yeah. I’m serious. PM me for picture proof or check out insta @greyhoundgeorge

17. Clear skies or rain: Rain when I have nowhere to BE. If I can stay home and eat hot popcorn and drink cold water and snuggle on a couch under the blankets and put on an old movie or quiet film scores and pick up a book I want to read all in one go. That’s a little corner of heaven right there. But clear skies if I am going out to do something - if I’m doing something stressful and knowing I can go outside after to let the sun drench into the skin of my face and smile and take a breath and get a cold diet coke and congratulate myself on being brave and finishing out.

18. Cooking or eating out: Depends. Depends on how lazy I am and how broke I am and how hungry I am. I like cooking when I’m really hungry because then I can personalize everything to my own tastes and having leftovers I know will be yummy later. When I eat out/order take out I’m eating it all. Don’t be foolish.

19. Spicy food or mild food: Spicy food. Make my nose rain. I once drank a bowl of salsa in a Mexican restaurant. Like in Beauty & the Beast. Bowl to my mouth. Drank it down. My sisters hissed at me to stop. It was so good. So I drank theirs too.

20. Halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: Solstice, Yule, ***Christmas*** I am so into Christmas. I’m the dumbass that starts listening to carols too early in November. I’m wearing sweaters and sweating. I’m getting my peppermint hot chocolate. I’m the one viciously stalking that Christmas feeling that seems to get farther and farther away the older you get. Because I want it to last forever. I want to make sure my little sisters never lose it.

21. Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: Too cold. I’m already hot all the time. It’s hell. And I sweat through my clothes and that’s embarrassing and uncomfortable. At least when I’m cold people feel pity for you. When you’re hot all the time everyone looks at you like a freak.

22. If you could have a superpower, what would it be: Hallucination/Projection. I’d be called “Storyteller” or “Story” and if I wanted you to think you were on a beach in Aruba, you would really see and feel it. I would be able to travel for free, protect myself through a veneer, and never have to harm anyone. And I could taste all food however I wanted even if it was just celery. I could look how I want to look, dress how I want to dress, make my world the reality I want.

23. Animation or live action: Live action. I think the nuances of character actors and their expressions bring something to a film that evokes a sympathetic response in the brain that cannot (currently) be copied in animation.

24. Paragon or renegade: Again. I’m a silly person who has no idea what this is.

25. Baths or showers: SHOWERS. Hot showers. Baths - like tea - are just stewing in dirt. In your own dirt. In a tub where you get to look at your knees and rest your wet head against the hard tile. Ew.

26. Team cap or team ironman: Captain America forever. Stucky and Steggy forever.

27. Fantasy or sci-fi: Fantasy at my heart of hearts. It appeals to my wolfgirl nature. But I’m an equal opportunist and love Sci Fi. Just watch out for those weird 1950s fantasy/sci fi crossovers about colonizing planets cuz those get WEIRD.

28. Do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they:

"Do small things with great love.” - Mother Teresa

“Courage, dearheart.” - C.S. Lewis

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry.  Look up at the ceiling and breathe with those curiously fragile lungs and remind yourself don’t worry. All as it was meant to be. It was meant to be lonely, and terrifying, and unfair, and fleeting. Don’t worry.” - Welcome to Nightvale

29. Youtube or netflix: Netflix or Amazon Video yo

30. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson: Yeahhhh see I was too old when PJ came out. My youngest sister was reading it and even she thought it was under her age level. So HARRY POTTER FOREVER FOOLS. I mean, I cannot stress how much our family loves HP. We had a year when my youngest sister turned 11 she had a welcome to Hogwarts party in March, my family surprised me with a Horcrux Hunt 17th birthday Coming of Age in April, and my other sister turned 14 and got a Triwizard Cup party in May. My Mom listens to HP on Audible every night before bed. She can literally quote the first book word for word. We went to HP Wizarding World in FL before it opened on special passes when I was 19. If my mother wouldn’t murder us, our entire family would have matching HP tattoos. I write Marauders book fanfiction for my entire family to read and critique. We have sorted ourselves and own everything in our respective houses (a split R/G family). It’s our dream to go to Leaky Con together. We all have complete uniforms. Not just the robes. All of it. We know all the spells, have played all the dumb computer 2001 games and Wii games and Pottermore before it was lame and basically omg. HP FOR LIFE. (or LOTR). 

31. When you feel accomplished: When someone acknowledges I saw the problem and solution immediately but everyone else tried a bunch of things first and eventually realized I was right. #INTJ

32. Star Wars or Star Trek: I am very into both, and both my sisters have hard core taken a position on each camp. But if I had to choose, I would say Star Trek because of the massive cultural shift it caused, especially in featuring multi-racial characters and women in positions of science and power.

33. Paperback books or hardback books: Paperback if I’m reading it the first time and Idk if i’ll like it but then I want hardback (leatherbound tbh) of everything I’ve ever loved and read for my library I want to own like in B&B. 

34. Horror or rom-com: Ughhhhhhhh both suck. But I only like cerebral horror (like Sixth Sense) or intellectual horror (like Hannibal) because physical horror (torture), gross horror (teeth losing and pus), jump horror (basic) really aren’t interesting to me so I GUESS I’ll say rom-com.

35. TV shows or movies: TV shows streaming so I can binge them. Yep.

36. Favorite animal: Tigers! I’m so into tigers and know so much about them. The ONLY tiger fact I’ll bore you with right now is that lion roars are much shallower due to being lighter weight with less lung capacity so for the Lion King whenever the lions roar, it’s actually tiger roars to sound more macho.

37. Favorite genre of music: Alt rock or indie - coldplay, mumford, snow patrol, frank turner, damien rice, the wonder years, etc. 

38. Least favorite book: I know people are really into it now, but when I read it A Separate Peace sucked balls and everyone agreed. Also I once read this terribly written horror book Neverwhere. Actually I’ve read several such poorly written books that it honestly gives me hope that I can be an author if these dingbats can.

39. Favourite season: Winter before Christmas

40. Song that’s currently stuck in your head:  Help by the Beatles

41. What kind of pyjama’s do you wear: Old t shirt (usually huge) and pj pants or shorts

42. How many existential crisis do you have on an average day: Lol so many. Depends on the day. More like “my life is confusing and I have no idea what’s happening and everything is a chain reaction that hasn’t begun and I’m holding my breath praying for a fallout that’s marginally okay.”

43. If you can only choose one song to be played at your funeral, what would it be: “Penny Lane,” by the Beatles

44. Favourite theme song to a TV show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer or (honestly) Magic School Bus or Jimmy Neutron

45. Harry Potter movies or books: Books, where the inaccuracies aren’t too many to count

46. Favorite traditional food from your family: Tamales

47. Favorite decade from 1900-now: 1990s. But only 90s kids remember the 90s.

48. Worst habit? Thinking I can do it all.

49. Teach an old person to use the internet or stay for a week with a kid stuck in the “why” phase?: Kids. I love kids. Why phases are great. Sometimes I never outgrew mine, and adults always brush them off without actually taking time to explain why satisfactorily.  50. Who’s your favorite painter?: Claude Monet. 

51. Favourite flower?: Roses (trite) or bluebonnets. 

52. Boots or sneakers?: Sneakers now - boots in fall.

53. Abroad or at home?: Home if I could magically go back in time when “home” was everything I wanted and not a place to visit my mom in my old room with no clothes or friends.

54. Planning or spontaneity? Planning! But occasional spontaneity. 

55. Boxers or briefs? Boxers so that I can wear them as pajama shorts.

56. Hogwarts house? Better be...Gryffindor! 

I’m not tagging 56 people, so if you’d like to do this, tag me so I can read them! If you don’t want to, then just enjoy learning more about me. If it’s more than you wanted to know (and it probably is) feel free to ignore.

#about me