At My Grown Age Can I Take Cough Syrup Normally?? No!! I Down It Like A Shot And Immediately Chug Water

at my grown age can i take cough syrup normally?? no!! i down it like a shot and immediately chug water as a chaser

me when someone in a crw class asks how i learned to write full story arch’s in short fiction but my deep dark secret is that i started writing fanfics at 12

kind of wanna reinforce this here. because i’ve seen ai writing become so popular on tik tok.

ai writing is not okay.

it’s literally theft. just like how ai art steals, ai writing steals. it’s using authors’ very real work to generate whatever you type in. and this also needs to be said as well.

writing is a form of art. fanfiction is a form of literature.

seeing this all over my fyp is REALLY discouraging. fanfic itself is already a labor of love and we love it when you interact. but please do not use ai writing for your fanfic needs when this writing literally steals from fanfic authors.

genuinely don’t know if this post will go around because my interactions outside of hcs are shit, but i hope it does.

Hi! I know you're probably busy rn with collage and what not and I totally understand if you can't expand on this but either way, god I just need to rant about this thought.

So I just saw this tik tok where this girl was like "when I'm riding passenger princess and we're getting a little to close to the car in front of us" and the audio was like "the question is when are you gonna START stopping?"

And one of the comments said she wasn't a passenger princess she was a anxious passenger patroller and all that had me thinking of was Stu and reader, like I don't know about everyone else but i canon whole heartily Stu is a great driver who drives recklessly because 1)he knows what he's doing and 2) he thinks the shits funny

And I believe he'd do it especially to reader when he gets in those weird moods when he doesn't know how to feel about the reader/doesn't know how to handle it, and it kinda just serfaces in this weird aggression . Idk it could be like a fight-ish thing and she's telling him to slow down and he's being a dick about and in the end he weasels his way back into her good graces because she won't speak to him first if he's wrong and he doesn't like going to long with out talking to her

I don't know what up with my mind and how it wonders, anywho hope you have a good day/night :)

a/n for sure busy with school and actually having a social life for once and writing but always always always have time for billy and/or stu (especially since i'm kind of stuck on final girl rn😭)

YOU ARE SO RIGHT,, like i don't think he'd drive recklessly to scare reader with the intention of putting reader or himself in a dangerous situation,, but he'd for sure find it funny or see it as a way to "humble" reader a bit, like if Stu felt like the reader was acting too detached or into someone else he's suddenly speeding a little more just so that reader has to grip his arm and squeeze his hand

anyway i've been missing them and super happy to have a lower stakes way to talk about them,, also this turned out a little different and fluffier than i expected it to be lol

----

Something about the commercial feels different in the fall. Cliche radio hits are easier during the summer, sometimes even fun. But during autumn, with leaves melting off trees in hues of red and orange and the looming end of the year nostalgia, the synthetic quality is harder to look past.

That's why your hand instinctually gravitates to the radio, switching the station without a second thought.

Stu sighs, a quick, over exaggerated puff of air. "I liked that one."

You glance in his direction, glaring, "You were barely listening."

Even though you're mainly defending yourself out of habit, you know it's true. Stu's pretty open about what he likes, even when he doesn't realize it. Usually, when he likes a song he'll tap his fingers against the steering wheel. If he really likes something, he'll even get into it in a way that definitely lessens his ability to control the car.

"I was, too," he hums, half pouting.

You roll your eyes before looking back out the window. The world is moving past you in a vague blur. So quick a seed of unease plants itself in your stomach. You wouldn't exactly call it worry, you've been hanging with Stu and getting him to drive you around too long for his casual take on driving to overly phase you. With the exception of him doing something particularly risky like throwing himself into another lane after barely checking or taking too sharp of a left turn because of yellow light.

Sometimes you comment on it, equal parts teasing and annoyed. But usually, it's easier to just accept it. Stu's so comfortable with the way he drives that comments only amuse him. The one time you glared at him and asked him to slow down, he had a made a game of switching lanes at the last possible second.

"You liked that Spice Girls song more."

Stu openly snaps his head away from the road to glare at you. "Did not, you're the one that likes that saturated pop stuff."

"I said I liked one song one time."

He sighs, finally turning back to face the windshield. "Sure..." He tugs on the last syllable, dragging it out to make his disbelief clear. "You wanna stop for ice cream?"

It's not exactly late, but later than you planned on staying out. Time seems to slip away too quickly when you and your usual group are together and this afternoon's movie that ended in a hangout at the mall had eaten even more time than expected. There was something extra entertaining about wandering between stores and only occasionally actually looking at clothes.

You do have homework and it is Sunday and you told your mom you'd be back around 6:00 probably and it's now almost 7:00. But ice cream does sound nice and there will only be so many evenings in your life that feel this warm and lighthearted.

"I have some homework," you mumble in one final attempt to convince yourself, "But, yeah, I could go for ice cream."

Stu nods, tapping his pointer finger against the wheel. "We'll be fast."

The yellow light doesn't affect his speed as he turns left. Your fingers press into the side of your seat. Fast. No kidding.

"You okay there, babe?" Okay, there's no way your expression was bad enough to warrant a question (especially when he should be looking at the road). He has to be baiting you. "You're looking a little green."

You force your hand to relax, "Mhm." And it is fine. At the very least, fine enough because Stu always drives like this. "Used to you driving like you're on the run."

"You're just sensitive."

The comment is more dismissive than teasing and for whatever reason, you like it less than when he makes fun of you. At least his bullying is coated in a distinct type of affection that only Stu can get away with.

You briefly consider starting one of your 'am not, are too' fights. You're definitely not above it, especially when you two are alone and no one's around to call you out for being overly childish. But if he's going to be moody over the smallest comment...

He switches lanes--without using his blinker--with a sharp turn of the wheel. "If it's that bad, you could get rides from someone else."

The comment is hard and too casual to be a threat, but still mean. It makes your stomach drop more than the way Stu maneuvers the car. You didn't say he was that bad of a driver and you definitely didn't say anything about not going out with him anymore.

There are a lot of good things about getting Stu to drive you around. You like being in his space and the music that's more often than not just a little too loud and the passenger seat that feels more like your seat. You also like the unplanned for car moments, the accidental gossip sessions in driveways and parking lots. It's part of the reason you're glad you don't have a license yet...it's an excuse to just be around him.

"I didn't--"

"Bet Randy would put up with your backseat driving." The car speeds up slightly. "He'd slow down if you gave him that look."

You frown, ruining any chance you have at arguing that that you don't have a face. You don't get what his issue is, especially with bringing up Randy. He's been making on and off comments since the movie you all watched ended.

You don't fully get it, but you guess you get Stu being a little annoyed. Randy and you had been a little obnoxious, laughing too hard at jump scares and flinching too dramatically at moments that weren't that bad. But it's not like you two were terrible. Definitely not bad enough to warrant this passive aggression.

"I don't want to drive around with Randy, I want to drive around with you." You're full on pouting and you don't even care.

Stu sighs, eyes avoiding yours in the rearview mirror. An uncomfortable warmth settles against his face. How do you always manage to do that? From anyone else, he'd hate it, but you're never trying to get anything out of it. Things like that are just offhanded comments to you. No ulterior motives. You don't even think twice about it.

"So now it's not enough enough to be driven around by anyone?"

You shrug, relaxing into your seat. "I'm spoiled."

His throat feels dry, a wave of uncomfortable fondness hitting him with no warning. He knows there's some joke he should make about how you're shameless about it, too. But he's too caught up on the amount of feeling tightening his chest.

He turns into parking lot of your usual drive-in ice cream spot.

"You're enabled."

You turn your head, smiling, "And you're the enabler."

Stu grins, moving a hand to squeeze your shoulder. "I'll enable you any time, babe."

You roll your eyes, but don't make any move to shake him off. "Enable me a--"

"Mint chocolate chip in a waffle--not sugar--cone." He recites your usual order without a second thought.

You nod once in approval. "This is why you're my favorite."

"I'm telling Billy you said that."

Scratching the back of your arm, you glare. Stu's always trying to start a fight with that. "Do not start."

He grins teasingly, "Start what?"

You glare, hoping that the look is threatening enough to make him promise to leave your comment behind. You've known Stu long enough to know that he'd happily take a you're my favorite and save it until he could use it as some sort of ammunition, exaggerating it to make sure it really hits. All that does is make him smile more. Before you can say anything else about it, Stu rolls down the window and orders.

When you get to the window, you try to pay for your own, but that ends as it usually does. He never lets you pay for anything, and when you threaten to leave cash in his car, he threatens to buy you even more things. Try it and on Monday I'm picking you up with coffee and a muffin and that new CD you were talking about. ...A lot of the times, the suggestion makes you want to stop for coffee and muffins before school anyway, so you end up getting it with him anyway.

You give in early this time, thanking him for the ice cream as he finds an empty spot to park in. You smile to yourself. Parked car time with Stu is something you enjoy a lot more than you'd ever admit. The two of you have a silent understanding that in these moments you can say things you wouldn't usually be able to say out loud. Nothing terribly cruel, just a little snarky. The kind of comments that'd get you in trouble in front of the wrong people.

Usually, you have to take the lead at first because Stu likes to act like he's too good for gossip, but once he gets started, he's worse than you.

You're still debating which of the two major topics--rumors you've heard about Susan Welch being pregnant and the weird way Madison Meyer has been acting--to bring up first when Stu breaks the silence. "You uh--" Stu cuts himself off. "You know I wouldn't--I wouldn't do anything that'd hurt you like that."

Weirdly deep comment to hear while you're holding an ice cream cone. "...Are you trying to convince me you didn't poison my ice cream?" That strange seriousness of his doesn't go away. You frown. "Yeah, come on, of course I know that."

He nods, "Yeah, just--" Stu won't look at you. "I wouldn't, and just--the car thing--"

"Stu." You've made those kinds of comments before, and it's never made him react like this. "I know that." You nudge his forearm gently. "I didn't mean it like."" He doesn't cheer up. "Seriously, if I thought you were trying to reverse-vehicular-manslaughter me, I wouldn't get in the car."

At that, he lets out a breath that's definitely trying not to be a laugh. "Would that be reverse-vehicular-manslaughter?"

"I don't know," you hum casually, pausing to eat some of your ice cream, "You're the one trying to do it." Stu glares; you grin. "Kidding." You bite off the top edge of your cone. "You know I love driving around with you--we listen to music, we talk, we gossip--"

"I don't gossip, you gossip and I let you."

You shake your head, not bringing up the fact that he always has more stuff worth saying than you do and he's snarkier than anyone would ever guess. "Then I guess I won't tell you what's up with Susan Welch."

To be fully honest, Stu couldn't care less about Susan Welch, but he likes the way you react to these sort of things. Your reactions to his side comments might be his favorite part of these moments. "She's...in our english class right?"

"Mhm," you hum, trying to downplay your excitement, "Remember how she had to leave class early the other day--like, practically ran out of the room to throw up?" You don't wait for him to respond, "That was on square pizza day--which is the day that's least likely to make someone throw up." You pause for the sake of your ice cream. "And Lucy Thompson swears Susan randomly stopped drinking, which if you've met her, makes no sense. So, Lucy thinks Susan might be..." You trail off before vaguely gesture to your stomach.

Stu's eyes narrow as he pretends to really think about what you've just said. "I don't know if that's enough to mean she's knocked up."

You shake your head once, "Lucy also said she's never in cheer practice anymore, and she started wearing baggy clothes." You sit up a little straighter, "And Missy Danes swears her older sister's friend saw Susan buying a pregnancy test in a grocery store two towns over. I know it's not proof, but it's definitely worth thinking about."

He widens his eyes, more for your sake than anything else, "Definitely." He pushes his spoon into his melting ice cream. "If she is pregnant, she's totally screwed because Ben Johnson was just bragging about hooking up with her."

Your mouth falls open in pretend shock, "No way." You lean against the center console. "You got oreo again, right?"

Stu knows exactly what that question means, "Want some?"

Your eyebrows draw together as you shake your head. "No, I'm--"

"We could trade for a little."

Another one of your traditions, each person's ice cream slowly becoming everyone's. "Another reason why you're my favorite."

"Oh, now you're begging me to tell Billy."

You dip the spoon into ice cream, digging for a particularly large oreo crumb. "I will blame it on the ice cream."

the air is feeling like twilight so if you catch me writing a twilight fic in the year 2023 pls mind your business <3

More than this

A/n the anakin appearance in ahsoka show got to me, that's all i can say

warnings: i didn't think too much about realistic timelines and i lowkey prioritized vibe over canon (as usual tbh), also written very quickly bc i'm supposed to be studying for a test so typos maybe? and maybe not great lol,, lowkey manipulative anakin but he's in his villain era so

Summary: Similar vibes as that force "facetime" thing with kylo and rey,, basically anakin 'facetiming' his not gf after killing off a bunch of younglings bc she's going through it and he's that committed

----

You're sick of it. Not of meetings or of political discourse or of trying to do the right thing for your people. You're sick of pretending like your entire way of life doesn't have an approaching expiration date.

The door to your bed chambers shuts with a groan loud enough to mask your irritated sigh. You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly you see stars before resting your forehead against the solid surface.

At least you're alone now. For now.

It won't be long before someone finds you. Another meeting or lesson or worst of all--another suitor. You don't want any of it. In fact, you might not ever want to speak to another person again.

"Not surprising."

You turn around too quickly, the back of your head hitting the door with a soft thump. Some combination of a shout and gasp tries to crawl up your throat but just as quickly the urge vanishes.

"Great..." He's standing at the other end of your room, confident like he has a right to be in your chambers. Like he's actually-- "I'm being driven to insanity."

He tilts his head slightly, expression revealing much too little. "I've told you." He takes a step forward. "I'm real."

At this point, he's given you several reasons to believe the stories he's told you. That the force he wields for whatever reason has chosen to connect the two of you. Considering what you've been briefed on regarding the current state of the Jedi, you might be better off if the stranger that keeps finding you does turn out to be a hallucination.

A question settles in your chest the way it often does when he appears. Now that you know about the rumored fall of the Jedi that has your father nervous and your advisors unsure, you're more wary of him than ever. How is he 'standing' here, perfectly fine?

You're not overly concerned about offending him. He's just someone that manipulates his abilities to pop in whenever you crave solitude most. But something at the back of your mind warns that you might not want the answer. Nothing good could come from any involvement of the Jedi in their current state.

"A hallucination would make the same argument," you whisper, voice drier than before. He takes another step in your direction. A mistake. You've made one by indicating nerves. "So..." Recovering quickly, you force your spine to straighten, "Why are you here this time?"

Casual and detached. That's how all of these forced rendezvous go. It's the safest. He insists on whatever point he's trying to make and you pretend to be too caught up in your annoyance to find any part of interesting until he eventually vanishes. Any stray in that could lead to a negative shift. Especially now.

"Are you not happy to see me?" You blink. He's made those types of comments before, a hint of humor touching his features enough to make you feel less on edge. But this time the words feel off, void of any warmth or surprising charisma.

Nerves twist themselves in your stomach. Whatever happened to the Jedi, whatever had all the members of your latest meeting on edge has effected him.

He's watching you, waiting for a reaction. You want out, but some instinct begs you to keep that hidden. A lifetime of being a royal daughter instead of a son has taught you that there's a certain safety that comes from playing unaware. "Not any more or less happy than usual."

That sounds normal, right? You've never been particularly nice to him, making it clear that you have no interest or time for whatever potential the force he's always talks about sees in the two of you as a pairing. But you're also not mean or flighty. "Okay, maybe a little less."

A small offering. You've done it before, revealing bits and pieces of your life to him because he has no part in your world. It doesn't matter what he knows and you've never had someone in your life in any capacity that you could just rant to, someone you could exist around without any pretext.

"And why is that?"

Another thing you didn't think through. The meeting that made you feel like a useless figurehead just waiting to be married off had revolved around the issues with the Jedi and what that means for your people.

"Some meetings today." That's a casual enough thing to admit. He normally assumes that's your issue. "Long meetings...so if you could just get to your point and disappear the way you usually do."

The corner of his mouth turns upwards. Normally, his partial smiles and signs of ease make you feel better about speaking to him. This look, however, only further knots your stomach. "Busy day."

"Yeah," you agree, nodding once, "Another one of my cousins have agreed to a proposed betrothal and that--that always starts discussions of when I'll finally do the same and--"

You're not sure where your rambling's going, you just know that this is something you complain about enough for it to seem normal. Besides, the best covers are based on the truth and what you're referencing is true enough. There was some discussion about a relative's impending marriage, but the rumors took over the meeting before anyone could try to convince your father to finally marry you off.

He takes another step towards the door and then another. The room is large enough that there's still an amount of distance between the two of you that's respectable, but that doesn't make it easier to dismiss that he's getting closer. At least your proximity to the door is comforting.

"You've never lied to me before."

The flutter of uncertainty in your stomach spikes, a brief wave of panic rendering you incapable of thinking. He's capable of just appearing in your room without actually being here, being able to tear apart your lie is nothing compared to that. But somehow him being able to tell where your truth begins and ends feels much more invasive than what you already knew about. You don't lie constantly, but for so long your ability to seem clueless has been your only form of self preservation.

You don't know what to do next. A part of you wants to fall back on habit, commit to your portrayal of not knowing. He'll see through it, there's no reason for him not to, but what else is there? Owning up to lying about the meeting will lead to a discussion of the actual meeting and that...

You're not sure why you're so convinced that ignorance is what you should be striving for. After all, everything you heard about the Jedi's current situation was unconfirmed, too recent and closed off to have reached even the top leader's of your home. But if it's true and he's really reaching out to you after such tragedy and acting casual in a way that makes it feel like you've never met him before.

You're also too aware of the fact that while you do feel the need to be alert, you're not afraid. This would be easier if you were. "How do you know that?"

Instead of sounding as closed off as you want to, genuine curiosity bleeds into the question.

"The same way we can see each other." Another step, this one less subtle. "I can teach you, if you'd like."

If he can tell when you're lying, there's not much point in saying no without a reason because despite yourself, you would like to know how. Who wouldn't? "I think I'm missing certain abilities."

His eyebrows draw together, and for a brief second you get a glimpse of something a little more familiar and a lot easier to accept. "I wouldn't be too sure."

Okay, now you know something's up with him. A breezy half-laugh escapes you. "Come on." Maybe that was his way of releasing some of the tension. His expression doesn't waiver. "Okay." If he wants to act strange, fine, but he's not going to convince you that you're like him in anyway. "What makes you say that?"

A beat passes and then another. If he had behaved like he usually does, you might have even considered the silence a sort of hesitation. "You're the one that reached out to me."

Another breathy, almost nervous laugh slips out. "Even if I had wanted to speak to you, I wouldn't have known how."

"You found a way."

There are only so many things you can believe from him. He's an invasive stranger that you've decided to accept in your life out of desperation for an outlet of escape. "That's impossible." He's closer now than you remember him being a second ago. That's almost enough to derail your train of thought. "The--the only thing I was thinking about was how much I wanted to be alone."

"You say that every time."

Pressing your lips together, you give yourself permission to let his words sink in. Every time you've seen him, it's after deciding that you want nothing to do with anyone ever again. "Then I guess you have impeccable timing."

He's so close now that you could extend an arm to touch him....if you wanted to. He angles his chin downwards slightly, "I can teach you."

Warmth begins to crawl up your chest. His assistance is another thing that should scare you. You're not like him...you can't be and even if you were, it'd have to be a secret that you take with you to the grave. And even if you are, why does it matter to him? "Why?"

He's unfazed by your abrasive tone. "I can see it."

"There's nothing to s--"

"You want more than this." You swallow once in an attempt to get rid of whatever's lodged itself in your throat. Maybe there is no such thing as being able to be fully honest with anyone, no matter how disconnected from your life they may seem. "I can help you."

Some halfhearted correction tries to pry itself out of your mouth even though there's no point. "I don't--we don't even know each other." You keep your poster rigid. "I don't even know your name."

His lips part. Whatever response he was planning on giving you is cut off before he can even start by the quick knocking against your door. Your head initially snaps towards the door. "..Are you in there?" Another rush of soft knocks. "Your father's waiting for you, he wants to debrief the last meeting."

Your let your head fall forward again with an instinctual sigh. By the time your eyes settle where they were before, he's gone.