

Ugh I was the other person in both of your scenarios. I had a scintillating shiny rainbow pencil that this dickhead in my class took one day. I saw him writing with it and said “hey, that’s mine!” He protested and said it was his.
It literally had my name on it, embossed in gold lettering.
I called our teacher over, and by then he had scraped my name off by rubbing it against the desk. I told the teacher that my name USED to be there, but he had scraped it off.
She told me there’s no way to prove he didn’t bring it in, and let him keep it.
I had a big pack of them that was gifted to me, so it wasn’t REALLY that big of a deal. BUT THE PRINCIPLE OF IT ALL
I didn’t have a safe place to have sex with my partner when I was 17 (doors must be open when we’re together, no sleepovers) so we fucked in the middle of a park, in an open field. It was definitely a memory, but probably wasn’t the safest thing to do.