#i want to hear what my english teacher thought of what ive done and sit in the library and come home and talk poetry - poetry!!- and i get

[sodadrabbles]

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth. 

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine. 

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back. 

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team. 

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo x y/n #request #anon #cc!ranboo x reader #cc!ranboo x you #cc!ranboo x y/n

[crowrelli]

go off king! let us hate her with you!!

To preface this, Miss G was not some cranky old lady with years of breaking 'bad students'. She made it very clear this was her second year out of college and out of being a teaching aid. She was suuuper young compared to all the other 6 grade teachers. Okay okay okay so. Ill probably reblog or edit this with more bc the wicked witch literally tormented me but these are just the most memorable- so here we go:

Every day we were assigned a daily learning sheet where we'd come in, work on some problems given to us at the start of the week, and warm up for class. Well, my school had a rewards policy called Snow Bears- in english, if you lost or forgot your sheet, you could buy a new one with a snow bear no questions asked. So, me being a tip top student, had been in the er all night for mental health stuff and forgot my bookbag at home. I came into class and asked her to please deduct a snow bear from me so i could have a sheet. She said no, go sit down and do your DLS. I explained to her again that i didnt have a dls and needed a new one. She said no, sit down and do your dls. I went and sat down, confused. After another minute i went and asked her again. Same response, this time bitchier. This went on for 15 MINUTES. finally she told me i was getting an F that day for refusing to do my dls. I went back to my desk, crying mind you, and snapped (this is crucial) my own mechanical pencil. She saw me dispose of it in the trash, started screaming, got me emergency removed from school with a suspension and a talk from police for... Get this.... "Breaking Of School Property."

She pulled me out of the line for school pictures to deliver me to my equally terrible and mean choir teacher. He told me i would amount to nothing, i was awful, stupid, obnoxious, disgusting, full of excuses, and finally: that i would probably be dead by 30. (All because my adhd adjustments said i was allowed to doodle in his class as long as i participated) I started crying and having a full on panic attack so he sent me back to Miss G and she, upon hearing me through wails, say i was going to be ugly for my school photos said "Oh dont worry. I think you look better like this!" In a cheery voice before shoving me back in line.

She sat me and the biggest bully ive ever faced in the desks right in front of her. I mean like. Barely a foot. His chair would scrape her desk occasionally. But she would just watch as he slammed my head into my desk multiple times. As he continuously called me fat and disgusting and told me to kill myself over and over for months. She literally laughed when he said "theres so many blackheads on your face you could make a life size copy of you. Thats saying something bc youre a lardass."

I saved up and begged my grandmother for months to get a yearbook for the first time ever bc i knew we'd be moving to a different school for 7th grade. I was so so excited the day they came in. I did like everyone else and gave them out to sign on the last day. Miss G went out of her way to give my book to a known bully and handed him a red sharpie. When i got my book back every. Single. Page. Was covered in red scribbles and insults. Every. Single. Page. Ugly, fat, worthless, stupid, etc. It was ruined. And when i went to her crying about it she just chuckled, flipped through the pages, and said "Oh so thats what he used my sharpie for."

She called me a wimp for throwing up when a friend accidentally stapled their hand n got blood on me.

She lived in the apartments right around the block from school, and also on my way home when i walked, and would frequently watch from a distance as i was bullied. One time, when things got really bad; a kid in my class thought id insulted his little sisters bag when i was riding by on my bike n said "nice bag!!" Bc i rlly liked the show it was from. Well him and a bunch of his friends pulled me off my bike as i was riding by and started to beat and kick me on the ground. I was even stabbed in the back by some scissors in my bag during one of the kicks. Instead of interrupting of pulling them off me, she asked them to let her by so she could get into her apartment. A couple minutes after the guys had left and i was still a crying puddle on the ground, a cop showed up, dragged me up by my clothes, and said a lady called in saying id instigated a fight i couldnt handle and needed to be picked off the pavement. My bike was ruined bc one of the dudes hit it with a brick so the cop had to drive me home. Upon my grandmother opening the door and explaining my side of things through tears and blood, she just sighed, motioned me in, and just said "What did you do to make them want to hit you?"

When we were all packing up for our final goodbyes to 6th grade and our elementary life she pulled me aside, hugged me against my verbal and physical wishes, and said "I hope there's no hard feelings between us. Yknow. Despite everything youve done in my class."

#trigger warning #content warning #blood tw #bullying tw #injury tw #major trigger warning #she made my 6th grade year absolute hell.. #body shaming tw

[grace30102]

Please.... be my bestfriend

Chapter 1: New days

If I had one wish, I'd go back and live life all again. Although this time I'd choose where id go and who I'd love.

Since I was a child I loved south korea and dreamt that one day id have the opportunity to live there. Everything captivated me, the music, the cuisine. But I think what really drew me in truly was their attitude towards plastic surgery. You see, as a baby i was born with a birthmark, a port wine stain birthmark right across my lips and left ear. Growing up in the uk, it isn't the norm to have gone through 2 surgeries by the age of 14 to get them removed. Plus the bullying definitely didn’t help. But by 15 i had had enough, i wanted to go somewhere where i felt i belonged and wouldnt be ridiculed for the issues i had with my self-image. So with alot of Korean practice and alot of persisting to my mother...i was on my way to korea.

“please be good to your host family, they're letting you into their home so make sure to be clean!”

“yes mum, i know, i will”

“make sure to text us on the plane and when you get off and when your coach comes and...”

“mum, i will, everythings gunna be great. I know it”

“i know, but its a different country and you know how i worry”

And she does worry, alot...too much for her own good. I'd know id miss them but this is truly what i wanted to do. I could tell my dad was getting nervous for me, but never said too much to me that day. I think he knew that if he spoke, his voice may crack, so he kept it to hard short sentences..

“right honey, lets let her go”

“okay okay, be good, love you so much, be safe”

“i will love you too”

And like that, i was gone.

Honestly i LOVE travel. I dont know where it started or why, but i loved the idea od sitting on a plane for hours by myself. I think it has something to do with music and finding just that right mixture of joy and meditation. I slept most of the way there, knowing that when i arrived it would probably be almost 5 in the morning and id have school a few hours later.

By the time i landed in korea i was shaking, not only because it was extremely cold, but because i was so scared. I wished to have good friends here. That maybe being here was where i was meant to be.

On the couch the landscape was incredible, to be honest it wasnt alot different from where i lived. But sooner we travelled further into the city of seoul, the scenery changed and as well so did the pace of my heartbeat.

I was dropped off at a small building complex with my bags. Not more than 6 flats where in this building and all not looking too big. My host family were at number 3, so i plucked up my tired feet and all the confidence i had left in order to greet my new roomates with a bright smile.

“hello, im y/n. Its a pleasure to meet you”

“ah finally, yes, nice to meet you. Come in”

Okay...od but whatever. We wont judge her tone too harshly. Maybe she's tired, i means its only 7am.

“thankyou so much for letting me stay in your home this year”

“yes okay, here you are. Breakfast is in the top shelf. Dinner is at 8. Curfew 9.”

Idk why she said the fist part in English but okay....she opened a door just next to the front door, turned on the light and walked away.

Well...okay then. The room was..not huge...well it wasnt really medium either. It was quite small. Kinda like a bike closet. But whatever, it will do for this year. I don't take up much space. Plus, I'll be cleaner if the rooms smaller. Though...the bike and rack of coats crowding the space wasnt really helpful. But at least the window was pretty. There was a little withered What i think was a rhododendron. ..But i might be wrong.

“dont worry little fella, we’re gunna grow nice and strong”

I couldnt really eat i was so scared for school. I had to pick up my uniform there so i figured it wouldnt hurt to be early. The school was about a 40 minute walk but i kinda enjoyed it...again..i like travel. By the time i got there, the gates were open. No one was around so i guess that was a good thing that i wasnt sticking out too much. I had an idea of where the front office was due to prior phone calls with some of the staff who were eager for me to arrive. One of these teachers was miss. Joun. She was very excited about me coming over and having a foreign exchange student from the uk. I guess i was the first British person they've had in a while?

It wasnt long before i met her in person, her smile was infectious and exactly what i imagined it to be. He helped me with my uniform and personally dropped me to my first class of the day.

Not too much happened in class, everyone welcomed me nicely and cheered for me but after that it seemed really hard to talk to someone. My anxiety was getting the best of me and i knew i had to be confident and at least attempt some talk. But the words just didnt come out. Lunch rolled around fast, but that wasnt really that much fun either. I didnt really sit with anyone and i was shaking like a mad man..so that wasnt helping. I kept hearing the word “pig”. I knew i wasnt as skinny as alot of the other girls im the school..but it was only because of the puppy fat. I dont know, maybe i was a little chubby. Ive never really thought about it too much before.

School seemed to move slower after that and i was actually feeling a little relieved to be walking home again. Though i found a little bench outside a park on my way back and decided to do a little extra korean before i got back. Maybe id try to make my new host family laugh or want to spend time with me. I dont know.

By 8 i was starving. The house was empty when i got home so i resided in my room till i had the confidence to venture out for food. I was half hoping someone would knock and call me sweetly . But alas nothing. When i reached the kitchen they were all there cleaning up their plates. I kinda felt like crying. But then again i couldnt blame them. I was knew here, i didnt know their schedule.

“hello, good afternoon”

“heres dinner”

The wife had but down a small plate infront of me with what looked like a few overdone kimchi pancakes and an apple. Not gunna lie i was kinda confused. But thanked her none the less. This was my fist encounter with the husband.

“hello, its nice to meet you, i’m y/n”

“hello, lin-ah i want a beer”

Well..okay . And just like that they both left me to watch the tv. Their son was still at the table studying. So i tried not to disturb him with my eating. Wwhen i was done i wasnt sure what to do with the plate.

“excuse me, what should i do”

“what are you saying, clean it”

Okay kinda rude. But sure. I did just that.

I went back to my room quicker than i thought was possible. I kinda just wanted to sleep. Today wasn't the best, but hey, it was a big one, an important one. It didnt have to be good by other people. You made it here. And that's all that mattered.

#jimin #bts angst #kim namjoon imagine #yoongi #kim namjoon #park jimin #jung hoseok #park jimin imagine #jungkook #V #seokjin jhope #jin #hoseok #btsxreader #ot7 #polybts #poly #jhope #rm #suga #taehyung #jk #be my bestfriend #please #please.... be my bestfriend

[dirtyahs]

What Are We? (Tate Langdon x Reader)

HELLO IM BACK JESUS CHRIST IM SORRY IVE BEEN SO ABSENT LIFE IS KIND OF KICKING MY ASS BUT IM DOING MY BEST!! I LOVE ALL OF U FOR BEING SO KIND AND PATIENT <3

This was requested by my pal @stellaholland i luv u so much bby i hope u enjoy :,)

Word Count: 4,814

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing (sexual and nonsexual), kinda fluffy at the end! (take that lightly, i dont write fluff well lmfao)

   You stood in front of your closet, continuously searching through the clothes as if something new was going to appear. You pulled a black skater dress off of the hanger and slipped it over your head, looking in your mirror, only half satisfied with the way it looked.    "You're just trying on the same dress in different colors, it's not that hard to pick one." You jumped when you heard a voice behind you, turning around to see none other than Tate. Your family had moved into the house about seven months ago. Both your mother and father were some kind of twisted horror fanatics, so they purchased the house knowing full well you'd be the owners of "Murder House." It was strange to get adjusted to at first, it's like living with ten other people, but only sometimes. Tate made himself visible the most out of everybody.    "How long have you been sitting there? Fuckin' creep." You scoffed, sitting on the edge of your bed to put on a pair of black boots.

"Long enough." He smirked at you, standing up to walk to your desk, flicking through your notebooks.    You saw Tate most often, but frankly, he was the last person you cared to see. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and overall just kind of a douche. You'd come home from school to see him laying in your bed listening to your music. Or you'd wake up in the middle of the night to things falling off of your bookshelf, furniture moving with no one being there. It was always him though. It's like he got off on just screwing with you; so he did. Quite often. Everybody else in the house was decent. Nora was sweet, she just cried a lot. Which was fair given her situation. Chad and Patrick were both okay individually, but when they were together, they were beyond irritating. Just so incredibly passive aggressive - you couldn't imagine being stuck in a house for eternity with someone you wanted to divorce.    You stood up, smoothing out your dress before grabbing your small bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your parents had decided everyone was going to go out on a nice lunch today.    "Can you get out? I'm leaving." You pushed past him, opening your door and motioning him to walk out. 

"I can never get out, angel." He said, sounding just as conceited as ever, making his way to the door, leaning against the wooden frame. "But I guess I can leave you to your little lunch date with mommy and daddy." He teased you condescendingly. You'd done your best to not let him bother you, but he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

"Thanks for being so kind, Tate." You gave him the sweetest smile you could manage, slamming your bedroom door when the two of you had exited. 

ii.    You'd finally gotten home a few hours later. Your parents were very good at starting conversation with every server you'd ever had. They get talking, and then the server gets talking and it seems to last forever. They do always get some kind of discount or something free for being kind though. Your mom had been a server for a decent part of her life, so she was always extra nice to them.        Telling them you had homework to work on, you made your way upstairs to your room, hearing music coming from behind the door. Just as you suspected, Tate was sprawled out on your bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed. You sighed and walked over to your bed, smacking Tate's side.

   "Can you get the fuck out? I have homework to do." You hissed. You definitely weren't going to do homework though. You'd probably end up reading, or watching YouTube or something - but Tate didn't need to know that part. His eyes opened slowly, and you felt like you couldn't look away. He looked angelic (ironically.) His blond curls spread messily around his head, face peaceful, and most importantly, he wasn't talking, which made him look amazing. Without a word, he moved over to one side of the bed, making room for you on the other.

    "Tate, I mean it, get out. I've got shit to do." You tried to sound strong - however, you weren't very threatening.

"Whatever you've got to do, just do it quietly." He mumbled, eyes closing once again. Looks like you weren't going to be getting him out of your room. With that, you grabbed the book you've been reading and took a seat at your desk chair, kicking your boots off and putting your feet up on the desk. Your dress fell just a bit to reveal part of your upper thigh. Within minutes, you heard quiet snoring coming from the boy in your bed, blankets pulled up to his chin now. How he managed to make himself so comfortable in your room remained a mystery. It was his room first, technically though. You looked up from your book to see him snuggled tightly under the dark purple duvet, lips parted just slightly. 

You couldn't take your eyes off of him - he looked so  peaceful and quite beautiful honestly.     No - what the fuck are you thinking? You thought to yourself. You don't like Tate - you haven't since the day you moved into this house. He was rude and condescending and way too overly confident. He might be nice to look at, but that's all he had going for him. You had to shut those thoughts down immediately. You shook your head and picked your book up again, returning to the chapter you were reading. iii.    "Why are you going to school? Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" Tate teased, leaning against your door frame, blocking you from leaving. He'd been there since you woke up, but he wasn't going to tell you that part. He'd watched you strip out of your pajamas and slide into your hip hugging denim jeans. He enjoyed seeing you - there was something so erotic to him about just watching you go about your normal routine. Not only was it erotic for him, he just liked to watch you. He was fascinated with the way you'd wing your eyeliner, or paint your lips your favorite pink nude. He liked seeing the way you'd quietly sing to yourself in the morning. Most people that moved into that house were terrified of him and everyone else there. You and your family were so different for him. Tate hadn't felt accepted probably ever in his life. Being accepted, and even admired was such a new feeling for him.     

"No, Tate I wouldn't. I need to go to class today." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and crossing your arms. He had that stupid smirk stuck to his face. Today, it was hard to tell him no. He did this every few days, and you always pushed past him without a second thought. Today, you kind of wanted to stay home with him. But you couldn't. You'd always done well in school, and it was something you took pride in. So you did what you always did and pushed past him, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you walk away. 

"Your ass looks cute in those jeans!" He called, blowing you a kiss oh-so sweetly. Your heart jumped a bit with his words.    You sat in the cold blue plastic chair, resting your head in the palm of your hand as your English professor babbled on about the assigned reading. The assigned reading that Tate wouldn't let you finish. You were sat in your bed, legs crossed at your ankle trying to finish the chapter. You looked up to see none other than your blond haired nuisance. He was wearing torn up black jeans and Doc Martens. You had the same pair. He crawled over the iron swirls of your bed frame, and laid next to you - uninvited. He tried to talk to you about whatever he could - about your book, about your boots, about himself, about how good he thought you looked in a denim mini skirt. His flirting was always sarcastic. At least it seemed that way. No matter how sarcastic he was though, somehow his words always made your heart flutter. No matter how much you tried to suppress it.    "(Y/N)? Can you tell me what happened to our main character in chapter 7?" Your teacher had her arms crossed over her chest, pulling you from your little fantasy - you just zoned out in class thinking about Tate fucking Langdon? Really?   

"I-well Mrs. Sanchez..." You stammered, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, cheeks turned an almost electric red. How the hell did you get so carried off thinking about a boy you thought you couldn't stand? 

 "Please pay attention, all of this is important." She said, clearly unhappy with you. You were one of her favorite students, but she had almost ridiculously high expectations of you. Oh well, you thought, she'd forget about it tomorrow.    You closed your front door behind you. It was about 3 o'clock. Your mom and dad would be at work for another couple of hours. But you were sure you'd walk upstairs to find Tate curled up in your bed for his afternoon nap, just like you found him there every day. He was a bit predictable sometimes. You trudged up the stairs, desperately needing some alone time. You'd found yourself day dreaming about Tate more than once. You'd see something that reminded you of him, and you'd feel your heart jump in your chest. You'd thought about the little freckle on his nose, and the way he'd touch all his fingers to his thumb when he got a little nervous. You'd thought about the one time you walked into the bathroom to see him shirtless standing looking in the mirror. His jeans were unbuttoned and hung low on his hips. His muscular shoulders stiffened a bit when he saw your reflection.

"I-I..." You stuttered, unable to look away. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here." Your cheeks were beet red, voice audibly shaking.     "That's okay," He turned around and took a few steps towards you. "You can walk in on me like this whenever you want. It seems like you're liking what you see." He growled, his hand moved to rest against wall next to your head.    You sighed and threw your bag to the floor, kicking your shoes off quickly. That memory ignited something in you and you couldn't deny the wetness forming between your thighs. Swiftly, you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, crawling into your bed. You hooked your phone up to your speaker, playing your "Steamyyyyy" playlist, as if you'd ever been with more than one person before. You ran one finger down your chest, to your stomach, finally reaching your black panties, one finger rubbing light circles over your clothed clit. You let out a throaty sigh, gradually picking up speed. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back onto the black silk of your pillow case. You pushed the fabric to the side, your fingertip finally making skin to skin contact with the little bundle of nerves held between your soaking folds. Your lips remained parted, letting out desperate little whimpers every few seconds. Your free hand gripped at the sheets as your finger worked faster, whimpers eventually turning into loud moans. You hadn't been alone to do this in so long - honestly, you'd forgotten what it felt like. As alone as you felt, you logically knew you were never alone in this house. Tate was sat in your desk chair, a distinct protrusion pressing against his light wash jeans. His jaw hung open as he watched you, in shock over how beautiful you looked.Your mind was running with thoughts of none other than him; you thought about his fingers working you like this, his large hands caressing your skin, his full lips pressing kisses into your neck.     

"Tate..." You gasped, fully immersed in your fantasy, feeling that familiar tighten in your tummy, your fingers moved harder almost instinctively. Tate sat there, quiet. You'd finally rendered him speechless. His name fell from your lips several more times. His hand clapped over his mouth to hide his whimpers as you made his cock twitch against his boxers. Truthfully, he'd fantasized about you more times than he cared to admit. Seeing you like this was just a happy accident. He'd walked into your room with the intention to scare you, throw some stuff off of your shelves to mess with your head. But he stopped outside the door, hearing muffled moans. He opened the door slowly, eyes widening when he saw what you were doing.     Suddenly, the coil inside of you snapped and your legs started shaking. Your jaw hung agape, nails digging into the soft fabric beneath you.     

"Oh- fuck! Tate..." You hissed loudly, guaranteed that someone, somewhere in the house heard you. But, it was just Tate. He now stood at the end of your bed, watching as you soaked your fingers, his hand gently palming himself through his jeans. Once you'd finally ridden out your orgasm, you pulled your fingers from their spot between your legs, sighing deeply, satisfied. Your eyes finally opened and you looked around - still no one. Part of you was surprised Tate wasn't there to make fun of you. It was in that moment that you realized how loudly you'd been saying his name. You literally gotten off to him. He'd invaded your thoughts throughout the day and now he was doing it again in your only alone time. God dammit. You sighed and leaned up in your bed, rubbing your eyes. You couldn't keep playing this game with him - you needed to ask him what the hell his goal was. You needed to see what he felt for you. 

   You stood up and slid back into your jeans from earlier, making your way to your bathroom down the hall. The closer you got, you could hear a voice coming from inside. Your hand met the coolness of the door knob, but you stopped, feeling your knees weaken when you realized what you were hearing. From the other side of the door came strained grunts. Your heart was racing but you couldn't pull away. You pressed your ear against the door, the voice getting louder and louder. 

"(Y/N)," the voice hissed - your suspicions were confirmed, it was Tate. "I-I'm gonna' cum..." He hissed, letting out a loud, relieved moan. Your mind was racing, desperate to see what he looked like in that moment. Moments later, you heard the zipper of his jeans and quicker than you meant to, you began your little run down the hall and down the stairs, no doubt he heard your foot falls. Your heart was going to jump out of your throat, you were sure of it. It was your own fault for thinking you'd ever have any kind of alone time in this house. Tate never left you alone - he saw you. He had to. There was no way that was a coincidence. You opened he fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to occupy yourself. You jumped when you saw two hands on either side of your head, making contact with the fridge. Speak of the devil.

   "Tate! You-you scared me." Whether he saw you or not, it was clear that something had you frazzled.    

"Can we talk?" His voice sounded deep, gravelly, almost like when he'd just woken up. You finally turned around and looked up at him. His hair was a bit messy, cheeks tinted a pale pink.    

"Yeah, about what?" Your voice shook with your words, hands clasped tightly in front of you. You looked up at him as he pushed his body closer to yours.    

"No need to act like you don't know what you heard." He growled, chest pressed tightly to yours. "And I'm not going to act like I didn't see you soaking your sheets thinking about me."

His dark eyes looked bright. He got some kind of thrill out of embarrassing you. You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic back, but no sound came out. Tate being this close to you was making your heart race, you didn't have the overwhelming urge to shove him away like you normally would.   

"I think," He whispered, lips ghosting yours, "You like when I tease you." He smirked, one hand moving down your side to your hip. "Why don't you tell me what you were thinking about, hm baby girl?" His lips brushing yours forced an unintentional moan from your throat, cheeks flushing almost instantly.    "I-Tate..." You were mesmerized. He had you in the palm of his hand and it excited him. "I wasn't thinking about you." You tried to lie, realizing just how dumb you sounded after the words came out.     

"Oh Tate," He raised his tone to mock you, "Fuck me, Tate." He chuckled down at you. "Nothing to be embarrassed about doll, I know you heard me saying your name just like that too." He gave your hip a firm squeeze. 

"After what, nine months in this house, I think it's time you live your fantasies." 

He held you tightly in his hands, spinning you two around so you were pressed against the edge of the counter top. You had nothing to say. Honestly, you were unbelievably excited. You'd thought about his hands touching your skin, his lips on yours, you've wanted this longer than you cared to admit. Your hand came up to hold one side of his face, taking a fistful of his hair and kissing him - hard. His lips worked against yours perfectly, feeling as if they were made to fit together. He got rougher, not hesitating to take control of you. He pushed you firmly against the cool marble behind your back, lips moving from yours down your jaw and to the soft skin on your neck. His kisses started gentle, but quickly got aggressive, nipping at the skin, leaving purple marks in his wake.

You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, feeling him smirk against your skin before he pulled back to tug the gray fabric over his head, showing you his slightly toned torso. Your heart rate picked up once again as you looked him up and down. 

   "Your turn, angel." He cooed softly, watching as you followed his actions, tossing your tank top to the side. He smirked at you, using both hands to grope at your exposed chest, pressing possessive kisses to your chest.    

"I've always loved it when you don't wear a bra." He teased you, his playful, mocking tone returning.

"It's much more obvious than you think." He smirked and tweaked one nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, making you whimper from the slightly satisfying jolt of pain. You leaned your head back, allowing your eyes to shut as his tongue replaced his fingers, flicking over your nipple. Your lips were parted, letting out quiet gasps of pleasure. His now free hands moved down your sides and to your jeans, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your thighs. You kicked them aimlessly to the forming pile of clothes on he floor.

His kisses started moving south, trailing them down your breasts, to your stomach, to your hips, finally reaching the thin cotton fabric that was now soaked between your legs. One of his hands came up to lift your leg over his shoulder, his lips pushing a few light kisses against your clothed pussy. You whimpered, desperate for him. You'd never admitted it to yourself, but Tate has always a central theme in your fantasies. He'd force his way into your thoughts without you even realizing it, and after you were done, you'd push it away and pretend like you'd thought about someone else. You didn't want to be attracted to someone as annoying and immature as Tate, but now he had his head between your thighs and you had no intention of stopping it.

   He'd pushed the thin fabric aside, flicking his tongue against your clit just once, to make you moan out in pleasure.         

"Stop teasing me, dick head." You half whimpered, half challenged him. You did want him, so badly, but you couldn't let him see just how wrapped around his finger you really were. With your words he roughly pulled your hips forward, forcing a harsh smack to your ass.    

"I like you much more when you're just moaning my name." He growled, but he listened to you. His lips attached to your clit and he began sucking lightly, not hesitating to push two fingers into your wet heat, making you squeal in pleasure. It'd been a long time since someone else's fingers had penetrated you, and somehow Tate was fucking amazing at it. He curled his fingers perfectly in rhythm with the way his mouth worked your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter top, knees growing weak. You felt that tight heat rising in your tummy, his fingers and tongue getting you so close to release, much quicker than you ever did by yourself.     

"Tate- I'm gonna-" He stood up, smoothly lifting you up onto the counter, keeping your leg slung over his shoulder.    

"You're cumming on my cock." He growled dominantly, his eyes looking dark and almost feral. He kicked his jeans and boxers to the side, completing the pile of your clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he stroked his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance, pushing into you painfully slowly. You looked up at him, taking in his features. His jaw hung open a bit, blond curls hanging in his eyes. He looked as perfect as someone possibly could. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he looked up, beginning to thrust into you, starting slow and picking up gradually. 

   "Fuck-" He hissed through gritted teeth, "You're so fucking tight." His hands rested on the counter on either side of your hips, fingertips turning white from how hard he pressed into the surface. He kept up a steady pace for awhile before you felt his hips stutter - he was close. He brought one hand up and began rubbing fast circles over your clit, making your legs tremble around him.    

"Cum with me, angel." He growled, fingers picking up their pace, your lips barely brushing his as you felt that tightness return. Your jaw hung open now as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You watched his fingers and hips work in time against you, when all of a sudden you felt him release, covering your walls with his hot cum, forcing the coil in your tummy to snap. You came with him, nails digging into his shoulder, knees feeling weak before it was even over. You watched his face relax once he was finished, chest rising and falling quickly. He looked up at you through his hair, flashing a faint smile. He pulled out of you slowly, pressing a loving kiss into your cheek before bending down to dig through the pile of clothes to find his boxers. He slipped them over his legs, followed by his jeans, but you stayed in your spot on the counter.    "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He looked at you, jeans resting low on his hips.    "You get on my fucking nerves more than anything, and somehow you managed to have me up on this counter for you." You shook your head, blatantly in shock from what just happened. You didn't want it to end though. There was something about seeing Tate so vulnerable, yet so confident that just left you wanting more. He smirked, pulling his shirt over his head and shrugging.    "Neither of us are complaining." He smirked, tossing you your shirt and helping you down from the counter. You pulled your tank top on, opening your mouth to respond when you heard the key turn in the door - your parents were home.    "This isn't over, Langdon." You hissed, grabbing your clothes before rushing up the stairs, accidentally slamming your door much harder than you intended.    A few weeks had passed since your encounter with Tate, and there had been a repeat of those events every few days. You two started to pick up on what the other one liked. Like how you enjoyed having your hair pulled and Tate enjoyed when you'd kiss his neck. He liked having you in control. For someone as confident and douchey he was, he liked having you dirty talking him, being the more dominant one occasionally. And god damn, that boy was always in the mood. You'd feel his hands on your hips when you'd brush your teeth in the morning, or when you were getting ready for bed, he'd kiss down your shoulders the way he knew you loved. But you didn't mind. If he wanted it, you were happy to drop what you were doing and sleep with him. It was a fun little arrangement.    It was late, probably around 2 A.M., Tate was laid next to you, a blanket covering him from the waist down, his arms behind his head. You looked over at him, feeling your heart race a little faster. The more time you spent with Tate, the more you grew to appreciate him. He was funny, and charismatic. He'd make you giggle but then have you bent over your bed in the same minute. You couldn't help but miss the feeling of him when you slept alone in your bed. He was always warm.    You pulled the blanket tighter around your chest as you leaned up on one elbow, looking over at his sleepy face.        "Tate can I ask you something? It's kind of dumb, but I just need to know." You felt nervous all of a sudden. You weren't even exactly sure what you wanted with him. Could you be in a relationship with someone who died in the 90's? Was that even what he wanted? What if he just wanted to be fuck buddies? Is that okay with you? Your brain was jumbled with all these thoughts, interrupted when he looked over at you, skin almost glowing in the dim light.    "What's up?" He looked up at you, his finger drawing lazy circles on his chest. You took a deep breath and visibly shifted, clearly uncomfortable.    "What are we?" You blurted out, cheeks going red immediately. "Because we- we fuck a lot. You're in my room a lot. You never let me be alone, and I just don't want to say something weird, or continue being in the dark I guess." Your voice trailed off before you collapsed down onto your back again, suddenly unable to look at him. He looked over at you though, you couldn't meet his eyes.    "What do you want to be?"    "No, don't put this on me. Answer my question."    He sighed, and you finally looked over at hi,.    "(Y/N)," He started, looking over your chest before looking back into your eyes. "Honestly, this started as sex." Your heart dropped. "But you're right, we have spent a lot of time together. I like being in here with you, regardless of what we're doing." He moved to cup one side of your face.    "I don't want to tie you down, ever. I can't leave this house, and I don't want you to be stuck here with me." You opened your mouth to cut him off, tell him that you were willing to be here with him, for however long he wanted, but he cut you off, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.    "How about this - you and me continue what we're doing here. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend here, but I won't be mad if you find someone else, out there." His words almost brought tears to your eyes. You hadn't felt cared for like this in so long, and to be here, this vulnerable and intimate made your eyes well up.    "Please just agree. If I could leave this house, I'd ask you to be mine right now, and I'd parade you around for everybody to see. But I can't do that, so we keep doing what we're doing, and see how things progress naturally." He flashed you a close mouthed smile, but it felt genuine nonetheless. One tear fell down your cheek, and you returned his smile.    "That sounds perfect to me. Boyfriend and girlfriend, kind of." You grinned before he pulled you into a kiss, hands wrapping around you to keep you in his arms - and you'd stay there as long as he wanted you to.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs1 #murder house #ahs murder house #tate langdon #ahs tate #ahs evan peters #evan peters #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon fanfiction #ahs imagine #ahs fanfiction #sarah paulson #ahs sarah paulson

[peaceisadirtyword]

Secrets IV (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: I wanted to post this yesterday, but I had to rewrite it because I didn’t like what I had done... I’m still not happy with this result, but I don’t know what to change anymore 😂 I tried to fix it at the end, but I don’t know if it worked. 

Thanks for all the messages and the support, you are the best💞 I hope you like this one!

Inspiration: This work was inspired by Griffenholm Confessionals a work by @laketaj24 @akamaiden @ivarsshieldmadien @ivarswickedqueen

Warnings: A bit of smut, Ivar is an asshole again, mentions of sex and violence, the Lothbroks are a warning themselves.

Words: 2966 

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

gif isn’t mine 

Ivar grabbed your hips, thrusting into you faster and faster, grunting into your ear. You arched your back, moaning loudly and closing your eyes. You were so close... His lips hovered over your neck, and suddenly you felt him biting your neck and gasped. Your nails dig on his shoulders, pulling his body closer to yours. The muscles of his back moved under your fingers. It was delicious. 

You moaned his name clenching your legs around his waist. God, his voice sounded even better when he moaned into your ear.

And then you woke up. 

It was the middle of the night, and you were sweating, panting and tangled in your sheets. Oh fuck. 

You couldn't believe you dreamed with Ivar. 

You unlocked your phone. It was three in the morning, and you didn't feel like going back to sleep. 

Elise was sound asleep, and you couldn't just wake her up to talk to her... And of course you couldn't tell her you had a wet dream with Ivar. 

You got up from your bed, taking a hoodie and your warm, furry boots. It was cold outside, but as hot as you were in that moment, you could have been in shorts in the middle of the North Pole. 

You walked out of the room, putting on your hoodie and closing the door behind you. You really needed to cool down. 

__________________________

"I've been trying to go to bed with her for a month, Ubbe, a fucking month" Hvitserk groaned "And the closest I got was touching her breasts under her shirt... I feel like I'm fifteen again"

"Thank god, finally one smart girl" Ubbe laughed "She probably knows you're an asshole, and that's why she's making it more difficult"

"That's why I have to go with Margrethe at least twice a week... I have my needs and she's not fulfilling them"

"She's not a machine whose only purpose in life is 'fulfilling your needs', Hvitserk"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

"Could you please shut up?" Ivar groaned from his bed "It's three in the morning, go to sleep"

"I can't sleep, Ivar, I'm horny"

"Ubbe, hold him down while I cut off his dick, let's see if he's horny after that"

"Ivar, no threats past midnight"

"I'm gonna text her" Hvitserk took out his phone, unlocking it. 

"I'm sure she's asleep" Ubbe raised a brow "Like normal people"

Ivar clenched his jaw, looking at the ceiling from his bed. He had spent the last three weeks looking at you. He even had problems to concentrate in Old Norse Mythology, his favorite class, that day you decided to wear your skirt a bit higher than usual. He had noticed the way you licked your lips before answering a question in class, and how you frowned and bit your lip in maths, whenever you didn't understand what the teacher was saying (which was, honestly, every single class). He had noticed your stares, too, and that was what bothered him the most. Surely, you looked at him with pity. Poor little Ivar, who cannot walk. 

He didn't like it. He hated the way you managed to get all his attention by only entering the room. The only time he had felt something like that was with Freydis... But you weren't her, you weren't his beautiful Freydis... He couldn't possibly like you. 

The fact that the last time he saw you you were in bed with his brother, with Hvitserk's hand under your skirt and your disheveled hair and swollen lips, panting and trying to fix your shirt, blushing when he entered the room... Didn't help.

Besides, he had to be focused. He had to help his father with those new alliances he was making in England as his older brother Björn was too busy traveling around southern Europe, Ubbe wasn't too interested in the family business, Hvitserk had his head in other things (usually, between Margrethe's legs) and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd in his opinion was stupid so he wouldn't be really useful. 

The future of his family depended on him, and he needed to have a cleared mind. 

"Don't tell her to come here" Ivar scoffed, turning around in his bed to face the window.

"Why do you hate Y/N so much?" Ubbe seemed amused "She never did anything to you, she was actually really nice"

"That's why, she's too nice, we shouldn't trust her" 

"She is the one who shouldn't trust us" Ubbe replied, sighing. 

__________________________________

"Another party?" You frowned, looking at Elise as she applied some make up "How many parties do they do?"

"They've only done two this year... Hasn't Hvitserk told you?"

"He texted me earlier but I didn't read his message" you shrugged "I think I'm staying here tonight"

"Why?" Elise stopped and looked at you, pouting "You said the same last time and you ended up having the best time ever" she smirked "Come on, Y/N!"

"I just don't feel like partying tonight, and I should study a bit"

"Are you seriously studying on a Friday night?"

You sighed, taking your textbooks out and sitting on your bed. 

"What about Hvitserk?" She insisted "Are you going to leave him alone?" 

"I'm sure he'll survive" you raised a brow.

The truth was, you had been avoiding him since you had that dream with Ivar. You felt really bad, hooking up with one brother and dreaming about fucking the other, and you hated that, whenever Hvitserk kissed you and you closed your eyes, you thought about Ivar. 

"Are you seriously not coming?" asked Elise, biting her lip. 

"No, go and have fun" you smiled "And if Hvitserk asks, just tell him I needed to catch up with maths"

"Okay... Can I borrow your blue top?"

______________________________

23:00. You hadn't been studying for more than an hour and you were already bored as fuck.

You unlocked your phone, sighing, maybe if you took a break...

Y/N, princess, are you coming to the party tonight?♥️

Come on, Y/N, come with me

I don't want to be alone tonight baby :(

I miss you

You bit your lip, feeling like the worst person in the world. How could you be obsessed with his brother when he was that cute with you?

And you had avoided him for days, not ever answering his texts... He had been really nice since you arrived, and you probably should give him some explanation. 

Surely, you'd feel better. 

Sighing, you closed the book, getting up and opening the wardrobe, taking out some hoodie and a pair of jeans. 

Okay, Y/N, you go, you talk to Hvitserk and you leave, you thought while taking off your pajamas and getting dressed. Don't drink.

The night was cold, and you shivered a little while you walked to the house. There was people drinking everywhere, and you honestly couldn't understand how could they be outside with that cold. 

Inside, you started looking for Hvitserk, which would probably be difficult because you could swear that the entire school was there. 

You saw Ubbe with Sigurd and some friends, but no trace of Hvitserk. 

"Y/N!" You heard your name, and turned around to face a very drunk Elise, dressed on your blue top and with a beer on her hand "You came! Let me guess, Hvitserk convinced you" she giggled, winking at you. 

"Something like that, yeah" you smiled "Have you seen him? I'm looking for him but I can't find him"

"I saw him going upstairs" she drunkenly leaned into you so you could hear her over the loud music "But be careful, Ivar is upstairs too"

You smiled and thanked her.

"See you later, have fun" she winked at you and let you go, giggling. 

No one dared to go upstairs, where it was said that the Lothbroks had some rooms for when they brought their flings. There was an empty corridor, with some doors at both sides. You couldn't hear anything, and you weren't going to start opening the doors randomly to try and find Hvitserk. 

Biting your lip, you took out your phone and unlocked it, opening Hvitserk's contact. 

Where are you? 

You waited some minutes, but he didn't reply. He was probably drunk, maybe smoking with Ivar in some room.  Maybe if you walked next to the doors you could hear them...

Finally, behind the last door of the corridor, you heard voices. Ivar's voice. 

He was speaking danish, and he sounded angry, as always. You pressed your ear against the door, trying to find out if he was talking to Hvitserk. 

"Well I don't have time to deal with that, kill him and end of it" Ivar changed to English. 

"It's not that simple, Ivar, if Aelle finds out that we have killed him..." another man, whose voice you didn't recognize, replied him. 

"What is he gonna do? He's just a boy, and he's trying to fuck with us, deal with him, teach Aelle I'm not my father"

"I think that a simple warning would make him learn his lesson"

"Fine, don't kill him, but I want him in the hospital tomorrow morning" 

You froze. What was he talking about? Who was that man? 

I hope this is a fucking prank, you thought, feeling a bit dizzy. 

During the last month, you had heard rumors about the Lothbroks; you'd heard that they were involved with the mafia, that they had deals with very dangerous people, that they trafficked with weapons and drugs... But you didn't really believed them. How could Ubbe and Hvitserk, as nice as they were, be involved with those things? 

The smartest thing would have been going downstairs, go back to the school and sleep, forget about that conversation and try to talk to Hvitserk. 

But no, you couldn't move. 

"Okay, I'll let you know when..."

Then a loud noise startled you. It was like something had fallen down. Immediately, the voices in the room stopped, and you looked down, gasping when you saw that your phone had slipped out of your hoodie's pocket, and was now on the floor. 

You picked it up quickly, but before you could turn around and run away, the door opened and you found yourself face to face with a really angry Ivar, glaring at you.

He grabbed your arm roughly, shoving you inside the room and slamming the door closed. 

Hvitserk wasn't in the room, and the man you had heard talking to Ivar was with his arms crossed and smirking down at you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ivar yelled at you shoving you against the wall, with a threatening glare. 

"You're the worst spy I've ever seen, love" the man laughed. He was blonde and had long hair, and was even a bit taller than Ivar. 

"I... Was looking for Hvitserk" you tried to escape Ivar's grip. 

He snatched your phone from your shaking hand, ignoring your protests. 

"She wasn't recording" Ivar relaxed a bit, tossing it across the room. 

"Why would I record? I didn't understand half of the things you said" you protested, glaring at him. 

"And why were you listening, hm?" His blue eyes were fixed on yours. 

"Ivar, I have to go, I'll call you later... Go easy on her" the blonde man chuckled, winking at you before disappearing through the door, closing it. 

"I was just looking for Hvitserk, I swear, I didn't mean to..."

"Well he's not here, were your parents too busy ignoring you to teach you that it's really rude to eavesdrop another people's conversation?"

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him.

"You are an asshole"

He smirked at your reaction, finally letting go of your arm. You rubbed your wrist, still glaring at him and looking around the room. 

It looked like a normal room, with a single bed, a wardrobe and a table. On the table there were some papers, photos and... Was that a gun? Your eyes widened, and you stepped back, trying to get to the door. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Ivar sat on the bed, leaving his crutch on the floor next to him. 

"Downstairs, I am going back to the school" 

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go this easy after finding you outside this room and listening to a private conversation?"

You tensed up, eyeing the gun. Ivar followed your eyes and laughed when he saw the gun. 

"Don't worry" he took it, making you flinch "That would be just in case you can't keep your mouth shut" he put in inside one drawer, closing it. 

You relaxed a bit, but still tried to get as far away from him as you could. 

"Ivar, I won't say anything, no one would believe me anyway" you sighed "Just let me go, please"

He sighed, licking his lips and smiling softly.

"Come here, Y/N"

Oh, he knows my name, you thought, sarcastically. 

You approached him slowly. He rolled his eyes impatient, and reached to grab your hoodie and pull you closer to him, making you gasp and put your hands on his shoulders to avoid falling down on top of him. 

You gulped. It was the closest you had been to him, and you couldn't help but blush furiously when you remembered the last dream you had with him. 

His hands went to the back of your knees, making you sit on his lap, straddling him. 

He looked so damn good, with his beautiful eyes lit up with mischief, a smile on his swollen lips and his hands on your waist, keeping you in place.

"My brother told me you wouldn't let him in your bed yet" he whispered, tilting his head to one side "Poor Hvitserk, he's suffering... Don't you feel bad for him?"

"Ivar..."

"Why?" He licked his lips "No one has ever resisted my brother's charms" he said in a mocking tone. 

"It's none of your business" you glared at him.

"What you heard earlier was none of your business either" he pressed his lips together "And you did it anyway..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, just let me go" you tried to get up, but he kept you in place. 

"I need to make sure you won't say anything" he replied, and before you could react, Ivar pressed his forehead against yours "And then you can go back to tease my brother's cock" 

Before you could smack his head away and tell him to fuck off, he kissed you, hard. 

You moaned almost immediately, closing your eyes and kissing him back. You felt him smirk into the kiss and as much as you wanted to whip that smile off of his lips, his mouth pressed against yours felt amazing. 

It was even better than your dream. 

His hands grasped your ass, making you grind against him, as he broke the kiss and his lips descended down your neck, nibbling and sucking at your soft spot. You tried your best to avoid moaning, but it was too much. 

His hands roamed over your body, under your hoodie. He massaged your breasts and smirked when you gasped. 

"Let's see if you let me go a bit more far than my brother" he muttered into your ear, his fingertips traveling down your belly and unbuttoning your jeans. 

He put his hand inside your jeans, making you moan loudly. 

The smartest thing would have been to smack his hand away, get up and walk out of the room. 

But you weren't being really smart that night. 

His fingers put your underwear aside, caressing your sex and pressing down on your clit. You moaned again, closing your eyes and moving your hips against his hand. 

And then he introduced two of his glorious fingers into you.

You gasped, tangling your hands into his hair and biting your lip. Ivar groaned, biting your neck roughly and making you whimper in pain. 

"You're tight..." He growled "Hvitserk would love this"

You wanted to protest, but you couldn't even speak.

His thumb massaged your clit as he curled his fingers, reaching your g-spot and making you cry out. 

"Can you take another one?" He whispered against your lips "Or are you too tight?"

You tensed up when he inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls. You gasped in pain, but pressed your body closer to him, still moving your hips. 

"Very good, love" he kissed you again, thrusting his fingers inside you slowly, and you moaned in reply. 

You were close. It was too soon, but you had wanted him for too long, and his husky and deep voice whispering into your ear, encouraging you to moan louder and louder for him. 

And just when you were about to cum, legs shaking and walls starting to clench even more, he stopped. 

You gasped, pouting and glaring at him. 

"Promise me you won't say anything" he told you grabbing your face and making you look at him "You will forget about what you heard earlier, won't you?"

"I won't tell anyone" you promised, whining "I will forget everything please just... Let me..." You moved your hips again, making him chuckle.

"What do you want, Y/N?"

"Make me cum" you begged "Please, Ivar..."

"You're so needy" he started thrusting his fingers again, rubbing your clit roughly.

You came moaning his name, arching your back and moving your hips desperately. 

Ivar helped you ride the orgasm, and then he took out his fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking on them while looking straight into your eyes. 

You blinked, still dizzy, and licked your lips just before he kissed you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

"Good girl, Y/N" he whispered, smiling "Now leave and forget about everything... Hvitserk's in other room, but I think he's not alone so.. Be careful".

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @cbouvier23 @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @memememememe1-blog @dreamtheraphy @rravenss @vikingalexthedane @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @thehanneloner @fuckthatfeeling 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I’ll try to post the next part on Friday, but I can’t promise anything because I’m traveling to Russia and I don’t know if I will have internet connection. If I can’t, I'll post it next Monday. 

Before leaving I’ll post an Ivar x Reader requested by @tephi101 (and I’ll try and post all of your ideas and requests in the following weeks💕)

#ivar imagine #ivar smut #vikings #vikings imagine #ivar x reader #modern vikings #vikings smut #modern ivar

[v-le]

Ktravels / Klife: After a year in korea Final Thoughts

Foreword: Surprise, surprise, procrastination got the best of me for quite some time. But im back. And for the last time. At least for the last time regarding my year-long study abroad experience in Korea. Here lies the last bits and pieces of my heart that left behind such a wondrous lifestyle in such a complex country.

--

I guess this will be the last of my “Korean” writings for a while. I think I kept holding off on this because I didn’t want to solidify the fact that my journey abroad is officially over. I guess even being home and everything still doesn’t make me accept reality. All I can keep thinking these days is that exactly a year ago, I was sitting around every day, waiting for my summer to end & for me to hurry up and end up in Korea & I kept asking myself over and over and over and OVER, ceaselessly: “I wonder how my life will change once I live there. I wonder what my life would be like over there”.

And what’s crazy, is that even though I kept desperately trying to grasp that fact so intensely a year prior to today, I still don’t have the answer as I sit here in this seat. I still don’t think I can properly express what my 10 month-ish experience was like. I feel just as contemplative as I did a year ago.

I think ive been holding off writing this mostly because I don’t even know what to say. Why don’t I have anything to say? Hmm.. or more like, I have so much to say that I don’t even want to begin. Because once I do, and then once I wrap it all up, everything will truly be all over. It’ll solidify the fact that my year abroad is all done for, never to come back to me ever again.

I think my final post of my study abroad IG account, the one I posted every single day for, enclosed my immediate, final thoughts and feelings really well. I mean, I literally wrote that on the plane flying home, sooooo…

Maybe I should start with addressing my goals I set for myself before I left, and how those goals panned out upon my return. Very vaguely, one of my main pursuits was to “become fluent in Korean”. Even to this day, im not exactly sure what that constitutes and by my standards, I don’t really know to what extent I wanted to improve based on that statement…. But, I guess I just really really really wanted to practice communicating more and essentially feel comfortable speaking, reading, writing, and listening in this completely foreign language. And I mean even prior to arriving, I had already known how to read Hangul for like 8 years. So in terms of reading, I just got to practice a looottt and just brush up on my speed & precision, I guess. Listening has also never been too much of a struggle: years of pure absorption and drowning myself in Korean in every form possible has taken me this far, to be quite honest. It was never anything intentional, I just held onto more and more words as the years went by. And quite frankly, I’m pretty damn proud of myself for that. I guess my point is that I unknowingly wanted to focus on improving my writing and speaking. Which sounds a bit futile, because what was the ultimate purpose in expanding on these skills? When I cannot even use them outside of Korea? Hm… I didn’t think that far. I just knew I wanted to improve. Or no, I don’t even think I had any real basis before arriving anyway. I just wanted to get exposed to that side of the language and make some sort of progress. Because I enjoy it that much.

I didn’t even know how to write the strokes of Hangul characters properly. No one had ever taught me. For years, for the small words or phrases I might’ve scribbled down for fun or doodled my notebooks with, I just wrote what I knew, like pictures. I still, to this day, don’t know the proper strokes lol. It kinda makes me feel noob, but o well, ive made it this far nonetheless. In terms of speaking, of course, I had absolutely no background. There had never been a chance to practice this skill… in fact, if there were one, if I did speak Korean at some point before going to Korea, I feel like that would’ve been really weird anyway… I wasn’t learning it formally in a classroom or anything, so if I were to try…. To god-knows-who…… I dunno,  that doesn’t seem right to me. There was just never a proper place and time for me to use any sort of spoken Korean, and that made sense. Because I had such a wide range of “skills” under my belt when it came to this language prior to arriving, none of it was… “official”? None of it was ever proper…..? I am not really sure which word fits best, but the fact that I had known everything I knew at that time from pure Korean media absorption, it bothered me a lot actually.

I wanted to learn formally. I wanted to learn properly. So, I didn’t hesitate to take the intensive Korean language course at Yonsei, one that was 4-6pm every day, Monday-Friday, for the entire semester. What I did hesitate with though, very greatly, and a little regretfully, was the level in which I started learning formal Korean. A part of me is regretful, but I think I know in my heart it was the better decision. Speaking Korean with the teacher on the day of the placement test was probably my first time ever really speaking full sentences aloud to someone else & I can sorta recall it with slight embarrassment. Okay not even slight, like a ton lol I was such a nooooobbbb… I still ammmmm….anyway, based on that day’s tests, the teacher deemed me as able to start in level 2. But I rejected him. I told him I wanted to start at level 1. Because ive never learned properly before, I felt the need to start from the beginning. He told me that level 1 would begin with each Hangul character, pronouncing them one by one, etc. He asked if I’d be okay with going over all of that, and I told him it was fine.

My level 1 class ended up being more of a level 1.5 & we went much faster than all the other classes and didn’t even start with the basics that I was originally warned of. But still, quite frankly, level 1 KLI was butts easy and I didn’t even need to study for anything to do well. For that, im pretty proud of myself. I’m not trying to brag, but I’m actually just very glad that my skills I arrived with were at least up to par enough that I could complete 1 without much struggle. What I was most grateful for was that I got out of KLI was a lot of grammar basics. A lot of these structures I recognized and have probably used on my own before, but I didn’t know the rules properly myself, until I finally learned them in KLI. So really, if I didn’t take level 1, I really think I would’ve lost out on that basic foundation needed for learning more advanced things. Granted, I probably could’ve covered a lot of those things in my own time if I searched for the proper resources and had a stronger motivation. But I never did that by myself. So, I sorttttt offfff, “wasted time” in level 1.

The next semester, level 2, was also not too difficult. Some concepts were definitely a bit more challenging and less intuitive, but nothing impossible to understand. Overall, my semester 2 at Yonsei was when my Korean grew to the heights that I had hoped for. If I improved about 10% during semester 1, then I would say I improved 115% in semester 2. I don’t even know what that means myself, but my point is that I had many many manyyy more real life, application opportunities to use Korean. The biggest factor being my participation in Powers, the badminton team at Yonsei, that semester. Aside from the 2729017 other things that Powers influenced that semester, language was a big thing. At some point, many of my teammates considered me the “American that is really good at Korean”, but like, the over-exaggeration is real. Although one dude consistently talked to me in only English for the longest time, once I met beloved 익안언니, that English-only image of me died and I communicated with everyone else the same way they already communicated with each other: in Korean. I know that sounds….like…. idk, not a really big deal. Like wow good for you, you could communicate in a foreign language with these people. But my biggest deal with it was that if it weren’t for me being in Powers, I would not have practiced speaking or expanded my vocabulary or just LEARNED as much as I have. ESPECIALLY meeting 익안언니 was such a blessing. Although she is from Taiwan, she is a grad student studying Korean language and culture which already implies that she is basically fluent in Korean. And me, knowing absolutely no Chinese but at least having half-assed Korean skills, we only ever communicated in Korean from day 1. Since the day we met, the day she came up to me and asked if I wanted to warm-up with her and asked if I was a foreigner or not, and then revealing that shes actually a foreigner, too. That made us automatically click, because we realized we could both speak without feeling wary of sounding dumb or making mistakes in front of a REAL Korean person. Granted, other teammates always heard a lot of our conversations and sometimes joined in, too. The main point was that speaking Korean in that sense, was the best experience I could’ve asked for. Others may think the most ideal would be, y’know, a real Korean person. But, why be picky when the point is that I got to practice.

By the end of semester two, I had a kinda random idea, fueled by a conversation I had with a KLI classmate. She mentioned how she was studying for the TOPIK 2, the intermediate-advanced Korean fluency test for foreigners, and she decided to take it in Korea versus America because she heard it was easier and the 65th one would be held in Korea while she was there anyway. Upon hearing this, I only vaguely knew about this test, I didn’t think it to be that big of deal, yet in my head I knew I was always impressed with foreigners when they would say something like “yeah I placed level 6 (the highest mark) on the topik”. And so, I looked more into the test myself, and I was like hmm maybe I should try it out myself. 익안언니 mentioned that she actually needed to (re)take it too because her score from her last test is expiring soon. So very last minute, we decided to take it together. It costed money, but that was expected. I debated a lot in the beginning whether or not to take TOPIK 1 or 2, aka easy vs hard, but I decided to just fuck it, I just gotta make sure I study for reals and have more faith in my skills lol.

Im glad I made the right decision. I didn’t study as effectively for the test as I would’ve liked, but I did what I could given my circumstances. I was shooting for level 3. I at least wanted a LEVEL out of the test, not a blank score, which is what would be given if you can’t even manage the minimum level 3 out of the TOPIK 2. That test seriously HURT my brain LOL. As you get towards the end of each section, it gets ridiculously hard and there were 2475830 words I did not understand at all and the mere rows of sentences eventually turned into huge walls of text that filled the paper all the way to the edges  and o gosh, just imagine how brain frying those sorts of exams can be HAHAHAH.

In the end, I placed level 5. I was 8 points away from level 6. I was honestly very shocked and to this day, I think I just owe my score to me doing a good job at guessing correct answers, not my pure skills LOL. But above all else, I definitely underestimated myself. I really wanted to take the TOPIK to assess my Korean skills once and for all, definitively. But even after receiving my score, I still feel lost on how to accurately describe my skills. Does level 5 even cut it? Do I even have the right to call myself level 5? I got it though, right? Having drowned myself in Korean for 8 years & taken level 1 & 2 KLI, I was able to be lowkey fluent, I guess.

That’s pretty damn cool. Im pretty damn proud of myself. And yeah, idk, that’s that. LOL. Im not trying to brag about myself or anything. All of that was purely my journey with the Korean language, particularly in the context of studying abroad in Korea for a year. And in regards to my goal, I think I did a pretty good job. I can write long chunks of text without too much problem, I can speak a good amount, maybe not 100% flawlessly, but I can hold conversations, I can go weeks with only speaking Korean, and I think that’s pretty awesome progress that I made towards my goal. If anything, I may have surpassed my anticipations. Cool. LOL

 Another one of my main goals was to travel outside of Korea. Or not even that, just outside of SEOUL. Because as amazing that city alone is, I also knew that there is sooooo much to explore throughout the rest of the country and even in other nations. For second semester, I went to Tokyo in Japan, Bangkok in Thailand, Taipei and Tainan in Taiwan, and Busan, Jeonju, Jeju-do, and Yeosu in Korea. I was very blessed to travel to 3 other countries and hit a few beautiful areas outside of Seoul in Korea, too. Although it was a tiresome experience, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything else. Balancing school and travels and other commitments was ridiculously tough. Ive repeated this a lot but: all my snaps and ig updates may have looked like fun and games, but the burnout was real. Traveling with friends isn’t all fun and games.

I learned SO MUCH through this experience: planning logistics thoroughly, dealing with money & currency exchanges strategically, balancing school work, moving things around as necessary, utilizing transportation in various different settings in an effective and efficient manner, familiarizing oneself with the GEOGRAPHY of a place (a really important one that I feel people don’t really talk about), researching attractions from different perspectives & using multiple, varied resources, knowing where to go for help, preparing proper lodging accordingly & communicating with hosts/staff, researching FOOD, too. I could go on and on.

But when it comes to traveling, especially while on a budget bc we are broke ass college kids, the amount of proper communication & discussion & preparation with other members of the group that needs to go into it is no joke. It’s not fun and games, it’s making sure that we know what the fuck we’re doing in a foreign environment so that we can explore, see things, get around, eat, and ENJOY our time safely and efficiently.

SO in that sense, I’m also pretty proud of myself & my friends. Special shout out to Sabrina Sooyoung Wong who was my ultimate travel buddy for (almost) everywhere I went. I already miss the amazing time we had together :’(

Continuing where I left off, I have realized that this writing is taking way too long. The day that marks one year since I left for Korea has already passed (August 21st) & I realized that I was gone for exactly 11 months: Aug 21 -  July 21 (w/ a break in bw ofc) bc I literally landed back in America on the 21st of July, not realizing that the day I left was exactly the 21st as well. And my birthday is on the 21st too. Of Sept..:0 that’s whack. ANYWAYYYYYYY…………

What more do I have to say about this trip, hmmmm……. Ive already talked about my growth through the language and through traveling all over the place…These days, ive truly been trying to relive & recall the worries that shrouded my mind a year ago before I left.

I remember so clearly, constantly asking myself “How will my life change once I go and live there? Will I even be able to make any friends?” People around me also kept telling me that I would “HAVE SO MUCH FUNNNN”, but I recall constantly shutting them down and being pessimistic & telling everyone that I “would just be a normal student studying all the time, just in a different country lol” To address all these predeparture worries, I’ll say simply, thinking back on it now: My life changed SO MUCH, that it feels like nothing even happened at all (ik like wtf??? But lemme explain…), I made friends that I know will last a lifetime, and HONESTLY, I worked really hard studying when it came down to it, but I also made sure to have as much fun as I could. I did my best to balance everything (especially 2nd semester..)

So like, how tf could my life have changed so much that it feels unreal? Well, it’s exactly that. My daily life, the way I went about my daily routine, the lifestyle that I honed, the world that I wrapped myself in, the things I did, the food I ate, just about EVERYTHING about my life in Korea was so drastically different than my life in America, that returning home actually just makes it all feel like a dream, as if it were all a lie. My Korean lifestyle and my American lifestyle are incomparable. They are two completely different worlds. And for that…. I….. yes, I miss the Korean one like crazy every day, but that affection and sentiment for what I had makes my experience all the more precious and just… dear to my heart. Oh so dear to my heart, 나의 유학생활…. I think I kept asking myself the “how will it change” question countless times before I left because I was trying to prepare myself, trying to make sure I don’t throw myself off in the heat of it, make sure I stay grounded in the reality of my circumstances. And although nothing could’ve prepared myself enough for all those specific changes in my life, I think I definitely stayed rooted in mindfulness and never lost sight of the privilege I had.

If I look back on my first semester writings, I always repeated the words “thankful” & “grateful”. I really did my everything to remind myself of those feelings. Same goes for the friends that I met. Particularly my first semester gang, my days spent with them were infinitely bright. I feel like we were all so lost in the wonders of Korea (and Taiwan) and the beauty of just being there, spending time together, having valuable conversations, but also some very dumb ones, and really just bathing in the precious company of each other. It is not every day you meet an amazing group of people as the ones I did 1st sem. I gave yall a shoutout before, but thank yall again for taking care of me, the youngest of younglings out there, and making me laugh & smile more than I could ever recall doing with anyone else. Even my blessed friends from 2nd sem too, sooyoung, antony, Vicky, & 익안언니, I could not have imagined what my life would’ve been with them. My point in all of this? I was so worried about “making friends”, but miraculously, luckily, AMAZINGLY, it all worked out in the end. I am so grateful for that. I got close to some frking really cool people, who I still talk to today, who I still think about a lot, whom I owe a lot of myself to. Even if our collective time spent together was not the longest, even if the timespan of my other friendships are significantly more extensive, the friends I made through studying abroad are infinitely valuable and precious to me at the end of the day. Only stunning memories remain. Our friendships wont end there. They only started in Korea, but I have faith that they will transcend timezones and the years to come.

In terms of just balancing LIFE in korea, I can definitely recall many instances where I felt completely overwhelmed and burnt out. Those days were bound to come from the start. There were many days were I lacked a significant amount of sleep because I was so busy, there were days were I felt perpetually stuck & I could never overcome my problems (the things… a foreigner in Korean cannot do without a phone number…. Gg I felt soooooo shitty at that time)… there were also, ofc, days where I felt frustrated with many different people, there were days were I was so stressed out about whether I was doing the right thing (my 2 tutoring gigs…) or if I deserved anything I was receiving…., there were countless days where I studied hard and stressed about academics, as always (but I managed to get all A+’s 2nd sem & im honestly so proud of that…) …there were plenty of days where I would feel Korean societal standards weigh down on me & I felt painfully inclined to fit in in any and every way possible,.. I also struggled with deeper questions about the kind of toxic community Koreans can foster in various contexts (political, nationalism, etc..)… and the biggest of adversities, the one that broke me down the most, and to this day has left me empty & lost… was watching my singer get torn apart and disappear before my eyes.

I have written about this specific topic very extensively in a different piece, and…. It is definitely a pretty heated, passionate, painful piece. I had many many many many things to say about all of it, and I actually still have countless words to say, honestly. For sake of concision, for sake of keeping my sanity in place for at least this piece of text, for the sake of my world that has crumbled apart far too much for me to ever pick myself back up again… I’ll just say… I miss him so much and I pray for the day I can listen to him again. I won’t even be greedy and say “see” him again. I know ive seen him more times than I ever deserved too. But I want to listen to his voice again. In a new light, in a reassuring way. In some form, I want to hear him again… just once at least… please…Knowing him, listening to him for years, holding onto my life with his voice & music… I know that he needs to do music and nothing else. It breaks my heart every day to think about how this light has been lost from him.

One day… one day……….. I pray desperately every day that one day, he will come back to us. Please.

 Its honestly pretty difficult to talk about my hardships during my time in Korea without mentioning that stuff. It has taken such a big toll on me, life became so taxing because of that one situation, that even today I sit here, half a year after it all fell apart, without much improvement on the state of things anyway. But enough of the negative stuff. I hope that’s enough. Despite all the pain & highkey trauma I acquired from it all, I know that at the end of the day I learned valuable lessons and that I am still grateful for every experience nonetheless.

I still wouldn’t be who I am today or where I am today without those tough times, too. It sucks that I lost my light along the way, I lost sight of my world that so ironically always gave me healing when I needed it most.

Another thing I should mention is how I am also very grateful for that fact that I never got sick while in Korea, or just while abroad in general. I usually catch a cold about once a year, even my first year of college, I definitely had that small period of time where I was dead sick from some sort of virus. But not once, did my body ever falter while abroad. It’s ironic because usually being in foreign countries, especially the not-the-most-sanitary ones like Thailand, Taiwan, etc, one would normally be much more susceptible to a stomach bug or heat-related complication or whatever. One would think that my body would be especially vulnerable abroad. But nope. I stayed strong all throughout. I’m pretty damn proud of that too. I tend to take my health for granted, but looking back on it now, I guess I held up pretty well despite all the odds against me.

The most important question I should be asking myself now is… How have I changed since I’ve studied abroad? Some basic changes would be my outer appearance. My makeup has definitely changed, my clothes do not exactly look like the rest of my friends’, and my eyes are sometimes slightly different colored LOL. But, mentally? Emotionally? What has korea done to me? I thought that once I returned from being abroad, I could be this strong, amazing, fearless, bold person. Maybe in some aspects, I do feel that way. But quite frankly, being away from some beloved, close friends for so long has left me more insecure and unsure than I would like to admit.

No part of my confidence has significantly skyrocketed or anything. I am still too much of a pessimist for any of that to be possible. I actually feel kinda reluctant, vulnerable, skeptical… when it comes back to reconnecting with the friends I haven’t seen for over a year. So in this way, Korea has changed me in which I do not know how to reconvene with the life I originally left.

Korea also….. made me fall in love with the “Asian lifestyle”. I say this a lot in person, but I think I genuinely love Asian culture & way of living better than America’s. Especially after coming back & coming to terms with how normalized some illegal stuff are among kids my age are now, I cant vibe with any of that. I know well enough that both cultures have their pros and cons and but I think I can safely say I prefer one over the other. I have grown up in the same exact house and neighborhood my entire life and I very ironically chose to go to a school that mirrors this familiar environment almost perfectly. Therefore, I easily lose sight about what is new, what is enjoyable, what keeps me grounded here.

So to be honest, nothing keeps me grounded in my hometown. Not my parents, not really my hometown friends, nothing special. It’s a fact that I felt more attached to Korea than America. I don’t know. It just ended up that way.

I traveled to and studied there for a year because I felt like my heart belonged there. And after coming back, I think I finally can contest to that statement.

One more thing, as I try to run out of things to say… I dislike K-pop and I wish it wasn’t such a definitive part of Korea itself. I know for a fact that the way in which K-pop has blown up over the years is an inherent loss for Korean culture because now the world has been misguided, misinformed, and misinterpreting Korea as a whole due to K-pop. I hate how, if I were to speak to someone ive never met before about me studying abroad in Korea, they would most likely assume that I like K-pop or make some sort of connection to my experience, with K-pop. That presumption needs to end. I do not relate my experience to K-pop in any way. There was so much outside of that. So like, no, I did not meet so-and-so. No, I did not see that group on the streets. No, I did not go to that concert. I admit I went to plenty of concerts, but those people were basically NO NAMES compared to actual K-pop artists… So please… I wish there was a distance between Kpop & Korea.

I have come to cherish Korean culture way outside of K-pop. Sure, its what exposed me to it all in the beginning, but I very quickly, very NATURALLY, grew out of that mindset & perspective. Sigh. That’s that. A real shame.

I haven’t been able to wrap this up for an entire week now and I think, right before I head back to school for good at UCI, this would be a good time to close it up for good.

What I meant to talk about throughout this entire “final journey” chunk was how studying abroad changed me, and what that might mean for my future.

These days, while ive been lowkey wallowing away at home, avoiding my responsibilities and waiting for everything to come crashing down onto me once I return to Irvine, one of the biggest things ive been really missing is Yeosu. My spontaneous 2 day, 1 night trip to Yeosu with Sabrina was probably one of the best spontaneous adventures I ever chose to do.

Yeosu held some sort of beauty that is so impossible to explain, that pictures don’t even do justice for, and is really just a hidden gem sort of place that I am so so so blessed to have visited and fallen in love with. Even if it was just for two short days, Yeosu treated us SO well. It will forever be one of the best memories I’ve made in Korea, because of all its combined natural beauty, open air, wonderful weather, breathtaking views, exciting and undying street pojangmacha street life, and FOOD! Amazing, home-cooked 한식…..it was really, honestly, great.

Another thing I thought of: I feel like I took so many airplanes that I lost count and I even lost that exhilarating, enthusiastic feeling that used to be associated with taking airplanes at some point. I am not trying to BRAG that I had that sort of privilege, but I just wanted to…. Reminisce on that missing emotion. Now, going through that entire check-in, security, waiting, boarding process feels sooooo draggy, and if anything, even a waste of time….. :( but I at least appreciate airplanes for being able to take me everywhere…

OKAY FOR REALS, last thing im going to address: my current perceptions on sharing my journey abroad with others. If im going to be completely honest, I really hesitate to talk about how I studied in Korea for a year. I am pretty damn paranoid about what people would think of me and I am reluctant to really tell my story because I feel like all of it is very important and special and dear to my heart that it’s not as simple as “yeah, it was chill, I had a great time”. In response to the question of “omg how was it????”, ive literally made a script for myself: “honestly, like my life in korea and my life here in America were so totally different that it feels like it didn’t even happen… it went by so fast and there was so much going on that coming back here feels pretty weird…also, reverse-culture shock is real”

That is the best spiel I can muster up if I were to briefly talk about my experiences abroad. But in reality, I would want to talk about why korea & the Korean language mean so much to me, how grateful I am for all the places and people and things I got to see, how convenient day-to-day life was. And most of all, I would want to address the all the negative things I discovered about Korea. I would want to talk about how for nearly half of my time there, my world was, and still is, crashing down onto me, and how that entire happening has affected my viewpoint of Korean society greatly. I would love to go on about the nuances that make Korea a very toxic social environment, how many aspects that make it well-known and well-received globally also contribute to my disliking for Korea. My experience was so eye-opening. It really was. With all the beauty I discovered along the way, I feel like I faced some extremely terrible shit, too. But of course, as I have been repeating ceaselessly, I am thankful at the end of the day. I always am.

I think at this point, I don’t have much more to say. Despite how much I miss Korea on a daily basis, for now, I think its best to let go of it. I am proud that my daily Instagram will stay as my detailed, thorough testimony to the countless experiences and stories I thought were worth sharing, or remembering at the very least. 286 days. To be exact, I was abroad for 286 days. Not a year exactly, but sorta close. I did my best. I did everything I could. I was independent as I could be, I saw all the things I could see, and I just appreciated it all at the end of the day.

I am really excited to go back one day. It’s at the least the one thing keeping me a little bit optimistic for the future.

잘 있어줘, 한국아. 모든 걸 고마웠다.

#korea #yonsei #klife #study abroad #its officially all over #twas a good run #thank u for everything #to all the ppl that made it worth #am forever grateful

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Hi! please! Is it possible to get an update of the royal equerry story? I am loving it! Thank you!!

Previously:

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part IV: Foal

On the trekback to the palace after she had stormed out on Fraser, Claire felt her heart hammering a thunderous rebuke in herchest.  

She replayed his words over and over again: Do ye no’ ken who ye are then? Ye canna be just the queen.

Her head mocked his accent, the bravado and confidence of his voice when he asked the question and made the statement. At the same time, her head mocked her, urging her to come up with something (anything) that would serve as evidence that she knew, with any certainty, who she was.

“What washe thinking?” she muttered, fists balled at her side and fingernails carvingcrescent moons into the flesh of her palm. 

The nextnight, Claire was resolute in her stubbornness.  

Defying the urge to go for a night ride, she stood ather window and glared down at the stable. Her mind was ablaze with all manner of condemnations. (How dare he? He doesn’t know the half of it. Bloody presumptuous Scot.)  She finger-combed her shower-damp hair andworked it into a loose braid.  Thedistant amber glow of the light on his desk clicked off.  Craning her neck, she saw a hulking silhouetteround the edge of the stables and ducked down as she heard the gentle rumble ofa motorcycle.

‘Amotorcycle,’ she thought absently, hands fluttering to cover her stomach.  

She hadnever ridden a motorcycle.  

Suddenly herthighs yearned for the mechanical power of it (a daydreamed sensation). She could almost feel what it would be like to have her back pressedfirmly against the broad chest of a sturdy teacher.  She almost could the feel the control of the machine at her fingers, the curling of them around the rubber grips while accelerating.

Summer air, thick like butterscotch on her skin. Zappingpings of bugs hitting bare, sunset-warmed shinbones. Riding to nowhere in particularand everywhere on their little island (her island).  Kicking up great, billowing plumes of tan dust on gravel roads andgetting lost on lanes to fields with turns and turns and turns to obscurity.  Climbing off ofthe motorcycle and laughing, her searching fingers in saddle bags to produce sweating Cokes or beers or wax paper-wrapped sandwiches. Refueling and buying apack of cigarettes without her own face staring back at her from the newspaperstand, letting the cashier keep the change with a smile. Anonymous. Swapping spots, snugglinginto a leather jacket that smelled of forest and man. Picking a stray auburn hair off ofa white t-shirt as she climbed onto the back of a motorcycle.

She yankedthe curtains shut, her mouth tripping over a series of four-letter words.

The secondnight, she had taken up residence by the window in her riding gear. “This is stupid,” she said aloud, just to confirm that she still had a voice. 

She made it as far as the back stairwellbefore returning to her bedroom and stripping down to her underwear.  Second guessing it all –– the riding, the answer to his question, what she would say if he tried to ask again, whether she wanted him to ask again.  Sitting with a frustrated pout pulling at hermouth, she elected not to go downstairs.

When she heard the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, she wasreasonably certain that she would never ride on either the front or back of amotorcycle.

The thirdnight, she was caught up in a state affair. 

An intricate blue dress, a twistedupdo that made her temples ache and eyes water, a series of conversationsswitching from French to English that made her head spin.

Frankcalled that evening when she was finished, and they exchanged pleasantries. She rubbed her feet and stared at the window, knowing that with the phone call it was too late to make an appearance at the stables and to find Fraser.  After wading through the mundanities of theirdaily lives (the scallops she had fordinner and the dreadful summer cold he felt coming on), Frank concludedtheir conversation, saying, “I will see you Saturday.”  

She felther heart catch on something and the thoughts in her brain splash against the limits of her skull, like water sloshing in a basin. With a flat affect, she responded with the only thing thatcame to mind: “Alright.”

Exhausted,she slept face down and dreamt of summer-warm limbs on beach towels, suntanlotion, and sweating bottles of beer with a broad-shouldered stranger. A motorcycle just down the beach and shaking sand out of canvas tennis shoes with peals of howling laughter.

On thefourth night, she finally exited her suite via the back stairwell.  She found the stables to be eerily quiet. Ridinggloves in hand, she made her way down to the last stall where a light glowed with the promise of Fraser’s continued presence.  

The door had been thrown openwide into the exercise yard.  Drawing herblouse over her mouth, Claire sputtered on the unusual, odiferous cocktail of feed, hay,dust, urine, and manure in the air.

Fraser,shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, was crouching at the gate of the stall,arms draped through the pickets.  She wasabout to say something, an overtly playful volley as an olive branch to apologize for her hasty departure earlier in the week.

But then what she was made her fall nearly breathless.

One of themares was on her side –– legs extended out in front of her, neck heaving.  The heavy, panting sounds of labor filled theair.

“Not thatmuch longer, love,” Fraser crooned, a piece of straw rolling between hisfingers.  

Clairestuffed her gloves one of her back pockets and took a tentative step towards thegate. A little stunned and already knowing the answer, she asked, “Is the marein labor?”

Fraserturned, immediately narrowing his eyes. A man she did not recognize was standinglooking at a watch with detached coolness. When he looked up he startled, mouth falling open dumbly as he made a half-bow. Claire wavedthe gesture off with a casual dismissiveness.

“Yer majesty…” the man said, fingers going tostraighten his tie as he stood back to full height. “An honor, I’m…”

Jamie brokeinto the introduction. “Aye.  She’s beenstraining and pacing about for a few hours now. It’s about time.”

For amoment Fraser’s eyes traveled over Claire, inspecting but not questioning.  It was an intrusive look, searchingintimately, but she welcomed it. It drove out her indecision about coming down to the stables.

Fraseradded, “Her name is Epona. The mare.”

Somethingin her wanted this to be okay–– this awkward, silent exchange of looks and their companionable silence. 

A few daysearlier she had pushed, wanting him to ask something personal just so she could hear herself say it. And he had risen toit.

He hadasked who she was.

She yearnedfor the sickening feeling of riding in a car at high speed at reverse. The gutchurning knowledge that while she could never go back, she could reverse course.  What she wanted was to go back in time–– to that moment where she had encouraged him to ask and he had. She would amend her response to his inquiry.

She would blurtout the true answer: ‘Who am I? I don’t have a bloody ideaanymore, but I can tell you who I usedto be. I liked that person.’

From Fraser’sthoughtful expression, it was clear his inspection of her did not identify whatever it was that he was looking for. She wondered if he craved that reversing feeling, too, or iffor him this was work.  Her mind was a traffic jam as she consideredthe possibility –– he was simply puttingup with her. 

The Queen, someone to beappeased. 

The thought grabbed at her guts and refused to let go.

When shesaid nothing, Fraser added, “This is Dr. Matthew Martin.  He’s an equine veterinarian.  Best in the business. At least he says.”

“Pleasure,”Claire said blankly, looking at Dr. Martin who was mumbling something and plainly stunned intoincoherence by the near-midnight appearance of the Queen. Brows furrowed, Claire took one more tentative step towards thegate. “Can I come watch?”

She was notsure why she asked the question when there was absolutely nothing Fraser or the veterinariancould have done to stop her. But it felt like an intrusion nonetheless. 

Fraserquirked an eyebrow, lips curling into a slight smile. “Foaling can be a messybusiness, ma’am.”

“And your point, Fraser?” She raised a single,manicured eyebrow of her own. At this point, she would have sacrificed theentire trust of land in her portfolio for a little messy business.

In amovement so fast that she wondered if she had imagined it, Fraser licked hislower lip and drew it in between his teeth.

He was smirking at her.

Hisexpression flipped back to neutrality by the time he shrugged and responded, “Nopoint, ma’am. Ye’re welcome to watch, if ye want.”

Giving her ownlower lip a quick swipe of her tongue, she went to the gate and stood next tohim.  For a moment she consideredcrouching just so she would not be towering over him. He had her off balance andshe wanted to be on his level.  But beforeshe could adjust her position, he stood, dropping the piece of straw.

“It willnabe much longer, ma’am. She’s been pacin’ and walkin’ the fence line for a fewhours, ye ken. The foal’s in the right position, allantoic fluid’s beenreleased. Ye’re just in time.”

“How do youknow all of this?” Claire asked, not looking at him but unable to stifle theslight tone of awe in her voice.

“It’s myjob, ma’am,” Fraser said simply.

Holding herbreath, Claire watched as the mare huffed and strained, going to her knees andthen back to her side.  

Anunidentifiable part of the foal eased from the mare. It was covered in a bluish-white,rubbery protective layer. Claire reached for Fraser’s forearm, fingers winding around the curve of it and feeling the almost undetectable twitch of muscle there. “Oh Christ,” shewhispered.

“And Iguess I’ve seen this a fair bit… farm life, and all.”

Heart inher throat, Claire looked down at her hand. Fraser glanced down onlymomentarily, a quick flick of his eyes, before he resettled his attention onthe mare. After a beat, Claire let her hand fall casually away. The warmbristle of his flesh was imprinted on her palm.

It feltlike an eternity and no time at all passed before the foal was born, sticky andawkward in the straw. The slick, velvety head swiveled awkwardly. Eyesstinging, Claire went to her knees and peered through the bars of the gate. Themare gently licked behind the foal’s ears, earning a whimper from the newestaddition to the stables.

“Theinstinct… it is… beautiful.  Nature justfills in the blanks where no one dictates how to act, how to be.”

Fraser stayedsilent, leaning against the post and indicating with his head for theveterinarian to leave.  For a moment Fraserstudied her: the hair flopped over her brow, the slight parting of her lips asshe watched the mare inspect her foal, the slow way she blinked when plainly amazed by something.

After atime, when they were alone, she asked, “Will you stay the night here then,Fraser?”

“Aye,” heresponded quietly, running a hand over the back of his neck.  “There’s somewhat messy business of expellingthe placenta. Could take a few hours. If it doesna pass, weel, it’s a differentkinda situation, ye ken?”

“Mmmm.”  The mare nudged the foal’s neck, gruntingslightly. “I want to stay. To help. I mean, if you need it.”

“Alright,”he said, his voice carrying an entirely different tone than hers had the daybefore. “I’d like ye to stay, if this is where ye want to be.”

Turning,she looked at him.  

A riot of urgesswelled in him.  

To sweep aside the chunkof damp curls from her forehead.  

To lickhis lips as he inhaled.  

To straightenthe collar of her blouse, pat it down so it rested flat at her neck. 

To brushthe straw from the knees of her riding pants.

“It’s whereI want to be,” she confirmed, lips curling slightly before she turnedback.  

Fraser did not turn. He thought ten thousand things in Gaelic at once.

#;mod kate #Her Royal Highness AU

[castillo-adrian]

Franz Ferdinand | Closed.

Note: Important to the St. Clair VS Rutherford conflict. Featuring @lin-melissa @johnathanparsons @divyakoshal 

I.

Dissatisfied by Adrian’s performance at the end of the 6ème grade, Madame Vallereau, his English teacher, gave him Agatha Christie books for a summer reading. The most effective way to brush up his English skills, she thought, and wasn’t wrong.

‘Murder on the Links,’ one of the novels that Adrian read that summer, opened with an anecdote.

“A young writer, determined to make the commencement of his story forcible and original enough to catch and rivet the attention of the most blasé of editors, penned the following sentence: “‘Hell!’ said the Duchess.”

Sitting across the glossy hardwood table in Johnathan Parsons’ office, an entertained smile painted Adrian’s features, as he’d be reminded of that exact line upon witnessing the man slam his fist in an angry fashion.

“Hell!” said the boss, “They made a grave mistake. Attempting to dip their dirty toes in Westminster, of all places? Well, I’m going to cut them off one by one.”

The man’s wrath had been justified. The borough of Westminster was a Rutherford stronghold. The French attempting to buy a property with the intention to build a club and push their drug trade was... bold to say the least. Johnathan had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny of this part of the city (and pretty much the rest of it, too) and he’d been informed of the news long before the French would have enough time to seal the deal.

Johnathan’s solution was simple: chop up the poor fucker who agreed to sell his property and deliver his body parts to the doorstep of Marine Charif, the commandant of Camden, the one behind the scheme.

“I want the bitch to remember to stay in her fucking lane,” Johnathan growled.

“If I may propose an alternative,” Adrian spoke softly and leaned in towards the table.

Melissa gave him a curious look. It was enough for Adrian to continue.

“Let them –”

“What on Earth are you talking about, Castillo?” Johnathan cut him off, “you’re not feeling nostalgic, are you?”

“Johnathan,” Melissa intervened, “let him finish.”

Brushing off the annoying inclinations of Johnathan’s question, Adrian proceeded.

“Let them buy the property, invest their money, build the club, bring in the shipment, you know, the whole deal and then, right before the opening, burn it to the ashes. And we don’t kill the owner, we kill the commandant. Stronger message.”

“Damn, Castillo,” Johnathan sunk back into his leather chair and took a sip of his whiskey, “Not bad, in theory, but the French will be guarding the place like rabid dogs as soon as the sale goes through. You won’t be able to get in without opening a massive fire and we do not want to turn our turf into a battle zone. Especially Westminster.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Adrian’s smile hinted at something Machiavellian, “I’m sure we have people at the City Hall who’d be more than eager to give us the blueprints of the club, once submitted, and call an inspection. The French won’t bother moving drugs, just hide it somewhere inside the club. They’ll just have to clear out the building for a few hours. Enough time to plant the explosives.”

Johnathan and Melissa exchanged glances. After a few minutes of consideration, the boss spoke.

“Adrian’s plan does sound more sustainable in the long run, unless we’re killing every business owner who is considering to sell to the French,” Melissa raised an eyebrow, “I’d rather we drum up the French death toll, than the local.”

“This is a huge risk, however. If your stint doesn’t work, we’re going to have to open fire on our territory, which is not part of my plan. Are you sure you can pull this off?” Johnathan inquired.

“I am, yes,” Adrian nodded firmly.

“Remember, you will be the one to pay the price, if it doesn’t.”

Had he not been confident in his abilities, Adrian would’ve backed out right then and there. After all, what kind of fool with no sense of self-preservation would risk being at the receiving end of Johnathan Parsons’ fury?

II.

Adrian Castillo stood on top of the roof with a majestic content. The events had transpired the way he had planned, and they all led to this particular night. In a few short minutes, Marine Charif, the infamous commandant would join her friends and soldiers in a for French only, pre-celebration get-together, before the actual opening night.

How to shoot your target 500 yards away?

With math and physics. Neither an exceptionally skilled sniper, nor an excellent piece of machinery was enough to pull it off with success, and Adrian was one and held one. Luckily, he had enough basic STEM knowledge, too, the courtesy of his training as a GIGN sniper.

As soon as the bullet leaves the barrel, it’s influenced by two basic forces: gravity and drag. The fraction of a millisecond prior to the bullet exiting, it’s been under one single, fairly significant force: the pressure of the expanding gasses of the powder charge behind the bullet. As soon as that gas can escape the barrel, acceleration stops, and deceleration due to drag takes over, as does gravity once the bullet is no longer supported on all sides by the rifle barrel.

Even if he took gravity and drag into consideration, he had to account for velocity, trigonometry, wind direction, and optics. The rifle, set up hours beforehand, was sitting at the edge of the roof, with Adrian behind it.

“…Roger that. We’re in the position,” spoke Divya through comms, “waiting for your signal.”

The group of people led by Divya was partly made up with the newest recruits of Rutherford organisation, hand-picked solely for this mission. They were to mix with the club staff and lock down all the exits once Adrian had executed his kill. The other part though, the more experienced ones, were on a stand-by, to gun down any escapees with silenced pistols and dump their bodies on the French territory.

They’d planted the bombs two days prior, when the city hall demanded an inspection upon Rutherford orders and their loyalists, dressed up as the crew, hid explosives in ten different spots inside the club.

“Stand by,” responded Adrian to Divya. Introducing them to the basic military lingo was one of the first things Adrian had done during the training. Discipline and precision were key to pulling off the mission and he had no intention to leave any room for error.

Three minutes later, there was a sound of a car pulling up at the parking lot and clicking of boots on the concrete.

When the woman neared Adrian’s shooting range and he saw her face, there was a millisecond of hesitation.

He had studied her photographs whilst planning the attack, but now, seeing her in flash, it all came back to him - the reason why her name had sounded so damn familiar.

Marine Charif was introduced to the French Organisation ten years ago, by Laure. He could remember it all so vividly now: Laure walking into the room, with young Marine in tow, announcing to him, Julien and Évelyne that her cousin from Marseille had joined the St. Clair ranks.

But the millisecond was not enough to intervene with the kill.

Almost as soon as his .223 Remington, 69–80-grain bullets left the rifle and tore through Marine’s temple and into her skull, Adrian gave a command.

“Engage.”

The team had worked like a well-geared machine.

It all happened simultaneously.

Marine’s blood spattering all over the parking lot.

One of Divya’s man dragging her body out.

Rutherford loyalists locking down every possible exit from the building.

Divya pushing her thumb into the detonator.

The club lighting up the London skyline like the parade of fireworks.

The sound was deafening. The flames exploded in a mini-supernova, turning everyone and everything inside the club – the people, the expensive equipment, the furniture, the insane amounts of cocaine, into a gruesome pile of pieces of human flesh, wood, and metal, scattered like a jigsaw puzzle. And above all that, the grey powder of ash started to descend and add a monochromatic layer, like fallen snow on a forgotten city.

III.

The firefighter John Coyle shook his head in disbelief.

“This is clearly not a gas leak.”

“Don’t be a fucking hero, mate, and take the money. God knows you could use it,” his co-worker of seven years patted him on the back, “and so could I. Tara is starting school this year.”

“There are more than thirty people burnt to the crisp, man, thirty.”

“Listen, it’s already been written off as a gas leak, give it a rest. Besides,” he leaned in closer to whisper, “I heard they were some drug dealing French criminals, I say, London is better off.”

“God’s sakes, they were people.”

With those simple words, John Coyle had turned himself into a loose end. Unfortunately for him, Rutherfords didn’t leave those alive. He was no exception, as he’d soon find out, standing behind a gun pointed at him by one of Adrian’s people, and drawing his last breath before the trigger was pulled.

IV.

The reason why Adrian was holding a glass of scotch in his hand was to celebrate a successful job, not the fact that he had just sent more than three dozen people to meet their maker.

Johnathan and Melissa, though, they were glad no St. Clair loyalist would venture to make a move on Westminster for a long time.

“Marine was a commandant. Her assassination will trigger a chain of events,” Adrian pointed out the obvious.

“Exactly the point. And this? This was just an opening act to the big event,” Johnathan smirked and poured another glass. “Wait until you hear who your next target is. Let’s say the hotel launch will be even more memorable for the French than we’d initially planned.”

Adrian had already been wrapping up his preparations for the upcoming attack on Amir Dawar’s new hotel opening night, and the news of an unknown variable thrown into the equation drew all of his attention.

“A special guest from across the pond,” Melissa sat in a chair and crossed her leg.

IV.

The next day Marine Charif’s body would be found nailed to a metal plaque that read “The City of Westminster,” in a trash bin outside her Camden house.

And trash was exactly where dead rats belonged.

#this is huge but no read more because it will be impossible to read #Also the title is the hint ;) for fellow history nerds #Selfpara

[vivianshkoh]

Reflecting on “Brown (2001) – Learning through Listening Strategies for Literature”

Brown shares four successful listening strategies that teachers can employ to not only help students develop their listening skills, but also gain a deeper appreciation for literature. I love that Brown refers to these tasks as ‘shared’ activities because learning experiences can be collaborative between teachers and students. One reads, and the other listens! Teachers are likely to be more adept at producing the ‘sound of intertwining words’, and this reading allows learners to explore the power of these words to ‘convey meaning and images and ideas and hopes’. Here are some thoughts I have about each of these strategies:

(i) Teacher Read-Alouds

As I’d mentioned in my previous post, I think this must be the most frequently used strategy I have employed so far. Students generally enjoy being read to and I find that it is a good opportunity for me to model reading aloud. Brown talks about using read-alouds with ‘literature circles’, which is something I’ve always wanted to explore in school (but realistically speaking, this would be more effective as an extra-curricular activity in local schools since we are always, always so time-starved). Book clubs are so underrated in the Singaporean literary scene too but it’s so nice to have a group of like-minded people sit around to talk about a book they have read, whether they enjoyed/hated it (and why) and to simply hear each other read excerpts aloud. Their readings/interpretations will also reflect how they identify with the text. I wish this could one day materialise in schools here! In particular, this line in Brown’s article really resonated with me:

“The community of sharing makes the affective dynamic more intense, just as the cognitive aspects of a reading have more of an impact when they are experienced and discussed immediately.” (Brown, 2001, p. 15)

What a beautiful and powerful concept of ‘community’!

(ii) Listening Guides

Listening guides/tasks are well-used in the English Language classroom in the Singaporean context, where comprehension questions eventually serve as a 'springboard for post-listening discussion'. It would be interesting to think about how listening guides can be used in the Literature classroom, although I foresee the creation of these guides to be rather time- and labour-intensive.

(iii) Readers’ Theatre

In the secondary school Literature syllabus, teachers are required to expose students to three main genres – poetry, prose and drama. In 2022, I will likely be teaching drama as part of the Sec 2 Lit syllabus, which can be a totally foreign concept to some of my students. (Truly, in this case, Literature may be a luxury not everyone can afford, and I will not be surprised if some of them have never seen/come across an English theatre production.) It will be a really good opportunity for students to do Readers’ Theatre as part of understanding the play. Since meaning can certainly be conveyed through voice inflection, I’m sure my students can attempt to make the characters come alive through their own interpretation, whether through the use of voice(s) and/or ‘interpretative body movements’.

(iv) Listening Logs used with Audio Books

Audio books/tapes are a resource I wish I could use more in my classroom! Many of these audio books are narrated by the authors themselves, and who else but the author would know the plot, characters and atmosphere better? The job of reading is already done, so the teacher would just have to think about how to incorporate its use within the lesson. Hearing the book being read aloud can help students understand the ‘development and evolution of characters’ as well as the ‘interrelationships’ among them. Students can really focus on listening out for these emotions instead of being distracted by movements as they would be when watching films/movies.

Brown beautifully concludes by reiterating how listening strategies can help to ‘heighten [our students'] involvement with literature’. Only when they learn how to listen will they be able to effectively ‘process ideas and solve problems’, which is something that students can learn through the study of Literature.

[nooo-body]

I've had a truly BAD week and I need to vent.  Sorry, in advance.

I lead a very opressed life.  I can't say anything because what I say becomes weaponized.  I say hello, and suddenly it's a curse word, a hammer to be driven into your skull.  I have no place where I can just be, every place is owned by someone else, and I have to live by their rules.  I'm not 15, and living by my parents rules.  Im 67 and I should simply be dead.  I wish I were.  I always thought that sometime I would turn a corner and find something good.  At this late date I've finally realized there is no silver lining, there are no more corners to turn.  The only respite is death, and I'd welcome it with open arms, but I cannot seek it out   I was taught from a young age that suicide is wrong.  The Catholics got me young, and their teachings never let go.  I'm so stupid to believe in any of that, but it is what it is.

I don't want tomorrow to come.  I truly don't.  I have nothing to look forward to. Nothing that has anything to do with my life.  All my hopes & dreams are built on pretend, just like they have been when I was a child.  Nothing in my life is real.  I've known I'm a complete screw up since I was a school kid.  I supposedly had a high IQ, but a teacher said to me, "It's not how smart you are, it's how you use your intellect." Right then I saw my life & complete failure laid out in front of me.  I'd never amount to anything, and I haven't.  I've done nothing. Ive never helped anyone, never improved anything.

All i ever hear, every day, is that I'm fat & not worth the space I take up, and the air I breath.  Death is all I have to look forward to.  I'm nobody & nothing. I wanted desperately to get away from the negativity, but when I finally did leave home, the negative came with me.  I was still fat & ugly.  I still wasn't good enough to do anything that mattered. I couldn't work in publishing because I wanted to write.  I finally gave up writing.  My 9th grade English teacher told me my flaws were obvious, but not to me.  I was too stupid to see my own mistake.  

I was big & ugly.  The only nickname I ever had was Mac, because I reminded someone of a mac truck.  Big & ugly.  My own mother said to me everyday, "You could be pretty if only you didn't..." Whatever the blank was, it was something about myself I couldn't change.  I was a tom-boy, I was not graceful, I was always ruining my clothes.  I knew that pretty was a dead end, and simply out of reach.  I am completely unlovable.  I was told repeatedly as a child no one would ever love me, and believe me, no one has.  People never wanted me to even touch them.  I was terrified to touch people, that my touch somehow would burn them.  I kept to myself.  I began to completely identify with the Phantom of the Opera.  This finally frightened me so badly, I wouldn't let myself go there, but it was a small hole I managed to jump.

When I was in my late 20s, I moved to NYC.  Stupidly hoping someone in such a big city would care I was alive. I met two different men who I stupidly convinced myself, cared for me.  Neither did, I was stupidly lying to myself.  The first was a movie theatre manager, biggest theater in NYC.  He was handsome.  All my girlfriends & acquaintances thought he was dreamy, the Marlboro man come to life.  He would fuck anything that was female, he was a swinger (seriously, member of Plato's Retreat)  He loved to collect cherries.  His assistant manager told me not to get involved with him.  I did out of desperation.  He collected his prize, and told me I was hopeless & clueless in bed.  He dumped me a few days later.  I was so ashamed.  My first sexual experience, and I'd gotten it all wrong.  I felt like such a fraud.  A few friends took me out to dinner that night to celebrate, and I was so ashamed of myself, I couldn't tell them I was hopeless.  I just kept my mouth shut and tried not to cry.  

The second guy seemed at first to actually care. At least at first that was how it seemed.  He flirted with me, teased me, said the right words.  He wanted the only thing guy1 taught me, fellatio.  We were together far longer than we should have.  Every time I worked up the courage to break it off, he'd start in about committing suicide.  It made me insane.  Suicide is just anathema to me.  My brother uses this trick as well!  Anyway, Finally he disappeared for a month or two, and when I finally found him, he'd gotten married, but he still wanted head.  After all that was what I really liked!, according to him. I hated it.  He finally disappeared, for about a year.  Then he called me, out if the blue.  That's when he finally drove it home, he assumed I was a cheap whore, but liked him so much, I always gave him freebies.  I was horrified.  I just gave it all up.  Faced the fact that men hated me & I was/am truly unloveable.  

According to my brother, I've destroyed his life too.  I forced him to move to NYC.  I forced him to sleep in a small half room.  I forced him to take work he didn't like.  I refused to play the right computer games.  It's my fault he has a bad heart, has bad circulation, and heart problems.  When I was sick, I forced him to go shopping for me, and that's how he got sick.  He hates NYC, and I've forced him to live there   I've ruined his life by always buying him the cheapest gaming computer possible.  He was too sick to work.  I forced him to cook for us.  I intentionally buy him the wrong size clothes, since he can't work, he has no money to buy his own clothes.  My fault he's sick, unemployed & forced to live in NYC.  I've also copy-catted him by getting sick too.  He has no legs (he actually was careful of what he ate, his whole life, but had a bad heart, high cholesterol, and bad circulation), which is my fault.  He never got grief counseling.  But when i got diabetes, bad circulation, a heart murmur, and horrible arthritis, I did it to spite him.  I was fat & lazy, as always.  I just kept making his life worse.  Tonight I bought him some new underware, and nearly destroyed his life because it was the wrong size.  It was the identicle size I got fron Amazon last time, but now it's wrong, and I'm a bitch. If i say anything, I add fuel to the fire, but if I don't say anything, I don't care and can sleep through anything.  I'm just an ugly, fat bitch.  Years & years ago, I had a crush on Johnny Depp.   (Long before I discovered sweet Tom) Every argument I get Depp, Paris & fat me in a frilly pink tutu thrown at me.  None of the was ever even a passing thought!

I can't walk anymore because the arthritis in my knees is so bad, but I'm lazy and can't be bothered.  I had a substitute nurse earlier this week, who I asked for help with something.  Her answer?  I'm an entitled white bitch, who thinks everyone is her slave.  So, you can see, it's really me.  I'm a truly terrible person.  

Everyone's life would be so much simpler if I just didn't exist.  I'm tired of being the baddy, of being useless, of being hateful & hated.  People refuse to help me. I have both a social worker and an Adult Protective services worker who are supposed to be helping me with an apartment problem, and neither will return my calls.  I'm that hateful.  I should live on the street, no clothes, no shoes, no coat, just me sitting on a rolling desk chair waiting for death. I have nothing positive to offer anyone.  I try to live in a dream world, just to hold on to some sanity, but I can't do it any longer.  When I was young, I used to dream about husband, children & loving family.  That certainly never came to pass.  I still try to dream about someone not hating me (I dream that Tom would be kind enough to at least pretend not to hate me, if ever I should meet him, which of course I can't since I can't walk), but the reality is I'm fat, ugly, useless, stupid and utterly unlovable.  It doesn't hurt any less, and at 67 I'm getting close enough to the end that with nothing to dream about, nothing to hope for, it might just as well be over.

I could go on, but you get the picture, ugly, old, self-centered, cruel spinster should just stop playing the game.  It's lost.

[vanilla107]

Get Well Soon (One-Shot)

Hey everyone! So I'm super duper excited about the new Hey Arnold: Into the Jungle movie coming out in a few days that I just HAD to write some fanfiction about one of my favourite couples! I can't wait to see the movie and I hope you all like this! This lovely prompt was given to me by @heyarnoldlovexoxo!

Read on AO3

Fanfic Masterlist

*************************

Helga G Pataki let out a frustrated groan.  

This was all football head's fault.

That wasn't entirely true but hell, she needed someone to blame. At the thought of this she turned her head to look at Arnold Shortman, her beloved, who was sitting a few seats away from her.

They were both in detention.

She could see how annoyed he was with being in detention and she sighed. He just had to play hero didn't he?

It was all because she had been having a bad day.

Her sister, Olga I-am-so-great-at-everything Pataki, had come home from Atlanta last night and tried to do some ‘sisterly bonding’ which obviously hadn't worked. Olga then had the amazing idea to wake her up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast for her parents. So by the time she had gotten to school, she was in a foul mood and her day hadn’t gotten any better.

She had forgotten her English homework at home and seeing the disappointment on Mr. Simmons face was enough to make her feel awful. She didn’t like majority of the teachers but he was an exception. He always encouraged her and she would be lying if it didn’t motivate her to do better. By the time recess started, she just wanted to go home and sleep. Her best friend, Phoebe had already sensed that she wasn’t in the best of moods and thankfully refrained from asking questions.

The peace didn’t last long.

Harold had started to tease her to a point where she was about to sucker punch the guy when Arnold just had to jump in and try to stop her.

She would never hurt her beloved but hell, why did he have to test her? A teacher had stopped them and had seen the screaming match between her and Arnold and had given both of them detention.

Helga sighed her attention turning back to the page in front of her. Their punishment was to write an essay on ‘Why violence isn't the answer’ but she'd much rather write an essay on how the light caught her darling beloved’s golden hair or his gorgeous blue eyes.

The teacher in charge of watching them was Mr. Simmons who was marking math tests when he announced, “ Arnold, Helga, I’m just going to the photocopy room to get something. I won’t be long.”

Without another word he walked out the room and closed the door behind him and immediately Helga started talking to Arnold.

“I seriously can’t believe you Football head!”

At these words, Arnold turned his head and sighed at the bully. Helga noticed that Arnold was already done with his essay and wanted to scream.

Why was he so perfect at everything?

“Believe what, Helga?”

“That you’d decide to play hero! Now you’re stuck in detention too!”

She crossed he arms and glared at him.

“Helga, are you saying that I shouldn’t of stopped you?”

“Well yes! Now you’re stuck here and doing a boring essay all because you just had to stop me! Crimany! Can’t you just let me pummel a guy when I feel like it?”

Helga let out a huff of annoyance and to her surprise she saw a small smile on Arnold’s face.

“Well, violence isn’t always the answer Helga.”

“Are you just directly quoting from the essay or is that actual advice, football head?”

“Maybe, but I know that it’s unusual for you to just lash out at someone. Normally it’s an insult or witty comment but you never lash out. Are you okay?”

Helga froze. Was she really that transparent that Arnold could see how she was feeling? Did that mean he knew how she felt about him?

“Of course I’m okay! I-uh- just had a bad sleep and I ended up waking up really early!” she said confidently.

Arnold raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever you say Helga-”

Arnold’s eyes widened and he clutched his side. Helga looked at him with a confused expression.

“Football head? Are you-?”

Arnold fell to the floor and Helga screamed.

“Arnold!”

She ran to his side and broke out into a sweat. “What’s wrong with you? I don’t know what to do! Help! Somebody!”

Mr Simmons burst through the door and stared at the two ten-year olds.

“Helga, we need to take Arnold to the hospital. This doesn’t look like something the nurse can deal with. Let’s go to my car.”

********************************************

Helga gripped the cup of juice so tightly that Mr. Simmon’s was afraid that it would break. They were waiting outside Arnold’s hospital room waiting to see Arnold. She stared at the wooden door and took a sip of her juice and covered her face with her hands.

According to the doctors, Arnold had appendicitis and he had gotten severe cramps while he was in detention. The doctors had immediately taken him in for surgery and Helga nearly fainted on the spot.

“He’s not gonna die is he?” Helga had screamed as they had taken her beloved to the operating room with Mr. Simmon’s restraining her. Mr. Simmons assured her that since they had gotten him to the hospital and that his appendix was going to be removed, he would be fine.

Arnold was currently asleep and the nurse said that once he woke up, she could visit him. Helga had been waiting for an half an hour and she was getting antsy. Suddenly two figures ran down the corridor and stopped in front of Helga and Mr. Simmons.

Helga recognized them as Arnold’s grandparents, Grandpa Phil and that crazy wife of his, and she felt a little bit relieved that some of Arnold’s family was there.

“Is Arnold okay? We raced over immediately after you phoned us,” panted Grandpa Phil.

“He’s alright Mr. Shortman, Arnold had appendicitis and collapsed in detention. The doctors have already operated on him and he is currently asleep. You can visit him once he’s awake.”

“Oh thank heavens! You hear that, Pookie? Arnold is going to be right as rain!”

Grandpa Phil hugged Pookie and noticed Helga sitting silently in her chair, looking at the floor.

“Oh, this is Helga. She was with Arnold when he collapsed and called for help. She’s in a bit of a shock but was very brave. She helped me carry him to the car and was calm the entire way through,” said Mr. Simmons with a smile.

Helga didn’t feel brave. She had been shaking furiously when she carried Arnold to the car and had been on the verge of a meltdown in the car. It was a miracle that she hadn’t fainted at all.

“Well then! I thank you, Helga! That must’ve been quite a traumatic experience for you but you saved our boy!” grinned Grandpa Phil and Pookie gave Helga a bone-crushing hug.

“Can’t...breathe..!” Helga gasped and Pookie let go and giggled.

Helga gave the old couple a smile and a nurse walked out of Arnold’s room.

“Arnold is awake. You may see him now,” the nurse said with a smile and Helga ran into the room. She saw him sitting up in his bed, still looking sleepy and his hair looked ridiculous. She ran to his bed and threw her arms around him. Arnold was surprised at the sudden gesture of affection but slowly put his arms around her.

“Don’t ever do that again, football head,” she whispered and felt the tears drip from her cheeks.

“Well I only had one appendix, so I promise it won’t happen again, Helga,” he said.

Arnold couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was Helga Pataki crying because she was worried about him?

Helga let go of him and stood up from his bed. He looked so small in his hospital gown and he had an IV drip attached to his arm.

“I think I need to sleep for a thousand years because I’m exhausted,” murmured Helga and Grandpa Phil put a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you for caring about our boy, Helga. It’s late and I think you should be getting home. Do you want us to drop you off at home?”

“It’s okay. You spend time with football- I mean- Arnold. Mr. Simmons can take me home.”

Mr. Simmons nodded and they said their goodbyes.

**************************************************

The school was a buzz of news the next day because of Arnold being in the hospital.

Helga had found out from Phoebe that Arnold had to stay at the hospital overnight to recover and naturally, if people didn’t know the full story of events….they tended to get a little twisted. She had heard many different stories about Arnold. The one that he had been attacked by an intruder after school and had to be rushed to hospital was currently the most ridiculous one and Helga chuckled to herself. She was planning to visit him after school to just check how he was doing.

“Class, there’s a math test tomorrow, so please study hard!” said Mr. Simmons as he handed out revision worksheets. There was wave of disappointed groans.

“Darn it, I was planning to visit Arnold after school but I have to study for this test. I can’t fail math,” groaned Gerald.

Helga sat up and felt a little sorry for Gerald. He just wanted to visit his friend but now he couldn’t because of the test. She sighed and nudged Phoebe.

“Hey, hair boy!” she whispered to Gerald. He groaned and turned to face her.

“What do you want?” he asked. Helga rolled her eyes.

“Listen up, I’m planning to visit football- Arnold after school so if you want...you can make him a card and I’ll give it to him.”

Gerald’s eyes widened and he looked at her as if she’d grown a second head.

“What? Why would you visit him?”

“Ugh, I was with him when he collapsed okay? He had appendicitis and I helped. Can you blame me for want to see if he’s okay since I literally had no idea what was wrong with him and thought he was dying?” Helga said in a whole breath.

“Wait..you were there?!” Gerald exclaimed.

Helga ran her hand down her face and took a deep breath.

“Are you going to make him a card or not, hair boy?”

Gerald nodded slowly and Helga grinned.

“Oh and I’m sure Phoebe can help you study for the test tomorrow, right Pheebs?” Helga nudged her small friend who had gone a brilliant red.

“Y-yeah, s-sure!”

Gerald grinned and Helga noticed the blush on his cheeks.

“Have that card ready by the end of today, otherwise no card for Arnold.”

****************************************************

Arnold’s jaw dropped when he saw Helga stroll into his hospital room with her arms full of cards and flowers. He also noticed the ‘GET WELL SOON’ balloon tied around her wrist and the how out of breath she was.

“Helga- what is this?”

Helga dumped the cards on his bed and put the flowers on the desk next to his bed.

“I swear you have way too many friends,” she groaned as she untied the balloon and tied it to the bed and looked at him.

Gerald had told their whole class that a ‘messenger’ was going to take get well soon cards to Arnold after school since they all had to study math and the whole class had immediately started working on their cards. Helga was happy that he didn’t mention her. The last thing she needed was the class teasing her about caring. When Gerald handed Helga more than thirty cards all from students and teachers as well as flowers and a balloon she thought the delivery would be impossible. Thankfully she had managed.

“So? Read them!” she huffed and sat down at the end of the bed.

Arnold looked at all the cards and picked up the first one he saw. It was from Gerald. And the next one was from Lila then Eugene then Rhonda then Phoebe and- he had received cards from almost everyone he knew. He read each one, his smile growing bigger and bigger. Once he had finished the last one he looked at Helga.

“Helga this is….thank you.”

“Well you should thank your friends. We have a math test tomorrow so most of them couldn’t visit you so I told them to make cards instead.”

Arnold was silent.

“But...why would you visit me? I thought you hated me?”

Helga froze and she mentally slapped herself.

“I-I was worried okay? I went through a really traumatising experience yesterday football head and I had no idea what appendicitis was until the doctors said so! I thought you were dying! Can you blame me for being worried? I mean who would I call football head if you died, right? Hahah,” she laughed nervously.

Arnold stared at her before smiling.

“But...you just said that there’s a math test tomorrow...don’t you need to study?”

Helga glared at Arnold, the faintest blush on her cheeks.

“Arnold can you just leave the situation alone and read all your cards otherwise I’ll hit you so hard you’ll need another surgery.”

“Okay, Helga,” he said with a smile.

The nurse came in with a bowl of soup and Helga ushered her out.

Helga watched as Arnold started to eat but she noticed he was having difficulty.

“Jeez, if you want help just ask football head.”

She scooted closer to him and took the bowl and spoon in her hands. She scooped up a small amount of soup and blew on it before stopping the soup in front of his mouth. He opened his mouth and closed it around the spoon and ate the soup. Helga repeated the process until the soup was all eaten and she put the bowl on the side.

Arnold noticed a pink card on his bed that he hadn’t read yet and picked it up.

“I missed one...it’s really pretty,” he murmured as he opened it and Helga nearly fell off the bed.

“Arnold no-! Don’t read it-!”

Arnold had already opened the card and his eyes widened as he began to read out loud.

Arnold.

I can’t believe you have so many people that care about you. It’s actually sickening.

Anyway, I’m happy you’re feeling better. It was scary going through that experience with you yesterday and I guess I’m happy you’ll be back at school in no time. It’s really boring without you. I suppose I do care about you...a little. I mean I decided to not study for math to visit you instead but you’ll probably never read this, since I’ll burn it after I visit you.

Good to see you again, Arnold.

Love Helga

Arnold looked at Helga who was dying internally.

“That...fell out of my p-pocket and y-you were n-never supposed t-to read i-it.”

Arnold was silent and Helga wanted him to say something, anything.

“I knew you cared….deep down. Thank you for all of this Helga.”

He gently crawled to the end of the bed and hugged her.

“Thank you,” he repeated and Helga slowly put her arms around him. The hug lasted a good two minutes and the sun was just starting to set, bathing the hospital in golden warmth.

After the hug, Helga cleared her throat.

“Well Arnold if any of this- and I mean any of this- gets back to the gang at school...you’ll wish you had appendicitis all over again,” she threatened but she knew that she was blushing.

Arnold grinned.

“Whatever you say Helga, whatever you say.”

#hey arnold #helga and arnold #shortaki #helga x arnold #i love this ship with all my heart #vanilla107 writes #jojo writes

[accioharry]

hello! i’ve written my first spideychelle fic that is not in the same universe as my headcanons! unfortunately, i’m waiting on an invite to create an AO3 account so it’s not posted there yet, but I will update this post the second it is!! without further ado...

The four times Michelle caught Peter staring at her, and the one time it was the other way around.

I. Kindergarten 

The first time Michelle catches Peter staring at her is in their Kindergarten reading time. Their teacher takes them to the library every Friday to pick out a book, and naturally Peter goes with the other 5-year-old boys to the books about dinosaurs and race cars. Michelle on the other hand, is different. She ventures off from the ballerina and princess books and finds herself checking out a book that is labeled for the 3rd grade reading level and up. 

“Are you sure Michelle?” Her teacher asks when the kids are lining up to go back to class, and Michelle hugs the book tighter to her chest and nods. She never liked the books for her class, they were far too easy and usually quite boring. She takes the book outside at recess and sits at the lunch tables to read. Other girls from her class come and ask her to come play, but Michelle politely declines. Jack and Annie ae about to go on another tree house adventure, and that’s way more exciting than hide and seek. A short while later her teacher comes over with two boys who clearly know they are in trouble for something. “Flash, you sit at that table over there,” Michelle overhears, but she doesn’t seem surprised. First of all, that kid in her class goes by ‘Flash’, and secondly, he’s always causing trouble. “Peter, sit across from Michelle, but you are not allowed to talk to her?” Michelle keeps her eyes on her book when she feels the weight of the table shift for a second. She doesn’t know what the two boys did and frankly she doesn’t care, but once she finishes the chapter she looks up to see a small pair of brown eyes staring at her under a mop of curly brown hair. “She said not to talk to me,” Michelle reminds the boy, and he blinks before turning around to watch the other kids on the playground.

II. 3rd Grade 

The second time Michelle catches him is when they’re 8 years old. They haven’t been in the same class since Kindergarten, and Michelle always thought Peter was a weird kid. He talked about fighter pilots and the death star while Michelle was knee deep in 8th grade reading level at this point. Her parents had a talk with her teacher about Michelle not having that many friends, but the truth was that the kids in books were just more exciting than the kids she sat next to in class. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any friends, because she does. She sits with the same group of girls at lunch and plays tag with them at first recess, but she dedicates afternoon recess to reading. It’s just what she does. When her mom gives her a box of cupcakes to take to school for her birthday, Michelle takes them in proudly, and she’s excited when she gets to wear the class birthday crown all day. Her teacher passes the cupcakes out after lunch and brings Michelle up in front of the class so the class can sing to her. She notices him when everyone else is singing, because he isn’t. He’s staring at her with a weird look on his face, but Michelle can’t place it. She may be observant, but she’s not great at reading people yet. She thinks maybe he just zoned out, but after the song ends he smiles and joins in the applause from the rest of their classmates. Michelle walks back to her seat and looks back to where his desk is and he smiles and takes a bite of the cupcake. She swears she isn’t blushing, and she swears he isn’t her first crush, but his smile makes her want to smile too. So she does. 

III. 7th grade. 

The third time happens when they’re 13. Both of them are in their awkward stages, Michelle just got her first period and Peter’s voice is either super high or an awkward medium, depending on the day. They aren’t friends, but they aren’t strangers. They sit next to each other in History and have done a few group projects together, but that’s about it. She’s never been into sports, but her older brother is on the high school football team, and that’s where Michelle is going to go in two years, so she tags along to the games with her family. Her mom gave her money to go buy a hot dog, and so that’s where she finds herself when Peter comes up behind her. “Are you cold?” He asks, and she turns in line. He’s wearing a pretty heavy jacket, but it’s early October, and Michelle was fine in her sweatshirt. She shakes her head no, and he turns his attention to the menu. It’s not that Peter isn’t cute, because he is. His hair is still curly and his eyes are still so warm but she doesn’t know him well enough to actually like him. She’s allowed to think boys are cute without liking them, and she will never like Peter. He’s just…Peter. The crowd suddenly cheers and Michelle turns to stand on her tip toes to try and see the field, but she’s thrown off by Peter staring at her. “What?” She asks, but he just turns around to talk to Ned from English class behind him, Michelle finally gets to order that stupid hotdog.

IV. Homecoming (Junior Year)

The fourth time happens when Michelle decides Peter is going to be her homecoming date.  They’ve gotten closer since the whole Liz fiasco of last year, and Michelle is certain that Peter is Spiderman. Since Kindergarten, her observant skills have been nothing but amazing. Honestly, Peter sucks at keeping a secret, but that’s not how she figured it out. First of all, Spiderman in D.C out of ALL days? Then, Peter disappears from Homecoming last year and suddenly Spiderman catches Liz’s dad in under 2 hours AND Michelle found Peter’s tie on the floor by the lockers towards the front door exit. And finally, Ned got busted for watching porn, and ned has been terrified of porn since Flash pulled it up at a previous decathlon trip. Nice try, Peter. She’s not sure what her motive is to bring Peter to homecoming, maybe she’ll force him to slow dance and tell him that she knows, or maybe a giant villain will come in and Peter will have to reveal himself to the world, or maybe it’s because she worries about him sometimes and- Oh no. The last one is definitely not it. Sure, she had a little crush in 3rd grade, but it’s over. He’s Peter. She’s talking herself out of that last thought when her mom calls her to tell her that Peter is downstairs, and she’s finally convinced herself when- Well shit. Peter Parker looks fantastic in a suit. She didn’t pay enough attention to him last year for the 2 minutes that he was there besides when she flipped him off when he walked in, and honestly he looks 10x better than before. It’s awkward when she’s walking downstairs, her mom is taking pictures and her Dad is wiping his eyes with a tissue. She avoids looking at Peter, because that little jerk has the same 3rd grade smile that still reaches his eyes. Her parents rush to get their cameras when she gets to Peter, and he’s still staring, and Michelle can’t hold her feelings down much longer, so she does the first thing that comes to her mind. She flips him off again.

V. Infinity War

New York is a mess. The summer before senior year is supposed to be college trips, late night Star Wars movie nights, and maybe convincing Michelle that he wasn’t that much of a loser.  Instead? Peter is trying to save his city. His new suit allows his senses to function properly and he’s glad because he would definitely have gone into a state of distress at this point. There’s so much debris and so many noises and so many people to save as quickly as possible. He last talked to May and Ned before Tony got them safe, and he hasn’t heard from Michelle, but his phone died and he frankly doesn’t have time to find a charger. He’s webbing up a bad guy so Steve and Wanda can get the civilians out when he feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Michelle is among the citizens coming out of the library. She has dirt all over her and a cut on her leg and her face, but she’s alive. Thank god, she’s alive. She meets his gaze and he wants to yell at her to run, to run far away from New York as far as she can but he knows she’d roll her eyes at him. She doesn’t even know he’s Spiderman and he can’t say anything without risking it. He sees her break away from the group and she hops over a fallen piece of cement and goes over to him. There aren’t anymore bad guys in the area and Steve told him not to go inside because the building could fall any second. Peter is about to say something when Michelle reaches him, pulls his mask up above his mouth, and kisses him right in the middle of the battlefield. Peter barely has time to put his hands on her waist when she pulls back and puts the mask back down. “Be careful Parker,” she whispers, and he freezes. She knows. He watches her run back to the group and he hears Tony calling for him on coms so he throws a web to start flying over, but she knows, and Peter knows when this is all over he’ll have to talk to her, but he’ll do that after he kisses her again. Definitely after he kisses her again.

#my fics #petermj #spideychelle #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker #michelle jones #tom holland #zendaya #spiderman hoco #spiderman homecoming edit #spidermanhomecomingedit

[thestuckylibrary]

Mods’ Reads: June 2017

New mods, new features!

We know we are very behind on our recs, so by the suggestion of a lovely anon, we’ve decided to compile a list of fics we’ve read this month. This fandom always gives us amazing stories to gush about, which we are very thankful for :D

From new fics to old ones, our picks are under the cut:

Mod Karin

And we’ll be slow, honey lovers (‘til the clocks go forward again) by stellam_ignem

But he knows he wants to stay, because he can’t stand not hearing Steve’s voice, or not seeing that smile on that face, or that solemn look of kindness whenever he hands over a few dollars to the homeless veteran on the side of the street. He can’t stand not making Steve laugh. He loves the the subtle smirk in his dares and the snark in his jokes, and the jerk in his brow when he’s lost in thought, or the way he smiles whenever they kiss and thumbs across Bucky’s lower back. Bucky chokes a little, on air, and gently wraps his arms back around Steve’s neck to kiss him.

or: bucky’s a boxer/writer and steve’s the english teacher who walks in on his life.

Fortunate Resolutions of In-Field Complications a.k.a. Dumb Luck by Katharoses, Lasenby_Heathcote

The mission was simple. The mission wasn’t anything at all. We didn’t have to fight, we didn’t have to break in or steal anything or blow anything up - or at least nothing specific. The mission was simply to create a lot of bluster in the wrong direction. But then, the mission doesn’t always go according to plan.

If They Haven’t Learned Your Name by silentwalrus

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky’s Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

Pieces Were Stolen From Me by perfect_plan

Steve Rogers is drawn to the mysterious man who has started to frequent his gallery but has no idea how is life is about to change just by being his friend.

Werewolf? There Wolf by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

After the car accident that cost him his arm and the endless rehabilitation that got him his shiny metal Stark Industries replacement, Bucky’s happy for a break from people. The house in the forest is peaceful, town’s a fair distance away, and he’s got no neighbours…except maybe a blue-eyed wolf and possibly a naked guy named Steve.

(PS: Steve is the wolf.)

Mod Blue I (re)read a lot so I’m just going to list them without their summaries or we’ll all be scrolling forever.

The Way Out Is The Way Down by Speranza

Coming and Going by Speranza

20th Century Limited by Speranza

What We Asked For From Each Other by Speranza

Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square by Speranza

All The Angels and The Saints by Speranza

Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes by Speranza

Coming Out Party by Speranza

the nightmare from which I am trying to awake by Speranza

Dishonor On Your Cow by mandarou

The Avengers Hate Club by notebooksandlaptops

Nietzsche is Dead by mambo

Kiss the Cook by mambo

half awake in a fake empire by idrilka

Behind closed doors: collected oral histories of queer community in New York, 1930-1945. doi 10.1999/journal.amhistqstud.32557038 by wobblyheadeddollcaper

back seat drive by silentwalrus

Workplace Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled

Mod Julia

broken people (living under loaded gun) by obsessivereader, Slaughter_Me

“It’s him, Nat.”

“He may look like Steve, but that’s not Steve.” Distress mars her calm, professional mask, a sign of how shaken she is. “You saw how many men he killed, the way he did it. That’s not Steve.”

Until You Wear a Groove in the World by rohkeutta

Steve saves him.

In a way, Bucky wishes he hadn’t, because at least then Bucky could’ve pretended that those letters from Spokane and Tucson and Philadelphia never arrived. Bucky could’ve died imagining that Steve was safely in Brooklyn, clinging to life with the skin of his teeth, maybe taking Rebecca and Alice out dancing.

And Shadows Will Fall Behind byleveragehunters

The world was full of things no one could have expected.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes never expected to fall from a train into decades of torture and killing.

HYDRA never expected their perfect Winter Soldier’s programming to shatter.

And Bucky, who’d once been the Winter Soldier, who was now an auxiliary to the Avengers, never expected to look down from a rooftop in New York City, where he was keeping watch over the world’s most ineffectual aspirant supervillains, and see a tiny ball of angry sunshine. Fierce and fearless, he loosed feelings in Bucky that he’d thought were gone forever.

we are the things that we do for fun by Nonymos

Going to a professional Dom may be one of the weirdest things Bucky’s ever done. Especially since this skinny Steve Rogers guy doesn’t really look the part.

But hey, they might just find a way to make this work.

let’s see where we wake up tomorrow by kblaze2

Steve’s gone on his second tour. Bucky gets a dog. There is no correlation. Really. Shut up, Nat.

Feeling I’ll Forget, I’m In Love Now by smithsonianstucky

Five years after the events in D.C., Steve and Bucky are living in Brooklyn and working through Bucky’s last stage of recovery: refamiliarizing himself with touch. At the suggestion of his therapist, they adopt a cat and wonder what changes the pet will make in their lives.

a trip to the grope zoo by mwestbelle

Bucky spends some quality time with Steve’s quality tits.

The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat

or, how Steve ends up working for a dragon with a very odd sense of humor

Korpimaan kutsu by Feanor_in_leather_pants, rohkeutta

The Wise Man teaches him sometimes if he catches Steve puttering around the woods: how to read the trees and the moss, when to listen to the birds and when it’s better to leave their advice untaken. He teaches Steve about the bears and why you’re never supposed to call them by their real name; tells him grittier and truer stories about the woodsfolk than the old ladies in the village.

Dark Lights of Brooklyn by jwdish98

Steve Rogers is a private investigator who is barely skating by. He spends more time in his office than his apartment, and he continues to watch all his friends live out their lives while he sits on the sidelines.

However, when a case falls into his lap that dredges up past mistakes Steve’s life starts to veer off course- in a good way. Probably.

(He’s not entirely sure yet.)

Send Nudes! by DizzyRedhead, TrishArgh

When Steve decided to cosplay Captain America, one of his favorite TV characters, at a convention, he didn’t expect to meet a Winter Soldier cosplayer who looks like he stepped right off the screen (and has a great ass). He didn’t expect to hook up with Bucky, or to find out that they live in the same part of Brooklyn. He definitely didn’t expect the sexting, or the continued hooking up, or the dinner dates.

Steve didn’t expect any of this. Especially not the feelings.

Magic Fingers by lillupon

Steve is just a simple hairdresser.

The Only Familiar Thing by brideofquiet

Steve takes a breath, steels himself, and asks, “Where are we going, Buck?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving, Steve.”

so pop the hood, see what’s good by Bellakitse, ravyn_ashling

While celebrating his birthday Steve meets a charming guy with beautiful blue eyes and an easy smile, going home with him for the night should be the end of it. Instead it’s only the start when his boss and friend hires him as his new mechanic.

Mod Dee

Someone get this boy a drink by fingersnapstothat

Sam recommends Steve get a Tinder. He does. It proves to be the best and worst idea ever.

An Idiot’s Romance by captainsthve

So. Steve’s not the smoothest person.

Which is why he’s currently knocking on Sam Wilson’s door and groaning, “Sam, I’m hopeless.” as soon as the door swings open.

Sam just rolls his eyes and lets Steve in. “That is not new information. What happened?”

So Steve recounts the events of the morning with Sam listening patiently and only teasing a little bit. “You know Steve, I’m going to write a biography about you one day and I’m gonna make millions because no one will believe that Captain America is so hopelessly in love with his best friend that he turns into a middle schooler with a crush.”

aka the one where Steve realizes he’s in love and also realizes he’s horribly bad at flirting.

only one my arms will ever hold by wearing_tearing

Like most stories about Bucky Barnes and his questionable and sometimes terrible life choices, this one starts because he decides not to listen to Natasha’s cryptic and mostly annoying advice.

He decides not to listen, and he hunts down and kills a deer during that month’s full moon run with his pack and leaves its dead body on Steve Rogers’s front step.

Steve, the man Bucky kind-of-possibly-maybe-absolutely is in love with.

Bucky would try to smother himself after that one, but he’s learned that werewolves are hard to kill.

*

Or: the four stages of courting Steve Rogers.

Dishonor On Your Cow by mandarou

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

perhaps it is to avoid some great sadness by onibi

Steve: I took an online quiz and it told me I’d be a cup of black coffee. It says that my good qualities are that I’m friendly, adaptable, and low maintenance.  

Bucky: and what did it say you were at your worst a lazy jerk who harasses his boyfriend with inane bullshit online instead of coming in and talking to him face to face

or: in which steve gets really into online personality quizzes, everybody suffers, and steve is a huge sap about how much he loves his boyfriend

I love you like rlb by tolieawake

I love you like rlb has become a well-known, accepted and valuable component of American vernacular. The meaning of the letters 'rlb’ is unknown, but is uniformly considered to be a statement of a great romantic love, commitment and sacrifice.

It was Dernier as first said it. Steve never imagined that something like that could have survived the war and all the years in between.

In which Tony goes insane trying to figure out why that phrase affects the Cap so much, Bucky teases the press, and Steve and Bucky love each other like rlb.

#mod picks

[fallinfor-youreyes]

Why Do We Run

The five times Benvolio says I love you, and the one time Rosaline says it back.

Ao3

I.

“I love you.”

Rosaline tries not to cringe at Benvolio Montague’s words. Which is hard, considering they are holding hands in front of their entire 8th grade class.

“And I, you.”

He makes a face at her words, partially covered by his too long hair.

That’s it. The scene should be over. It should be some other students turn to make complete fools of themselves in front of the class.

She should not still be holding his hand.

“Umm.” Benvolio coughs, and turns toward their teacher. Mrs. Lazzara sighs before clapping her hands together, the rest of the class following in unison. Benvolio rips his hands away from hers and stalks back to his seat.                

Someone wolf whistles when Rosaline sits down, and it takes everything in her being to not throw a book at them.

Two months. She has two months left of middle school, two months left of acting out scenes for English class, two months until her chances of ever being paired up with Benvolio Montague again fall to less than 5%.

“I love you!” the next pair presenting says. The partner blushes accordingly, and bat their eye lashes. That was how the scene was supposed to look. Maybe now Mrs. Lazzara would stop pairing her with her sworn enemy.

She can feel Benvolio’s eyes burning into the back of her head, but she refuses to look at him. Instead she crosses the day off her calendar and tries not to break another pencil.

II.

She really should have known better than to think prom would actually be fun. Juliet left to dance with her date less than 20 minutes in. Isabella was skirted away from some beautiful girl about 40 minutes later.  

It didn’t bother her that she didn’t have a date – she did say no to Romeo Montague when he asked – but what did bother her was being alone. The slow dances had started and all her friends had someone to dance with leaving her alone eating cake while some John Legend song plays in the background.

               The bright lights of the hallway almost blind her. She needs out of the ballroom, out of the dance, out of the crowd. Rosaline needs a minute to compose herself. She has a week left of high school, and then she would be done with Verona high and everyone in it. Except for her cousin and her sister and Isabella, but everyone else, she never wants to see again.

She can hear the song change from the restroom, and she knows Juliet will be looking for her in a minute, but she doesn’t want to go back yet. She runs her hands under the cool water, trying to calm herself down.

Her phone dings, and she sighs. It dings 4 more times, and she tells Juliet she’s in the bathroom to just give her a moment.

The music gets louder the second she opens the door back into the too bright hallway. She closes her eyes, ignoring her phone for another moment, readying herself to go back in.

“I love you, Rosaline.”

The words stop her in her tracks. She knows that voice. She also knows that is the last thing Benvolio Montague would ever say.

“Do you really think that will work?”

Rosaline knows that voice too, and it takes all her power not to groan and let the boys know she is there.

“I don’t know Rom. That’s how it works in the movies.” Benvolio says. She moves closer to the voices, discovering the two Montagues in a hallway off to the side. Benvolio’s the one facing her, and his eyes catch hers over Romeo’s head.

“Where is Mercutio when you need him?” Romeo says. He hasn’t noticed Rosaline yet, and Ben moves his eyes in a way telling her to get away while she has the chance.

“Probably dancing with his boyfriend.”

Rosaline gathers her dress in her hands and starts making her way back to the ballroom.

“You sound bitter.” Romeo says, and Rosaline has to agree with him.

“Yeah, I’m bitter he left me alone with you.” She can hear his eye roll in his voice, and for some stupid reason it makes her smile.

“Wow. Wait, what are you looking at?” Romeo’s voice gets slightly louder.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

She hears footsteps, and she knows she going to be caught because her heels make it nearly impossible to walk fast, and her skirt slows her down even more.

“Rosaline.” Romeo’s voice cracks over her name, and she can’t very well ignore him without being the world’s biggest bitch, so she goes to turn when someone collides into her.

“Ros! There you are I thought you drowned in the bathroom!” Juliet says, eyes falling on the boys behind her. Rosaline watches as Romeo turns from her to Juliet, and his face changes, just slightly, but enough for Rosaline to know something has happened. Benvolio watches too, a look of horror crossing his features.

“Hi. I’m Romeo.”

“I know who you are.” Juliet scoffs, rolling her eyes him. But Rosaline can see the slight color in her cheeks, and she thinks maybe, just maybe, she’s been saved from Romeo’s confession of love.

Benvolio sighs at the pair as he brushes past them. He’s grown since middle school. He’s taller than her now, hair cut short and reaching for the ceiling, red bow tie open, contrasting against the black dress shirt he has on. It’s a good look for him.

“Thanks. For trying to save me.” She says as he passes. It might be the first nice thing she’s said to Benvolio Montague since middle school.

“No problem, Capulet.” He offers her a barely there smile, before disappearing back into the ballroom.

She hears Juliet giggle and Rosaline grabs her cousins arm and drags her back to the ballroom. She’s had enough of Montague’s to last her a life time.

III.

“Oh, come on Capulet!”

“No. Leave me alone Montague I mean it.” She turns on her heel, turns away from Benvolio. They had ended up at the same college, and somehow, even though there were nearly 10,000 students, he was still able to find her and bother her.

Their arguments had become the stuff of legends, debates in classes, shouting matches on the quad, banishments from the library. It was like his entire life revolved around ruining hers.

“But I love you!” The words ring out on the quad, and nearly everyone stops their conversations. Rosaline can feel all their eyes on her. She slowly turns to him, finding a triumphant smirk on his lips.

She stalks back to him, anger rippling through her.

“We need to talk about this Capulet. Our cousins are dating and I know you hate it as much I do.”

The slap echoes around the entire quad. Someone cheers.

“I’m not going to sacrifice my cousin’s happiness because of your hatred for my family. No matter how much I don’t like it.” She takes a step away from him. “And next time you think about trying to embarrass me to get my attention, I’ll do a lot worse than slap you.”

He nods at her, holding his cheek, but there’s something akin to pride in eyes. She ignores it, walking away from him again, glaring at anyone that dares to stare at her.

Her phone vibrates, 4 hours later, once she’s texted Juliet again warning her about the Montagues, once she’s finished her homework, and once she’s replied to all the messages on Facebook about his confession of love and the slap heard around the campus.

I’m sorry

She has Benvolio’s number from the time when Romeo showed up to her room, drunk and tearful over Juliet, and she needed him to pick up his cousin. She had kept it in case of emergencies, and it seemed he had kept hers for when he fucked up.

Just don’t do it again.

Instead of answering he sends her a dog video and she tells him to fuck off, but adds a smiley face for good measure.

She never expected Benvolio Montague to be an ally in anything, but their mutual dislike of each other made them equally upset about their cousins’ romance. And they still fought at every corner, but every once and a while, usually on a weekend when they ended up at the same party thanks to their cousins, they would stop, he would call a truce and buy her a drink, and for a half hour they would be civil.

The fact that he could still make her smile, after what happened on the quad only made her realize that under different circumstances, under different last names, they probably could have been friends.

IV.

Juliet sighs, and grips Romeo’s hand tighter. The chapel is dingy, with the part of the sign falling off, but the two love birds are looking at it like it’s the most beautiful place in the world.

“Are we really going to allow them to do this?” Ben whispers, watching his cousin talking to the minister.

“Do we really have a choice?” Rosaline answers.

Romeo passes over the money, and Juliet’s entire being lights up, and for a moment, Rosaline forgets who they are. They are just four people, two of them so in love that they are going to elope in Vegas, and Juliet’s smile is all she needs to know there is no way she is going to stop this.

“I don’t think I could.” Ben says. He bumps his hip against hers, before smiling at her as he walks over to Romeo so they can start the ceremony.

They stand across from each other as their cousins say their vows, and he mouths the words I love you to her when Romeo says it to Juliet, with an eye roll and a smirk on his face.

They find their way to a club after the ceremony is over, and Romeo requests a slow song for them to dance too. Rosaline stands by the bar, watching her cousin laugh as her husband spins her in circles, and she’s filled with a sense of joy over the whole thing. It’s going to be a mess once their parents find out, but she’s never seen Juliet so happy.

“I love you.”

Ben’s arm slings his arm around her shoulder as he finds his way next to her. She turns to him, a question on her lips, but he just takes a sip of her drink.

“I’m testing out a theory.” He says in response to her look, ordering them both a round of shots.

“Which is?”

“It will feel different when you mean it.”

“Ben…”

“I told my last girlfriend I loved her, because I thought that was what I should do. Then she broke my heart. But I didn’t really love her. I mean, look at those two. You can tell they are in love, without even knowing them. I want to know how it will feel when I’m in love as they are.” He takes a shot, and drops his hand from her shoulder.

“So, I’m your guinea pig?” she asks.

“You know you mean more to me than that, Ros.” He presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek before melting into the crowd, leaving her stuck to the spot, wondering exactly what he means.

V.

The light filters into his bedroom, waking her up. His hand tightens on her waist, stopping her from moving.

She shouldn’t have spent the night. It was one of their rules. They had been sleeping together for months, and their rules made sure it became nothing else.

Rosaline doesn’t want to know what it feels like to wake up in Ben’s arms. She doesn’t want to know what he looks like first thing in the morning, doesn’t want to know if they’ll share lazy kisses or if he’ll attempt to make her breakfast.

Because if she knows that, the string holding her heart together will snap. If she knows what it’s like to be with Benvolio for more than just sex, she knows she will never recover.

“It’s too damn early Capulet.” He tugs her backward until she’s once again flush against him. She twists in his arms so she can look at him.

“That was your excuse for getting me to stay the night.”

He pops open a single eye, and pulls her forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss. “If it makes you stay…”

He kisses her until she can’t breathe, and his hand dances up skin, underneath his shirt. He sighs, pulling back, knotting a hand in her hair.

“God, Ros. I think I love you.”

Time freezes. She suddenly can’t breathe. This is different from any other time he had said those stupid words. She can feel the difference. Like he said at Romeo and Juliet’s wedding.

“Ros.” He searches her face, but she moves away from him, off the bed. She starts gathering her things, pulling on her shorts, searching for her bra.

“I’m sorry. I forgot, I had plans with Livia, she’s probably going to crazy, I –” she pauses, a moment, his hand reaching out for her.      

“Ros, wait.”

She pulls away from him, reaching for her shoes.

“I have to go.” She stops looking for her bra and grabs her phone, walking out of his apartment before he can say anything else.

It’s her fault. She knows it’s her fault. She was the one who kissed him first, all those months ago, at Romeo and Juliet’s wedding reception Mr. Capulet insisted on throwing. She was the one who called him again, two weeks later because she tipsy and lonely. She was the one who came up with the rules, she was the one who broke them.

Benvolio Montague told her he loved her and she ran away.

“Ros, what the hell?” Juliet almost stumbles over her as she walks through the door, bags of groceries falling to the ground.

“Hi.” She says, picking up the dropped food, helping carry it to the kitchen.

Juliet waits until everything is safely on the counter before turning to her cousin. “Want to explain why you are sitting on my floor, attempting to kill me?” For a second, she looks exactly like her mother, about to demand an explanation for the girls being out to late, or how Rosaline had enough money to buy a new dress or why Livia was dating the man she had chosen for Juliet. But when she sees her, Juliet melts, rushing forward to pull her into a hug.

“What happened?”

“Ben,” she swallows, trying to collect her thoughts. “He told me he loved me.”

Juliet gasps, and pulls herself back. “What?”

Rosaline closes her eyes trying to steady herself. But she can’t. She’s been unsteady since he kissed her. She feels like she’s been unsteady ever since Benvolio Montague entered her life.

“We’ve been sleeping together for months, and this morning he told me he loved me.” She rushes it out in one breath, only opening her eyes once she gives Juliet a moment to take it in.

“Oh.” Juliet says. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“Umm. I kind of ran away.”

Juliet sucks in her teeth. She holds out a bag to Rosaline. They unpack the groceries silently, Juliet thinking about what to say.

“Now, tell me. Do you love him back?”

That’s the question that Rosaline had been afraid of. Feelings are complicated and messy. The last time she gave her heart to someone, he left, without so much as a goodbye, offering an apology through his sister.

Love made things brighter, more alive, but it also made everything hurt.

Because if she lets herself love Benvolio Montague, she’ll give him the power to break her.

“I – umm. Jules, I can’t get hurt again.”

“That’s not a no. Ros, love is, it’s magical and wonderful, but it also is work. Believe me, the first-time Romeo told me he loved me, I was ready to say goodbye to him forever, but look at us now Ros. We’re married. Living together, making it work. If you’re too afraid to love, you’ll never find it again.” Juliet grabs her hand. “You love him too, don’t you?”

It takes all her power to not break down crying in front of her cousin.

“You wouldn’t be acting like this if you didn’t.”

I.

Sometimes, Rosaline hates when her cousin is right. Most times, it leads to her doing something spontaneous and reckless.

Like now.

Standing outside of the very apartment she ran out of that morning, holding a bouquet of flowers and a pack of beer. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing, if he’ll even let her in, but if she doesn’t try, she knows it’s going to hurt for the rest of her life.

The door swings open, and he stands in front of her, freshly showered and shirtless. She watches the muscle in his jaw jump.

“What?” There’s a poison in his words, one that feels like a much-deserved slap in the face. She goes to open her mouth, but he holds up a hand.

“Did you – did you buy me flowers?”

She nods, holding them out to him. “And beer. And an apology.”

He steps aside so she can walk in.

“No one’s ever bought me flowers before.” He says, a smile teasing his lips.

“Umm.” She doesn’t really know what to say. She hadn’t thought past the part of him opening the door.

He delicately places the flowers on the counter and turns to her. Her mouth goes dry, and her palms begin to sweat.

“I found your bra.”

“I’m sorry.”

They both speak at the same time, and she cringes, because this worse than she imagined it would be.

“You can go first.” He says.

She inhales a breath and takes a step closer to him. “I’m sorry. About running away this morning. I wasn’t ready for it. I’ve always guarded my heart, and then Escalus shattered it last year. And me and you, we’re a bad example of a decent relationship and I wasn’t prepared. But that doesn’t mean it was okay for me to run away from you.”

He leans back on the counter, crossing his arms.

“But that doesn’t mean I want what we have to stop. In fact, I would like it to continue.”

He looks confused, and she realizes that she isn’t making a lot of sense, and whatever she’s saying in no way makes up for how she reacted when they woke up.

She sighs and moves until she’s less than a breath away from him. “Ben, what I’m trying to say is, this morning, you said you think you may love me, and I freaked.” She pauses, and tries to stop her hands from shaking. “But, it was wrong of me. And If you’ll have me, I am falling in love with you too.”

She bites her lips together, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“It was a bit of an asshole dropping it on you like that. I probably should have asked you on a real date first.” His hand comes up to cup her cheek.

“A real date might be nice.” She agrees. Her gaze drops down to his lips for a split second. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

She nods, bringing herself even closer to him.

“Wanna go on a real date? Tonight?” He asks. “Now?” His nose bumps against hers.

“Yes.” She takes a shaky breath, curling her hand around his neck. “Whenever you want.”

“Okay.” He kisses her, soft and quick. “Rose. I love you.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Shit, sorry, pretend I d- “

She presses a finger against his lips, silencing him.

“I love you too.”

#rosvolio #still star crossed fic #ssc #my fic #i miss them a whole bunch

[riddlemepoetry-blog]

Growing Up

Bayley Brooks

English 10

6/14/2017

Here’s a story I wrote for english class. All that you read actually happened. 

Growing Up

 I was born three twenty two ninety seven a gift from god that came straight from heaven I was in my mom's belly protected inside and when I came out the family cried  everything was good we got in the car headed straight to the neighborhood I went to sleep that night woke up in the morning everything's alright I’m sure i saw my mom and dad but i don’t remember that now i'm two years old and i'm back where the story started at I’m hooked up to machines and i’m very scared doctors asking my parents if they’re prepared for the nightmares and the night tears cuz they're is a chance i may not awake from my sleep because of the anesthesia If there’s a god right now i need you to break the story I had HPV Yeah that’s a disease I had it on my vocal chords sounding like darth vader missing so much school it wasn’t cool but i had to do what I had to do to survive to the hospital at 3 a.m. we would drive as we arrived I got out of the car and i didn't have to walk very far to the front door I knew where i was as soon as the familiar smell hit my nose and as i got the chill from my head to my toes i felt a hand on my back it was my dad saying “I could tell that you are sad”. He said “You needed me hear so you wouldnt worry. I said “It’s ok dad, we’ll be gone in a hurry. Now i'm inside the hospital my parents are signing papers I’m not sure what for but i'm wonderin the hospital I need to explore my mind doesn't want to go to rest and i don't want to be hooked up to ivs or have sticky things on my chest my mom comes and gets me says it’s time to go but i say no. I know I got to get to walkin but my brain it won’t stop talking so as i’m waitin with a mind that’s debatin I’m listenin to my parents talk to the doctor who’s statin what’s gonna happen and what’s gonna be done that’s the first time I realize my father’s a father and to my father his son cuz if he wasn’t he would run so far away and I wouldn’t see him till his dying day I’ve got my own room now watching cartoons on the telly and I’ve yet to have any food in my belly i'm starvin like marvin but i know i can't eat the nurse comes in to give me my medicine it taste like garbage I wish it tasted like the finest meat I could go for a cheeseburger i could really go for a cheeseburger right now My dad says we’ll go to mcdonald's as soon as you get out i get the bubbles cut from my throat i got a good doctor who did it on the doubles I’ll never forget his name Dr. Crockett he had an australian accent and he could rock it he was my favorite doctor i want to go visit him one day and see if he remembers the bay or the day no screw that he’ll remember the way he felt when he saved my life not once not even twice but several times and the only way i can show i care is through rhymes coming back out of the emergency room still loopy I wasn't thinking right eyes all droopy my parents telling me I was kicking and hitting the whole time saying no i didn't when Dr. Crockett came in I thought I had it comin he said “it took the whole team of nurses man” I’m like sorry mate it won’t happen again. He says wait a minute I’ll be right back he opens the door hands a present to me it's a brand new remote control car and i'm racing it around the room viciously I was so happy I had that toy forever and i took it out in any weather. Now I’m 8 or 9 living in long beach listening to teachers who can’t even teach I was put into gate for arriving in the middle of the lesson and I never understood things weren’t clear. Going home ready to get on the game thinkin I’m not doing homework i thought it was lame now my dads getting mad and he starts to shout and my mom is out I don’t know where she is she should be home taking care of her kids and she’s callin me a punk cuz she’s drunk and i can smell her odor it’s like smelling a skunk once she’s done with me she yells at my sister madi who’s only being a bratty cuz she’s getting treated badly and i feel sorry for my dad he knows it happened once again he’s put in this position and i know it's gotta be hard know this are things i live with i can show you the scars I remember the family piled into the car and it was all going great until my parents start arguing not again they pull into the parking lot and start getting aggresive and i wish i could suppress it when i see my dad grab my mom by the head and i can't imagine what she had said to deserve this i don't not understand the purpose of my mom's face getting smashed over and over by the center console all these emotions I can't control seeing that of course has its toll he tells my mom to run inside the store and don't say nothin or people will think you’re up to somethin face bleeding it’s all red its really f’d up but i'm glad she’s not dead enough of my mom let’s get to my dad tom don't cross him he’ll have you back in vietnam with the bomb droppin gun poppin boom you know of his presence as he enters the room and he’ll mop you up without a broom. He had lots of bikes I remember the harley that he gave to my mom when he upgraded to a chopper the pipes were loud got in trouble with coppers it didn’t stop the bike from moving down the street when he zoomed to the bar to see his pitcher he would greet as he took his seat and I thought it was dumb while he and mom thought it was neat. I would sit with my sister all day and make sure she was safe and sound while my parents weren’t around and I know it bothered her we would always fight but i didn't care if she was alright she knew i cared when I hugged her tight. Hearing the loud pipes roar at 3am when my parent came from the bar we were still up so we jumped and ran to our bed where the night we lie our heads. Waking up in the morning getting ready for school hearing you don't have to go today me and sister like cool. My parent’s hung over well that’s what they get maybe they’ll remember the next time but no it happens again and again and I try to tell them but they’re not listening Parents see me acting different depressed all the time trying to unwind and find a way to end the day and make all this go away but i’m lost like a stray on this gloomy day but for now it’s ok because it last for a day when we get to dawn the tears i cried are all gone and the more i think about it i gotta say it's ok put it on the back burner and just be bay. Before we wrap up the story it's not finished yet i can remember the time my sister wouldn't let my dad go without reminding him she wanted a cat so my dad turned on the computer and went to craigslist and found the most awesome kitten my sister gave it a kiss as we got em and brought em on to the place we call home and at the time his name was unknown so we went with simon that was his last name i was so happy i had a new friend and my sister started acting herself again she loved that cat until it ran away she would stay up all night and cry and i screamed why would you let this happen so we got another cat and that cat kept trappin itself here and there it was pretty funny just like when my family makes me laugh I remember when my mom had to give me a bath cuz i broke my arm and  i wasn't prepared for that ramp i went off of man was i scared to tell my dad what went wrong so my mom lied for me and to this day my dad still doesn't know the real story if he did he’d be set off in a hurry. I never really had much of a family that would stay in touch everyone is so distant and they blame and start calling names instead of solving the issue they just cause pain. My dad through me out 18 and i admit i deserve it i was mean playing video games all day those were my real friends I didn't like going outside not even on weekends. I was on the streets for two years now look where i'm at learning construction and how to better function and being more happy as i'm getting my diploma it's crazy to think where i came from you know the guy with papilloma buts its ok sometimes thats where you start but i never forgot to think with my head and my heart.

[thenameisbinx]

Blame Monday

ive been wanting to write down this entry since tuesday but i was busy trying to regulate my thoughts. Writing has always been my point of solace where in i find peace of mind and a completely different outlet as to talking to my friends about what im going through. i’ve set to making this entry in defining my roles and the effect of them. however, i ended up realizing its too complicated to describe. 

so let’s start it like this instead. 

Facade - a false, superficial, or artificial appearance or effect

OK. let’s not waste anytime by letting people see who you really are.  Smile for the audience and don’t show that your hurt, in pain, or depressed. Keep moving and show that you’re fine. be in everyone’s good graces. please them like a slave. adapt, change for them, plead for their acceptance. All the while, bury your thoughts of reality within you. you’ll get to that stage where youre always wanted. 

Reality bites. you keep wearing a mask for too long that you forget how to be weak, to be vulnerable. i learned that word when i was seven. one of the words you learn at that age where words originating from the french language. it was along the lines of “rendezvous” words or english classes that tries to teach different sounds of words that has literal sounding letters. When the teacher told us what it means, i always thought it was acting. Facade is a character that you want to play but not in a movie, but in your life. it dawned on me that ive been doing that awhile. since i could remember. Then i keep just playing along. 

Before, i would bring the sadness of my day by showing to the people that i’m ok. That it doesnt hurt. My mom pulled my hair and complained how thick it was, even if i was sitting still not wanting her to try to do my hair. called me, “worthless” and “incompetent”. instead of crying, i’d laugh and play around with some classmates the moment i get to school. Or the time that my sister made fun of how ugly i was in front of her friends, that i’m just an orphan. I just talked back and said, “Well, at least im not fat.” Then, there was this one time that my dad scolded me for trying to play in my undergarments, i wasnt naked but i was wearing a thick white top under my uniform and some thick shorts thats long enough to touch my knee under my skirt, like my friends were doing at school. i wore three layers everyday and wasnt allowed to take it off till i go home but i saw some kids doing it. took a layer off and played. i was 6. Dad dragged me out of my school yard and slapped me right in front of the guard. Don’t get me started with my brother. let’s just say, he never made me feel like im important in the family. he’s the only person that treats me like im nothing and no one until now. like my opinions didnt matter, or as if what i do doesnt have any relevance. yet, i’m the jolly one. the funny one. the energetic one. the loud one. the push over. easy definition, the masochist. Harsh but partially true.  

Now, implications. still, verbal cues. like, “lazy”, or “stupid”. in the family, its more verbal but emotional responses. Mostly they cuss, or scream or yell. If i reciprocate the same but not intentionally, i still get scolded. i cant talk back because im just the help. i’m obligated to do what they want me to. Even if im tired from work. Even if i just got dumped. Even if my mind is going through some stuff. 

what you dont know. i go through these every day and i don’t bring it at work or when i go out with “friends”. I’ll go to work with a smile on my face like nothing bad ever happened to my life. i’d put that big smile on my face and just laugh things out. Remember just the little good things that happened and seemingly move on, but i don’t. its slowly sinking into my chest. Subconsciously weeping like a baby, consciously aware that during a meeting i’d want to cry just because i couldnt keep it in a box. i’d clench my fist as if im waiting for my palms to bleed because it crate wasn’t chained shut. it oozes when you can’t regulate. 

Obedient -  submissive to the restraint or command of authority

the words “dont” and “do” are basic commands to me. any question that has “did” are immediate doubt on me or even the start of the sentence “have you” makes me quiver already. i was taught to obey a form of authority. Parents, older siblings, uncles, aunties, prefects, teachers, apparently, anyone who is older. so when someone says, “believe me” or “did you know”, i immediately am in awe. i believe them. the fun fact is stuck in my head. i pass down the knowledge or experience. There’s another word for obedience, gullible.

i was once asked by my brother to go through trash when i was a kid. because he threw something he shouldnt. i was asked to do my sister’s homework because my mom overheard her asking me to do so. i was told by my so called friends to ask people for their numbers for them for their friendship in exchange. I have reached the point that i feel guilty when im not doing what people ask me to. 

imagine working. imagine dating. imagine meeting new people. i can paint a picture but it’s too painful. Subconsciously, i thought i have removed that side of me. unfortunately, reflecting on the past few days, NOPE. i thought my defensive stature in every decision ive made was and the only way to take off that obedience or gullible card. Looks like i have been. being conditioned this way from the very beginning makes it seem impossible to take off. Obedience equals to gullibility. Refusal equals to guilt. 

my dad comes home drunk one time, asked me to give him his gun to point at my brother. i said no, he shook me. no one else stopped me but i obeyed. i talked to my sister’s friends once. she told me never to talk to them and beat me up till i had bruises on my stomach. i wanted to cry when one of her friends talked to me. so i ran away. i wasn’t allowed to sleep until i memorized multiplication set of 9. it was 3AM, i woke up on the bathroom toilet. my mom woke up and asked me to recite it. closed the door and told me to recite it till i said the right answers. there’s consequences if i dont follow. i took that till adulthood. 

i have guilt if i don’t do what i was asked to. more guilt if i really decide not to. it consumes me till i finally give in. i feel regretful right after. then, i completely try to forget. that never happened. ever tried telling your boss no? i learned how to say no last year. i had multiple speeches dedicated to me with people saying, “Do you even know how to say no? do you even hear thank you?” i feel obligated to do what people want. i feel obligated to give what people want or need without being asked to. let’s stop there. i sound stupid. 

Strength -  legal, logical, or moral force;  degree of potency of effect or of concentration

People see what i want them to see. Facade comes into this picture. i’m always strong. can never show my weakness. if i do, i lose. if i don’t, i lose internally. i’ve been playing the supergirl card all my life. issue is, i’m always alone. always the savior never the saved. 

Superhero syndrome. ever heard that song Superman? 

It may sound absurd but don't be naive Even Heroes have the right to bleed I may be disturbed but won't you concede Even Heroes have the right to dream It's not easy to be me

my whole life revolves three things; work, home, friends. i always wanted to be alone, but i don’t survive it much. never felt wanted anywhere, even if its family or friends. then, work came. loved it because it was the only place the NEEDED me. but seems that i wear my cape there everyday. to the point that i couldnt be clark kent there either. always strong, never vulnerable. 

been saying lately, im tired of being strong. then Monday came. That’s that for strength, it’s pretty self explanatory on my side. it’s too literal of a section so i hope this would suffice. for the last of the entry. 

Tired -  drained of strength and energy

Trigger : work

Action : Resignation

Symptoms : Nausea, shaking hands and knees, vomiting, clouded vision, crying, Lack of sleep, loss of appetite, lack of motivation, heavy breathing, sleep paralysis, sleep apnea

Diagnosis : Unknown

Working Impression : Panic Anxiety Disorder

i’ve defined some of my roles. a glimpse of my mind and soul but to the people i’ll be send a link of this too, i bet you only know some. some, would even say they never knew. you know, i dont share my feeling or these heavy stories. seemed irrelevant. one time, 1st grade. i shared a problem about the family to a friend. This ‘friend’ made it seem too petty to the point i avoided sharing problems since then. i feel like any problem i have has no value to others. so i keep it in. just me. maybe a few blank pages. some ink. mostly tears. by myself. on my own. 

when i feel bad, or depressed when i was a kid. i would cry faintly inside my closet. come out after an hour or two. wiping tears of my face. i got caught once, by my dad. i just said, nope i was just checking my closet. i acted as if what he said before that point was ok. i step out when i feel weird and want to cry. ive learned how to cry heavily without showing an expression or even in a quiet manner. Congrats to me, i brought that till adulthood. 

Until Monday. i tried to put up my mask. but couldnt. i tried to be strong. but couldnt. i tried to obey. but couldnt. i remember asking my boss recently, can i be selfish? all my walls broke down in one day. all my optimism. my positivity. and i thought that i can do it. what people saw of me, they couldnt recognize me. 

i showed me. the weak one. couldnt even get myself to fake it. fake being strong, fake happiness, no mask. i couldnt even try. i was just done. even basing on what ive written on this entry, getting tired wouldnt be an option just yet. i didnt even talk about love or difficulties. i only got to write down instances. i was just done pretending.

since that day, i couldnt regulate. i associated almost everything and get anxious about everything. seeing the exit to my work makes me tense. walking to the building tightens my chest. getting inside makes me palpitate. claustrophobic. i dont usually breathe heavy but the doctor said breathing exercises would help. SOMETIMES it does. but not everytime. 

it took years to learn how to regulate these thoughts that i experience daily and i feel like i have to go through two decades again to learn how. i didnt lose myself, thats for sure. but i feel like im not strong enough to stay in one place anymore. to have the same people in my life anymore. i want to leave. i want to disappear. 

you know what i did after i broke down on my boss? i sat in a Starbucks branch in Molito. and starred out the window for two hours. spaced out. even my friends knew i dont do that. i felt like i died and im just the undead walking around doing my daily routine. 

why am i writing this? it’s 2:35AM. nearly sleepy by the way. i’m writing this for me to realize something. i already just did. i just realized that what people knew of me, wasn’t me. what you see and experience of me now, is the true me and i dont like it. i want to be wild binx on good days. bea when im home. bianca when im at work. looks like i can’t be that for a while. 

to those im sending this link to, i hope you read the whole thing. so you really know where i’m at. youre worried or concerned yea? well, here i am. here it is. i’m sorry im dumping my indifference this way. i’m sorry that im burdening you of my petty problems. i’m sorry i cant be myself. i’m sorry i cant be that person you knew. 

blame Monday. 

#anxitey #define me #monday #mental breakdown