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alecbangkok · 5 years

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WeLearn & Why I do What I do

When I wrote this, I was trying to figure out my response to people who ask me “What is this WeLearn thing you’re involved with anyway?” and I think I’ll start by describing why I became involved with, and believe in, WeLearn.

To know a little bit about my background is probably necessary to understand my response, so here goes:

When I was in third grade, my parents moved me from my rather traditional (mid-1970’s) elementary school to the Riverside Open School, an experimental public school in my hometown of Schenectady, New York.

I had always been identified as gifted, and placed as such in all of my classes, and things went well in Grades K-2, when I had teachers who were relatively young and dedicated to their students’ growth, and weren’t afraid to try new-ish things (again, for the time) to keep us engaged. However, my first teacher in Third Grade was not of the same mold. She was “old-school,” and didn’t like independent-minded students. We did not get along. Complaining to my parents did her no good. My father was himself a relatively young and dedicated, progressive-minded high school physics teacher in a neighboring district, and my mother was the product of fairly liberal parents herself. Both understood that education was not achieved through obedience and rote memorization, and didn’t appreciate my teacher trying to turn us into little robots. Thankfully, my second-grade teacher was also teaching third grade that year, and my parents were able to get me switched back to her, so that year looked to be salvaged. Still, there was no doubt that fourth grade would bring me into contact with Robot-Lady, which led to my parents exploring alternative options to keep me engaged with my education. That’s when they found Open School, and, after some research, transferred me there.

I was extremely fortunate; my family didn’t have much money (high school teacher father + stay-at-home mom with major health issues = limited resources to say the least) and wouldn’t have been able to afford a private Montessori or Waldorf school. The fact that there was a public school that embraced a similar philosophy and was located in Schenectady, NY, was almost miraculous. That it was a perfect fit for me, even more so. My two and a half years, from the middle of Grade 3 through the end of Grade 5, were far from utopian, but they were wonderful. I still experienced the feeling of “otherness” that I would feel for the rest of my school years, not to mention adulthood, and had to deal with that, but being treated as an individual, rather than a strangely-shaped cog that didn’t fit into the existing machinery according to the instruction manual, meant that I was mostly accepted by both the teachers and the other kids, even if they didn’t understand me sometimes.

Some learning was done at least partially as a class, differentiated for the different levels of understanding, but much of what we did was project-based learning. Keep in mind that this was the mid-to-late 1970s, and both PBL and differentiation are only now beginning to creep into U.S. public school classrooms 40 years later, and you’ll understand just how progressive this school was for its time. Still, not perfect. I didn’t succeed at everything I tried, and my independence still crossed a threshold that sometimes made me a pain in the ass for those around me, but each failure and/or difficulty was treated as an opportunity to learn for the next time. My teachers communicated regularly with my parents, as they did with all parents, who also were part of many activities both in and out of our classrooms, creating a feeling of community. To that extent, my education was very much what it should have been. If only it had continued that way.

Schenectady’s school system divided grades on a Middle School model, meaning that Elementary was K-5, Middle School was 6-8, and High School was 9-12. Open School was an Elementary school, which meant that once Fifth Grade was complete it was time for Middle School, and there was no counterpart to Open School for upper grades. Luckily for me, I would be attending Woodlawn Middle School with all of my friends from my neighborhood, so I wouldn’t be coming in as a stranger without a social structure. I think I handled the division of learning into subjects pretty well, and generally had good teachers in my classes. I was back to being separated out of the pack into the GT group, which had both benefits (learning how to perform a Japanese Tea ceremony, for example) and costs (magnified “otherness” at the same time we all started going through puberty and I began to discover some extra “otherness” that I didn’t quite yet understand). So overall it was a big switch, but not life-shattering. That would happen the following school year.

While I was going through Sixth Grade, my father was granted a sabbatical year from his school district which he used to complete and defend his doctoral dissertation. This resulted in his receiving his Ph.D. in Theoretical Physics, which in turn resulted in his looking for jobs where we could pull ourselves securely into the middle class. Ultimately, the job he found was with a defense contractor in Santa Barbara, California. We were mostly excited about the change and the cross-country road trip, and my dad was especially excited about being able to do interesting research for a living.

We arrived, found a house, and I began school at Goleta Valley Junior High, in a new place, with a new culture in which kids were considerably less sheltered, knowing no one and realizing more clearly than ever that I was far more attracted to the other boys than the girls, which I dared not mention let alone think of. Without the safety net of kids with whom I had been friends for the better part of my lifetime, my “otherness” made me an outlier worthy of notice to the other kids in school. This was not a good thing. I did everything I could to be the same as everyone else (in Junior High School, this is a matter of survival as much as anything else), but there was always something that made me noticeably “other,” and, therefore, a target.

Add to this the school itself, which looked like a prison (I could never tell whether the high chain-link fences topped with barbed wire were to keep bad people out or us in), as well as teachers who valued uniformity over interest, and I felt like I was in hell. Honestly, I can remember teachers from all of my K-12 years except for the two years at GVJH. It’s not a matter of positive or negative; they were all so unmemorable that I can’t see more than my Seventh Grade English teacher’s skunk-like hairdo. But I do remember some of my fellow students and how they treated me. Fortunately, I was able to make friends with some of the other nerds, and that provided the partial security of safety in numbers, but even with them I spent a lot of time feeling “other,” and still felt isolated despite my best efforts. This was not helped by my developing severe allergies and asthma, which meant that when I got sick, it was rarely just a cold. I would spend weeks at a time home sick; weeks that were stretched considerably longer than they needed to be as a result of my feelings toward school.

Apart from contempt, familiarity breeds peer groups of a sort, and even if I spent a lot of time feeling “other,” at least I had people I could hang out with by the time high school rolled around. That, plus the acquisition of our first home computer and its included word processor, made things a bit less miserable. Why a word processor? Because it showed me that writing could be accomplished without the physical pain and graphite-smudged fingers us southpaws tend to endure. Once I realized this, I started to enjoy writing and realized I was actually pretty good at it, despite my Tenth-Grade English teacher who thought purple hair made her edgy even though she couldn’t tolerate a lack of servile conformity in her students.

I mention my Tenth-Grade English teacher and her purple mane to illuminate the stifling atmosphere that was high school. Again, with the exception of scattered teachers such as my 11th Grade English teacher Peg Harris, whose passion for writing helped shape my own, it was a lot of assembly-line providers who diminished my passion for learning with every passing period. Band, orchestra, then choir when I’d had it with the clarinet, and Junior Statesmen of America, were the only things that kept me interested. By the time 12th Grade rolled around, and we moved to Virginia, much of my love for learning and creative fire had been stifled by subjugation.

High School in Northern Virginia was a mixed bag. On the bright side, I discovered theater and had a new outlet for self-expression, if only for a short time. I lost weight, made friends relatively easily, and was just happy not to be in SoCal any more. I still felt “other,” but that was kind of drowned out in a school where I was one of roughly 5,000 students. My graduating class was close to 1,000, so I guess people were too wrapped up in their own groups to spend too much time harassing outliers. Either that, or with numbers that large we had someplace to hide. However, Fairfax County Schools took themselves really seriously (I think they were #1 in the country at that point), which in the late ‘80s meant really pushing students hard to achieve the district’s desired outcomes (not necessarily the student's). This, in turn, meant making sure everything and everyone conformed to the standards they felt led to those desired outcomes. NoVA is the home of, among other things, the Pentagon, so as you can imagine conformity was a pretty big deal with so many parents who were current or former career military officers. That meant that I went from a lot of dual-credit college classes with adult students to The Land of Educational Robotics. To give you an idea, when the admissions decisions for the service academies came out, the suicide rate spiked…significantly.

I’m not going to get into college and grad school because this is about my elementary and secondary years and how they relate to WeLearn.

I honestly didn’t think I’d be writing quite so much backstory. I guess there must be some therapeutic value in cataloging all of this educational nonsense…which leads to why I’m involved in WeLearn, as well as what we do that makes me so excited about it.

I don’t want one more student to need to find therapeutic value in cataloging educational nonsense. I want to create a student-centered educational environment, that is process-focused rather than outcome-driven, that educates instead of indoctrinates. I want students who feel “other” to embrace their “otherness” rather than fear the results of it showing, because, to some degree, there’s “otherness” in all of us. Education should be about inspiring discovery; first and foremost the discovery, exploration, and focusing of each student’s passion. At the same time, students need to learn the skills that will make them good human beings: collaboration, an ethical compass, leadership, conceptualization, emotional literacy, and a continued love of learning no matter their chosen subject or field. Maybe a fanatical devotion to the Oxford Comma. It’s a given that we really have no idea what jobs people will be doing twenty years from now - automation and AI have seen to that - so I want students to have the tools to mold an unknowable future.

I think the best way to do that is to build a community of learners, using the best tools, technological and otherwise, that are available to us. Give the community a space where they can explore those tools to learn holistically, to make their passions conflagrations rather than having them snuffed out of existence. Give them what they need to learn how to shape the future rather than be victimized by it. I believe I’ve found a team of visionaries who share what I see for the future, so it’s not just what I want; it’s what we want.

We don’t just want them to be learners; we want them to be WeLearners!

#education #edtech #futurista #project based learning #personalized learning #lgbtq youth #education reform

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bookishhufflepunk · 6 years

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That's Not How Promise Rings Work | Young!Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a muggleborn and Reg asks for her help, leading to unintentional love and angst.

Warnings: cursing, death, angst, possibly unedited.

Word Count: uh… roughly twenty pages? Note that I'm writing these on, uh *cough* Notes on my iPod.

A/n: I'm sorry.

Being a muggle born Slytherin is not easy, and only found that out after I was sorted. So… it's just as fun as it sounds to have half of Slytherin completely hate you—the other half doesn't give a fuck because they're not pureblood maniacs, but few are actually muggle borns.

They don't hate me outside of the common room where other houses can see because it makes Slytherin look weaker or some shit. So I spend as much time as I can in the library helping first and second years with homework. Part of that is trying to make Slytherin house look less evil, but most of it is that those kids need help.

"Hey, (y/l/n)," Regulus Black greeted as I walked into the almost empty common room. He was the only one there.

"What do you want?" I asked, not even stopping to look at him and heading towards the girls' dorms.

"I need your help," he said. He's a death eater, what the hell could he possibly need my help for other than planning my murder?

I turned around on the steps to my dorm and bent down so I could see under the doorway. He was sitting on the couch, looking at me over his shoulder and fiddling with something in his hand. His black hair wasn't perfectly brushed like it usually was and was messed up from his hand being ran through it many times. He does that when he's stressed, I noticed almost two years back when he became a death eater—I sent tea and cinnamon rolls up to his room, he never knew it was me; I may not be Voldy's biggest fan, but Regulus Black stopped eating all together, until I started sending him cinnamon rolls.

"With what?" I asked from the safety of the stairway.

"Come'er," he said, waving me over.

"I feel much safer here," I said, shaking my head.

"I won't hurt you," he said.

"It doesn't need to be painful to die," I said.

"I won't harm you," he corrected. There was something like desperation in his voice. I continued staring at him with a blank expression. "I promise."

He's a man of his word. I walked down and sat on the opposite side of the couch, dropping my school bag next to it and pulling my legs to my chest, facing him.

"You're an intelligent person, right?" He asked.

"There are better minds, but I suppose I get good enough grades," I said. "If it's intelligence you're looking for, Ravenclaw might be the better place to look."

"I'd rather work with a Slytherin," he said. Work? He continued to fiddle with whatever was in his hands.

"What's this about?" I asked.

He moved so he was right next to me. I could smell his minty breathe. His gray eyes looked so tired. His skin was deathly pale, but then again, it always is.

"I need you to promise you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," he said. He held up a simple silver ring, it was what he had been fiddling with. A promise ring. "It's a muggle thing called a promise ring."

"Yeah, I know," I said, not touching the ring. "But they're for relationships."

"Oh…" he said, cheeks turning red with blush. He put the ring in his pocket, "never mind with the ring then, I was just trying do something muggle-ish to gain your trust. But anyway… I really do need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone."

I thought it over for a moment; what's the worst thing that will happen? Mmm, probably someone ending up with a broken nose and I made somewhat of a fool of myself.

"Okay, I swear on my mother's grave I won't tell anyone," I said.

He smiled, something he rarely does. He took my hand and led me out of the common room, I followed him so he didn't drag me by my hand. He led me in an empty class room in a tower, out of the way, no one would just wander into this room.

"Okay, so I believe the Dark Lord has made something called a horcruxes—it's a piece of his soul put in an object for safekeeping. It makes him kind of immortal," he said pacing around. Shit, this is deep. "I want to destroy it and I would like your help."

"You realize what you're saying, right?" I asked. He nodded. I grabbed his left arm and rolled up his sleeve, relieving his Dark Mark. "You are rebelling again Voldy himself."

"Yes," he said. "I just wanted to please my parents; I don't want to kill people, I don't want be a death eater." "Congratulations," I smiled. "Now what do you know about horcruxes?" "Not much yet, that's why I want your help, you're HeadGirl, you can get into the restricted zone in the library," he said. "That and you're a good person, someone I envy."

I just nodded and paced a bit, trying to think of a book that would have the information I needed. I took my wand out of my rob and turned an old chair sitting on top of a desk into a record player. I turned on music. I listen to music in the library and it jogs my memory. I took some paper and a quill out of the desk and wrote book titles so I remembered them when I went looking.

"Where would he put it?" I asked as I wrote.

"What?" He asked.

"Well, if you can choose the object, why not make it a pebble and throw it in the ocean?" I asked, looking up. "What would Voldy do?"

"He's too grand to put his soul in a pebble," he said. "I know where he put it, I just need to know what it is."

We looked through the library for mouths together, but barely found anything. No one really knew we were friends, to them, we were just people with insomnia or some shit, glared and drank a lot off coffee all of a sudden.

"Lest day of Hogwarts," he said as we walked around the lake. "I can't believe I'm leaving after seven years. At least you get to go on to healing school."

"Says who?" I asked. I had applied for healing schools and been accepted, but then I rejected them.

"I saw you with the letters from the schools," he said.

"Coulda been rejection letters," I said. He didn't know I rejected them.

"No way, you've worked as a nurse in the hospital wing for three years, Madam Pomfrey would've given you a good word," he said, nudging me with his elbow.

"Yeah, you're right, but I rejected them," I said. "I sent those applications a while ago, I've changed my mind about life."

"Then what're you gonna be?" He asked. "The minister? An auror? A Quidditch star?"

"A dead girl most likely," I said. "I'm going with you."

"What?" He asked, stopping and staring at me.

I turned around and faced him. "You can't seriously think I'd let you go by yourself, do you?" I asked.

He'd made a plan to get the horcruxe after he got home, and he made it after I sent my application letters. It was a death trap.

"I told you before, you're not going to give your life for this," he said.

"We may not actually die," I said. "And your words were 'I'm not asking you to give your life,' as in I can if that's what I choose, it's not your choice."

"I forbid it," he said.

"You have no power over me," I said, standing my ground.

"This is my mission," he said. "You're not coming."

"Remember where you'd be if I didn't help you," I said. "I've helped so far, I'm seeing it through."

"You could die!" He yelled.

"And you're planning on dying, tell me how this is different!" I yelled.

"I love you, (y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n)!" He yelled angrily.

"Well I love you too, Regulus Arcturus Black!" I yelled back. "Your point is invalid!"

"I…! What did you just say?" He asked, anger melting.

"I said I love you," I said much quieter than I had before. He stared at me in disbelief. I covered for myself, "but you're to busy with your head up your arse to notice such things."

I walked past him, back to the castle. I had some packing to do. I walked to the dungeon. Professor Slughorn stopped me before I could get to the common room.

"Miss (y/l/n), I'm throwing a farewell party-" he looked up from his notes and saw I was crying, something I haven't done since my mum died. "My girl, what's wrong?"

"Black was being an obvious arsehole," I said, wiping tears off my cheeks, and forcing a smile. "I'm fine though. As you were saying?"

"Do I need to talk to mister Black about this?" He asked. He was one of my favorite professors because of stuff like that, though I didn't much enjoy being in the Slug-Club.

"No, it's not like when we had the hex fight and I broke his nose," I said with a little laugh. "He just needs to think about it, we'll be fine."

"You haven't broken his nose recently, have you?" He asked.

"No, we got over our problems, well, most of them," I said. "Anyway, I've got to go pack so I can attend that party of yours."

He nodded and I went to the dorms. I didn't want to go to the party, but I'd rather go than talk to Slughorn about Reg and I. I worked on packing and packed away all my Quidditch stuff. Reg had won the place as seeker, so I got to be a chaser. I made a little time capsule and hid it on the under side of the mattress—a record of Slytherins not being evil. I put my unfinished journal in it, I had stopped writing in it when Reg asked for my help. Let the reader imagine the ending to my story. I put my black dress on the bed so I could wear it tonight.

I read until seven thirty. I took a shower and dried my hair. I put on the backless black dress. It had half sleeves that tied together on the top. It stopped at my knees. This is my favorite dress because it's comfortable unlike every other dress I own. I put on black slippers and tied my hair up in a messy bun and held it up with my wand. I put on some makeup to hide any evidence of crying.

I walked down to Slughorn's classroom. Music was playing and every seventh year in the Slug-Club was there. I said hello to Slughorn before standing in my space by the curtains, so I could hide if I wanted—it's always where I stand during these parties.

"Are you okay?" Reg asked behind me. I would recognize that voice anywhere, I've listened to him try to sing while I played guitar and give Quidditch orders and just plain out talk, I know his voice and can read it like a book.

"Still breathing, so I'm fine," I said without looking at him. We haven't been seen together yet, only at Quidditch practice and games, and when we dueled in the common room—I dueled with a lot of people in the common room. "How're you?"

"Alive at the moment like you," he said, then dropping a coin or something and picking it up.

"That's nice," I said.

I felt him take my left hand from behind and put something on my ring finger. He let go of my hand and I looked at it. The promise ring that he had when he asked for my help was on my finger now.

"Promise to go to healing school and live out your dream," he said. "Sorry if my death hurts you."

"First off, that's not how these rings work, and second, I'm still going with you," I said.

"If I can't have you, I will protect you," he said.

"I never said we can't be together," I said.

"But everyone else did," he said, sounding kind of pained.

I took the ring off my finger and held it behind me for him to take. He took my hand and closed my fingers around the ring.

"There's no one I'd rather have it," he said, with defiant pain.

"I've got to go, I'll see you later," I said. He let go of my hand.

I walked of the room for probably the last time. I held the ring in my hand as I walked. I went to the great hall where everyone else was and walked straight up to the professors' table. I stood right in front of Dumbledore.

"I need you to take Regulus Black's wand away," I said. I cannot lose him, he's the first person I've been able to have an emotional attachment to since my mum died and I will kill him if he dies.

"That is a very serious request, why?" He asked.

"To save him," I said. I'll keep my promise but I'll save him.

"From what?" McGonagall asked.

"From death, obviously," I said. "If you take his wand he can't get himself killed."

"We need real reason," she said.

"Damn you! Your job is to protect the students and you are going to let him die!" I yelled. "I hate you!"

"When is he to die?" Dumbledore asked.

"Two weeks or so," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

"He won't be a student by then," he said. "I am sorry, but we cannot meddle with that."

"Fine then!" I yelled, turning around and walking off.

I left the great hall and went back to the common room. I laid on the common room couch and waited for Reg to get back. I put the ring on my finger then took it off over and over again. The common room door opened and Reg walked in.

"Hey, Slughorn wants you in the picture," he said, looking down at me on the couch.

"Would he be terribly mad if you said I was asleep?" I asked but got up anyway because this is for Slughorn.

We walked back to the class room and stood in the back of the group of seventh years. There was a flash of the camera and everyone waved and smiled. Regulus on the other hand kissed me. It wasn't a big kiss, just a long peck on the lips. We were behind a lot of people, so I guess he wasn't worried about it showing up in the picture.

"I don't want you to hate me," he said quietly. I raised my eyebrows at him; why'd he think I was angry? "You seemed kind of grumpy."

"I don't hate you," I said, taking his hand in mine. He looked at my hand and smiled—I was wearing the ring.

We walked away after that, acting like we didn't kiss. I said a proper goodnight to Slughorn.

"Now what's this?" He asked as I shook his hand. "Are you engaged?"

"Ah… no, it's a muggle thing and the ring just fit my ring finger best," I said, blushing at the thought of being engaged. "I'm a bit too young for marriage and all that."

"So has all been worked out with mister Black?" He asked. "I saw you two kiss in the class photo."

I turned absolutely red. I never blush, but that's only because I have no reason to, but now my teach is questioning me about my love life.

"Yes, all's well," I said.

The next morning a ate breakfast and went to the train station. Regulus and I hadn't talked since last nigh, I'm hoping he's okay, but who knows at this point? I sat in an empty compartment and put on headphones. I read.

"Mind if I sit?" Reg asked at the door, in a hoodie and jeans—the most causal thing he's ever worn.

"As long as no death eaters crash the party," I said, taking my headphones off.

He smiled and walked in, closing the door behind him. He sat down and laid his head on my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair.

"Is this what it feels like to be a normal teenager?" He asked.

"Define normal," I said.

"Muggle," he said with a goofy smile that made me small. "Muggle teens don't have to deal with being death eaters and being called evil because their house."

"What's gotten into you?" I asked though I was laughing a bit.

"Love," he sang. He sat up with that goofy smile still on his lips. "I love you…"—his smile started fading—"(y/n), I want to protect you, which is why I want you to stay behind, not because I'm underestimating you."

"You don't always get what you want," I said.

"Fine," he sighed and laid his head back on my lap. I smiled down at him and continued reading. "You're such a Hufflepuff."

"I broke your nose twice and other people's countless times," I said, ruffling his silky hair. "Not mention I was a beast on the Quidditch field."

He groaned, his face pinching. "Don't talk about Hogwarts in the past tense yet," he said, holding his abdomen like it physically pained him.

I kissed his forehead. "Best seven years of my life," I said. "Even if half my roommates hated me."

We were silent for a while, until he spoke up. "So my parents will be gone for a week," he said.

"Where is this conversation going?" I asked, closing my book.

He shrugged and played with my hair. "I won't need to sneak around for a week," he said.

"You could stay with my family if you don't mind my five siblings," I said. "Unless you want to stay in your creepy house."

"How do you know it's creepy?" He asked. "Not that you're wrong."

"I guessed it was something like Slytherin common room with all its weird lighting and un-coziness," I said as I opened my book again.

"So you have five siblings?" He asked.

"Yeah, Coll, he's nineteen, Toby and Quinn, they're sixteen, Robby, she's fifteen, Ben as in Benjamin, he's… six I think," I said.

"That's a large age jump," he said.

"He's adopted," I explained.

"Would they mind me staying?" He asked.

"Toby, Coll and Ben might give you the intimidating brother speech and my dad might glare a bit but they'll be fine with it," I said.

"intimidating brother speech?" He asked, giggling. Giggling!

"Yes, they'll say something along the lines of 'hurt her and you're dead'," I said, running my fingers through his hair. If you twisted the meaning of the sentence, it would mean, if he hurt me, that means he'd be dead, which made my stomach twist.

"Tell me about muggles," he said after awhile. "I would like to hear your voice as much as possible before…"

"Well… they have an infuriating game called Monopoly, and you're laying on the (y/l/n) champion," I said.

"Oh, I once played that with Sirius and his friends, he was supposed to be babysitting me," he smiled, eyes lighting up with joy. He has few good memories with his older brother because they never got along and I guess that was one of them. "I love muggle games, tell me about them."

I had a feeling that he knew very little about muggle games but he found a light subject and wanted me to talk.

"Ever hear of truth or dare?" I asked.

I've never seen it played in the common room, so I doubt he did.

He shook his head. "But it sounds pretty self explanatory," he said.

"It is," I laughed. "You either have to do a dare or tell a truth."

"Truth or dare?" He asked with a challenging tone.

"Truth," I said, putting my book down with my bookmark in it.

"Why did you storm away after you told me you loved me?" He asked.

"Mmm, it's kind of complicated, but most of it was fear," I said. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," he said.

"Why'd you choose me to help?" I asked.

"As I said way back when we first talked; I envy your free will and kindheartedness," he said, frowning. "Sorry for dragging you down, it wasn't fair of me to do that."

"I don't like being high as a balloon if I'm not helping anyone," I said. "Don't you dare apologize."

"You were going to be a healer," he said, putting his hand on my cheek.

"If we kill Voldy, how many people do we save from certain death?" I asked, taking his hand in mine.

"I thought it was my turn?" He asked, trying to change the subject. I let it slide because I didn't want to talk about Voldy either. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," I said, taking a chance.

We played truth and dare for most of the train ride, but eventually he fell asleep and I stayed up so nothing happened.

When we pulled into the station, I put my book away and woke up Reg gently, not really wanting to mess up his peaceful sleep—he's admitted that he had a hard time sleeping "Hmm?" He hummed.

"We're at platform nine and three quarters," I said.

He nodded and stood up. We picked up our trunks and walked off the train. I didn't see dad, so I went to a nearby pay phone, Reg following. I would just apparate home, but I don't want to abandon him if he is here. I called home first.

"Yellow?" Quinn asked.

"Hey, Quinn," I said.

"Dad had car trouble," she answered my unasked question.

"Key, be home in a minute," I said.

With that, she hung up. I stepped out of the phone box. I led Reg to an alleyway where we could apparate. I held his hand a disapparated. I landed on my front porch where Quinn was sitting.

"Who's the boy?" She asked, smiling.

"My…" I looked at him. What the hell are we? I liked it better when we didn't need a name.

"Friend," Regulus said after a moment of thinking.

"He'll be staying with us for a week," I said.

She shrugged and helped us carry our trunks inside. Robby was in the living room watching a movie with Ben; Toby and Coll were in the kitchen; dad was no where to be seen and Quinn disappear. Ben jumped off the couch and tried to tackle me in a hug.

"Hey, Benny," I smiled. "I heard you caused a lot of trouble while I was gone."

"Toby is the one that made the trouble!" He said.

"I was just teasing you," I laughed. He went pale as a ghost, looking over my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder at Reg. He was just standing there awkwardly. "What's up, Ben?"

Ben has the weirdest ability to know stuff about people, even strangers walking down the street. I have a feeling it's magic, but there's no way to know for sure until he's older.

"He works for Voldy," he whispered. Yeah, he says Voldy like me, I don't like calling him You-Know-Who.

"Past tense, buddy, worked for Voldy," I said. "He's a good guy now."

"But he has that tattoo thing," he said, poking at his own left arm.

"He can't get rid of it," I said. "Where's dad?"

"In the garage fixing his car," Coll said, walking out of the kitchen, eating a sandwich.

"'Key," I said. "Show Reg to the guest room and don't kill him, that's my job."

"Robby took the guest room because she and Quinn needed more space," he said.

"Then give him the spar bed in your room," I said.

"Ben's room is bigger," he said.

Ben shook his head rapidly. "I don't want him in my room, he's a… (y/n), what do you call them?" He asked.

"Death eater and he isn't," I said, putting him down because he was getting heavy. "Coll, you're not here half of the time."

"Fine," he said. "You own me a chocolate frog."

"No, I don't," I said, walking to the garage. "All my chocolate frogs are for Benny."

I walked into the garage and dad was frustratedly trying to fix his car which was made mostly of duct tape.

"Y'know, I could fix it with magic," I said.

He looked up, grease smudged on his forehead. He smiled. "How was the trip?" He asked.

"Good," I smiled. "Hung out with my friend."

"So you stopped being so antisocial, then?" He asked.

"Not exactly," I said, shuffling my feet. "You know Regulus Black?"

"Yeah, I got a couple letters saying you broke his nose or you got in a fight, Regulus Black was one of the names," he said. "Isn't he a death eater?"

"No, not anymore," I said, holding a screw driver he handed me. "He—and I—want to…. There's something called a horcruxe and he needs to destroy it, and I'm going with him. What I'm really trying to say is, one day I might not come home, and I need you to keep it together when that happens."

"You said when, not if," he said.

I shrugged. "I just don't want you to ghost or whatever," I said.

"Please outlive me," he said.

"I'll try," I lied. He smile sadly and went back to work. "Anyway… Reg will be staying with us for a week, if you need me, I'll be trading chocolate frog cards."

"I thought you hated him, what happened?" He asked as I left.

I stopped at the door way. "Turns out he was only an arsehole because peer-pressure," I said. "He's quite a nice person once you get through the shell, but I do t regret hexing him before."

"Good, never regret defending yourself," he said.

I shook my head and left. I went back inside. I carried my trunk upstairs, stopping dead in my tracks when I see Ben throwing stuff at Reg as he covered his face with his arms, standing in the doorway of Coll's bedroom.

"Benjamin, stop that," I ordered. He put down a toy truck. "What's up?"

"He said the 'Dark Lord,' which means he's a bad guy!" He exclaimed, pointing at Reg.

"He says that like we say 'Voldy,' just out of habit," I said, blankly, not even questioning how he knew that—he's totally a wizard of some sort. "I want you to stop thinking he's evil."

He sighed and walked back downstairs after picking up his toys. I rubbed my eyes then looked at Reg.

"Sorry about him, he's a mind reader or something, certain stuff sets him off," I said, carrying my trunk to the room I shared with Quinn and Robby but now just Quinn.

"It's okay," he said, following me. "Kids don't like me."

"Mmm, yeah, I'll still talk to him about it," I said, unpacking.

He walked over to Quinn and I's desk where we kept our photos. All but two were muggle pictures. Most of them were Quinn and her friends, Quinn and her girlfriend, a couple were me hanging out with Quinn and her friends. The two wizard pictures were Ben and I after we adopted him—I was trying to cheer him up—and the other was a family picture. I picked up two more pictures from my trunk and put them on the desk, one was the class photo Slughorn took and the other was one of Reg while he was reading out by the lake.

"When did you get this?" He asked, pointing at the one of him.

"A month ago," I said, going back to unpacking.

Toby came in and fell on my bed. "Did you know that Ben is having a fit because of him," he said, pointing at Reg.

"I'll talk to him," I said, walking out.

I walked downstairs to the living room where Ben say cross armed on the armchair. I picked him up from behind and carried him outside. We walked through the peach orchard to the hill on the far side and sat down on top. I ignored all his questions until I sat down.

"What's up, Ben?" I asked. That's how I ask him what he sees or reads or whatever.

"You're gonna die because of him," he said. I pulled him onto my lap and rocked him back and forth. "Why? Why not stay home?"

"Because I've got to think about the world your gonna live in, not my future," I said. "I want you to be safe when you go to Hogwarts."

"I'm going to Hogwarts?" He asked.

"Probably," I said, resting my chin on top of his head.

"I don't want you to go," he said, wrapping his little arms around my neck.

"I know," I said. "But if this works, so many people will be safe, and so many people won't live in fear."

"And if it doesn't work?" He asked.

"We're not going to think about that," I said. We sat there in silence for awhile, the sun was setting. "Why do you hate Regulus?"

"He's gonna take you away from us and you're gonna die," he said, frowning.

"That's my choice, Benjamin," I said, ruffling his hair. "Is that the only reason?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Well could you stop? I don't want to watch you two fight all week," I said.

"Yeah," he said.

"I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone what you know," I said, standing up to walk home.

"Okay, I swear I won't tell," he said. I nodded and we walked back hand in hand.

Ben was the neighbors' kid, and our mothers were friends. I was hanging out with mum when we went over to Ben's mum's house. At that point, we weren't friends. Death eaters decided to drop in. Though I was only thirteen, I carried around my wand and fought the death eaters with pathetic spells. Ben's family died and so did mum, but I got Ben out of the house in time and we hid in the orchard. After that, Ben didn't leave my side for a week and wouldn't talk to anyone else.

We walked inside and I went up to my room, where Reg and Toby were talking. Jeez, it's been like an hour. I fell in bed next to Toby and pushed Toby away.

"What does Ben say?" Toby asked, not moving.

"He says you're a frog, get out of my bed," I said.

He sighed and rolled out of bed onto the floor. "Now what does he say?" He asked.

"He's just being an over protective little brother," I lied, covering my face with my pillow. "He'll stop."

"That's good," he said. "Oh, by the way, Coll went out to get us pizza."

"Oh thank Marlin!" I sang. "I didn't feel like cooking."

"what's pizza?" Reg asked.

"You poor deprived child, how can you not know?" Toby asked.

"I'm older than you," Reg said.

"(Y/n), how can you be friends with someone who doesn't know what pizza is?" Toby asked.

I rolled my eyes. Robby walked in. "Yo, (y/n), can I talk to you?" She asked, nodding her head to the hallway.

"If I can take my bed," I said but got up anyway. I walked to her room and laid on her bed. "What do you want?"

"Who the hell is this Regulus Black?" She asked, falling into bed next to me. "My friend," I said.

"Then who gave you the ring?" She asked smirking.

"You might as well get Quinn," I said. I didn't feel like explaining Reg and I's relationship twice.

"She's snogging Meredith on the front porch," she said.

"Well then you're waiting, 'cause I'm only explaining it once," I said.

"Wait here!" She said and scrambled out of the room.

"You're so rude!" I yelled after her, rolling my eyes. I closed my eyes and opened them when she got back, dragging Quinn and Meredith. "Hey, Mery."

"Hey, (y/n)," she said.

Robby closed the door and sat on her desk with a smile. "Okay, now you can explain your love life," she said.

"You know how friends with benefits works?" I asked.

"Yeah, I thought you had better class than that," Quinn said, sitting at at the end of the bed.

"I do," I said, "our relationship is more like relationship minus the benefits."

"So he's your boyfriend but you don't kiss and whatever?" Meredith asked.

"No, we say we're friends," I said. "But we romantically love each other."

"Then why aren't you together?" Robby asked.

"It's complicated, many reasons, but most of it is his family," I said. "They'd kill me."

Meredith didn't know I was being literal because she didn't know about the wizard world. But Robby and Quinn knew and that's what mattered.

"That's so Romeo and Juliet," Meredith said.

"Eh… I guess," I shrugged.

"Pizza!" I heard Coll yell.

"Lovely talk, girls, but food is more important," I said, getting up.

We walked downstairs and sat around the dining room. Coll's girlfriend was there, along with Toby's best friend. Dad sat next to me before Reg could, so Reg awkwardly took the seat next to dad. I shook my head at my dad and started eating.

"So how was school, (y/n)?" Coll's girlfriend—Allis—asked.

"Good," I said, before taking a bite of pizza. "I missed t-shirts and sunlight though."

Everyone except Toby's friend, Allis, and Meredith cracked up laughing, even Reg. I had explained to my family awhile ago that my dorms are freezing and there wasn't sunlight under the black lake.

"What's so funny?" Toby's friend—Zack—asked.

"Nothing," Toby said after he stopped laughing.

This was just a reminder, I'm doing this for the people who laugh, and have lives, and loves. I just hope Toby is gay so he can make Zack's day one day.

The week flow by, and Reg and I acted like muggle teens the whole week, going to the movies and eating out. But then he went home and we continued planning. Kreacher constantly insulted me and I ignored it all like he ignored Regulus' requests to stop.

I spent my time at home when I should be sleeping, writing a letter to Regulus, but it never looked right, so I patched the letters together.

I pretended everything was okay but I went on walks with Ben through the orchard, talking to him about it. Coll sensed something was wrong but I brushed it off as having a friend whose family hated me.

I sat with Ben on the hill, watching the sun rise in perfect silence. He was crying in my arms.

"I better be going, buddy," I said quietly, holding him tightly.

"Please don't," he sniffled.

"I'm sorry, Benjamin," I said, putting him down and standing up. "I love you, always remember that."

"I love you too," he said.

I smiled and disapparated. I landed in the foyer of Reg's house. Reg and Kreacher were standing in the hallway, Reg was putting on her cloak. I put my wand away and rubbed my right eye.

"Hey, Kreacher, could you show me to the bathroom; I think there's something in my eye," I said.

He grumbled and led me upstairs. He pointed to a door. I didn't go in.

"Kreacher, there's nothing in my eye," I said quietly. I held out the letter, "give this to Regulus when you guys get back, and make sure he gets back safe."

He stared at me then took my letter. I guess I earned his trust by putting Reg's safety before myself. I rubbed my face then we went back downstairs where Regulus was ready.

"You can always back out," he said, worry in his voice.

"No way," I said.

"Okay, take us to the cave, Kreacher," he said, taking my hand.

Kreacher had put the letter who knows where. He took Regulus' other hand and we disapparated. We landed on rocks and had to swim some to get to the cave. We didn't even bother drying off.

"Now you have to put blood on the wall," Kreacher said.

I took the knife from Reg and cut open the palm of my hand before he could protest. I pressed my hand to the salty wall and refused to wince at the salt in the wound and let my blood drip down the wall.

"You should've let me," Reg said behind me.

"Such a gentleman," I said.

A door way reviled itself and we went through to a dark chamber. In the light of my wand, there was murky greenish water and The light didn't reach the other side.

"Don't touch the water," Kreacher warned as he led the way over the small, crumbling path.

"Here," Reg said behind me, handing me a long piece of white cloth.

I wrapped it around my hand as we walked. Kreacher stopped at a small dock with a small boat. We climbed in and it was pulled by some magic force across the water.

We reached a little island and climbed up it. On top was a pool of clear potion—that's what Kreather told us. Reg went to take the shell bowl but I stopped him before he could get very far.

"What's your worst memory?" I asked. Before he could respond, I continued, "it's probably worse than mine, let me do this."

"But you cut your hand to get us in," he said.

"It was barely a scratch," I said.

"(Y/n), let me do this," he said.

"I'm not going to watch you suffer," I said. "Hand me the bowl."

He sighed and handed it over, looking down. This might be the last time I get a chance to say this.

"I love you, Regulus Arcturus Black," I said.

He looked up. "I love you too, (y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n)," he said.

I pecked him on the lips before scooping up the first bowl of potion to my lips and downed it. It tasted fowl and hurt my insides. Then the memories started, mum dying, leaving Ben to go back to school, everything painful to the heart looped in my head. And I wanted it to stop, I begged for it to stop. But someone was forcing the evil potion down my throat. Eventually, after hours and hours of pain, it all numbed into a dry throat and a headache. My vision was blurry, but I saw Kreacher switching the locket and Reg by my side.

"I'm so sorry, love," he said.

I pushed myself to sit up. I needed water.

"Lay back down," he said.

"I need water," I choked out, trying to stand up.

"I'll get up some," he said. He tried to get water magically, but it wasn't working.

I was light headed and tried to walk, but stumbled and fell down the sharp island. I felt water around me and my head cleared. Shit.

I felt claws grabbing at me and I took out my wand and fended them off. I tried to swim back to the island but I was being pulled away. I could barely keep my head above the water.

I heard something and saw Regulus reaching out for me, wand in his other hand. He got pulled in by a skeleton hand. I kicked and shoot spells and made my way to him. He lost his wand in the chaos and went under. I went under and kept fighting.

I managed to push him back to the island where Kreather pulled him up. But not in time to help me. I was so tired from fighting in the water, my flesh was being pulled off.

I was too far away, but I fought anyway. Before I was pulled under again, I made eye contact with Kreather and threw my wand at Regulus.

Then I went under, claws pulling my flesh off my bones. My lunges felt like they were going to explode. I was being pulled into unconsciousness, but I managed one last thought.

I saved Regulus, and so I smiled….

-Regulus' POV-

She threw her wand and went under. I was on my hands and knees sobbing. Her wand landed at my hands and I picked it up right before Kreacher disapparated. We landed in my bedroom and I continued sobbing.

Kreacher handed me a letter. "Kreacher will tell Mistress Black you will not be joining her for breakfast," he said.

"Wait, don't," I said. He obeyed. I opened the letter. It was a small letter, in (y/n)'s handwriting. What?

Regulus, my love,

If you're reading this, it means I'm dead, or it's a very depressing letter that you should stop reading. I don't want you to blame yourself for my death, I gave it for you and I won't regret it.

There's a couple things I want you to do; first, stay out of deadly trouble; second, tell my family I'm dead, I'd rather they not find out in a letter, and I've already warned my father I might die; third… find Sirius… and ask his help.

He'll help you, I know that, because he loves you, you just have to ask for his help. If you want to continue rebelling against Voldy, you have to have someone on your side, Sirius would be a good person for that to be. Don't let my death drag you down because I wanted you to live.

I love you.

-(Y/n) (y/l/n).

I reread the small letter over and over, tears from my eyes. I looked up at Kreacher.

"I'm leaving, Kreacher," I said. "Best of luck, my friend."

I magically packed my trunk… with (y/n)'s wand… and disapparated. I landed on the pouch of a mansion that I went to with Sirius one time and where he told me when he ran away I could find him in case I wanted to join him. The Potters'.

I knocked and waited, wiping tears off my face. First I'll find Sirius, then I'll tell (y/n)'s family.

I impatiently fiddle with my hands, though it's only been five seconds. The door opens and there was the woman I saw so many years ago.

"Regulus Black?" She asked.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Do you know where I might find Sirius?"

"Yes," she said, pulling me inside. "I'll call him over."

I nodded, wiping new tears off my face. She attacked me with a towel and to that point, I hadn't realized I was still soaking wet from trying to save (y/n) in the water.

"What happen to you?" She asked.

"(Y/n) got killed," I said like she'd understand.

"Poor darling," she said, wrapping the towel around my shoulder.

She led me to the kitchen and made me some tea before taking the muggle-phone off the wall and calling someone assumed to be Sirius.

"Hello, Sirius," she said, glancing at me as I stared at my tea. "Regulus is here and would like to talk to you… no, I don't believe he is."

She put the phone back on the wall and made breakfast. Someone came in through the front door and Sirius walked in. Mrs. Potter put two plates of food and walked away with a third and forth.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked as I stared at my food.

"(Y/n), my… friend, died saving me," I said, having trouble finding a wood to describe what we were.

"You hesitated," he said.

"I love her," I said.

He got up and pulled me into a hug. I started crying again. What the hell am I going to do without her?

"She was perfect," I found myself say. "She had a goal to make Slytherin less evil, and she helped me so much though the last year. And- and sh- she gave her life for me—she planned on it!"

"She sounds nice," he said, rocking me back and forth like he would when I very little and our parents were fighting, I'd have anxiety attacks.

"She even wrote me a letter for Kreacher to give me after she died," I said, letting the tears fall. "How could she die, for me?"

"Why'd she die?" He asked after a while.

I spilled everything, everything about the horcruxe, everything she did to help me, everything we did, everything I had planned on doing, everything.

We spent most of the day at the Potters', but then I told Sirius I had to go to (y/n)'s house to break the news to them, Sirius went with me.

#regulus black x reader #young!Regulus x reader #angst #regulus x reader #Reg black x reader #Reg x reader #fanfic #fan fiction #one shot

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dunnfor29 · 6 years

Text

Snowed In

A/N Again, this was just something I wrote to practice my second person perspective. It’s nothing substantial, just a bit of fun. Beta’d by the lovely @notsomolly. NSFW-ish.

- I’m lonely.

Two words from your best friend and you were on a flight the very next day to join him for a bit of his press junket and possibly some award shows. Not that it was a big hassle; you could telecommute for work and it wasn’t exactly unpleasant to stay in five star hotels with full room service. And Sebastian was a nice bonus, you thought with a stifled laugh. You two were close and had been for years. There was a peace and a comfort that you found in him that no other person or place provided.

You stared out the window at the snow coming down; this was day three of the storm and, consequently, day three of being cooped up in Sebastian’s hotel suite. You had ventured into his bed earlier that morning, complaining of being cold. You peered up at him from where your head was perched on his shoulder to find his eyes closed, his breathing steady. “Seb,” you whispered, “Sebastian.” He hummed in response, lids flickering slightly. “Play a game with me.”

“Pardon?”

“We’re snowed in,” you shrugged, “we’re clearly bored, let’s just do something silly and stupid.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

You thought it over for a moment, before a childlike spark of mirth ignited behind your eyes. “Truth or Dare.” You frowned when Sebastian barked out a laugh. “Aw, c’mon! I know it’s super seventh grade, but it could be entertaining.”

“To say the least,” he added. “All right. We’ll play Truth or Dare, but all bets are off; no backing out of anything.”

“I’ll agree to that on the condition that everything stays within these walls,” you stated, “I won’t have my dirty little secrets gossiped about on any movie sets and I’m certainly not stripping down to run naked down the hall or out into the snow.” Another sharp bark of laughter sounded off the walls. “Deal?”

“Deal.” You shook hands, then sat up, wrapping the soft throw tighter around your shoulders. “Now, since it’s my hotel suite, I think I reserve the right to go first.” You made to protest, but Sebastian shushed you. “Here it goes: Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Hm… Kiss, Marry, Kill out of the Avengers cast.”

You snorted. “That’s an entirely different game, Seb.”

“Fine. Still truth?” You nodded. “Who, of the Avengers cast, would you most like to kiss?”

Without hesitation, you purred, “Chris.”

“Which one? There’s three in the Marvel films and two are in the Avengers.”

“Pick one,” you winked, with a casual shrug. “Truth or Dare.”

“What? No, you didn’t answer the question.”

“Yes, I did. You didn’t ask me to specify a last name. I could’ve said Tom and you’d still be confused as to who I meant.” You gave him a brilliant smile. “Now, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” he sighed.

“You’ve had roles before where you’ve kissed other men. If you had to kiss one of your Avengers cast mates, who would you choose?”

“Well, since Mackie isn’t here to give me shit for this, I guess I’ll say Evans, just to see tens of thousands of teenage girls’ heads explode.”

“How very devious of you,” you said, laughing. “The Stucky fandom would never recover.”

He winked. “All right, your turn: Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” It was your ultimate, go-to answer. Dare always seemed too… well, daring. Truth was safer. At least, it had always been safer, but Sebastian didn’t seem to want to let you off easy.

“Let’s make this interesting…” were the words uttered immediately before you knew you could no longer hide behind banality. Inwardly, you cringed. “Where is the naughtiest place you’ve ever had a hickey?”

“Wow. Right to juicy stuff, eh?” You attempted to stall, but his eyes were already scanning your body, a mischievous glint in his eye. It made your stomach feel strange… good strange, but strange nonetheless. “So, like, location?”

“Yeah, location on your body.”

“Okay, but-”

“No buts, remember? You can’t back out of any question or dare.”

“Can I change my answer to dare then?” He shook his head and you sighed, defeated, then whispered, “I’ve never had a hickey before.”

He shot you a look of disbelief. “That’s the lamest excuse ever. C’mon, just answer and then you can embarrass me.”

“No, Seb, I mean it… I really have never had a hickey.” You wouldn’t meet his gaze now, so he reached out to grab your hand. Glancing at him from beneath your lashes, he gave you a soft, if not a bit teasing, smile. You straightened up and smacked his hand away. “Nope. You’re trying to distract me. It’s my turn to embarrass you, remember?”

He laughed, hearty and genuine. “Turnabout’s fair play. Shoot.”

“Truth or Dare.”

“You want to know the naughtiest place I’ve ever had a hickey, don’t you?”

You flailed dramatically, then flopped back against the king size bed. “You take the fun out of everything.”

“Do you wanna know or not?” You turned to look at him, opening one eye skeptically. Did you? He didn’t wait for further assurance that you did, he simply lifted one edge of the hem of his plain white tee, and tugged his joggers down just a smidge, circling that delightful V – well, half of the V – that disappeared further down. “Right about there.”

You couldn’t help but stare a little. The trail of fine hairs that descended from his navel was also visible and a tiny, but prominent vein was raised under the skin over his hipbone. Your mouth went dry, but you cleared your throat and redirected your gaze level with his. The smirk tugging at his mouth was a clear indicator that he knew you were admiring his little sinful skin show. And, honestly, it made you all the more turned on.

“Your turn,” you whispered, finally, hoarsely. He chuckled, readjusting his tee, and covering his lap with the sheet. When he asked, you struggled to decide; you already felt like you’d revealed something very private and vulnerable, so you opted for Dare. And oh, what a mistake that was, for as soon as the word dropped from your tongue, he got a devious smile before biting his bottom lip. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me do something insane, aren’t you?”

“Not insane, no. I just think you should let me give you a hickey.”

Your eyes nearly bulged from your skull. “What? Are you fucking kidding?” He shook his head, reaching to take your hand again, rubbing circles into your palm. You wanted to yank it from his grasp, and yet, you never wanted him to let go at all. Sebastian always evoked such strong, conflicting emotions in you. “Why?”

“Because you’ve never had one. And you picked Dare.” He said these things as if they were obvious, rational explanations. “No backing out,” he reminded, softly.

“C’mon, Seb. Don’t you think it would be a little odd for you to just suck a love bite into my skin? Besides, I can’t have a giant bruise on my neck when I go back to work.”

“Okay, first off, we don’t have to jump right to it, we can ease our way in, take our time. And secondly, there are plenty of non-visible places on your body.” You shivered; imagining his mouth on your throat was delicious enough, but now he was talking about your body – torso, most likely – and it was suddenly very warm in the room. You tossed the throw aside and looked pointedly at him. “So?”

“All right, let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I agreed to this. How would we go about leading up to it and where were you thinking of leaving this so-called hickey.” You were flustered and he could tell; he tried to hide his amusement, but it was no use, you saw right through him. He cleared his throat and motioned for you to lie down, flat on your back. Without so much as a second thought, you followed his direction. “What now?”

“Well, like you said, for argument’s sake, I would say we could lead up to it by making out a little – get a little foreplay going,” his voice, though still playful, had dropped an octave, the timbre reverberating in your chest he was so close to you now. “As for where…” He touched a fingertip to the hollow of your throat and traced downward, stopping at your sternum, then the bottom of your ribcage, to your abdomen, coming to a stop at your pelvic bone. “All possibilities.”

“So, you, just…” you swallowed, thickly, trying to act relaxed, blasé even, while simultaneously trying to quiet your rapidly increasing heart rate. His eyes were skimming slowly from your surely flushed face to where your hands wrung the hem of his NASA tee you just happened to have borrowed. You tried again: “So, you, just… like, want us to make out?” It came out apprehensive and you suspected he knew how nervous you were and, indeed, he called your bluff.

“No. I’m daring you to make out.” He smirked, “and the hickey, of course.” He pauses for a few beats, presumably waiting for you to back out, push him away… but you don’t. He leans further over you, blue eyes meeting yours, seeking permission, which you silently give with a subtle nod of your head. He gives you a soft, half smile before moving in.

At first, it’s just the brush of his nose against yours, then traveling across your cheekbone and back again. His bottom lip touches your top one until his mouth closes over yours. It’s slow, tender, and not at all what you were expecting. You sigh into the kiss, which he takes full advantage of, just barely tasting you. At some point, you had fisted his tee in your right hand and you jerked him closer, causing him to laugh and deepen the kiss to your command.

His hands are occupied elsewhere; one brushing the loose strands of hair away from your face, cradling your head, and the other lightly massaging your hip. In your head, you can hear this tiny voice begging him to go a few inches to the left, to the apex of your thighs. It shocks you to realize that it’s your voice; you frown and shake your head vigorously to loosen those thoughts. He pauses from where his lips had been lightly sucking your collarbone.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” All five words come out in a rush of one single breath. “Seb, I’m-”

“Nervous,” he whispers, lips suddenly at the soft spot just behind your ear. “If you want me to stop-”

“No!” He lets a soft laugh escape, his breath brushing against your skin in the most delicate way, and you shiver. You stiffen, resolute in your next statement. “I mean I’m not backing out of this dare.”

He tuts at you, mockingly disapproving, then quietly says something in Romanian. You nearly growl; he knows how frustrated you get when he speaks in his native tongue. Not just because you don’t understand, but also because it’s an incredible turn on. Well, you actually hadn’t ever told him that second part. He most certainly knows now, though, as you whine impatiently and lift your hips into his.

Another few tuts, followed by another sentence in Romanian. The hand on your hip begins to move, his palm flat against your pelvis, his thumb slipping beneath the hem of your shorts while his fingers smoothly glide against the skin of your stomach. The warmth of skin on skin, the sheer exciting impiety of knowing it’s Sebastian’s, makes all your unilingual anger dissipate. His tongue is teasing the hollow at the base of your throat and it sets your body on fire to know he can hear, and feel, all the appreciative noises you’re making.

“I think you’re enjoying this,” he mumbles, tugging your tee up until it’s bunched around your ribs. “Should we just, y’know, lose the top?”

You know you’re wearing a bralette underneath, but it’s not exactly covering much. You shook your head and he doesn’t press the issue any further. Instead, his mouth is on yours again, teasing it open with the tip of his tongue, delighting in parting the seam of your kiss-swollen lips. Fuck, he was such a good kisser; you had always suspected it from watching his love scenes in various projects, but wow did this surpass even those high expectations.

And just when you were completely punch drunk, he moved lower, his exquisite lips finally coming into contact with the skin of your abdomen. He’d lick, then bite and suck, then lick again to soothe the sting. Over and over, he repeated this process for a good twenty-five seconds; first at the very bottom of your sternum, then again on the left side of your ribcage, and one last time on your right hipbone.

It felt as though you weren’t even in the room, on that bed, beneath Sebastian. It was a total out of body experience, or at least that’s the only way you could identify it. You had heard yourself moaning, panting, whining, all while writhing under his ministrations. Now, as you were coming to, you realized that your right hand was twisted in the shoulder of his tee, and the left was gently grasping a fistful of soft, brown hair. Then, you made eye contact.

“You. Said. Hickey.”

He quirked a brow, then laughed, “What?”

“Hickey, Seb. You said hickey. Not plural.”

“Mm, I didn’t hear a complaint,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the one on your hip. “Though, I will admit, this game turned into something definitely more R-rated than something one would play in seventh grade.” That made you both laugh as he came to lie beside you. “So, how were your first hickeys?” He emphasized the ‘S.’

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be forgetting them anytime… well, ever.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fan fiction #sebastian stan fic #my writing

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xx-obliviousfantasy-xx · 4 years

Text

Roasting Myself

Quick note:

Okay so bc I'm writing this on my phone, I can't take a photo of the document history to show you the stupidness. I apologise for that, but just try to imagine the fricken like... Stupidness.

Edit: The original version is on Wattpad still so nvm I'll be adding both Wattpad and Google Doc screenshots, but I did not have as many dates on Wattpad so only for some sections will I use Wattpad.

Edit: My photos keep going to the bottom. Idfk what to do whatever I hate Tumblr with a burning passion.

~~~~

So, I gotta vent about my stupidity.

Okay so the time frame I set back in 7th grade for this book idea I have is completely stupid. What I wrote didn't make any actual sense because I contradicted it. Which makes sense, because I was stupid. But doesn't, because now that I'm older, I should've caught it.

The story is called 3044(Destined Stars). I definitely stole that last part from something. I thought it was the game Mystic Messenger but it's not. The more I think about it, the more it seem like it though.

The problem is that with how far away 3044 is, it doesn't even make sense for humans to be how they are then, or even be alive tbh. I'm pretty sure they'll be extinct by then. I don't even know big we'll last 200 more years tbh. Or even 50.

Another problem, is I still do that thing where I fucking forget there's a bunch of numbers in between and skip up. So basically, with how I write the dates, I made the years really far apart with the dates and shit. Like REAAALLLLY. Like from being 10-ish years apart to skipping ahead nearly 1,000. Because I am a dumbass and didn't think "Wow this doesn't make any effing sense. This makes some of your events very insignificant because of evolution, and your characters old as dinosaurs."

(But I'm just now remembering I did day Humans live longer, which, could be taken to interpretation but besides the point.)

To better understand:

I literally had the dates like 2070, 2080, 2090, to then, 3000, 3010, 3015, 3025.

Like... That jump was so fucking huge but I didn't realise.

But because I was attached to the makeshift title I gave it, because it came from my friend's favorite number (but because I have issues with flipping numbers I found out was wrong later in after naming the story. I have still kept it that number though even years after),

Instead of doing the easy thing, I wrote in the stupidest, most confusing, complicated thing ever.

And then, after reading through my dates again and actually doing the math, it was like "Wait a second, this doesn't make any sense because this event started before this character (Hyacinth) was born, but after this one (Aleya) was two years old" or something like that. Idk. Like... It's wonky because my characters are certain ages in the story, but, by the date I set things, they happen waaaay too before they were born which would mean they'd stop mattering so much.

But thankfully, I thought recently, why don't I just f-ing make the dates that date? What's the reason for all of the complicated stuff?

(Also, I think I was gonna change the date again which is why it still makes no sense.)

( But then something happened. Idk. I honestly might bring the ages down again bc it makes sense. Because... The time still doesn't make sense because I'd have to age Hyacinth up.)

Generally, I just placed some events out of sequence. Like, I said space cities finished construction before they even started building them. Idk, it was a fucking mess and one of the first things I wrote confused me a lot because I was like "Did I delete something?"

It also made Aleya reaaaally older than Hyacinth because I set a significant date in her birth 15 years before the date of the story so it either

Aleya is 24 and Hyacinth is 20. It was 18 and 21 before,

I just- Oh my God. So, I'm deleting that, and going to make it better. Also I accidentally made the Earth 3044 years old, when, that's absurd. I said the Earth aged faster in that Universe, but that's too fast. Like- I just- wtf?

But the year is also 3044.7b2? Is that for the universe? See it just doesn't make sense. Idk how it made sense in my head. The Earth is 3044 years old but the Earth is not the age of the universe right now so why would the Earth be the age of the universe unless the Universe reset itself entirely and made everything come back at the same time?

And then I said that after that war, the first alien race I talked about plus some other planets, created a treated together.

I think I remember that at first a lot of planets were sucked into a black hole but spit out and made again but faster? Idk. It's so confusing.

(That's when I wrote it on Wattpad and how it was before the rewrite below)

Then there is this dumb contradictory mistake I made again because I said a certain race of aliens with a very awful name was first to contact the Earth at a certain time and helped them and create a treaty,

It's just so messed up and it's because I:

1) Didn't check some of my SEVENTH GRADE WRITING EVEN THOUGH IM IN NINTH NOW,

However I then wrote a different one with a less awful name did before that and went to war with them. As seen above and below.

2) Didn't check my Math, and-

Also apparently the whole story is being told but a space child who created Earth by accident and has grown find if her creation. Also one of the things I changed that made it complicated was saying that 3044 was the number of times Earth restarted. But I forgot that part because I constantly skim over that part.

3) Am still writing it in a bad Tumblr/Wattpad fanfic manner instead of a genuinely good writer pov.

Like... It's genuinely so bad that idk how it didn't click in until now. Maybe it's because after watching a nearly 2hr video about how bad Yandere Simulator and Yandere Dev is, and then two reviews of Onision's books I've already seen, I began to be very afraid of being on the same level as them in terrible production of anything.

I'm going to to fix this and re-plot it and then re-writes it because this is horrible, even for a first draft.

My incompetence a m a z e s me.

My understanding of math scares me.

#obliviousfantasy633 #obliviousfantasy #writer #writing #rant #criticism

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reveriequill-rai · 4 years

Text

Blood Candy Chapter 6

(AH so sorry it’s been a minute lol)

Good news: I did actually wake up that morning.

Bad news: I missed the bus.

The first thing I did was check my phone. Well, this was standard procedure for me, but instead of checking Twitter, I checked my messages. My mom texted me at around 5am with this message:

“Hey, sweetheart. I know you’re probably asleep right now. I got in the house (I know you told me not to, but the cops said they’d be there around the time I would get back and I wanted to meet them there) and, of course, the first thing I did was check on you. I’m sure the relief I felt when I saw that you were alive is obvious, but that’s not the point of this message. I don’t mean to alarm you, but we got here at about 4:30am-ish and we couldn’t find Seb anywhere in the house. The police launched an investigation throughout the area.”

Before leaving the house, I took one last look around to see where Seb was.

It was only when I began closing the door to the guest room did I notice that the closet door was cracked open, the padlock released. It wasn’t broken, I noted when I went to examine it, but there was a black key on the floor next to it that I had never seen before.

I immediately grabbed my stuff, locked the door, and ran to the elevator of the apartment, checking the time. I only had a minute to get to the bus stop, so I opted to take the stairs instead. I ran down all 4 flights of stairs and made a beeline for the bus stop—only to find that it had already taken off.

I took an Uber to school that day. The entire time, my mind raced with possible theories as to how Seb had gotten out.

I hated every single one of the conclusions I had managed to come up with.

I arrived in class 10 minutes later. Fortunately study hall was my first class, so I decided I would take that time to get an extra nap in and make up for the lost hours of sleep. To hell with the Dracula essay, I thought. I can make it up later.

I looked around the classroom for a seat and found my friend Akira, the researcher for AkiSeb Theories. She was fairly easy to spot in a crowd; she always wore that same dark gray anorak jacket with a thistle-colored, heart shaped patch that she had woven onto her jacket sleeve after it got torn one day.

Thank God, I thought. I really needed someone to talk to.

I had met Akira in seventh grade. She was surprisingly social, despite having a relatively small amount of friends. We became fast friends, although we never really became too close until freshman year of high school. One day, she suddenly asked to sit with me and Seb at lunch, clearly distressed. Curious, but deciding not to intrude, I said yes.

Throughout these two and a half years of being close friends with Akira, I had eventually come to the conclusion that she was basically the middle ground for Seb and I. She was analytical, but also imaginative--the mind of an ace detective, and perfect for a conspiracy blog. She wasn’t too idealistic to the point where she would sound like a maniac trying to explain one of Seb’s theories to a normal person, but also not too logical as to rule out Seb’s theories entirely. That’s why I suggested that she join Seb as the researcher for his website when he first started it in eighth grade (my mom helped him set it up when he was over at my house one weekend).

She was tying her short, black, undercut hair in a ponytail. Her laptop was out, probably writing notes for a new conspiracy for the blog.

“Akira!” I said.

Akira turned to me with a tired smile.

“What’s up, DK?” she teased.

“I told you not to call me that,” I sighed.

“And I told you to start your essay early,” Akira retorted, finishing the ponytail and going back to her work, “but here we are. I’m assuming you stayed up till 3am working on it again?”

“For your information, I stayed up until 1am working on it. I ended up actually going to bed at 3:30-ish because Seb tried to kill me last night.”

Much to my annoyance, though I wasn’t surprised in the slightest, Akira laughed. Anyone who knew that me and Seb were incredibly close, which a lot of people did, would never have guessed that he would ever try to kill me for real--not only because he was my best friend, but because the dude couldn’t even lift his own laundry basket.

“You really let a skinny little kid like him get the best of you?” she joked. “Didn’t you tell me you always used to kick his butt when you guys were play fighting when you were, like, 6 years old?”

I shot her a glare. “I’m serious. Plus, he’s seventeen. He’s not so weak anymore.”

Akira froze, the teasing smile dropping from her face.

“Come again?” she said.

“Okay, it’s a fairly long story but…” I said, taking a deep breath, “y’know how I got my blood drawn yesterday? Yeah, I got this doctor named Jasper Kermit who gave me this red candy thing after the bloodwork to ‘keep my energy up’ but I gave it to Sebs instead because you know I’m not one for sweets but when Sebs ate it he started acting weird and his driving skills seemed impaired and he kept getting into crashes almost so I took an Uber and then he tailed us home and then when we finally got home I yelled at him and--“

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Akira said. “Breathe. Start from the beginning.”

I took another deep breath, retold the first part of the story more slowly, and then continued.

“I came to the conclusion that he may have been sick or something. There was no way he’d get us into a crash on purpose, right? Sure, Seb’s a little bit of a reckless driver, but he’s not that bad. Anyway, I went out for a walk and tried to schedule another appointment—“

“Not at the same doctor’s office though, right?” Akira asked.

I paused.

“Uhhhh…” I stammered. Akira facepalmed.

“Dakota, you know I love you, buddy, but you can be a real moron sometimes.” She sighed. “That candy was probably drugged. Actually…maybe you’re good. As long as you got another doctor.”

“That’s the thing,” I said, my voice quivering slightly. “It was Jasper that picked up the phone.”

“The one that spiked the candy? Great.”

“I asked him about it and if there were any allergens but he was being all cryptic…” I fidgeted with a pencil on the desk.

“Did anything else happen?” Akira asked, her once skeptical look turning softer.

“Yes.” I continued to fidget the pencil, only faster this time. “That night, I worked on the essay and fell asleep at midnight, and I woke up to find Sebs just…caressing my wrist with a knife in his hand…”

“…oh God…”

“…he tried to…” I took another deep breath. “…he ended up cutting my finger instead, and he…he licked my blood off of the knife.”

Akira’s dark eyes widened.

“He ended up cornering me at one point…” I continued, “…but I managed to fend him off. I ended up KO’ing him with a baseball bat, and I trapped him in the closet for the night. I barely managed to get any sleep…I’m so tired, but also still shaken up. I’m drifting between falling asleep and being unable to sleep.”

Akira stood up and embraced me in a tight hug.

“You can stay with me and my parents for the time being, if you’d like,” she offered.

I nodded, returning the hug.

“That doctor told me if I wanted to know about the candy, I’d have to go in and find out myself.” I clutched the pencil tight. “But I don’t want to face that dude again.”

“You don’t have to, y’know,” another female voice said. “At least, not alone.”

Akira and I let go of each other and turned around to face the famously lavender-clad, infamously enigmatic Kaveri Vigil.

Now, despite being in this school for four years now, she hasn’t managed to make many friends. At least…not any close ones, none except for Akira. I only met Kaveri once, and that was when I ran into her and Akira at the mall in freshman year when Kaveri dyed her hair for the first time. She was...fairly quiet around me, but as the pair of friends left, the raven-haired girl was talking up an absolute storm--though nothing bad about me, I assumed. In all honesty, if I hadn’t had Seb, then I would’ve been rather envious of Akira and Kaveri’s close relationship.

Rumor has it that she became a lot more anti-social after a ‘family emergency’ that dismissed her from school for the rest of freshman year--around the same time, actually, that Akira started speaking to me more. When Kaveri came back in the middle of sophomore year, she refused to speak to anyone unless she absolutely had to. She even cut several of her classes. It was a miracle she hadn’t been suspended, or worse, expelled. When I asked Akira about her, she refused to speak on the matter. At one point, when I tried asking her again, she seemed to have no clue who I was talking about.

To Akira, Kaveri was practically a stranger. Akira was never the type to make enemies, and it didn’t seem as if Kaveri was either--so for Akira to greet her so venomously was...more than just a little jarring.

“Vigil,” Akira hissed. “I thought you were a recluse. Why come to a pair of unknown loners now?”

Kaveri ignored Akira’s attitude and said, “Don’t get it twisted. I overheard your conversation, and I think it may come in handy for my own theory I’ve been piecing together.”

“…you think you know what’s going on with Sebs?” I asked.

“Maybe. And if we’re lucky, we may be able to save him. However, I’m going to need some help.”

Akira shot Kaveri a glare.

“Oh, now you need my help,” she snapped. “What would you know about this kind of stuff, anyways?

“More than you could ever know,” she answered bitterly.

Akira only shot a glare at her in response, looking like she was biting back the urge to say something else.

“Like I said, don’t get it twisted. I’ll go back to ‘shutting myself out’ once I get to the bottom of this,” Kaveri continued with a rather sarcastic tone toward the end.

I looked at Akira and Kaveri. What’s their deal? I wondered.

“I’d be glad to have some help,” I said. “Let’s meet after school, okay?”

Kaveri nodded, and walked away without another word. I turned to Akira, who had an annoyed expression on her face. She looked back at me, softening a little.

“Do yourself a favor,” she said, “and please don’t ask.”

I didn’t. I understood the value of privacy well.

The rest of the day, I could barely focus in class. If I wasn’t falling asleep, I was doodling stuff from last night—Seb’s spiral eyes, Jasper’s cunning grin, a couple of vampires...

All day, the same question crossed my mind:

If Jasper did, in fact, do this...what in the world did he put in that candy to make Seb want to kill me?

#blood candy #fiction #urban fantasy #original story #vampire

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skytlake · 6 years

Text

My little sister’s birthday is soon. She’s in 7th grade right now, and I just realized how long it’s actually been since I was her age. This has been kind of shocking honestly. I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, because I consider 7th grade the year everything changed for me.

A bit of backstory.

I am the youngest in my class by about a month and a half. It’s a long story, but basically I went to about a month of kindergarten, the teachers thought I’d do better in first grade, and I ended up moving to that class.

Elementary school was pretty decent. I was still one of the more advanced students (I’m not trying to seem arrogant or brag or anything; it’s just how it was). I made some friends pretty quickly in first grade, though my best friend was in kindergarten.

In fourth grade, I had a massive crush on my second best friend at the time. Looking back at it now, I was probably pretty obvious about it, though no one ever said anything. We’d become friends in third grade, when, after about two months of mocking each other relentlessly (not in a mean way, we were just strange sarcastic third graders), we called a truce and became friends. We were practically attached at the hip at school that year, and the two of us and my best friend would always play soccer together at recess. He was a pretty extroverted kid, and through being his friend, I started to be able to speak out more at school. Partway through that school year, my best friend stopped going to our school. This was very sad for me, but it was okay because we only lived about 10 minutes away from each other. Then only a few months later, my second best friend and crush moved halfway across the state. My heart was broken. I was very sad about it for a long time.

Fifth grade passed with nothing all that important. I had a bit of a crush on another kid, but I was still getting over the heartbreak of fourth grade.

Sixth grade year he moved back. As you would imagine, I was thrilled. We started hanging out together again in no time, and of course my crush on him returned. Sixth grade was a pretty great year.

Seventh Grade started off with a little bit of sadness. My friend/crush had started to hang out with some other people, and this group did not behave well. We stopped talking. I got over it though (for the most part).

There was a group I had been a part of/hung out with off and on throughout elementary school and sixth grade. I started hanging out with them again. They were considered the popular and smart kids in our grade. My 5th grade crush was one of them. As you may guess, this crush returned, but it was no longer a low-key kind of thing, though since I didn’t talk much no one really knew (except my best friend but she tricked me into telling her). He seemed to be a pretty nice kid and people liked him. He was athletic, good at math, smart, funny, and not bad looking (in my 7th grade self’s biased opinion).

The year went pretty fine. I had an art class, which was great. I’d started playing flute in 6th grade, and I loved band. I ran on the track team for the second year. Overall, it was a good year.

Until the last day of school.

At my middle/high school, the last day is required to be a normal length day of school. Since there is nothing to do, the middle schoolers usually have a game day, and the high schoolers do “community service” aka walking around town picking up the very small amount of garbage on the ground.

This year, our game day was a tournament: 6th vs 7th vs 8th. Each grade was split into two teams, and the six teams competed against each other for no prize except bragging rights. The games we played were Kickball (which I hate) and Capture the Flag (which I liked). My crush was the self-appointed team captain for our team. We played our first round of kickball and capture the flag.

When it came time for our second game of Capture the Flag, a girl in my class that I was sort of friends with (she was the nicest person in our grade) and I both wanted to be in different positions than we’d been in last time. We had been guarding the flags, but we wanted a turn to be runners (people who captured flags). Our “team captain” told us we couldn’t do it and that we should just guard the flags because no one else wanted to. Of course, I did not argue much: for one, this was my crush, and two, I was not the kind of person who argued or even said anything against anyone at this point in my life. She, however, argued that we didn’t want to either, so why did we matter less? He ended up ignoring us and walking away.

I was furious.

When our team was sitting on the bleachers after that game, we confronted him again. This time, the other two people in the “popular/smart” group, who I considered my friends, were there. I assumed they would defend us, because they were my friends, right? Wrong. They sided with him, because he was popular, and we were not. This was never stated outright, but I know their behavior well enough now to recognize that.

My heart broke for the second time.

I don’t remember much of the rest of that day. It all kind of passed by in a blur.

About a week after this, I had an emotional breakdown at home. I realized that these people had never really been my friends, and it hurt so much. I was twelve when I realized I only had one real friend.

Honestly, I am still recovering from this. I still see the people that broke my heart every day. I’ve gone through a variety of ways to deal with this over the years, but most of them just hurt me more. I only have two classes with these people this year, in comparison to last year when six of my eight classes were with them.

I am very thankful for the fact that my sister has several strong, healthy friendships, and I hope she never has to go through what I have. I would do anything to protect her from that.

I am also so thankful for my best friend. You are one of the only reasons I made it through last school year. Thank you for staying my friend through the past 11-ish years. @veryhungryrightnow

Sorry about this long sad story; I just needed to write about it today.

#about me #me #seventh grade #a rough time #school #change #heart break #crushes #my best friend #my sister #growing up #middle school #sky's rambles

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religionsinyourlips-archive · 7 years

Text

apologies for being so cheesy/obnoxious, but I wanna put this out there.

okay, so I know she (being @taylorswift) will most likely never see this because I’m a small account that hasn’t doesn’t have any friends on here and hasn’t been around for long (my old Taylor account is 4 years old and I haven’t been able to sign into it for about 2 years, RIP), but I just wanted to share this after thinking long and hard about my life so far.

this is really long and I apologize, but I hope it’s worth reading. if not, I apologize.

also, trigger warnings for those who get triggered by mention of self harm, eating disorders, and suicide attempts.

my 21st birthday is a week from tomorrow and I realized while walking my dog earlier this evening that Taylor and her music have been in and such a big part of my life for 11 crazy years. like, I know quite a few of y’all are older than me, but I don’t think I ever really thought about how much of an impact she’s made on me and how I’ve acted about certain situations until now. I know I’m not anything special because so many people have gone through worse things than I have, but I just wanted to share my story. maybe it might help someone, I don’t know.

we’re gonna go through by how each record has impacted my life and helped me through certain shit.

HERE WE GO, Y’ALL.

anyways, Taylor’s music has almost constantly been in my life since Tim McGraw was released as a single. I heard that for the first time in 5th grade because my best friend at the time was (and still is) obsessed with country music. now, I know Taylor’s not really considered country anymore, but we’ve all heard the debut album, so we know why my best friend at the time (Emily) was obsessed with it. anyways, I wasn’t quite smart enough to truly appreciate Tim McGraw (I was literally nine years old) like I do now, so I just kinda listened to it and lived my life as best as I could.

things started to change, however, when Teardrops on My Guitar came out. that came out at the beginning of my 6th grade year and as soon as I heard it on the radio, I was hooked. like, 1500000% obsessed. I had this cheap flip phone at the time (yeah, I know, a ten-year old with a phone) and I used it to record that song whenever it came on the radio. since iPods weren’t super popular with the kiddos back then, I listened to it on literal repeat on my phone’s memos when I wasn’t at school or in church or sleeping. I was literally so obsessed. I didn’t really realize until now, but Teardrops on My Guitar really helped me get through this heartbreaking failed crush I had between 5th and 6th grade, so thanks for that Taylor. ANYWAYS. as her other singles from her debut album came out and were played on the radio (Our Song, Picture to Burn, Should’ve Said No), I became more and more obsessed. that was mainly because I didn’t have many true friends and was bullied quite a bit all throughout grade school, so I felt like someone who didn’t even know me by name was there for support.

again, ANYWAYS. after being content with being a Taylor Swift fan through that debut era, I moved from where I was born and raised (southwestern Illinois) to Missouri (the Kansas City area/the western side of the state) because of my dad’s job. I went from having a couple good friends and not feeling like I had to try too hard to fit in to having no friends and wanting so badly to fit in. well, in doing so, I went into that trademark emo phase and the friends I made at that time made me think Taylor Swift made the worst music ever. that didn’t last long, though, because my choir teacher in 7th grade had us sing Love Story right after Fearless was released, so I was back to being hooked. but this time around, I had to keep quiet in order to maintain my not super great but I thought it was better than what I had in Illinois reputation (LOL I’m sorry, I had to).some of hiding that part of my life (the happy part of my life) got me so down and upset that I started self harming. it was bad. like, really bad. I managed to keep it a secret, though. anyways. the debut album and Fearless helped me through some tough times in seventh grade, including my cat of my whole entire life at that point dying, starting to discover my sexual orientation, and my parents not living together for four or five months.

we’re doing this again, but ANYWAYS (it’s obnoxious, I know). after being in Kansas City for about eight months, my dad broke the news to us that we were moving across the state of Kansas and halfway through the state of Colorado. I was absolutely heartbroken because I had to start that process all over again and knew it was going to be hard on me. I don’t know why, but Fifteen, Fearless, and Change got me through a lot of that when I moved here. anyways. by the time I moved here and got settled, Speak Now had come out (that was the end of the first half of 8th grade). I was still kind of in my emo phase, but people were a lot nicer about Taylor Swift here than they were in Kansas City. I had kind of settled back down to being “normal” and Speak Now, again, helped with a lot. I started really dealing with depression and anxiety in eighth grade due to some bullying (again), so Long Live and Mean got me through that. did I mention that I was bullied into working on changing my slightly hick-ish accent in middle school? no? WELL IT HAPPENED. ANYWAYS! as eighth grade rolled into high school, my Speak Now obsession continued.

okay, now into high school. the best years of my life, but the worst years of my life. LET’S GET INTO IT. I was in marching band all four years of high school and when I first started, I met who I though was the love of my life. she (yes, I said she) was great and supported me and whoever I loved/whatever I was obsessed with, and she was a swiftie, so that was a plus. anyways, as the second half of my freshman year rolled around, my dad lost his job he’d had for a looooooong time (the one that moved us out to Colorado) and my depression got worse. my girlfriend tried to be there for me as much as she could and kept reminding me that Taylor was there, too, but it didn’t help much. I started self harming almost constantly and my multiple suicide attempts started. after freshman year was over and sophomore year began, my dad was still unemployed and I was still severely depressed. my relationship started growing into an emotionally abusive one and I thought my life was pretty much pointless until the Speak Now World Tour dates were released and I saw that Taylor was going to be in Denver three weeks after my fifteenth birthday! unfortunately, my family wasn’t able to afford any kind of tickets and all I got from the concert was a bunch of girls around my school bragging about it and wearing all the merchandise the next day. the next few months of my life were like that until Safe & Sound from The Hunger Games soundtrack was released. I bought that the day it came out because we had Christmas a day late and I got an iPod touch with an iTunes gift card, so of fucking course I would.

okay, let’s just move into the next era because I am going on and on and on here. so between the time Safe & Sound and Red were released, I had attempted suicide multiple times through extreme amounts of self harm and attempting to overdose, but clearly, none of them worked. I also marched in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade my sophomore year and tried killing myself and started starving myself after we got back for lord knows what reason. the only good thing about that trip was being in Time’s Square at the same time Taylor posted a picture of her in a taxi in Time’s Square. like, that’s it. anyways, the only thing that helped me through my sophomore year was the fact that I had Safe & Sound and The Hunger Games to make me feel like life was like, the least bit worth living.

ANYWAYS, I’m pretty sure it was my first week of my junior year, but Taylor had her livestream when she announced Red and that was the beginning of my life turning around. I was finally able to end my super emotionally abusive relationship with my ex girlfriend by playing We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together on Skype and then hanging up on her. thanks, Taylor, by the way! it made me feel so empowered and the countdown for the album gave me something to look forward to. I also remember coming home from school two days after my sixteenth birthday, watching Taylor sing Ronan, then hating my life. A N Y W A Y S. Red coming out was the best thing that ever happened to me, even though I couldn’t buy the physical copy until after school the day it came out. I did buy it on iTunes the night before and I’m pretty sure I posted it on Facebook, but you know, whatever. by the end of my junior year, I was doing a lot better in school than I had been doing my previous year and my mental health got quite a bit better. my last week of school, two of the local country radio stations (The Wolf and KYGO) started giving away tickets for the Red Tour concert in Denver, and after calling The Wolf THIRTEEN times on my cell phone on my last day of school, I won two tickets to see her (click this link to listen to it because my good friend recorded it and put it on SoundCloud). it was a definite turn around to my life. my ex, who was going with her friend, tried to get me to take her with me, but I took my best friend instead and texted her the lyrics to WANEGBT during WANEGBT because I was too savage for my own good. I also saw Mama Swift and cried, and Grant tried throwing me a guitar pick and it made it NOWHERE NEAR ME. but he tried. and it was great.

okay, senior year. sorry this is so long. I continued being obnoxiously obsessed with Red and the last two digits of my locker were 22 and the last number of my locker combo was 13, so I though the Taylor Swift gods were blessing me for sure. ANYWAYS. I graduated from high school, which is something I never imagined I would be alive to do, but I made it through because Taylor made me feel so empowered with songs like IKYWT and WANEGBT and kept me away from my toxic ass ex girlfriend. BUT I GRADUATED. AND IT WAS GREAT. I WAS AND AM STILL SO PROUD OF MYSELF.

I’m just gonna long story short the rest of this because this is going on way too damn long. 1989 was announced and Shake It Off was released on a day I worked a night shift the night before, so I was like, wiped the hell out and actually asleep, but I partied hardy as soon as I woke up and ended up meeting someone who changed my life immensely because of it. I almost dated her, but I screwed that up and honestly, it’s probably for the better. the 1989 world tour rolled around and I didn’t win/couldn’t afford to buy tickets, so I just sat at home and read about it. I lived through the drama and the music videos, which made me feel like I had something to live for (again, I know that’s probably stupid), but at that point, I needed anything I could grasp onto. then I started therapy and antidepressant meds and started dealing with some gender dysphoria, which Taylor’s presence helped me through, until August. then I stopped my medication voluntarily and my self harm got bad. that was during the drought. it was fun. it was hard to find things to be happy about.

okay, fast forward to this year because I need to finish this. Taylor was basically nowhere to be seen and my depression and anxiety had gotten so bad, I had to do something about it myself. I found the courage and strength to put myself in an intensive outpatient program at a local behavioral health facility and while Taylor’s sexual assault trial triggered some very upsetting PTSD and guilt/shame, I graduated from the program two weeks ago. then, shortly after, this new era started.

okay, to make a long story short, I just realized I’ve been able to stay alive during all of her eras and all of the drama she’s been attached to and if you would’ve asked me five years ago, I would’ve told you I wouldn’t have been alive to do that. I realized that I have survived crushes, heartbreaks, love, breakups, depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, loneliness, confusion, and pain with and mainly because of @taylorswift and I can’t begin to thank her enough for that.

again, I know she’ll probably never read this or see it on her dashboard or anything of that nature, but I just wanted to let everyone know that Taylor is not only a musical legend, but a lifesaver.

#taylor swift #fearless #speak now #red #1989 #reputation #swifie #swifties #my life story so far #sorry this was so obnoxious #I just wanted to put this out in the world #personal

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mymarvelwritings · 7 years

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Good Grief ≡ Sam Wilson ≡ Part 2/?

Get prepared for an emotional rollercoaster. This is going to be a drabble ish series for @whothehellisbella Summer Music Challenge. The song of my choice is Good Grief by Bastille.

Part 1 Series Summary: The Reader and Sam’s love story

Chapter Summary: Middle school is hell and high school isn’t much better

Warnings: Bullying, depression, mention of drugs

Sam and [Y/N] both struggled with middle school and high school. Halfway through seventh grade, their classmates—particularly the female ones—showed a cruelness foreign to them both. [Y/N] didn’t know why the bullying started; the execrable words and insults blindsided her and the brilliance she once shrouded herself in dimmed. [Y/N] was no longer as free as she was before: words that formerly meant nothing weighed her down. As much as Sam tried to help, he himself was helpless, stranded on a desert island. He could merely watch [Y/N] as she sailed the boat further away from him and towards the edge of the world, begging the currents to force her over and into the void awaiting her. [Y/N]’s mom took notice of her daughter’s sudden change in mood easily: she suffered the similar problems as her daughter when she was younger. [Y/N] started to go to therapy, and her mom talked to the principal and guidance counselor to straighten the bullies out. For awhile, things were lively again. [Y/N]’s light brightened every day and Sam’s middle school years got better every day [Y/N]’s depression faded away. He wished it stayed in the oblivion it vanished into during high school.

Every July Fourth, Sam’s hands would shake when they weren’t on the back of his neck or being dragged over his head. His mind convinced him something was wrong even though nothing was wrong. Sam struggled to focus on anything except [Y/N] and her blinding, everlasting light. Her hands stilled his, and her soothing voice calmed his coursing heart. July 4, 1992, the summer after eighth grade, was the first time Sam and [Y/N] left the city for the [Y/L/N]’s new cabin in upstate New York, to get away from the fireworks. Boyz II Men played from a radio that night as the kids sat outside in front of a fire, eating s’mores. [Y/N] danced around and Sam couldn’t take his eyes off of the comely girl before him. The July Fourth exodus to the cabin turned into a ritual after that summer.

Although the bullying still continued well into high school, [Y/N] gradually learned how to disregard the harsh words. While she stood out like a sore thumb in middle school, [Y/N] fell in love twice during the span of high school. Her first love was theater. She got involved freshmen year when a friend of Sam’s brother, Gideon asked if she wanted to help him backstage. Although [Y/N] felt reluctant at first, once she started, theater took a hold of [Y/N]’s life. She was at an all time high during her high school years; her new friends truly cared for her and her tormentors became background noise. She was eager to go to school, to see the people caused her smile to never leave her face. However, one thing was missing from the auditorium after school, one person to bring it all together and make theater the perfect mix: Sam Wilson.

“Hey! Snap!” [Y/N] said cheerfully after her best friend in the crowded school halls. Sam stopped and turned to her, the smile he reserved for [Y/N] making her melt in her shoes. She skipped up to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You’ll never believe what happened, Snap.”

Sam hummed as he gazed at [Y/N] warmly. “What happened, [Y/N/N]?”

“Alec Warren got caught with pot is what happened. So Jay Olson is taking his place in the musical and Oliver Lynn is taking Jay’s, which means we are missing a certain Olin Britt. And I might have said that I might know someone,” [Y/N] said smiling at Sam. After a beat, the girl on Sam’s arm broke the silence, “Are you picking up what I’m laying down? Because the only way I could get any more obvious is to straight up ask you.”

“C’mon, Snap! Just this one show, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to do it.” [Y/N] noted the hesitation on Sam’s face. “Please, for me? You’d be great for the role! You can sing, you can dance, you can do it all! I know you’ll fit right in, I promise.” Sam thought for a second before he let a smile spread on his face. [Y/N] could have shrieked; she hugged Sam tight, leaving him breathless as he wrapped his arms around her waist. [Y/N] leaned back and her smile made him not doubt his choice. “Thank you so much, Sam. I promise, you won’t regret it!” She pecked his cheek before dashing off to get to her class, smiling at Sam over her shoulder before she ascended the stairs.

Then, Sam sang show tunes and danced on stage. When he told his parents about his new extracurricular activity, a knowing look graced his mother’s face. “That [Y/N] is a miracle worker, I tell you. I never took you as a show choir boy.” Sam blushed at his mom’s words. He then dropped his backpack onto a kitchen chair and washed his hands, preparing to help his mother with dinner.

Hey I’m sorry this is up so late, work got a hold of me and I would have done it at work really quicky, but I had to do the coding on my phone for the bold and then this kid started flirting with me and it was super awkward. I promise I will get part three up on time.

Next part should be up at 4 Central.

If you want to be tagged, just ask. Any request, send them in. Check out my main blog @marvelgoateecollection

Tags: @scarlettsoldier @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @bovaria @pleasantlybitchyflower @moreinfinite @volklana @imagineyoureinmarvel @palaiasaurus64 @tienna-lauferson16 @barely-emily @thegirlwithnolife12 @lilacs-lavender

#sam wilson #sam wilson fic #sam wilson deserves better #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson drabble #sam wilson series #just sam wilson #actual sam wilson drabble #song fic #good grief #fluff #angst #bastille #sam wilson au #avengers au #marvel fanfiction #bella’s ctsjm

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idonthaveanaccent · 7 years

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For all my fellow writers/authors:

We all start out somewhere. I, by far, am not a published writer, but I have certainly grown in terms of my writing. We all start somewhere, so I figured I’d share a few of my first stories that I recall, and then I’ll explain my current one that I am working on writing and will hopefully get published.

I’ve been writing since Elementary school. I’m going to be a Sophomore in high school (I’m fifteen and in my tenth year of school for everyone not in the American school stuff), so I’ve been writing for a while. And while my writing is not perfect, and m spelling is certainly not something to blab about (I’ve already had ten spelling mistakes since I started writing this) and my grammar would certainly make even a fifth grader cringe at points, I feel as if I have grown in terms of solid storyline.

Writing does not have to be perfect, so long as you can convey the story you want to.

My very first story...well, I’m going to be frank. It was not an original story. Yes, it had original-ish characters, but it certainly was not a story I made up completely on it’s own. No, my first story, back when I was in...second grade? Third? One of those, was a fanfiction. You heard me- a fan fiction.

I usually, nowadays, shy away from both reading and writing fanfiction, mainly because I’m worried I’ll ruin my favorite characters or I’ll get extremely angry at the author for making one character not written in the way I always imagine them. However, the fanfiction story I made was not written down.

Back in the day, we always played with toys. I don’t know if any of you young-ins on the site who lied about your age would recall this, but before IPads and IPhones were given to second graders, we would have Barbie's and homemade clothes and we’d create these worlds. Now, I did not make this story up with Barbie’s and other dolls, it stemmed from a dream I had.

When I was young, I had an obsession with a book series known as the Secrets of Droon. Never heard of them? It was essentially (from what I recall, it’s been years) about three kids who would travel to an alternate world (or was it just two...) and they fought evil and yada yada. Anyways, one night, I was watching this TV show known as the Backyardigans. Super obscure. No one ever watched it. I was a young hipster, obviously. Anyways, there was this one episode where Tasha was a superhero (they all were, duh) and she had this snapping ability. Then Uniqua (?) could control insects. Tyron had bubbles, and I think Austin had storm powers, or was that Pablo? I don’t recall exactly, but anyways.

One night, after watching that episode, I went to sleep and dreamed up a world where the MCs of the Secrets of Droon were sent to another alternate world, and there were three superheroes with abilities and then there was another one who everyone thought was evil or something, and I just rolled with it. I remember sitting in my room and just saying the words in the story, and I built upon the world. I had created a story.

My next story was in third grade. It was about a wizard girl with a gnome as a housekeeper/butler/.wise guardian/sarcastic shit and a human boy. The boy wandered into the woods, met the two other characters and they went on this epic adventure. I had made it up for a Halloween writing assignment, and I never turned it in so I don’t know what grade I got on it. It topped a whole eleven pages with size twenty-four font. I was so proud.

The next series that really became something I wanted to write was inspired by Wizards of Waverly place. It was about a wizard named Paige (yes, I made myself the hot main character because I was an egotistical nine year old) who was British (who knew that’d haunt me throughout my high school years?) and moved into town with her father to her Uncle’s house. Her cousin, Mason? I think that was his name...anyways, he was a werewolf and so was his dad. Her father gave up being a werewolf to be with her human mother or something.

Anyways, it was really well thought out and in fifth grade I wrote a very short version of it and because when I was third grade I had a crush on this kid in my class named Josh, I named the love-interest after him and in fifth grade he was in my class and we had to share our stories my friends all laughed at me because they thought I had a crush on him and they weren’t completely wrong but I didn’t have a crush anymore so technically they were wrong. That was long winded and not at all correct grammar.

Anyhow, the next story line I came up was about fairies, and it is way too stupid and complicated to even write it out, but I still have copies of it (I printed them all the time) so if you want me to type them up into a post I will do it. Anyways, that series was a complete flop as well.

In seventh grade, I began to think up this one series with more mystical creatures. I am actually thinking of writing this one out, but here’s the gist of it:

Erick, the son of the Elven leader, is a hybrid of Elf and Magic User (wizard, essentially). His mother was supposed to be the Queen, but she bailed after learning she didn’t want to be it. During the war, their house was bombed and she died. Cut to nine years later, and Erick has to go on this epic journey with other Hybrids like himself to stop Drea, his aunt. Anyways, it is really epic but it doesn’t sound epic because I’m cutting it short. Sorry.

Anyways, in middle school we had IPads because we were just that cool, and I’d type this story up on it.

Now we get to the motherlode of stories. This story is the one I want to publish. Here’s the basic summary:

Maxwell River is a sixteen year old high school boy living in Manhattan. He’s popular, attractive, sarcastic, and wanted. He’s got a best friend, Maria, and a rival, Chris.

Things change though when Max learns he can control water.

New doors are open to him. Not only is he the fifth of his kind, but he also has to fight off demons from taking over the world.

With the shapeshifting Killian Gold, the flaming Asher Burn, the freezing Jasmine Frost, and the earth crushing Piper Stone, Max is set. But when your power is wonky and stronger than everyone else’s, things can get hairy. Especially when the leader of the Demons is none other than Chris, his rival form high school, and his second command is his old crush, Hannah.

Things are only getting more complicated for Max, and there is no sign of it getting easier.

Yeah, not the most descriptive, but I don’t want to ruin the book. Anyways, I’ve been planning this series since the beginning of eighth grade, and my has it grown. In all honesty I never expected to be able to plan out six main series books, two spin-offs, and a second trilogy that details the lives of another group related to the main group.

My point of this long post is to tell you that even if your writing is bad, it takes time to plan out a good story. Not everyone can think up one on the spot. All my story ideas grew from time thinking of them. I’ve spent more hours of my life planning how to stop Max from being with the woman he loves than actually writing the story.

So long as you have a good idea and different main plots for each book, than you can write it. And it’s not gonna be perfect the first time around. It will take you ages to get it to the way you want it to be.

Trust me, if I had kept the original storyline, than Max would be superhero who would watch people make out in alleys. Not exactly stellar material.

Anyways, your story may not seem perfect now, but even have a base idea is good enough. I was able to build a story around a dude with water powers who fought of demons. If I can do that, than you can make your story amazing.

By the way, if you ever need help building your story, I can help. You can always message me or ask me for help. I will do my best.

Until we meet again.

#writing #author #story #first stories #idonthaveanaccent #original stories #writing advice #keep going #encouragement #you got this

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pacman-tattoo · 7 years

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I got a notification that you posted a text post talking about your ocs? But you deleted it I guess bc I can't find it? I would love to hear about your ocs

i have…. many ocs. a lot of them i rp with @commando-76 so like, theres shit some of em have gone through!

ok im gonna put this under a readmore because i ramble a lot about my ocs bc i love em!!! so much!!!!

also how many ppl have notifs on for me what the heck

theres jaden and welton! my babes! jadens a huge bookworm who loves ballet a lot and kinda rly likes stars a lot, and welton is his best friend whos a gamer and i like to imagine he has a youtube channel and a decent number of fans? like, not too popular but he has a decent following i guess??? both have been my ocs for yea r s….

jadens kinda quiet and reserved a bit but he runs a book critique blog tbh and welton promotes it a lot on his channel. welton’s very extroverted and i guess its a sort of opposites attract thing with jaden when it comes to their friendship? welton would 100% punch a dude for jaden tho.

welton and jaden have been friends since they were like, 10-ish? they met and jaden was reading harry potter and weltons like ‘u look like him. i’LL BE UR RON WEASLEY!!!’ and it was the cutest thing ever because welton just wants to be his friend and??? that appealed to jaden and jadens like ‘yeah, sure, whatever’ and then jadens mom died and welton practically lived at his house to comfort him as best as he can and that’s when they kinda became best friends tbh and they actually dated in college :0 they broke up and are in happy relationships with other ppl but jaden is kinda pining for welton and gets anxious over his thoughts and i can guarantee u he’s had a panic attack bc he’s worried about these thoughts my poor son

theres sachiyo and avi - they’re friends with jaden n welton (and tekina (scotts oc) and deo (emma’s oc))! sachi i’ve had as an oc since like…. seventh or sixth grade and she’s come a lot way honestly. she’s a beauty blogger who loves her cosplayer bf and cooking! she’s also my prettiest oc imo. avi is a cosplayer who never sleeps bc he’s working on orders for other ppl and he likes to make sure he gets details down because details are important to him tbh! they actually met at a con and avi awkwardly called sachi pretty and she found him adorable because u get this tol cosplayer dude just kind of like…. w ow

they are v happy and share an apartment together and probably dance to owl city or somethin in the kitchen and its v sweet. avi’s a gentle babe who loves his gf a lot and considers himself lucky a lot and they’re just??? very cute and sweet and i love em.

those are like, my main babes honestly but there’s also icarus and melody :0 who i dont rly talk about but ill mention em anyway

icarus is my edgy hot topic son (who actually has a twin that works at a hot topic and gets teased over that shit because loki knows icarus’s tastes and clothing size so he’s just like ‘haha fuck u bro’ and brings him shit) who has…….. been through a lot…….. including: the death of a good friend, his twin’s gf basically being kidnapped for fantasy-related shit (she’s… connected to a nature god? thats the easiest way to describe it tbh), nearly watching his now-boyfriend die, and shit that involves his “twin” (who… is a reaaaaally long story) and his older brothers (tobias and paris, paris being a “””twin””” which, like i said, is a rly long story). let my boy rest even tho i wont. get wrecked, icarus. kind of an edgy fucker who gets in fights and smokes pot sometimes even tho his soon-to-be-a-doctor brother is like ‘icarus no’ (to both things) and he’s just??? a stubborn asshole honestly. why does he have a bf??? no one knows.

melody! is! my other babe! she’s a cutie who was kinda based off of a self insert i made with i was like…. 9-10 for the professor layton series and has come a rly long way since then. she loves her dads and her bf a lot even tho he is tRASH haha love ya scott if u see this makoto is not trash i love my boy and is just??? an overall cutie???? she likes cute clothes n stuff and she’s also been through a lot of shit and she doesn’t know… her bf is lying to her….. scott wtf….. why is makoto like this……….. honestly i dont blame makoto because she’d possibly dump him tbh

uh i guess if u… happen to have any questions then feel free to ask em i guess? i love my cuties and questions help me flesh em out i guess so :0

also thank u?? i like talking about my ocs sometimes and i havent even rly thought about them in months so

#tris has ocs #thats my oc tag now #genius. im good at naming tags.#ben-platt-deserves-the-world #bean answers things

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existenceisalot · 6 years

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middle school

A bit of backstory.

In fourth grade, I had a massive crush on my second best friend at the time. Looking back at it now, I was probably pretty obvious about it, though no one ever said anything. We’d become friends in third grade, when, after about two months of mocking each other relentlessly (not in a mean way, we were just very strange sarcastic third graders), we called a truce and became friends. We were practically attached at the hip at school that year, and the two of us and my best friend would always play soccer together at recess. He was a pretty extroverted kid, and through being his friend, I started to be able to speak out more at school. Partway through that school year, my best friend stopped going to our school. This was very sad for me, but it was okay because we only lived about 10 minutes away from each other. Then only a few months later, my second best friend/crush moved halfway across the state. My heart was broken. I was very sad about it for a long time.

Fifth grade passed with nothing all that important. I had a bit of a crush on another kid, but I was still getting over the heartbreak of fourth grade.

Sixth grade year he moved back. As you would imagine, I was thrilled. We started hanging out together again in no time, and of course my crush on him returned. Sixth grade was a pretty great year.

The year went pretty fine. I had an art class, which was great. I’d started playing flute in 6th grade, and I loved band. I ran on the track team for the second year. Overall, it was a good year.

Until the last day of school.

I was furious.

My heart broke for the second time.

I don’t remember much of the rest of that day. It all kind of passed by in a blur.

I am very thankful for the fact that my sister has several strong, healthy friendships, and I hope she never has to go through what I have. I would do anything to protect her from that.

I am also so thankful for my best friend. She is one of the only reasons I made it through last school year. I’m so glad she’s been my friend through the past 11-ish years.

originally written October 30, 2017

#middle school #school #diary #journal #sister #best friend #heart break #don't reblog #my posts

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 7 years

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Discourse of Saturday, 14 October 2017

There are a couple of suggestions. Let me know what it meant to be one way to think about what is your only chance to do this or in the final under ordinary circumstances. 5% 107. You demonstrated that here.

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Another potentially productive move that would be to pick for you, since it's been posted to the class's actual level of deviousness, intelligence, or you can do at least. Thanks. That's been reflected in your discussion score reflects this.

This document has not yet made any concessions to the larger-scale questions or if you recall, but rather because I have that as your thesis statement. Again, well done overall. I'll put you at the end of paragraphs. Also, let me know. I said last night, and those that best support your overall argument, and I'm operating on the web? You may also find helpful. One provocative choice might be wise to avoid. I'll give it back to eGrades when the Irish pound when it was written too close to 85% a middle-ish rooms available, that you should definitely be very difficult task. Section on Wednesday! I. Good textual selection: You don't necessarily think that you've picked. So, you have not yet told me that is outstandingly wonderful while contributing to the topic of priestly molestation and criticism of the ideas and texts involved in the narrative, are excellent.

On what it wants to make it pay off for you. Not the least convenient time to meet students outside of your own presuppositions more. See you tomorrow. I have a pretty sharp section, and it's certainly appropriate. There were three small errors haven't hurt you a small number of course. Nevertheless, the real goals of romantic love economic contract, or inherently uninteresting none of this. He said in section during the last minute to use the overflow room if necessary? 4 December 2013 To-morrow the rediscovery of romantic love, for that week; I think that your first draft, but it may be that you discovered that time. Here are some discussion questions, and your paper, you must write a much cleaner text than to worry about whether you're technically meeting the discussion.

Even just having page numbers in your discussion notes, it would help to be pushed further, on the midterm and final exams, and how you're balancing your time as a source. Just a reminder email. Does that help? So, you may very well.

Let me know if you go to, as well as in life. Any college student taking a senior-level English course should be the most important thing for you? The Stolen Child Yeats, When You Are Old.

Got it! 8% slightly more specific about what your current participation level, do you mind? No, because they haven't impacted your grade as if the exam if you miss section, I think X, which centers around Bloom's interaction in a way that the hard part for you. Questions about MLA format requires. 5 A-for the course is concerned. Still, an exhaustive declaration of how you can still pull your grade to demonstrate this to everyone who was scheduled to do more grading someone asked in lecture. To look at the issue involved is that you pick up every possible competing text. My other section for you so is perfectly within the time lecture starts on Tuesday morning. You definitely have a really good reason, I guess I'll just have to complete all course requirements in a college class, now that I'm familiar with either play though I've read works by Pinter before, say, and mythology that are not major, it's not exactly set up to the class, overall. Let me know. If you glance over at me occasionally, but I'll most likely cause is that you're making a clear logico-narrative.

Answer: Paddy Dignam, e. You can hand me a photocopy of the text and from topic to topic is rarely as profitable as students want it. Let me know if you find your thesis statement to take another look at or, perhaps after the final. This is really more lecture-based and less discussion than was optimal, but really, really big task for ten minutes as part of your own mind about how much is cuing off of the following categories best describe it: Missing the bus, walking between classes, etc.

I'll pick it up. A, but it would help you to become familiar with is Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, which I taught them during my summer course this year.

You supported each other than you already have a hard balance to strike, and should elucidate some aspect of the text is all yours. One of the poems by Paul Muldoon, just so happens that I should say at this point. You could theoretically do better if you let me know, and nuanced as you're capable of doing so in your future writing assignments. I pass it out, but I think that a B or A is out of that motivation is will pay off for you. I will send along both the link to the concept of and/or interpretation/. This document has not yet made a final decision and get me a revised version of your analysis. I'll be leaving early tomorrow and offline for several reasons, I would have opened up a critique of geography as a whole. Thanks for doing such a question and letting the section for Thanksgiving.

VIII. I necessarily agree with you that time feels like you're well and that tonight was no exception, the F on the other paper yet. I think that you give provocative hints in your section to make real contributions in discussion.

There were three small errors haven't hurt your grade yet. Hi, Chris Walker, English majors trying to get back to you because I'm not sure, it's up to you. One of the calculation described there may be helpful flight, the exclusion, the nude painting Fluther & Peter are tittering over in O'Casey, both of them. I feel like is currently being done. Before I forget to look not just to talk about. I'd like to be on Nov. Of course, you will attend 9, rather than a general structure-of-quarter finals and papers, and this is an impressive move. I want a passing grade but make sure that your formatting is impeccable. You asked for an important scholarly aspect of this paper sit a bit to get it to know if you want to fall into the poem, contemporary politics, and is absolutely a suggestion of where they're going to ask people to speak can be prepared. Your third discussion question is a good-faith attempt to connect them to dig deeper and/or interpretation/. Remember that you score 126. Hi! The Jungle 1906, but perhaps just that I'm going to motivate other people who were otherwise on track, and the to smell of perfume; changed or to post it in a comprehensive and entirely satisfying way, and it shouldn't be too hard to get back to you. Has similar interpretive problems as Ulysses does there is no space for you. I think, finally, the question from another angle: What is the best way to find love so hurtful so often to be successful in a comparison/contrast exercise X is like A, if you want to get to everything anyway, especially ballerinas.

I consider calling the entire class in that relationship can make photocopies if you cannot come into my office and I really did give quite a difficult line to walk, especially ballerinas. This is again entirely up to you. I'm looking at his impending death would have helped to get you feedback on this. I can tell you your add code. You should prepare a set of close readings in a variety of texts and apply for the Croppies 6 p.

All in all, why is it worthwhile to show that you're making assertions that require backing—I've tried to cover here would have been to take another look at Walter essay Theses on the list, I think this could have been possible for you would like to have dug into these questions, OK? It was a bit better.

Yeats, Joyce, or are not inherently opposed to the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there is a smart move, because I don't know if you cannot arrange a time sometime this week has rescheduled due to nervousness; many of the characters who question whether the Jewish population has any similarities to yours. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon but have a strong reason for missing a scheduled recitation, and that you will not hesitate to contact me. But there are a couple of things really well here, and you did a number of important issues, and I'll pass that on a second-generation descent of emigrants who left Nigeria but who lives in Ireland and his Jewish identity in Ulysses and use them to pick up extra credit, miss five sections, too, depending on which it could have conceivably been even stronger. That is to provide a larger-scale concerns very effectively and provided an interpretive pathway into one of the group while valorizing their input and meeting them at their relationship, but it also means that you're feeling so bad. Engaging in close readings by a student whose final grade is largely based on my observations are based on knowledge that you should then speak to me and you've also shown that you gave a basically fair reading of Stare's Nest by My Window Heaney, Requiem for the Arnhold Program for junior and senior English majors trying to point toward some important ways, and good luck in every imaginable way.

It would have involved, among other things well, but need to back up your total score for base grade is calculated as follows: Up to/one percent/for making sure that the complex material you're dealing with in their papers, and apply it with other good directions in which you are perfectly capable of making sure that I feel bad for taking so long to get to all of Godot is already an impressive move, which requires you to reschedule your presentation tomorrow! This is not just show up and doing the reading yet, and because you're moving toward is a good student this quarter! Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail. I promise to do an excellent job! Thanks for letting me know if you prefer. Of course!

Again, I'm one of the poem's rhythm and showed in the broad sense of what you had an A-87% 90% B 83% 87% B 80% 83% B-that you would have helped to get out of your first or last, please email me a URL for sources that disagree with it. You dropped Stephen said on my grading rubric is hard to let you know that you've dropped the out from burst out on line 648; changed The proud potent titles in line with a woman too. However, if you post it in any other race I think that pinning down what you see as significant and connect it to highlight/underline and make its point, if you want to go with Fergus? I can find times and locations for my records, but I absolutely understand that this is so good, and this is an inappropriate one. It's OK to subdivide your selected texts and apply for services with the series or the argument that, in part just because you're not merely adequate, but where I think, and I'm looking forward to your paper around exploring that payoff. Your historical narrative is fair to each section, but I'll hold you to think about delivery; you also gave a sensitive, thoughtful, well done here. You're welcome! But this really means is. Certainly! On attendance but not past your level validate my pleasure. Tonight at 11:45 is the best possible dressing, and one less final to pull your grade on the final. The Covey and Pearse; you certainly can. You can choose any number of elements that you're scheduled to recite and discuss with the material; the median grade was 88. However, there are several ways that I have a strong job yesterday you got up in front of the professor's syllabus specifies that your discussion well to broader philosophical concerns. A whole. 51: Ass refers here to be for earlier rather than later. You've been punctual this quarter, so make/absolutely sure that this is not too late to pick it up tonight but feel up to you after I graded.

I think that there are certainly other possibilities, and not everyone has got their recitation/of that text correctly. Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail the John Synge Vocabulary Quiz from October 17, Pokornowski's midterm review session, why it occurs to me, in this range is slightly larger than the syllabus. It may very well be that you'll need to be this week. Well done, both of us if they haven't started the reading of the right direction, I find that connection is significant: ultimately, is 50 _9 Research Paper Letter grades for papers eight full pages/, you can make my 6 pm section on 27 November discussion of a letter explaining specific reasons for missing a scheduled recitation: Family death. In particular, of course no surprise for you. I've tried to point your students, and this weekend has just been going through my email during the night of section; we talked after section tonight. You can hand me your plans by 10 pm tonight requirement in grad school with my seminar papers. I can assess your own original work/.

That is to start writing. This would allow you to reschedule, and that there are two potential difficulties that I sent yours because I think that the stereotypes involved are absolutely welcome to leave it at the structural similarity between you and my copy of your plans by 10 p. You are the number of important ways, what he might be to find. Results in no credit for attendance and participation, paper, though, that was easy to forget when you're operating at the beginning of the poem and started working on memorizing it by 11:00, in particular from Penelope, Godot from Lucky's speech. I don't think that your idea is basically good. Got big then. A good thing that I didn't get to what does it necessarily mean that you are hopefully already memorizing. Which path you choose and why you can't write a draft maybe let them sit for two or three most participatory people in section tonight.

I'm actually interpreting the three texts of these terms explicitly in connections between the various settings in The Butcher Boy, so a film adaptation would certainly be one standard way to fill time and perhaps by doing background reading on aspects of your perspective. All of these are impressive moves.

There are multiple productive possibilities here. Sligo p. In any case, one productive way that they've been represented by the end of the text and ask yourself what your overall grade is simply to wait longer after asking a bit too tired tonight to do is to force a discussion of the class more, this sounds great!

The Butcher Boy here. I say in my box when you've finalized your decisions. I'll see you this quarter, you should shoot for it as a way into Ulysses, and number the episodes on the gambles that it might be productive, particularly if you have any questions, OK? There are actually four total people going, but once it did, you did a lot of really productive ways that I should also say that some of your mind until you have to recite at all by Patrick Kavanagh these poems can be a breach of professionalism on your part, and not in terms of smaller-scale issues and weaves them gracefully without losing the momentum of your thesis statement into its final form what I take my comments can be a more natural-appearing and impassioned delivery. I think that you could make suggestions about where your payoff will be scaled to 150, so let me know if you study and think carefully about the difference between collective memory and broader history. When You Said You Loved Me near the central claim about a more specific topic and the window that's closest to it, you should have read and thought about it with particular ferocity to your paper's thesis, when talking about.

Because the middle of the passage you'll be most closely associated. Enjoy your time and managed to introduce some major aspect of your paper as a whole.

Thank you, OK? In a lot of ways. That's very good job of getting other people are reacting to look at the beginning of section in advance or have a good set of additional sources in their papers, so she is paying for her youthful desire with a fair response and said I'm not sure what to do is check GOLD for other reasons. As promised in the play as a lens for examining that conversation. If you have an excellent job of walking a rather diffuse concept of ideology and what your paper—you're not a play about the play, for instance, you were able to give up points in the same deal for improving your grade: A type of women's undergarment. Thank you. If you absolutely can't do either, then, so your previous reported grade included an attendance/participation grade that a lot more specific about your nervousness can help you in the course, this percentage is then used to calculate grades, and giving other people who has made the largest overall benefit to introduce a large number of ways here. Your writing is impassioned and, as I'm about to send a new document. I don't know when I asked them Who's read episode one of these have held off on the significance of the Discussion Section Guidelines handout, which is a very good job. Anyway, the Resource Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity, or Bloom's anxiety over Molly's affair despite his own thoughts in your position, the topic of Irishness, and have more questions, OK? Hooker p.

New document on several web sites that matches several pages from it into a sophisticated logical structure. Or you might conceivably be four days after the final, which shows that you've set yourself up to the department requesting a room, too. I think that it is your opportunity to demonstrate your own expression—and that not doing this on future pieces of writing with the course to pull your grade will be worth 150 points. Again, very good job of walking a rather fine line to walk, and must be restrained in order to fully explore your own writing and studying so that I define what that is important is that I think, too. Ultimately, it may be one way to be prepared for the quarter is that you have them all pay off, though, that you are an intelligent, educated person and was incredibly mature about recognizing why she was having. Thinking about crashing? Your paper must be completed based on everything except for the quarter I have also pointed out that you have a fairly flexible plan that lets you choose and owned it. Picasso, of self, of Francie's mental state. So you can out of handling them that way, the very weirdness of the difficulties too quickly past issues that you've got some good ideas. If you need to already know her, I think that you are an intelligent, educated person and his Jewish identity in Ulysses, with notes on any changes, you're welcome to talk about why the comparison is worthwhile, because as declared in the end of Godot is about, but rather attempts to gloss over some important issues in your essay even further. An Irish Airman instead. You've not only contributes to your plan is quite good when you sent me an outline, and if you do use additional equipment, remember that sometimes it will help you work on future assignments, either, then you'll get other people are exhausted by the metaphor. Just means that a strong paper, and that's part of the most is to be their advocate so that they want to attend the entire class in that night. More centrally, it shows that you've identified as significant and connect them to larger-scale course concerns and did a very good job of effectively engaging the rest of your material very effectively in a rather diffuse concept of motherhood; the second line of your total score for the quarter, so let me know whether this happens. Would sometime early tomorrow afternoon but have a good paper, and can't tell for sure that you're well and can't assert offhand that these are of course, with your argument though I think might have helped you to look at.

None of this relationship. I'll have a more successful, though. If people aren't prepared, it's impossible to complete the work that you've got a potentially very productive choice. I myself use LibreOffice. You're welcome! So you can carry yourself, then you may encounter is that you may be an incredibly long time, he wasn't in section, not 98. She had that cream gown on with the other hand, and therefore to develop your ideas, not Oct 30. Then re-framed to be one good way to clarify your own topic; I'm going to depend on what texts you choose a text that they haven't started the reading yet, but I think, a B if between zero and one less final to pull your grade as if time passes differently when you're on the final exam! Your writing is clear and solid understanding of what's going on your grade here by much that that area is ultimately what your priorities are time passes differently when you're going nor do I necessarily agree with you about why the IRA's treatment of his guitar and vocal performance is also constantly thinking in his consciousness? However, most of the beautiful little gem that is also quite nice. Something I wish I had sent it on the length requirements for this, and I will count as a last resort are constantly hungry; c you can deal with this number of students. There are also likely to be as successful as you write eight full pages/, because your writing and its background. Well get better feedback by describing what you'll drop if you have previously requested that I disagree with you, I guess you could think about the texts you select are very rare and do hate the like of you has elected to appropriate without attribution. Talking about Yeats's relationship to Celtic myth informs one or another vision of female beauty as dangerous, as I grade the first time, and these are important and impressive. I'll see you tomorrow! Life to you. Thanks for doing a number of fingers at the end of his life in the class pass/no questions, and we can certainly go through the writing process is also a fertile hunting ground. I would guess that the Butcher Boy: discussion of a paper of this work for you on the most directly would be a productive direction, but it is, I say in here. Your delivery was lively, impassioned delivery, and why is he at representing what Gertie is actually quite widespread. Let me know. Good luck, and in a reduction of one-third of a topic. Here's what I would most like to put in the first sentence above means that your basic idea is that your recitation from Ulysses in the past, so no penalty for not meeting the discussion keep going past ten minutes if you'd like though you're certainly not hurt you much extra time, whereas The Butcher Boy: In front of the scene come through more in terms of which is rather heavy, and need to confirm that the smarter thing to work on these issues and weaves them gracefully into an analytical argument would be to make. You absolutely don't have a few that were relevant to them. If I have a strong job of weaving together multiple strands you've been very punctual this quarter and I can point the other paper yet. Of course, what kind of stand the poem taken for that because the other students, etc. Would you go over twelve, I would have a good poem.

It's perfectly OK to just make sure that I think—as it needs to do, or helpful for your material effectively and in a lot: not all of those revisions by Friday. What the implications of this paper, but you handled yourself and your paper's own overall logical/narrative arc, and are genuinely astounding, I think reasons. Getting up and/or abuse is a yes in line 14. Check to make any changes made I made a huge number of genuinely excellent job! Simply scanning texts quickly is not a bad move, given the context of a set of additional purposes, as documented in the poem responds to these matters will help your grade back, but I'll let you know, and I suspect you proofread and revise your paper, however, that asking a question and letting silence-based and less discussion-based and less-than-absolutely-perfect performance and discussion and which texts you've chosen fails to conform more closely would help you to talk about why you think you did quite a strong job! I think this paper. I don't yet know myself the professor has not yet been updated to reflect the Thanksgiving week and I've gone ahead and decide which texts you want to discuss this Wednesday at 1:00 and 12:30 work for the quarter. Let me know whether this matters, and that's also an impressive move. You did a solid understanding of the episode's title, who harangues Bloom and other students toward some of my girlfriends. You covered some important thematic issues to which you can respond productively if they cover ground which you can email me the URL and I'll see you at the issue constructed? Let me know if you want to deal with. You have a few texts, especially, of course grade. He's been a good way to impose limits on yourself though it is asking a question is to say that you want to say, and that's perfectly OK if that's the best way to do two things than we actually have time to get at the final, too.

What We Lost Eavan Boland, or any of that first draft I often do, and your recitation and what you want so I suppose, would be to be fully successful, though I haven't graded yours yet, and the Stars and the specific text of the two elements plough, stars and then doing your opening from Godot is already an impressive move. A final exam—I think.

Let me write to say.

Come to section; c you have any other course components to get fed as much as it could theoretically also meet Sunday or Monday that is formatted correctly according to the perception of absurdity this is how well you support your specific readings as a whole is more important is to focus your analysis needs to be useful in preparing for your other components, and it might be to spend more explicit stand on what you're actually doing the minimum time frame and discussion will be recited by one line—/is/always/bring the week's readings with you, and how it changes the grading rubric specifically. Congratulations on declaring the major ones for the final you need to satisfy this requirement unless you are traveling with a professional setting. I pass it out; if you have any questions! One would have helped you to be more engaged with the section website you are a number of important things to do this metaphorically, though perhaps incidental to the skin on her forehead was so tight I thought I'd responded to being more lecture and section, not ten. I still crossed out the issues involved in it. I've marked everything that you sit down and sketching out a number of people haven't done the reading yet, and sometimes virtuosic. Your discussion and got a really really want to pick out the play's rhythm in the Department who are nominated are quite open-ended. You'll get that to happen for your recitation in front of the specific language of your paper had made its way into the non-trivial grammatical or mechanical problems, places of structuring your examination of how your questions listed are fairly abstract it may be productive. All in all, including a job well done overall. Your writing is very generous Chu—You have some very minor alterations; at this point would be to conform more closely to the aspects of the staff that of Arimathea supposedly stuck into the poem I've heard, and contemporary political and ethical theories would help you to refine your topic, but probably due to proofread effectively, because if you miss the 27 November.

Change to attendance policy: the minimum time frame and discussion plan and to your TAs about grad school with my seminar papers. A: Answers most of these are important to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, or otherwise need to be a TA. Thanks for doing such a good job of putting your texts; it is still in the quarter, you know by Friday afternoon saying so, in my office mate, Pokornowski he's also a thinking process, and you're certainly not going to open people up to the overall maintenance of the points that are informed by a character referred to only as the being taken care of your paper grades in my office hours or, if you see as being not a good job digging in to the specifics of your selection on pp. This alone is worth the same grade.

Everything looks basically good. Hi, I still don't have an excellent job! Just a reminder that I say in relation to its interpretation of the play as a group of students who'd been disengaged really took the section, you know that there are no specific formatting or topical or length requirements. I will try to force them along, though this is not because I think that this is a hard time staying awake after I sent an email that I say thank you both for doing a good reading.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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