its a great poem though go read it and have feels

Dear future daughter,


I wanted to write this as a sort of time capsule, so that you would know how your mother was at sixteen and what I expect of you as my daughter.

I love music and singing, and I expect I’ll put you for music classes early on, unless you don’t like singing and composing which is completely okay.
You can quit and join karate or anything you want.
I won’t force you, instead I’ll let you find your own path in life, like my mom let me.

You wanna ride horses? Cool. I liked that too.
You wanna go for kickboxing and learn how to defend yourself? Cool.
You wanna do ballet and enthrall the audience with your magnificent coordination? Amazing.

Anything you want to do babe, I am hundred percent right behind you.

I am big on reading as well, and this may sound odd, but unlike dancing or singing, I would very much adore it if you loved reading as much as me.
I will introduce it gently of course, by telling you adventure stories I wrote for you, about bears and fairies, and any thing you like.
Then I would introduce all sorts of new books, the same ones my mom introduced to me,Malory Towers, St. Claires, Tin-Tin’s, Secret Seven and so on.
If you don’t like reading, I understand.
I hope you do, though.

I am really sorry but you may or may not have my acne.
I am so sorry, I know how much you suffer trying to talk to that cute boy who’s the next Zac Efron, or how hard you try to cover it up.
Or how much you cry over something that someone said about your skin.
I wish I could change things in that department but I can’t. You have combination skin just like me, and it only gets better everyday, and soon enough a beautiful sense of maturity and compassion will bloom, like those Violets you adore.

You might deal with a lot of appearance issues, and trust me, even all the way back in 2017, we still have them.
Let me tell you this, your weight is just the relationship you have with gravity.
It doesn’t define your intellect, beauty, the amount of love you can give to the universe around you.
W=m x g
That’s all weight is.
So eat that pizza, gobble that pancake and never starve yourself.
I am not saying don’t be healthy and exercise, oh no, but its okay to be kind to yourself once in a while.

Career.
Tricky.
I am not going to say I am not going to behind your grades, or behind you to keep them up, but I will give you a chance to improve if you mess up, which you will and thats okay.
That’s life.
To me, do what you love.
Do something that keeps you happy, something that keeps you interested.
Do something that makes you excited to walk into work.
I hope I am doing the same honestly.
To me, education is not just about books and grades, and the colleges you get into.
I’ve probably taken you to so many places in the world, and all that you’ve learned, all the food you’ve eaten, all the cultures you’ve experienced, that is what you have truly experienced. Of course, it won’t pay your bills and it sure as hell won’t help you get to college, but it will make you better citizens of this earth, better human beings, more accepting, less judgmental.

Love.
Oh my, honey, you are going to fall so hard.
For a broken boy with broken promises.
With the talented singer.
With the most popular boy in school.
With someone half way across the world.

In the end, after everyone, you will realize you don’t need to settle for someone who makes you feel terrible about yourself, you just need someone who treats you like the princess you are.
Trust me, its not the prettiest or the most popular that gets to be the keeper of your precious heart.

Of course, if you decide you don’t want to be in a relationship, that’s great.
You’re a strong independent woman who doesn’t need anyone to tell her how downright amazing she is.
(feminist alert! haha)

Trust me.
They are going to break you, shatter you, make you feel like you can never love again.
You will love again though.
Again and again.

(You can change the genders above to suit you)
I expect by the time you are old enough to realize who you love, who you’re attracted to, it won’t matter.
I hope for Goodness sakes, we live in progressive times.
If we don’t, I will love you no matter what, if you’re bi, demi, gender fluid or anyone.
I will love you the same.
Coming out will be the easiest thing you will ever have to do, I promise.

Religion
Well, I am an agnostic, but if you decide that you want to follow a religion I will allow it.
Preferably Hinduism because that would make my mom and dad, (your grandma and grandpa happy) but if its Buddhism, Christianity or any religion, be my guest.
Explore, decide and tell me.
I will respect you if you decide to believe in a higher power, because I think that takes a certain amount of strength.

I might get mad at you, scream, cry and you have to realize I am not perfect.
Far from it.
I just want you to be a nice, respectful and loving human being.
Your grades and talents are secondary to me.
Sure I might not buy everything you want me to, but I promise I will provide you with everything you need.

I need to leave now, but it’s been great getting to know you,
this is sixteen year old me signing out.

hamilton + marriage proposal headcanons

masterlist

you had to know this one was coming next.

alexander

  • he does it in a public place of course
  • literally in the middle of the food court
  • it really wasnt safe to carry it in his pocket in the mall but. he did it anyway
  • he gets down on one knee
  • in the f o od court
  • and because of that you genuinely think hes just tying his shoe
  • who the fuck proposes in a food court surrounded by teenagers who might get wrong ideas and french fries
  • apparently alexander hamilton
  • so you’re looking around and waiting for him to finish 
  • and when you look back theres a box in his hand
  • and he… takes out a… folded up piece of paper…
  • ITS A POEM…….
  • and he READS IT OUT LOUD and its so CUTE but youre also SO EMBARRASSED because theres a part about how much he LOVES YOU IN BED
  • and after what felt like six hours he finally just says… “will you marry me?”
  • you hug him and pull him very close
  • (you mainly want him to shut up and for him to not talk about you in the nude in public anymore)
  • (he will ask you if it took too long. say yes. it was. he will then say “you know what else is long”)

john

  • this boy…
  • is so romantic…
  • he puts his heart into everything he does!!!
  • so he takes you to a little hillside in a park or in the countryside
  • and takes you for a picnic and everything is really nice
  • he packed all of your favourite foods and drinks and desserts and hes wearing a really nice white dress shirt and black pants
  • theres a little letter at the bottom of the basket he wants you to read
  • the dedication is really cute (”to the love of my life”)
  • but when you finish reading the letter… he is gone?
  • you are clearly very worried and you stand up and start looking around frantically 
  • and he is behind you and behind him is laf, alex, and herc
  • they’re all wearing…. matching outfits….
  • he starts s i n g ing and da nc ing
  • and when the song is finished he rushes over to you and gives you a big hug
  • and he keeps going
  • he gets down on one knee and has the BIGGEST, HAPPIEST GRIN ON HIS FRECKLED FACE 
  • and when he asks you to marry him
  • you’re probably blubbering and maybe crying because its so goddamn cute and hes so goddamn cute and hes like ”oh god did i do something wrong”
  • and you just shake your head and say yes, you do want to marry him
  • and the boys are in the background smiling, and sweating after all of the choreo they did
  • seriously. they’d been practicing for weeks.
  • (they said john even yelled at them once because he wanted it to be perfect)

lafayette

  • if there’s. ANYONE who is going to ask you to marry him in a restaurant
  • it’s lafayette.
  • he takes you out to a really fancy dinner
  • and you both dress up really nice
  • and you get what you swear to god is the nicest food you’ve ever eaten
  • and you laugh and smile and talk throughout dinner
  • but he seems… somewhat…. nervous and awkward
  • and he’s normally this smooth talking guy
  • and its… very suspicious
  • and its even MORE suspicious when he says he forgot his wallet and that you have to pay
  • and you’re like “…. alright???? …. i geuss?????”
  • he apologizes a lot, more than he ever has before
  • and when the bill comes in the lil wallet holder folder thing made of leather
  • and you start rummaging through your wallet for the money
  • he looks very panicked that you actually are going to pay
  • and he’s like “no no y/n please look in the folder thing please”
  • and you open it and tHERES A RING SITTING THERE ON TOP OF THE BILL
  • and he snatches it before you can do anything and proposes in front of everyone!!!
  • (you see a few waitresses cry)
  • (he repeats over and over that he doesn’t actually want you to pay)
  • (kiss him. he deserves it. he was so scared.)

hercules

  • you are completely alone when he proposes.
  • he just… does it in your living room?
  • he steps out of the bedroom and he has a shirt in his hands
  • and he’s quietly like “y/n i made this for you can you try it on?”
  • and you take it and somehow wrestle it onto your body
  • you don’t even know whats on it. you just look at him and tell him it fits
  • and he’s like “go look in the mirror and tell me if you like it”
  • and when you go to the bathroom and look in the mirror it says “will you marry me?” in big sparkly pink font
  • when you go back out hes wearing… a MATCHING SHIRT…
  • and he’s already down on one knee and you approach him
  • and he hits you with the pick up line he said when you first met
  • and you BURST into laughter
  • once you’ve calmed down he’s like “in all seriousness y/n… will you marry me?”
  • and when you say yes, he j u mp s up and tackles you onto the couch
  • (like it actually slightly hurt a little bit) 
  • and he’s very apologetic
  • and to make it up to you he starts kissing you everywhere he can reach
  • (he made the shirt very revealing… for a reason)

angelica

  • its going to be big.
  • its going to be very big because she has to live up to her own high standards that she and everyone else has set for herself
  • so she takes you to a really busy tourist destination
  • that you’ve probably been to a million times
  • and you’re like “ok nice can we go now angelica”
  • and she’s like hang on… i’m waiting for something
  • and when you’re probably starting to get really annoyed because you’ve been there for the longest time
  • music starts playing that wasn’t playing before
  • and its your favourite love song
  • (whatever genre, whatever artist, your favourite song is playing)
  • and you’re like wow angelica this is really funny huh? its my favourite song
  • and she gulps, really loudly, and takes you by the hands
  • and sits you down in a chair in the MIDDLE OF THE BUSY PART OF THE TOURIST DESTINATION THAT WASN’T THERE BEFORE
  • and peggy and eliza emerge from the crowd
  • and, for you, they sing the rest of your favourite love song with beautiful harmony and really cute and simple dance moves
  • and by the end everyone around you is clapping and you’re clapping but still you’re…. probably confused because… why did she serenade you in public
  • and angelica gets down on one knee
  • and she asks you to marry her in the most simple phrase
  • just straight up. “Will you marry me”
  • you stand up and nod
  • and when you say yes everyone EXPLODES
  • and everyone is cheering and clapping and she kisses you and you’re both laughing
  • (”was it good y/n” “yes angelica” “are you sure cuz if it wasn’t good then i can redo it” “angelica it was great” “are you satisfied” “ye s”)

eliza

  • the two of you are out for coffee and you both are having a good time
  • laughing and typing away at your laptops or doing work
  • and eliza excuses herself to go to the bathroom
  • and so you’re texting on your phone waiting for her to come back
  • when one of the baristas calls your name even though you didnt order another drink
  • but you go over and retrieve the cup that is apparently yours
  • and try to take a sip from it because like… free drink hell yeah
  • but theres…. nothing inside but this little hollow noise???
  • so with an eyebrow raised, you take off the lid, and there’s this… beautiful ring at the very bottom.
  • like, it probably shouldn’t be there because if someone got the wrong cup, they would not return it
  • you know the ring is for you and that it’s from eliza but you… can’t see her? 
  • even the barista seems confused?
  • and then she shyly emerges from the bathroom and is like “DO YOU LIKE IT Y/N” across the entire cafe
  • and you’re like… “yes eliza i love it”
  • and so she runs on over and takes the cup from your hands and pulls the ring out
  • and she doesnt get down on one knee but she does help you sit up on the counter top
  • and she’s like “you know what i love? you”
  • and then she proposes. and she’s blushy and really flushed and has the goofiest, sweetest smile suspended on her face and she talks about how helpless you make her feel 
  • and when you say yes, she does this lil dance and picks you up by the waist and spins you around
  • and then she realizes she can’t carry you because she is smol!!! so you climb down
  • and she slips the ring onto your finger and kisses you and she tastes like hot chocolate
  • and its… amazing

thomas

  • he just got back from a really long business trip
  • and hes been away for weeks
  • and when you go to pick him up at the airport
  • hes sweaty, and his hair is kind of flat, and he looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him
  • but he still looks so happy to see you
  • and when you guys are hugging, he whispers “what’d i miss” into your ear
  • (which is an ongoing joke between the two of you)
  • and you whisper “you missed me” in return
  • and you feel his smirk grow against your cheek
  • but when you finally pull away after about ten years of hugging
  • hes not smiling and he says, very seriously, “i never want to have to miss you that much ever again”
  • and he gets down on one knee and opens a small pocket of his suitcase
  • and pulls out a ring.
  • and he says this big long speech about how much he loves you
  • and how much he missed you
  • and every little thing about you he loves
  • (and backs it up with evidence)
  • eventually, he’s almost fallen asleep when he says, “will you marry me?”
  • and you get down so you’re level with him and you say “yes, thomas, i’ll marry you. now let’s go home”
  • (when he wakes up the next morning he double-checks to make sure you said yes)
  • (you say yes, you did say yes. “did you miss that thomas?”)

madison

  • lets face it.
  • this man probably wouldn’t go out of his way to propose
  • he loves you, of course, but you know that
  • and he knows that very much
  • and he doesnt feel the need to prove it to you with some big declaration?
  • (”i bet hamilton would do something lame like serenade you or read a poem, pssh”)
  • so you’re most likely in your bed just cuddling
  • and when you begin to pull away to get water or get changed, he looks over and just goes
  • “marry me?”
  • and you fall back into bed and tell him that you’d love to.
  • (he doesnt have the ring yet)
  • (he promises he will take you shopping when he’s not working)
  • (he works a lot)
  • (it will take a very long time to get your ring)
  • (he also doesnt want to go out when hes sick cuz he doesnt wanna cough all over really expensive rings)
  • (he apologizes profusely)
  • (tell him you love him anyway)
  • (and kiss him)

aaron

  • he is very shy
  • and has been carrying around the ring for months.
  • literally. months.
  • (he’s afraid you’re going to say no)
  • (like, very afraid you’re going to say no)
  • (he doesn’t put himself out like this a lot)
  • and hes also been waiting for the perfect moment!!
  • so one day you’re in a bookstore you both like
  • and amidst the stacks of books and paper
  • he gets down one on knee and is biting his lip because hes so nervous…
  • but he does it anyway!!! because he loves you!!! and really wants to marry you!!!
  • he wants it more than anything in his life!!!
  • he has a really!!! really cute and cliche speech about how much he loves you
  • talks about how beautiful you are every ten words
  • explains to you that you are the best thing in his life and never wants to lose you!!! but stutters his way through it
  • wants to put the ring on your finger while hes kneeling and… kisses your ring finger oh gosh…
  • he may… stay on the ground……. ???
  • (he wants you to either meet him on the ground or pull him up)
  • (pull him up by the collar and kiss him. he will smile so wide after)
  • (he might ask you later if it was romantic enough. tell him yes.)

first time | jeff atkins imagine

request: i seriously had so many requests asking for jeff x reader’s first time, so here you go, loves.

**note: this imagine obviously contains smut.

your p.o.v ━

you were currently walking over to your boyfriends house, bobbing your head to one of lana del rey’s songs. your boyfriend, jeff atkins, rang you up late afternoon, asking if you wanted to come over and study since his parents would be visiting some old friends that night.

you happily agreed, excited to finally see your boyfriend since this week in school had you both extremely busy.

you finally made it to his house, knocking three times on the hard door and waiting for someone to answer.

“hello, y/n. it’s so great to see you again, come in,” jeff’s mother said, stepping aside with a smile. “thanks mrs. atkins, it’s nice to see you as well,” you smiled warmly back.

“jeff, honey! y/n is here,” mrs. atkins yelled, shutting the door and nodding her head at you to follow her. you both made it into the living room, both of you hearing jeff’s heavy footsteps thumping their way downstairs rather quickly.

mrs. atkins turned towards you, a small smile on her face. “would you like something to drink or some snacks for studying?” she asked.

“um, a water would be great,” you said politely.

she nodded, making her way into the kitchen. you notice jeff stop at the last step, looking at you with bright eyes. “hi love,” he said, walking over to you, then leaning down and pecking your lips gently. “i missed you,” you whispered, your lips forming a small pout. he chuckled, leaning down and kissing your nose which made your nose scrunch up.

“i missed you more,” he said deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you close.

“here you go- oh.”

you pulled away from jeff instantly, making him release a huff. “mom,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

you turned your head around to see a blushing mrs. atkins, holding a bowl of chips and two water bottles tucked underneath her arm.

“sorry, i just.. here,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips as she handed you the bowl and jeff the two water bottles. she eyed the both of you curiously, earning another groan from jeff.

“your father and i should be leaving in five minutes,” mrs. atkins said, making her way over towards jeff and giving him thirty dollars in cash. “this is for dinner. will y/n be spending the night?” she asked with twinkling eyes.

“thanks mom, and i guess if you want to?” jeff asked, looking towards you with raised eyebrows.

“oh, um, i didn’t really bring a sleeping bag,” you mumbled, a blush covering your cheeks. “it’s alright, you can borrow some of my clothes,” jeff winked, causing his mother to clear her throat.

“it’s okay, i can just ask my mom to come pick me up later-”

“nonsense, you can stay if you would like y/n,” his mother said kindly. you nodded, “thank you… mrs. atkins.”

she nodded, “now get to studying you two,” she said sternly, a small snort escaping her as she walked away.

jeff huffed, annoyance written all over his face. “your mom is great,” you told him, making your way past him and walking up the stairs.

“yeah, but she can be a little over the top,” jeff sighed, walking behind you. you both made it inside of his room, you instantly walking over straight to his bed and sitting down, popping a chip in your mouth.

you saw jeff close and lock the door, making you raise a eyebrow.

he looked over at you with a cheeky smile, “what?”

you shook your head, “shouldn’t you leave that open?”

he frowned, “why? my parents won’t be home anyways,” he said, making his way over to his bed and sitting down next to you. you noticed his history textbook thrown across his bed along with his notebook.

“i’m glad you’re spending the night,” jeff suddenly said, making your eyes snap up to look at him.

you never spent the night over jeff’s house, nor did he ever sleep over at yours, even though you both had been dating for almost six months. it was strange, but your parents would never allow a boy to sleep with you in your room and you were always shy to sleep over at jeff’s house.

“i’ll have to call my mom up and tell her i’m staying with a friend,” you said, putting the bowl aside and grabbing jeff’s history textbook. “alright,” jeff said, scooting back and watching you with curious eyes.

“so, what section should we start with?” you asked, kicking your shoes off.

it was about a hour later, and you were reading a small section from the history book to jeff so he could copy down notes.

though, jeff had other plans.

jeff’s head was currently leaning on your shoulder, and little snores were escaping him making you roll your eyes.

you knew he was playing, but it made you grumpy. “jeff,” you sighed, pushing his shoulder slightly and hearing him moan deeply.

your eyes widen, your face heating up as you pushed him again, making him whine your name.

“what?” he asked sleepily, lifting his head up and looking at you.

you looked up at him, and cursed him silently as he was still freaking taller than you even while sitting down.

“you fell asleep,” you said blankly. jeff smiled lazily, “i know, it was a power nap y/n.”

you snorted, shoving the book into jeff’s lap and making him release a pained groan. “what was that for?” he breathed.

“for not paying attention,” you spat, getting up and walking over to your boyfriends desk. you looked down, seeing all of the love notes and poems you had gave him stacked into a neat pile.

you smiled instantly, picking one up and reading it. you put the paper against your nose, smelling deeply. you could smell the faint scent of your perfume on the paper, making your eyes flutter close for a moment.

“it’s one of my favorites that you wrote me, that’s why it’s on the top,” jeff suddenly whispered from behind you, making you jump.

you turned around to face him, seeing his hair slightly messy and his eyes heavy. you admired him, your eyes focused directly on his.

“what are you staring at?” jeff asked you, his head tilted slightly in question. you shook your head, “nothing, i was just… admiring you,” you trailed off, walking back over to his bed.

you flopped down on the bed, laying sprawled out across it. you felt the bed shift slightly, seeing jeff crawl his way on top of you making you roll your eyes. “what are you doing?” you asked him, feeling him lay completely on top of you.

you were squished underneath his weight, though he used his arms to push himself up so he wasn’t crushing you completely.

suddenly, he leaned down and started slowly kissing your lips, earning a small surprised gasp come from you. you kissed him back though, opening your mouth as you felt his tongue trying to pry its way inside your sweet mouth.

your tongues fought each other, each exploring each other’s mouth, as jeff’s hands started to roam at your sides.

jeff moved his lips, trailing them to your jawline and down to your neck, before sucking rather harshly on your sweet spot. you released a content sigh, tipping your head back and letting him do as he pleased.

your neck was already marked up prior to him sucking on your neck, being as jeff was the type of person to mark his lover, meaning you.

he liked leaving marks on you, passion marks of course, but he liked seeing them later on and knowing that he was the one to have made them. you didn’t mind, you loved looking in the mirror later on and seeing the deep marks your boyfriend made while in a heated moment of passion.

though, you and jeff never did anything besides heavy makeout sessions, being as you were still a virgin and very shy when you both brought up the topic about sex. jeff didn’t mind though, he knew you would only go to that stage if you were ready, and even then you were sure he would still be nervous about taking something from you that held such value.

you knew jeff was a total gentleman, and you knew he would wait as long as you needed, which made you fall in love with him even more.

“jeff,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer against you. he looked back up, asking if this was okay and you nodded, before kissing his swollen lips again roughly. he kissed you back hungrily, nibbling on your lower lip.

while his hands pushed himself up, making him break the kiss as he sat back on his knees, breathing deeply. you eyed him, your chest heaving up and down. “what’s wrong?” you asked, a small pout forming on your lips as you sat up along with your boyfriend.

he shook his head, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes tightly. “jeff, baby, what’s wrong? what happened?”

“it’s nothing, love,” he assured you softly, looking at you as he positioned himself to lay back down. “why’d you stop then?”

he chuckled nervously, as your eyes were focused only on his face with a small glare coming from you.

“well… i um,” he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling. “what?” you pressed on, wanting to know if it was something you had done.

“i was getting hard,” jeff said blankly, looking you dead in the eyes.

you blinked, then blinked again, before you opened and then closed your mouth.

it was normal, you thought, trying to process his words. you got horny sometimes too, but you never really noticed jeff get hard from your makeout sessions before. maybe he was just good at hiding it from you whenever the both of you would makeout, though it never seemed to affect him before.

“jeff, it’s alright, really,” you said, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

he raised a eyebrow at you, “y/n, i’m happy you think so, but i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like you have to do something that you don’t-”

you shushed him by quickly getting on top of him and straddling his waist, then leaned down to press your lips against his again.

you didn’t know what made you do it, but you were sure in that moment that you wanted jeff atkins to be your first and only.

“i want you,” you whispered against his lips, feeling him freeze again, making you giggle. you leaned back, still in his lap, but quickly tugged your shirt off, leaving you only in a lavender lacy bra and a pair of sweatpants.

jeff groaned, seeing you fling your shirt over to the other side of the room, before you bent down and proceeded with kissing him again.

you felt jeff gently grip your shoulders, squeezing them and then rubbing his fingertips in little circles against your shoulder blades. after a moment, you pulled back, looking down at him with big, y/e/c eyes.

“don’t you want me?” you asked, your lower lip forming a pout, making jeff shut his eyes tightly and release a frustrated sigh.

“fuck, y/n, you can’t just ask me things like that. don’t you know what you do to me?” jeff asked you, his eyes snapping open and his face was pure desperation.

you shook your head, tilting your head to the side innocently. you honestly didn’t know what you were doing, all you knew was that you wanted jeff, and that’s it.

you were a year younger than jeff, and even though most teenagers knew about sex including your boyfriend, you really knew nothing besides the basics.

jeff suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist as to hold you close against him while sitting up. “i need you to be sure y/n,” jeff said quietly, his forehead leaning against yours.

your arms were wrapping their way around him, holding him closely. “i’m sure, jeff.”

jeff smiled brightly, then smashed his lips into yours and trying his best to unclasp your bra.

he struggled, his fingers fumbling with the clips as he mumbled curses under his breath as he felt your lips attack his neck.

you found his sweet spot after a moment, biting and sucking on it, making your boyfriend groan deeply. “fuck, fuck, y/n,” jeff said, feeling as you started to lightly grind down against his member.

you pulled away quickly, not knowing if what you did was good or bad. “what is it?” you asked him, noticing his breathing was quickened. “it’s nothing, just.. don’t you wanna go slower? at least let me be the one taking care of you this time.”

you blushed, nodding your head once and rising up off of jeff’s lap, before you sat beside him and looked at him to see him pulling off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. you bit your lip, looking at his gorgeous torso.

“see something you like?” jeff smirked, looking down at you. you rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him rather childishly which made him laugh.

jeff faced you again, then reached out with his hand to cup your cheek, bringing his lips to yours. as you two kissed for what felt like forever, it felt as if something shifted.

the way jeff was kissing you now was slow, and almost teasingly? you enjoyed it, but you also needed air. you pulled away after a minute, gasping down air, your eyes still shut as you felt jeff’s forehead against yours, both of you were breathing each other in.

“i love you,” jeff said, caressing your cheek softly, pecking your lips again. he started leaving wet kisses down your chin, making his way to your neck, and down to the center of your chest. then, he suddenly pushed you down gently on the bed so you were laying on your back, he crawled back on top of you and looked down at you with heavy, lustful eyes.

“i love you,” you gasped, feeling jeff’s fingertips lightly trace your hip bones, making your back arch slightly. he moved his hands to the top of your sweats, looking down at you for confirmation. you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

jeff swiftly pulled your sweats down, leaving your lavender laced panties on. he spread your legs apart, hearing you breathe in quickly. “are you alright, love?”

you bit your lip, nodding your head because you didn’t trust your voice right now.

jeff’s eyes wandered over your face for a moment, before his eyes started trailing down your covered breasts, and seeing the few cute beauty marks covering your stomach, he smiled.

lastly, his eyes stopped at your most vulnerable place. your eyes were focused on jeff’s face, looking at his reactions.

you saw his lips tug up into a tiny smirk, noticing a little wet patch on your panties. you swallowed, seeing his hands gently making their way up and down your thighs, squeezing them slightly in his large hands.

you squeezed your hands into fists, your stomach in knots as you waited for jeff to make his first move.

“j-jeff?” you squeaked, looking at him with wide eyes. his eyes snapped towards your face instantly, raising a eyebrow.

you bit your lip, you heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest any minute if he didn’t do something soon.

jeff suddenly got into position, making himself comfortable as he moved to lay between your legs. his face hovered right above your pussy, his eyes still only focused on your face and noticing your chest was heaving.

it was amazing, he barely did anything, yet he had you like this already.

he moved one hand up and ran it along your heat, feeling your juices soaking your panties already. he moved your panties to the side, getting a full view of your needy pussy.

you choked on air, feelings jeff’s fingers start to rub your clit slowly, almost teasingly. “oh!” you gasped, your body already pressing down against his fingers which made him chuckle and look back up at you.

your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your eyes fluttering close as your back arched. suddenly, you felt jeff’s warm mouth make contact with your clit, sucking on it harshly. you moaned loudly, feeling jeff hold your legs down as you started squirming.

he continued sucking, then he licked all the way from your wet little hole until he reached your clit again, making you release a strangled cry.

you have never felt like this before, sure your masturbated a few times before, but nothing to this extreme.

jeff moaned against you, and suddenly you felt pressure, as jeff was pressing one finger against your hole. “oh god, oh god,” you whimpered, feeling him push his finger inside you and then slowly pulled it back out.

he started pumping his finger in and out for a minute, getting familiar with your tight heat. you didn’t know what do, as your head tilted back and your mouth was parted slightly, gasping for breath as your stomach continuously tightened.

jeff added a second finger, a groan escaping him as he pulled away from your clit, making you frown from lost. “jeff?” you questioned, your voice squeaky and breathless. “christ, y/n. how are you so tight?”

jeff continued pumping his two fingers in you, trying his best to add a third, then went back to giving attention to your pulsing clit.

“oh, fuck!” you screamed, feeling his tongue flick against you with speed. you were going to cum if he kept doing this, and he knew it. you tried your best to grind down against his mouth, letting out a small cry as he pulled his fingers out of you quickly and gripped your thighs, keeping them in place.

your eyes found his, his eyes were fully dilated, blown from lust, as were yours. your head fell back again, feeling like you were going to cum any minute. your hand made its ways towards his head, and you pushed down forcefully.

you were gripping his hair so tightly, you didn’t even notice the moans coming from jeff as you were a moaning mess yourself. “ooh, jeff, i’m g-gonna-”

that’s when you felt it, your boyfriend shoved his fingers back into you, pumping them quickly, then bit down on your clit. you released a scream as you came, your hips bucking wildly against jeff’s clever mouth and talented fingers.

as you were still on your high, you felt jeff licking up your juices, making a humming noise in enjoyment, making your over sensitive clit vibrate.

he pulled away after a moment, licking his lips, and watching your chest heave. your face was fully flushed, your eyes closed and your body felt like mush.

after a moment to catch your breath, you opened your eyes to see a amused looking jeff atkins, sitting on his knees.

“you’re so beautiful,” jeff whispered, his eyebrows furrowing.

“t-thank you,” you stuttered, eyeing your boyfriend curiously. you bit your lip, about to sit up as you assumed jeff would want you to return the favor, but he lightly pushed you back down.

“don’t you want me to-”

“no, i said i would be taking care of you,” jeff smiled softly, leaning over to his nightstand, which made his muscles stretch.

he dug into his nightstand drawer, making a accomplished sound as he pulled out two things.

a condom and lube.

you swallowed, seeing him place the two things beside you before he got up and slowly pulled down his pants and boxers, his eyes locked with yours as he did this.

you didn’t know how jeff did it, but he seemed completely fine with stripping in front of you. you didn’t blame him though, he had a amazing body.

you on the other hand, you were comfortable with your body, but you still got shy showing your boyfriend everything you owned. it made you vulnerable, and nervous.

you and jeff never got naked like this before in front of each other, this was all new. you were excited though, as this was a new experience for you.

jeff never pressured you though, the only clothing jeff had seen you without was your shirt, which he looked away instantly asking if you were done changing. he only ever did what made you feel comfortable, which you appreciated.

you knew jeff wasn’t a virgin, which you both discussed before, him telling you the regretful story of his first time in late sophomore year.

it broke your heart, knowing that the girl jeff used to be in love with just used him to get popular and for sex.

jeff wasn’t like that though, once he was in love, he was totally smitten and would do everything in his power to make that person happy. he was heartbroken, and very closed off most of junior year before senior year and the both of you started dating each other.

he seemed very nervous about asking you out, stuttering his words out, which usually wasn’t like him. he was usually very confident with his words and around women, but with you, you left him speechless. a stuttering mess, as you told him once, making him playfully glare at you.

the good thing was that you both had been very close before he asked you out, you both had trust for one another, and the both of you shared everything now.

jeff finished stripping the last bit of his clothes off, kicking his pants and boxers off.

your heart rate started to beat up rapidly again, as you eyed his long, hard member.

your eyes snapped up towards his face again, seeing him biting his lower lip. jeff made his way between your legs against, grabbing the condom and tearing it open with his teeth, then slid it on his leaking member.

he leaned down, leaning his weight on his elbows and his face hovered above yours for a moment, before he pressed his lips against yours.

your arched your back, your chest pressed against his. you hummed, feeling your tongues swirling around each other’s, enjoying each other’s taste.

you felt jeff reach underneath you, taking a moment again trying to unclasp your bra, which he successfully did this time.

he took it off you, then threw it somewhere, flinging it over his shoulder, totally forgetting about it.

you were both completely naked against each other now, and you could feel his heavy cock poking at your stomach.

“do you want this?” you heard jeff mumble against your skin as he moved his way down to your breasts, suddenly sucking on a perky nipple, making you gasp.

your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him closely. “y-yes!” you said breathlessly, feeling him move to your other breast.

he nibbled on your nipple, then reached up with a hand to play with your other breast, pinching and pulling the harden nipple.

you moaned softly, “jeff,” you whined, your hands making their way into his messy hair, rubbing your fingers through it.

he chuckled against your skin, placing a wet kiss in the middle of your chest, before pulling away. you watched him, observing the way his muscles moved and the way his fingers worked while unscrewing the lid of the bottle of lube.

you saw him pour some onto his hand, then put the bottle of lube aside as he started coating his cock.

he looked down, positioning the head of his cock against your virgin hole, looking up and focusing his eyes on your face. “you ready, love?” jeff purred, asking you one last time if you were sure about this.

you nodded, whispering a soft ‘yes’.

that’s when you felt it, jeff slowly entering you, making you cry out in pain and mixed pleasure. jeff stopped instantly, looking down at you with worried eyes. “are you okay, y/n?”

you nodded your head multiple times to assure him, that yes, you were fine with the whole situation. the only thing you were not okay with was the pain that came with the pleasure.

“it h-hurts,” you whined, taking in quick breaths.

“i know, i know baby. just breathe for me, okay?”

“okay,” you said, nodding for him to continue. jeff continued his way into you, feeling your walls clench around him, making him release a deep, throaty moan. “ooh, fucking fuck,” jeff cursed under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut.

he gave you a moment to adjust to his large size, focusing on his breathing.

he knew it hurt you, and he was doing everything in his power to hold back from pounding into you. “okay,” you said softly, reaching both of your hands out and placing them on his broad shoulders.

jeff slowly pulled back, watching your facial expressions and trying his best to ease your pain by moving one of his hands down and massaging your clit quickly.

jeff started to slowly pump into you, watching as your eyes fluttered close, little moans escaping your pretty mouth.

jeff released a small growl, “look at me,” he demanded, causing your eyes to snap open and release a shaky breath. “j-jeff,” you whined, throwing your head back as he started thrusting into you at a faster pace, but still making sure he wasn’t hurting you.

he bent down, attacking your mouth with his, making you moan in pleasure as he continued to rub your clit in fast circles.

a moment later, you felt jeff hit something, making you release a muffled scream against his mouth. jeff pulled away from your mouth, trailing opened mouth kisses along your neck, biting down almost painfully, which made you throw your head back.

jeff continued to hit that special place inside of you, as he started to pound into you, making you moan loudly. you gripped jeff’s shoulders tightly, feeling him still attacking your neck.

jeff pulled away from you rather suddenly, stopping his thrusts for moment and lifting your legs up and putting them over his shoulder. he then continued to roughly take you, making him release frequent curses loudly as he went deeper inside of you.

“oh, fuck, mmm, y/n!” he yelled, moving one of his hands back down towards your clit, rubbing it quickly. you screamed, bucking your hips against his which made him lose it.

“j-jeff, please!” you gasped, feeling yourself tighten around his cock, before cumming hard.

your high pitched screams echoed throughout his room, feeling your orgasm hit you hard.

jeff continued fucking you, sweat beading on his forehead. a minute later, you heard a loud, drawn out moan escape him. “f-fuck!”

he rode out his own orgasm, his eye squeezed shut tightly and his lower lip caught between his teeth, biting down hard.

jeff slowly came to a stop, keeping himself buried within you for a moment, as he breathed deeply and looked down at you with tired eyes.

you were sucking on your bottom lip nervously, your face felt like it was on fire.

“jeff, was this okay?” you asked him shyly, blinking as he pulled out of you slowly. a lazy smile made its way on his lips, “it was perfect y/n,” he assured you.

he gently took your legs off of his shoulders, placing them down gently as to not hurt you, knowing you would be sore sooner or later.

you watched as he got up off of the bed, walking over to the trash can. you heard a snapping noise, making your ears perk up curiously, before realizing that he took off the condom.

he made his way back over to you and got into the bed, lifting the blanket up and pulling it over the both of you. before you even moved, you felt jeff carefully pull you on top of him, earning a surprised sound from you.

you heard him chuckle softly, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you against him. your head was rested on his chest as the both of you stared into each other’s eyes. “i love you,” you said, pecking his lips.

this earned you a toothy smile from the tired boy, “love you,” he said sleepily, hugging your flushed body against his as close as possible. “you should rest now, love,” he told you softly, kissing the tip of your nose.

“okay,” you whispered, shifting into a more comfortable position, half of your body slung over his, both of your legs intertwined together.

it didn’t take you both very long, before you both were sound asleep, both of you feeling content and very in love.


♡ ♡ ♡

i really hope you guys enjoy this, i deleted this imagine and restarted it like six times, i swear. also, my mom finally got me the book ‘13 reasons why’ so y'all already know that means i'ma be binge reading it the rest of the weekend. also, is binge reading a thing?? i don’t know. anyways, enjoy loves!

(sorry for any grammar mistakes, i edited this imagine three times, but if you see any grammar mistakes, just ignore them please!)

Valentine’s Day

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my dear followers! You guys are amazing and I love you all. <3 

Quick shout out to my girl @noenoemi for helping me find the cards. They do not belong to me and were found through Google.


Jonathan wasn’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day; though it had more to do with the fact that he rarely had anyone to celebrate with, than the idea of it being a made up holiday for stores to sell overpriced candy and cards to the unsuspecting public.

He dreaded the day, because it just reminded him how horribly lonely he was, and how his romantic life was virtually nil. It also emphasized how deeply in love he was with his best friend, with no hope for the future due to the fact that said best friend was straight, and completely unavailable.

Which is why, when he opened his locker on the tenth of February, he was extremely surprised to find a small red envelope sitting among his books.

Keep reading

Mike was never a big fan of Valentine’s day. To be quite fair, it may have been his least favorite day of the whole year. It was just a dumb day where his sister would rush off to school to be all grossly romantic with her boyfriend and his parents would be out all night on a romantic dinner that left Nancy to babysit both of the younger kids (her form of babysitting consisted of strict homework time, vegetables for dinner, and early bedtime. What fun) and kids at school teased him with insulting fake Valentine’s cards. The upside, if any, was the cheap drugstore chocolate that went on sale the next day, which he raided with his friends as they pooled their allowances together. With Eleven around, naturally, she had a lot of questions, most of which her best friends answered with enthusiasm and great detail. When she asked the dreaded Valentine’s Day question, Mike Wheeler felt his cheeks burning up before his friends could even open their big mouths in laughter or light teasing. To get out of the question unscathed, he quickly threw together an explanation with hearty emphasis on its stupidity and cheesiness, though quite aware of El’s dissatisfied expression. She didn’t press the matter, to his surprise, and they all went on with their month, dreading the lovey-doviness at school on that stupid holiday. As the day rolled around and the four boys locked their bikes onto the rack, Eleven pulled up quickly afterward—little pink bows and heart hairbands that Hopper had affixed into her curls and a wrinkled paper bag in the basket of her bike. She fished through the bag and proudly handed each of her best friends the specially personalized cards she made (construction paper hearts practically dripping in glitter and lace with carefully penned cheesy poetry and sentiments) along with full sized candy bars. Rolling their eyes playfully at the dorkiness, Lucas, Dustin, and Will hugged and high-fived and fist-pumped her in thanks as they ran off to class. For some odd reason, though, Mike noticed her utterly puzzled expression as she looked for his…. “Hey, El, it’s really no problem if you forgot mine. I’m just..uh…happy to spend the day with you. We can go the arcade or something after school,” he said easily, not really paying attention to the eery smirk appearing on her face. Eleven quickly kissed his cheek, shoved a Valentine into his hands, and chased after the boys before she was late to science class. Mike Wheeler was certain in that moment that his entire brain function shut down, as he could barely focus on the heart-shaped card long enough to read the flowy script on the front— “Roses are red, Violets are blue, Eggos are very sweet, But not as sweet as you”

♊ danny and philly’s astrological compatibility ♒

DISCLAIMER: First of all, im no astrologer (my mom is though but im not gonna ask her to help me lol can u imagine that conversation?); second of all this is based on their sun signs (other placements may affect their behavior and personality as well if not more than their suns, but because apparently both dan and phil have the same moon as their suns – wtf – they could pretty easily be the stereotype of their sun signs lol but who knowse *coff* wheres my astrology video u cowards!) and astrology isn’t balck and white, astrology is 50 shades of grey; third, this is also based on things I’ve read on both signs and their relationship on the internet, I’ve never read an astrology book in my life! I’ve never even read a book wtf!; and last, this is purely for the sake of entertainment and procrastination (bye college paper); I also don’t know Dan and Phil personally so these are pure assumptions – these words are not be read as “proof” since there’s no fucking evidence of anything here. It’s pure speculation based on astrology, some of y’all don’t even believe that so chill. Don’t take it too seriously, my word isn’t final.

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10

12x11 “Regarding Dean”

On the “Alice in Wonderland” & “Alice Through the Looking Glass” in “Regarding Dean”

”…cause all the King’s horses and all the King’s men, couldn’t put him back together again…”

-The “Humpty Dumpty” Riddle

I talked about this topic a little bit yesterday already in this post, but was too tired to expand and talk more about all of the references to Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland” as well as “Alice Through the Looking Glass” that were inserted in this week’s episode. It was in 10x05 “Fan Fiction” that Maeve, the stage manager described the moment when Calliope started influencing their play with the words “we’re past the looking glass, people” and it couldn’t be a more fitting and more impoortant line in relation to 12x11 “Regarding Dean”, because as much as the 200th episode was about a fictional story and with it it’s characters becoming real, so one major theme of this week’s episode also dealt with the question of reality. And the uncertainty of reality, perception and truth aren’t just topics extremely heavily tackled in Lewis Carroll’s stories, these things also play a heavy and important role in our current reality/society where we are met with “alternative facts” and “fake news” every single day and which it seems Supernatural even if only very slightly is making a comment on. But don’t worry, this is all I am going to allude to here in relation to RL.

What excited and still excites me about this week’s episode is how cleverly and detailed it worked with “Alice in Wonderland” and “Alice Through the Looking Glass” references all throughout the episode. And I refuse to believe all of these are accidental - especially when taking into account how the show made a great effort in making known that Sam and Dean work in Arkansas, which is described as the “Carroll County” (see the 4th gif)

Lewis Carroll, the creator of these stories, in scientific discussion is analyzed as someone who used these stories not only as an homage to childhood, childhood innocence and the sadness about the inevitability of growing up, but he is also understood to have been a writer who tackled a whole lot of philosophical questions on semantics, language and logic in his works. In literature his two probably most famous stories surrounding Alice are described as “non-sense literature”, but if you dig deep you can find a whole lot of sense in it and also a great deal of thoughts about aspects of identity building. And that: growing up and identity shaping have been integral parts of Supernatural during these past few seasons.

Down the Rabbit Hole

Keep reading

Routine Part Four (Lin x Reader)

Prompt List||Request Something||Masterlist

(Part One)(Part Two)(Part Three)

requested: yes

Prompts Used:

75) “I’m sorry that I slapped you across your stupid face.” “Are you really sorry though?” “No, and it’s probably going to happen again.”

Summary: What to Avoid When Writing a Musical

Warnings: a lot of swearing, teen!lin being a total asshole (the peak of jerk teen!lin so far), reader not dealing with his bs

Words: 3175

People who want to be tagged (for some reason that will never make sense to me): @yayhamletnonstop, @old-manmiranda, @sharkastic-issues, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @nesthemonster, @defenestrate-yourself-please, @randomfruitsofhappiness, @always-blame-jefferson, @itsjaynebird, @just-a-random-fandom-24, @unknown1200, @theselfishllama, @chloehamiltonn, @love-doesnt-discriminate

(for some reason it won’t let me tag @colbertandlin-manuel so can someone tag them please??)

Originally posted by alexanderhamllton


“Hey, Y/n! I have a question!” Lin runs up to you and starts talking as you start to walk home after school on a Wednesday. “So, for this whole ‘what to avoid thing’, what topics are we going to use?”

“Oh, I have a whole list, but it’s at my house.” You point to the dirt path that leads to your neighborhood. It’s the you take every day.

“Oh. Okay, that’s fine I can wait until I come over later. See you then!” He starts to walk in the opposite direction. You mull over a thought in your head, and before you know it, it tumbles out of your mouth. 

“Why don’t you just walk home with me? I m-mean if you don’t want to or if you have something else to do, t-then you can come at the normal time-” You start muttering random things, in the hopes of redeeming yourself from something potentially very awkward, while looking at anything but him.

“Hey, hey!” He tries to stop you, but you don’t recognize it so you continue to mumble words under your breath. “whoa whoa WHOA!” He chuckles at your nonsensical rambling, which cause you to stop. 

“Stop talking for two seconds, please? I mean, I know you like speech but geez.” You glare at him, about to yell a response at him before he cuts you off once again. “Uh-buh-buh. No more talking. You talk way too much. Anyways, I’ll walk home with you, but you might have to wait here while I go to the creative writing room to get my project from my teacher.”

Keep reading

brick walls

 bughead fanfiction - oneshot - fluff - unbeta’d

▱◯♕

“A house is made of wood and stone
but only love can make a home.”

 ◯

When he was younger—even before his parent’s separation—Jughead Jones would sometimes dream of buying a house.

A house where his neighbors wouldn’t blare trashy music at three in the morning. A house where you couldn’t witness its town’s unfavorable group commit illegal transactions in broad daylight while children ran through dilapidated sprinklers nearby, conditioned to view such repugnant behavior as normal.

No, as much as he excelled in epitomizing misanthropy, Jughead wanted white picket fence. He wanted blue shutters and porch swings and okay, maybe not literally—but what he really wanted was the lifestyle it symbolized:

Stability. Family. Home.

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Writers Creed Interviews: @mikefrawley

For our fourth interview, we have had the privilege of getting to know Mike from Florida, USA. Please take a moment to find out all his great stories from work from when he started writing as well as what inspires him and much more. Thank you for participating, Mike! ❤

Writers Creed: Thank you for joining us! We’d like to start off with a brief introduction. Tell us your name and any nicknames and / or cool story involving them (if any) :)

Mike: First of all I cannot begin answering questions before thanking you for this completely unexpected honor and pleasure. As for nicknames, the number one perk of being named Mike is no matter how old I am or ever get, I shall always be a Mikey, and yes I do like that. Michael is actually my middle name, and I’ll spare you the gory details, but that is confusing. I have a much stranger nickname at work, Frank, as in Frank Frawley. For the past fourteen years I’ve worked for the same family owned business, and for reasons yet unknown, one of them has and will probably always call me Frank. It’s now a running joke, and everyone including me when I’m in a good mood finds this hilarious.

WC: Haha that is a great story Mike. We’ll make sure to stick to Mike and not Frank haha. So onto the real writing questions, what got you into writing?

M: I actually started writing at one of the lowest points in my life, and never had much if any desire to write prior to 1999. Fighting a losing battle with addiction, I had chased away love, most if not all of my friends, and totally destroyed a 21-year career. I wrote about 4 poems to pass the time and hopefully keep some of whatever was left of my sanity. Several years later I was able to share one, “Hush” with a severely depressed friend. She loved it and passed it around to everyone else, who also said they loved it, and I was hooked. Thankfully, she’s now an RN, a happily married mother of two, and I’m doing much better as well.

WC: Wow that is a great answer. It is incredible how people are able to turn tragedy into something positive
and in turn also inspire others through their writing

M: People are actually pretty amazing, and when I don’t have my head buried deeply up my behind, I realize, or remember that the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.

WC: Well said, “the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.” 😊 Love that. So what usually motivates you to write? What are the subjects you most touch upon?

M: The motivation like everything else has changed over time. After my first few poems, I started writing to share with my friends at work. Along with enjoying their positive feedback, I totally unexpectedly discovered that I actually loved to write. There are so many thoughts and feelings that I feel I can adequately express only via written words. In our words, we can be actors, saints, sinners, lovers, dreamers, and anything else we can imagine. In its own way, I’ve found writing to be a very liberating experience. Early on, the mostly spiritual books I was reading often inspired me, and of course music, always music. By far my favorite topic has always been love in its many hues, from romantic to tragic to altruistic. A few of my favorite themes are of course pirates, The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, God, self-love, and most definitely dreamers.

WC: Lovely answer, just spot on. You have a wonderful point here about how easily it is for us writers to take the role of any character we choose and really go with it. The power to be able to create is fascinating. How long have you been writing?

M: As I mentioned, I wrote about 4 poems in 1999, and for reason I saved them while going through some shall we say pretty interesting times. Several years later when I began sharing them with friends at work, I probably wrote one or two per week at most. You may find this moderately humorous, after a while I started sharing prose on Fridays, and having never heard of prose along with only knowing that a blog had something to do with the internet, I referred to them as Fake Blog Fridays. Since joining Tumblr in December of 2010, and counting whatever I wrote prior to that, I’m “guesstimating” that I’ve written somewhere around 4,000 poems and other types of creative writing.

WC: Haha that is amazing! You know, I think we (all writers on Tumblr who have been blessed with your work) can agree that it was the best thing you did to start writing when you did! ❤
Any strange, interesting, cool stories or experiences happen to you because of the fact that you write?

M: I can’t think of too much other than in my early days of writing at work. I had a readership of about 50 people, and I used to go around each morning whenever I had written a new poem passing them out on company paper, and time. My boss heard about it a few years later, and while shaking his head in disbelief, smiled and said, don’t do that anymore. Also, I’m not generally very comfortable meeting new people, and it certainly was an ice breaker. New employees would often come up to me and ask, “Hey aren’t that poet guy?” Minor though it was, I’m sure I enjoyed the notoriety as the only fish in a small pond.

WC: Cute :) Well now for the last question, tell us a fun fact about you :)

M: Why did they get tough at the end? LOL. For some reason you just reminded me of one of my father’s favorite stories that he loved to share even into old age. His passion was traveling, and as a Marine Corps Officer was allowed 30 days of vacation each year. In a little pale blue Tempest hauling a camper trailer we literally traveled around the country for 3 or 4 weeks once every year. I’ve been in 40 plus states as well as both Canada and Mexico. Yellowstone with its geysers and bears was one of my favorites. Anyway, back to his story. Apparently at least one of my school teachers had called the house expressing her concern over my apparent chronic lying, and when he inquired as to why, she replied, every time we have a geography class and discuss a new location, he says I’ve been there. My father smiled and answered, he has. I can only imagine her expression.

WC: No way! Haha that was epic!

M: I heard that story many times and smiled with each retelling. :)

WC: I can see why. It sure brightened my day.

M: This has been very enjoyable!

WC: Thanks! Well thank you so much for doing this and sharing your soul with us today!

The class project

Morality is an English teacher everyone likes because he teaches all the extra classes the other English teachers won’t. Thes include British Literature, Creative Writing, Intro to Speech and Communication, and the others that are also not required. He is super fun and usually lets students have a say in what they do for class. They choose the books from an approved list for British Literature. Creative Writing is mostly free writing after some fundamental lessons in the beginning. And the kids choose their speech types and topics for Intro to Speech.

Logic teaches AP Psychology, Sociology, World History, and Intro to Sign Language. Students like Logan because he takes late assignments for full credit until the end of each semester. He put this rule in place because in his first year teaching one kid gave him work that was two months late despite a strict late policy. The essays were so well written Logan had to check for plagiarism, the short answers were flawless. Logan realised some kids just need a lot of time so he got rid of deadlines. This didn’t help some students though so Logan devoted a lot of after school time to tutoring students.

Roman excelled in Creative Writing. He was ecstatic when the class project was assigned. Everyone else seemed to be taking the class to get out of English 10. All 23 of them had to make a found poem together. After class the other kids asked Roman if there was any way they could get him to do their three lines for the poem. Roman was confused. “We’re supposed to work together. Once we pick a theme it’ll be a piece of cake. You guys want me to do all sixty nine sentences?”

Anxiety said, “We’ll help you study for the World History final.”

“And AP Psych.” Roman negotiated. His classmates agreed. After school that day the kids pushed cafeteria tables together so they could work. Six of them made a color coded AP Psychology study guide for Roman while four of them made note cards. Another six students made a World History study guide in outline format while five kids made a T chart for vocabulary words. They figured the contrast from the other study guide would help him keep the information separate. Anxiety found three lines for the poem and handed them to Roman with sources attached. He always wanted to work alone.

As all the students were gathered in the cafeteria Morality and Logic saw them from the upper level of the school. Morality said “I knew they could work together. You said the group was too big.”

Logan smirked “I was right. Roman seems to be the only one working on your assignment. The rest have Psychology or World History books open.” His smirk faltered and his voice lowered. “They’re skipping your assignment to work on my classes? These kids do well in my classes. The only one I could see needing to work on my classes is Roman.”

Morality said “Oh my. This is great!” The kids heard him and looked up. Morality gave them a thumbs up and ran to his classroom.

Logan was surprised and followed after Morality. “Why is this great? Isn’t it cheating?”

Morality said “Well, technically it is. But it is a small poetry assignment. It was supposed to be a team work exercise, its extra credit anyway. And while they may be working in sections they’re still working together. They were helping Roman with your classes.”

Logan caught on. “So they had to coordinate the work to make sure all the vital information was included… They all used their individual skills to help the whole group. Genius!”

After the study materials were made and given to Roman most of the kids left. Anxiety stayed behind to quiz him with the note cards. When Roman needed a study break he read the poem to Anxiety. It was not so subtly about their two most shippable teachers. Anxiety’s lines were the very beginning. They walked upstairs to Morality’s classroom to turn in the assignment and saw the teachers looking at each other with heart eyes. Anxiety couldn’t help but knock on the door. Logan took three steps back from Morality and compulsively adjusted his tie and pushed up his glasses. Roman stifled a giggle as he handed the poem to his Creative Writing teacher. “May I read it aloud?” Morality asked as nicely as possible.

“Sure.” Roman agreed shooting Logan a nervous glance.

By the end of the poem Morality and Logan were both blushing, Roman felt like a third wheel, and Anxiety was having a field day over the extreme second-hand feelings. Morality looked at Logan for a solid minute before going to his desk, getting a red marker, and writing “A+” at the top. Logan had to adjust his tie again as Morality slowly pinned the poem to his board. Roman and Anxiety hastily left the room. As soon as they were out in the hallway they burst into laughter.

Anxiety needed to sit down because he laughed until he began to hyperventilate. “Did you see their faces?” He laughed again as Princey mimicked Logan’s face.

Logan walked out a moment later, still in shock a little. “Why are you on the floor?” He inquired.

Anxiety said “I just like to sit on the floor.” He put his hand out and commanded, “Roman help me up!” Roman took Anxiety’s hand and helped him off of the carpet.

Once Anxiety had gotten to his feet Logan said, “The poem was beautiful. Great work.” He didn’t mention the fact they were still holding hands because he could hardly care less. Though he did chuckle lightly as he walked to his own classroom. Anxiety from their hands to Roman’s face.

Roman gasped softly. “Are you uncomfortable with this?” He asked.

But as Roman tried to gently pull away Anxiety held a little bit tighter. He said “Nah this is fine.”

Morality then walked out of his classroom with a satchel full of papers over his shoulders. He locked the door and looked at Roman and Anxiety. “I loved that poem fellas. It made me wish there was a grade higher than an A plus.” He pulled two slips of paper out of his bag. “Here are some bus passes for the 4:30 after school bus.”
They separated their hands to take the passes and sat next to each other on the bus.

As the bus was about to leave the parking lot Anxiety and Princey looked out the window of their seat. They saw Morality kiss Logan on the cheek before getting into his car and driving away. Logan stood there frozen before smiling. Roman rolled down his window to yell “Yeah get some, Teach!” Anxiety laughed, although he was a smidge embarrassed, because Logan was extremely confused.

Roman quickly asked Anxiety if he could kiss him and Anxiety nodded. When Roman actually did it the bus driver shouted “Hey none of that on the bus! The twelve year olds can’t see people making out!” Everyone laughed at the lame and inconvenient rules for public displays of affection, or maybe they were laughing at the expression on Anxiety’s face.


@incorrectprinxietyquotes @trash-the-memelord (I couldn’t think of who else to tag, what do y'all think of this short fic)

JOURNAL POST FOR ANON 😇

Keeping a journal is not something that you should force yourself to do. This is most important. Journaling is a comfort thing, for me at least. I started journaling as a small child. I was alone most of the time and I had no one to talk to, so I talked to my journal. Over time, once I was safe and out of a house where people were constantly sneaking around my space to find my journals and read my secrets, I was able to start journaling more about what was really going on now & all those years ago, and that’s when the art journaling started. 

anon asked me what types of things are in my journals. there is a lot of stuff in them so i’ll just give you a brief rundown.

+ i use markers, crayons, oil / chalk pastels, watercolor / acrylic paints, colored pencils, etc to color a page and then write something over it. you can see some examples here and here! sometimes i add glitter or stickers or whatever else i’m feeling like putting. i also have stencils if i want to make the letters of what i am making look different than my handwriting! 

+ i will sometimes print out a picture that i like from tumblr (example), or a picture that i have taken (IE: here - my childhood room), and write my own words on it. 

+ sometimes i take words from  other things, cut them out, and paste them onto my own, or a tumblr picture. here i used some lines from a poem that i found by Emily Berry, and here i cut words out of a book to make a poem of sorts. (i use books that i didnt like and that ill never read again.)

+ sometimes i take pics and i write my own poetry on them

+ i have lots and lots of stickers, and some are letters. so ill use those to write something and color or doodle or add more stickers to it lol ! idk, little things like that bc stickers  r wonderful !

+ and then i write a lot, of course. writing in my journal is one of the most important parts. it is where the thoughts that don’t have anywhere to go, go! the ones that feel icky and embarrassing, or just casual thoughts like, “OMG i discovered new music today!” lol, stuff like that. and sometimes i will do some form of art?? and the write around it. idk i think it looks cool lol. an example of this is here & here!

+ the rest is just….. more of the same honestly. sometimes i will write sentences over and over and over again to express how strongly i feel them? idk what else. 

Anon also asked me for tips on how I keep my journal going, and how I finish it. I’m not quite sure how to answer this but it kinda goes back to what i was saying in the beginning: you shouldn’t be forcing yourself to journal. in my opinion, that just defeats the purpose! why would you be journaling if you didnt like to do it? i mean, sure maybe its an assignment or something idk, thats fine. but if you want to start a journal but then decide  you dont want to anymore there is nothing wrong with that. 


some other things that are important to take into consideration are: 

+ you don’t have to journal every single day. that is not a “Journal-er requirement” of some sort. you just do it when you want to do it!! that’s it. it’s that simple. and if you don’t finish a journal but wanna start a new one, more power to you!!! that’s awesome, go for it. 

+ you just have to let go of control. if your art or handwriting looks like shit in one entry, go ahead and cross that shit out, or leave it, or do whatever your hands want to do in that moment to the page. it is all important. it is a catalog of your feelings in that moment. maybe there is a reason you drew a heart that didn’t look “””perfect”””, keep it. or cross it out. or whatever. i highly recommend though that you dont rip it out! because every single thing you make is important in some way! and if nothing looks perfect thats awesome.

+ continuing on from that ^ no one is judging you. this is yours and no one else’s. there is no one there to critique what you created or what you wrote. in some of my journals i literally say things like, “lol omg everything is such shit man! what’re u gonna do tho ahhah!” like… its just. you can say whatever the fuck you want to, thats the great thing about journaling ! it’s yours and  no one else’s. so just say whatever the heck comes to mind !

+ your writing doesnt have to be Perfect Beautiful Flowing writing (lol? idk) like it doesnt matter. if you are not a writer who fuckin cares! write anyway. it helps, especially when you feel alone.

+ just… idk. i dont know what else to say. i have another post about journaling actually, that i made. it is right here and you can take a look. there is lots more info and tips and ideas on there. 

idk, thats it i guess ! i hope you found this post helpful, anon. & to anyone else who read this and found it helpful, yay! happy journaling !!! :) 

ireadtoomuch252  asked:

Hi, I was wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader has a tattoo no one knows about and one day everyone finds out? And everyone except for Lance is cool with it, but Lance is freaking out because how could someone so sweet have A TATTOO???? P.S. I love your writing.

FLATTERY WILL GET YOU EVERY WHERE AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I TRY SO HARD Also I am sorry this took so long, I work on weekends and I spend most of Monday catching up on cleaning so its late monday/tuesday that I really get to catching up on my writing (And did I take this in a weird direction? I feel like I took this in a weird direction but once started I couldn’t stop!)

I hated being hot. I hated it with every fiber of my being and would rather freeze to death then deal with being sweaty and gross and hot. Unfortunately with the castle’s temperature control completely on the fritz it was impossible to avoid the almost desert like conditions. Luckily Coran had been kind enough to show everyone to a planet renown for its beaches where they could relax until everything was fixed. Everyone had been more than enthusiastic, even Princess Allura had seemed thrilled at the idea of a day off. She called it ‘an opportunity for team building and connection’ but I had a feeling that she just really wanted to get out of the castle for once.

 Unfortunately for me the temperature here had not proven to be much different than that back on board. Of course the crash of the waves outside was more than inviting but the thought of burning sand was unappealing at best and literal hell at worst. I could already feel the heat coming from the sand creeping its way towards the wooden floor of the changing room. But my dire need to hide in here forever was being pushed back by the delighted screams from my friends out side. Finally the fun on the other side of the door finally seemed to win out and I forced myself to take the walk of fire at a run.

It wasn’t actually as bad as I had expected. In fact it was much much worse. I wasn’t sure what this alien sand was made out of but it was more like walking on freshly blown glass then sand. On the other hand I was a huge baby with a passion for drama so perhaps I could have been exaggerated. So I may have also been exaggerating when I say that diving into the water was the best thing my skin had ever felt. I gave a great sigh and floated on my back and was glad that the space mall had bathing suites that fit me. I hadn’t really wanted to wear my one spare change of clothes into the water and it had been far too long since I had been able to show off my tattoo.

It was a shame really that the day I had come to join the paladins that I was wearing something so covering, my tattoo had taken too long and cost too much to keep out of sight for so long. It was one of my proudest pieces of art as well, a winding lacy design that followed my spine and curled around my waist to circle around my navel. I had designed it myself, spending hours looking for inspiration on the many faceted design with no two parts mirroring each other. It was an extensive labor of love and I was anxious to now show it off.

So when I was suddenly splashed with the unbelievably clear water I couldn’t even be mad, I was ready for the shocked and awed faces. “Yo (y/n) what took so long, this water is the best. All I am missing is pineapples and pizza and oh pineapple on pizza of course,” Hunk said rubbing his stomach with glazed over eyes. 

“Wait are you telling me you actually like that warm monstrosity of fruit on junk food? That is blasphemy and unforgivable,” Lance said with mock fury as he jumped on top of Hunk for a small mini wrestling match that resulted in Lance just about drowning until the others came over and pulled the two apart. “Hey I was telling nothing but the truth! Wouldn’t you agree (y/n) surely you side on the side of goooo oh my god what is all over you!” he cried out in surprise, someone finally noticing the line work all over my body.

The others all joined in with their oh’s and aws. Allura came over and traced her fingers down my back with admiring eyes. “Wow this really is quite beautiful. And I never knew! They remind me of the intricate marking our ancestors would make on their faces when they became warriors. Do these hold some of the same meaning?” she asked politely.

“Actually many cultures on Earth use tattoos as a marking for special events. Its most commonly used as a coming of age ceremony of sorts and has become quite a way for individuals to express significant moments in their life for everyone to see,” Pidge chimed in squinting harshly without her glasses and facing ever so slightly away from the rest of the group.

I was more than happy to explain myself but between everyone’s compliments and questions one person had remained quiet, Lance. It was a bit unnerving since his mouth was never shut but I hoped it was from awestruck admiration. However I was quickly proved wrong. “Tattoos are also totally badass and how did YOU get one! Well I mean I know the how but well how could you have one? You are so sweet and innocent and now you just drop a bomb that you are all inked up like some, some inked up hooligan?!” he demanded taking me by the arm and pulling me for closer inspection “Or was this a someone died and this is how I remembered them thing cause I am drawing a blank on how someone like you has something this large.”

Now I had people question me about my tattoo before, it rarely made me do more than roll my eyes and tell them it was none of their business. Yet some how Lance’s reaction struck a nerve with me. As much as I told myself that others opinions didn’t matter I knew that when it came to Lance it was a slightly different story. Out of all the people in the universe I could have had a crush on I had to chose this loser and this loser had to go and be one of those types. 

I pushed him away from me with a scowl and unconsciously cover the art on my waist with my crossed arms. “No its a I thought it was pretty and didn’t realize I had to enter a debate about my choices about my body every time someone sees them. I think they look great but apparently I don’t have a good enough reason to have them for you,” I snapped with more anger then was probably deserved. I doubted that Lance really meant much harm, his mouth tended to run when ever he was caught off guard. Its just that I had really wanted them to like them.

I waded away from the group, muttering a thanks to everyone who hadn’t insulted me, and could practically feel the tension in the air. I could feel the shift in the water that let me know that everyone had just turned to give Lance the mix look of glare and you’re an idiot exasperation. I resisted the urge to walk backwards, not wanting to offend his delicate disposition with the full view of my tattoo, mostly because I didn’t want to reveal my now burning eyes. If anyone asked I would say that it was the overly salty water but I wasn’t sure if they would believe me anyway.

I resolved that helping Coran would prove more fruitful then hiding in the dressing room but only made it to the doors of the fitting room. “Hey (y/n) wait!” Lance called out, huffing and puffing as he leaned onto his knees and held out a hand towards me. “OhmygodIhatesandsomuch, okay woo okay I’m back … (Y/n) wait. I erm made an idiot out of myself,” he started but I cut him off before he could apologize, not wanting to hear it. Mainly because I wasn’t sure I would have the will power to not instantly forgive him. Cure his cute face.

“Yeah per usual but I am not going to stand there and disgust you so much with my skin. If it makes you feel any better you are never going to be seeing it again. You made it pretty clear it didn’t suite me,” I spat venomously at him, letting anger rush over me. it was better than admitting to myself that I cared so much about his opinion. I prepared myself for a fight, ready to let myself explode in anger and hopefully break this crush I have been suppressing, but instead I saw Lance blush and look away. He was never the shy type, never afraid of an argument so why he was pulling away now was making my heart flutter.

“You far from disgust me (y/n), I think that you are literally the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. I am not really poetic but all those poems we were forced to read in school about seeing someone and thinking that they must be the god/goddess of beauty or an enchanter/enchantress or just them hallucinating their perfect person? Yeah I think I probably get that, hell I might even be as gushy to say if I heard a romantic rock ballad I might just understand it as well,” he said peeking up from underneath his eyelashes like he was almost afraid to look at me. I had to pinch myself just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

“And before you ask, yes I am aware I said literally the worst things possible. But well I can only be super smooth around people that I find cute. Not around people that you know … I actually have … feelings for,” he muttered, squinting at the ground like he was trying to pronounce words in another language. “So um yeah there you have me being an idiot again. Bottom line is you look awesome, I think you are awesome and er I am going to go ask Shiro to bury me in a hole,” he added sounding much more like his old self, though his face was bright red.

I almost didn’t stop him, so convinced that the heat had finally gotten to me. But when Lance stood there like a sad puppy, obviously hoping I would stop him from leaving I couldn’t help but laugh. I laughed so hard I nearly cried. And the only thing that might have stopped Lance from running away with his tail between his legs was when I pulled him in for a surprise kiss. A kiss that was sloppy and giggly but sweet none the less. I pull back and hiccuped from my laughter and was met with the most confused look one could ever have. “Erm do you have a fetish for idiots or did my words drive you crazy?” he asked with a grin now creeping onto his face.

I grinned back and grabbed his hand “Perhaps a bit of the first but mostly its just because I have a stupid crush on you and am glad I don’t feel the need to go find the space equivalent of laser removal. Or more likely brainwash you to fall deeply in love with me at the sight of them,” I teased him, a shiver running up my back feeling his fingers tracing over the swirls and twists.

“Hey for all I know maybe you did because as soon as I saw them I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Knew that I was falling for a gorgeous and baddass (insert preference). So when are you going to add my name somewhere?” 

“There you go again being an idiot. Its a good thing I love idiots.”

“And I love you (y/n)”

“And I love you.”  

The Girl

Characters: teen!Dean x teen!Reader, John Winchester, Reader’s younger sister

Word Count: 2099

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Dean has one week to make you like him. What happens when he falls in love with you?

Author’s Note: Back again with a Dean short story! I highly enjoy writing teen!Dean because it’s something to easily manipulate and heighten a certain feelings that Dean most likely felt. Also, the poem in this is all mine! I wrote it a while ago and I decided to put it in there. Feedback is always appreciated! enjoy xx

•Dean’s POV•

New school… once again. I really wanted to drop out but I need to watch out for Sammy. Maybe I can find some good eye candy to entertain me for a while.

I walk into the class and my seat was right beside her.

She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She gave me a small smile, and I swear I felt something in the pit of my stomach.

That’s when I heard her angelic voice. “Hey, I’m Y/N. You're…?”

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#62 - For anonymous

Filling the prompt “Can you do one where you and Van are close friends and you always hang out after school and cuddle and stuff and he admits his feelings for you?? thank you!”


You hadn’t really been friends with Van when he was still in school. You were in the same year level, but you never noticed him except for the moments where he’d be off task in class and a teacher would ask him if there was something more important than his education. There always was. There was always something he cared more about. A new song. A show on the weekend. Finding a drummer for his band. His new puppy. You’d always chuckle under your breath at the chaos he caused.

You became friends on the day that would be the catalyst for him dropping out. It was a Friday, and you had English after lunch. Honestly, you were surprised he was even in class; he would frequently skip. The teacher was having everyone analyse poetry. You loved English, and you loved poetry. You started to flick through your own copy of Howl and Other Poems. You made eye contact with Van briefly as he was searching through his bag for something. He gave you a smile, and you smiled back and quickly looked away. He pulled out headphones and started to listen to something, tapping the beat out on his desk with pencils. The teacher was on him instantly, ripping the headphones off his head.

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Meant to Be Yours, Chapter 23

As people in Storybrooke begin to “remember things” Regina worries about the effect it’ll have on Henry; using the storybook that he keeps stealing, Robin attempts to console her.

For @glindalovesshoes who requested a play date that doesn’t go well and Henry and Grace/Paige to grow closer.

Previous chapters can be found HERE.  <– this link will be updated later today. It’s currently a few chapters behind, I think.

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More Than That

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader
Genre: Smut, Fluff, a bit of angst and everything else
Word Count: 7,589K
Request: “Can I request some jealous Suga smut? Like you’re friends but he has a crush on you but doesn’t want to jeopardize the relationship until another guy starts being really interested in you? I’m excited to read more of your work! :)”

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Mother’s Day

My mother despises Mother’s Day. As a child, I remember her telling me that it was just a cheap absolution; payment for a year’s neglect in Hallmark platitudes and supermarket chocolates. As a result, I never dared send her a card, or make her a Mother’s Day gift at school (although once I wrote her a poem, which she still keeps hidden in her jewellery-box, along with some other keepsakes I’m not supposed to know about).

But my mother is contradictory. Deeply romantic in her way, she hates the trappings of romance. Red roses; Valentine’s Day; anything smacking of cliché. But she does like romantic comedies; Fifties musicals; scented candles; crooners; ball-gowns; poppy fields. Perhaps it’s something to do with being French; living in a part of the world where, after over fifty years, she is still an outsider. Not that she cares; my mother has never been one to conform to the expectations of others.

My parents met in France, where my father, who was training to be a teacher, was on a placement from University. My mother, too, was a teacher, and at first there was some resistance from the family to the idea of her marrying an Englishman. No-one in the family spoke English; even my mother had only the few phrases she remembered from school. The family was very close; and the prospect of my mother moving away to a foreign country was daunting. The matriarch of the family – my great-grandmother, known as La Mémée, the greatest influence in my mother’s life – was particularly suspicious, and my father was duly invited to an ordeal by fire – or rather, by skillet – designed to gauge his suitability and to introduce him to the clan.

La Mémée believed, as my mother does, that he who eats well, lives well, and therefore placed a great deal of importance on the way in which people ate. My father was very handsome, and spoke French almost fluently, but La Mémée was sure that his character flaws would be revealed through her cooking, and therefore chose to meet him for the first time over a lavish, home-cooked meal, with all the family present.

It must have been something of an ordeal. La Mémée was a formidable presence. My father was a miner’s son from Yorkshire, unused to foreign food, and particularly to dinners that started at midnight and went on for hours, course after course, each dish accompanied by a different wine. He was determined to make a good impression, however; ate and drank lavishly, complimented the chef, made conversation with everyone. Finally, when the pace seemed to slacken, he dared to relax a little. At which point la Mémée, who had a keen sense of humour, ran into the kitchen and emerged with a huge plate of pancakes, and slapping a dozen of them onto his plate, announced with a look of defiance: “I hope you can manage a little dessert!”

My father ate the pancakes, and was duly accepted into the family. My parents were married in Vitré, my mother’s home, a beautiful mediaeval town of half-timbered houses and cobbled streets, with a castle overlooking the river. She moved to England soon afterwards, arriving there aged twenty-two, speaking virtually no English, and leaving behind not just her loved ones, but also all her wedding presents, which were confiscated by British Customs. It was good that she was tough (and very much in love, of course); because the England she knew from geography-books was not the England to which she came.

Barnsley in the Sixties was not a place that especially welcomed foreigners. Most people were friendly enough, but reserved; some were curious; some openly hostile. She remembers how the mothers waiting outside the nursery school heard her speaking French to me, and moved away with their children, as if we might present a threat. We were the only foreigners living in our village. French was my first language, and my mother made no concessions to her host culture; we were French – openly, even defiantly so. We must have seemed very different. My mother was wholly undaunted.

For four years we lived with my grandparents, who ran a sweetshop in Barnsley; a terraced house with an outside toilet and no central heating. I was born in that sweetshop (which bears no resemblance whatever to the French chocolaterie which I was to write thirty-five years later), and my parents both taught at the Girls’ High School, a conservative institution that viewed my mother’s arrival with all the clucking anxiety of a group of hens facing their first flamingo.

Jenni Murray (one of her pupils) remembers the moment well. My mother, who was beautiful and glamorous in a slightly surreal movie-star way, like Jeanne Moreau or Sophia Loren, had been raised in the boys’ school in which my grandfather had taught. Her approach was to-the-point and robust. She addressed the girls in her strongly-accented English, saying: “I worked hard to learn your language. Now you will learn mine.”

And they did; my mother was a natural teacher. My father was Head of Department, but she took care of the paperwork; organized his timetable; kept him on an even keel. The same was true in home life; though I was close to both of my parents, my mother always seemed to be the one who ran the household; looked after my education; made the important decisions.  She became the dominant influence in my life, as La Mémée had been in hers. I admired her (I still do). I wanted to be just like her.

I remember my great-grandmother very well, although she died when I was small, because my mother spoke about her so much; cooked her recipes (including those famous pancakes); taught me her maxims. He who eats well, lives well. Men are like melons; you have to feel a couple before you get the right one. Never be a victim. You can do anything you want if you’re willing to do what it takes. Never forget a kindness. It’s better to give someone flowers in their lifetime than a dozen wreaths when they’re dead. My mother lived by La Mémée’s rules. In her way, she was equally formidable. I never saw her cry, or lose control in any way. And yet she was warm, fierce, passionate. With me, she was strict, a perfectionist. Praise from her was extremely rare. Homework had to be flawless, regardless of how many hours it took. Summer holidays by the sea included a daily maths lesson from my grandfather, and handwriting practice on graph paper (I never really got the hang of that lovely, typically French, copper-plate script). The books I read were strictly vetted; comic-books, science-fiction and horror novels were banned from the house. TV was reserved for weekends, or on those few occasions when I had finished my homework before bedtime. As for dates, I didn’t go out until after I was sixteen, and even then, just one night a week, and I had to be home by eleven o’ clock.

Yet she was free and unconventional in so many other ways; as unlike the other mothers as I was unlike their children. She liked bawdy songs and scatological humour; swore freely in French (though never in English); and could be pitiless with anyone she considered hypocritical or snobbish. (She still is: at a recent black-tie event, she shocked a group of snooty guests by talking sex over cocktails.) She had no qualms about speaking her mind; and despised false displays of emotion as much as she did Hallmark holidays. She was effortlessly beautiful; never wore make-up (never needed to); but dressed with a very French elegance I have never managed (or even tried) to duplicate. As a teacher she was far tougher than any of the men on the staff, and when she became Deputy Head of a local ex-grammar school, she made her mark on the place and its staff so that now, years later, she has become a creature of legend.

It’s ever so slightly daunting to be the child of a legend. I wasn’t a rebellious child, and I craved my parents’ approval. Being the child of two teachers, everyone expected me to enter the same profession. I did, and unsurprisingly, I found that I was a natural. But I didn’t stay in teaching. Instead I wrote books – the first one being a vampire story that might have been deliberately designed to annoy my mother, who hated the genre. She still refers to my writing (with her typical humour) as “your late adolescent phase”, and, though I have reason to believe that she doesn’t dislike my later books as much as she hated The Evil Seed, she has never admitted it. I don’t think the phrase “I’m proud of you” is really in her vocabulary, but maybe it doesn’t have to be. Like that little poem, written when I was seventeen and hidden away in her jewel-case, inside a little sewing-kit I made when I was eight years old, it can be our little secret. We understand each other too well to need to say some things aloud. I no longer want to be exactly like her – although we still have much in common. And I, too, dislike Mother’s Day –although my daughter once made me a card when she was still at nursery school, which I keep in a secret drawer and just look at occasionally. I’ve never told my daughter this. And yet, if she’s like me (and she is) I suspect she already knows.

Microsoft �(P�& 

anonymous asked:

Hello ! Hope u r having a nice day, though being in 1D fandom and having a nice day seems kind of oxymoron , I'm a Louie and no one understand this better than me. ... So, can you recommend some "roommate" au fic please please please .

Hello ! Welcome to the “I don’t understand a thing any more and I wonder why I’m still there every day - oh wait, the fics are great”  club !

Thanks for asking me this, I love this trope !

- Red Brick Heart  :  Harry has only had his room for thirty-two minutes when it stops being his. Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted. (98k)

- This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is  : Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing.  And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn’t what Louis is looking for in a potential partner.  That’s all.  He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes.  His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants.  They’re not.  Really. (14k)

- Tell Me What You Want  : Harry is looking for a new roommate after Liam moves in with his girlfriend. After a few bad dates he’s done with men for the moment and wants to concentrate on school. That’s why he’s looking for a female or a straight male roomie. When Niall tells Louis about the free room he leaves that little detail out. Louis, desperately looking for a room, pretends to be straight, thinking it would be easy, until he discovers that Harry likes to be naked at home. His best female friend posing as his girlfriend doesn’t work very well either.  (10k)

- your mess is mine  : louis and harry end up as roommates by a stroke of fate and things go better than either of them expected (11k)

- Candles On Air  :  Harry’s smile is filled with unconditional love — just not the right kind. Louis has told himself for years that it’s okay. Harry loving him the way he can is enough. Each year it gets a little harder to repeat the same mantra.  "It gets better. It will pass. His friendship is enough.“  Harry has taken the liberty of putting on classic Christmas tunes on the speaker in the kitchen, and as their shared flat isn’t the largest Louis can hear Mariah Carey’s crooning from where he’s perched on the small sofa in the living room. Harry is on the floor, humming along. And yes. All Louis wants for Christmas is Harry.A Christmas AU ft. Pining, Heartbreak, and maybe A Happy Ending. (30k)

- truth be told, i never was yours  : College AU in which Harry is a virgin and Louis is definitely not in love with him. One night, this all changes. (6.5k)

- i can be the treble baby, you can be my bass  : But he doesn’t expect to feel Louis’ hands secure themselves around his hips. Louis’ thumbs tickle the dimples of his back as they move in soothing circles, contrasting with the bite of Louis’ fingernails against his hipbones. Louis leans in to fit his mouth close to Harry’s ear as he whispers, “Put ‘em on.” [harry and louis are freshman roommates. they do some things.] (4k)

- Loving You’s a Little Different  :  Uh- Jake, I think? Met him at one of Niall’s ‘get together’s. He’s alright. Nice face.” Louis pulls out a paperback book and squints at its small print, “Won’t be calling him, though.”  Harry sighs, but it’s wasted. Why wouldn’t random boys with nice faces approach Louis in an empty library? The circles under his eyes are puffy and his hair is ruffled from a stubborn night’s sleep, but he looks gorgeous. Like he isn’t from this planet. Harry’s in love with his roommate. Misunderstandings abound. (21k)

If you can read Ziam :

- Not Happening  : Zayn and Liam are roommates. They hate each other. (Most of the time.) (52k)

UPDATE (last update on April 4th)

Keep reading

Thanks for the tag, wonderful @street-heart-posts! These are my answers today. They were different yesterday, and they might change again tomorrow …

1. Why do you have this blog? What is the purpose of this blog?
I was simply looking for an online place to share a little writing etc. & more or less accidentally stumbled into Tumblr (which isn’t that big in Norway), surprised & inspired to find so much great poetry & then I heard The Voice saying “Gisle, you’re going to write poetry in English from now on” & so I did. Or. Tried too, anyway.

2. What is your opinion of therapy and poetry/writing as a therapeutic tool?
It’s something that I think about as little as possible. I guess I’ve always been reluctant to treat poetry (or the arts in general) as something else than poetry. I try not to think of art as a tool for anything at all, be it self-development, politics, ideology, therapy, religion etc. Having said that: Yes, obviously there is a therapeutic side to writing & of course poetry can and will have an impact ‘outside of itself’. But it’s not why I write. Hehe.

3. What kind of poetry do you like?
The boring truth: I like many different styles. And I like to try out different things myself. I guess what I always return to, is poetry that is simple and stunning, scarce and rich, earthbound and larger than life. I like the x thing that takes you home in a second. The y thing that unexpectedly leads you somewhere new. The z thing that reveals a tiny mystery, without explaining it. I like a poem that feels like a ritual. I like a poem that makes me feel human. I like a poem that doesn’t add up. I like a poem that is warm, tender, smooth, lovable. I like a poem that is rough, edgy & hard-to-love. I don’t like a poem that is nothing but a political statement. I don’t dislike a good poem because it contains a political statement.

4. What do you think is the purpose of poetry?
Ok. I guess it’s time to reveal it. Here’s what really happened.
       Nature & Culture had been in love for thousands of years, when they finally decided to marry. They had a child, and the child was named Language.
       Language grew up and fell in love with Angel. But their parents, Nature & Culture and Heaven & Time, didn’t approve, and so Language & Angel weren’t allowed to marry. But the two young lovers defied their parents and met secretely as often as they could. And after a few centuries, their illegitimate lovechild was born. They named it Poetry.
       Now this is where it gets interesting, if you enjoy a good conspiracy. You see, in light of recent discoveries, there is proof to indicate that it has all been part of a greater plan from the very beginning: Poetry is the combined effort from Nature, Culture, Heaven, and Time to find a way to tell every single human being important stuff about life on Mars, love on Earth, history in the making, the secrets of dark matter & the mysteries of even darker coffee.
       Exactly what it is that they’re trying to tell us, I’ve yet to figure out. Maybe it’s something that we need to answer for ourselves, each and one of us. But I’m pretty sure that Poetry is here to help.

5. What subject matter would you like to see covered by poetry?
       1) Science & the universe. Macrocosmos. Galaxies. Comets. Distance. Time. Microcosmos. Cells. Molecules. Atoms. Neutrons. Sound. Light. Matter. Energy. I love that stuff & it begs for poetic treatment.
       2) Social issues. I’m not going to make a list, but obviously there are lots of things to write about, globally as well as locally. But it’s tricky. Because if the issue becomes too dominant in a poem, the poetry jumps out of the window. And most of the times, I think I prefer to read an in-depth article, not a poem, about social issues (cf. my answer to question 2).

6. What is the purpose of Tumblr?
At least I can say what its purpose is to me:
1) To write. 2) To read. 3) To communicate.
       I’ve been careful not to make a Facebook-kind-of-thing out of my Tumblr. That being said, of course I’ve been talking to a lot of people, and I have read & met some truly amazing and wonderful poets & people via Tumblr. I am very happy to say that some of them have become true friends.
       One thing though. I’ve never received any anon hate. And I don’t think I can consider myself to be a true Tumblr poet until I do. Help me out, anyone?