like when i read about running it makes me want to learn to do it even more

iwasapruneratfaverolles  asked:

PLEASE TELL THE CHILDREN THE STORY OF MS. STUBELS

Grace fuck, why would you invoke her name like that???

Okay, fine, gather round children, buckle up because we’re going on a bumpy ride back to everyone’s collective least favorite place: 7th grade.

Some background: I went to a very small Catholic school. One class per grade (we were the largest with 19 kids), everyone knew each other whether they wanted to or not. Despite basically every teacher and faculty members insistence that we were The Best And Most Special Class In The School and that everyone loved having us, the longstanding 7th grade teacher Mrs. O’Hara decided to retire in the summer of 2008, meaning the school had to find us a new teacher for the upcoming year. This would be like, the first new teacher in the school in a while, and as she was getting the ‘best class’, it was viewed as a Big Deal. Somewhere in like July or August we got a letter announcing Mrs. Stubel, and it came with a list of books to pick for the summer reading, and that was basically all the information we had.

So…the first day of class. She seems nice enough. Very…ditsy, I guess? It was very easy for her to get herself off topic while talking. She constantly paced around the room, never staying in one spot for longer than a second, complaining she has restless leg syndrome. Which like, I’m sure she did, but she was in the middle of introducing herself and then went on a 20 minute tangent about restless leg syndrome without anyone prompting her. It was almost like you could see her scattered thoughts flying around her head.

So anyone, she eventually gives somewhat of an introduction- she had only taught in public schools before, and kept worrying she ‘didn’t know’ how to teach in a Catholic school despite the entire class insisting literally nothing was different, you just teach the curriculum, twice a week we have religion class with Sister Mary King, that’s literally it (she still talked over us in worry), she told us about her kids, she told us about her obsession with Emily Dickinson, stuff like that.

And then she hands us this worksheet.

She’s like, “Oh, these are just some basic questions for you to answer! Just so I can get to know you guys better!” like in lieu of an icebreaker game, which is fine, but…the questions. The questions were all “What is your most haunting fear?”, “What is your deepest regret?”, “Have you ever experienced the pain of loss?”, “What was your worst injury?”, “What was your worst nightmare?”, all questions like that, and then on the back she wanted us to draw a gravestone and write out what we wanted our epitaph to be.

We were twelve year olds, mind you.

Oh my God and one girl missed the first day because of her grandmother’s funeral, so when she came the next day and saw what the teacher was insisting she do for homework, she almost had a panic attack? And the lady still made her do it? Literally who wants to think about death anymore at a time like that omfg.

Okay, so then we get to the summer reading book reports, right? Now, she had given a list of maybe, 20 books that you could pick from, read it, and then present an oral report on it. You had to have notecards and you had to be able to answer questions from the class at the end. All in all, I’ve had worse projects.

So, on this list, she apparently put Madeleine L’Engle’s entire book series on the list…only she did not make it known that this was a series and not multiple stand alone books, so when reports started up it caused mass-panic of kids trying to put together plot points and make connections on what the hell they had read.

I was the only kid in the class who had chosen to read “A Wrinkle In Time”, and that has since lead to a series of events that…really actually scares me, I’m still incredibly freaked out, I’m not going to get into it right now because it’ll take away from the current story, but just know that I’m not above wondering if it only happened because I read the book for Stubel.

Anyway, so like, I got through the report okay. The class asking questions about it was fine, but the teacher kept asking questions that didn’t make sense, like, at all. My friend Angie has always had super neat handwriting and Mrs. Stubel got like, obsessed with her notecards and asked if she could borrow them for something. When we got our grades back a few weeks later, Angie had points taken off for not having notecards.

And then her teaching just…didn’t happen. She’d never stay on a topic, she’d always get herself distracted! We were not learning anything. And like, this wasn’t a class of advanced smart kids that loved to learn. By all accounts we should’ve been thrilled. But it got out of hand. It got to points where we had to start teaching lessons to ourselves, asking teacher from other grades for help, always coming home in tears, complaining constantly to our parents and the principal because this woman wasn’t teaching us anything. There were two kids who asked her multiple times for extra help, and she told them each time to ‘talk to me after school’, but then she’d leave immediately after school so they wouldn’t be able to talk to her. They finally brought up the issue in the middle of class and she had a breakdown, yelling about how nobody ever thinks that maybe the teacher has a lot of work to do, and maybe she’s entitled to taking off early, but when we tried to argue she shouldn’t schedule meetings and then break them off in the name of relaxation, she stormed out of the room and tried to get the principal to give us detention. (Which, like, our school didn’t even do, and she was the only one in the wrong during this situation) We are still in September at this point, and already at least ten kids have parents considering transferring them to another school. (And remember, there was only 19 of us, and most of the class had been together since preschool, so that was a big deal).

Then, she starts coming in with all the weird bruises. All the Moms™ immediately started gossiping that her husband had to be beating her, and that’s why she was so screwy in the head. But the way she talked about her husband made it seem like he *might* be dead, and we actually did witness her fall and smack her head into a doorknob once, so no one really knew what to believe. (Also, I’m not trying to imply that abuse would make someone crazy or ‘damaged’ or anything, this is just what was being said. I think they were trying to turn her into a more sympathetic character, because if you feel sorry for her you don’t have to hate her for frustrating your kids so much, and Hate Is A Bad Emotion.)

Also…this woman and Emily Dickinson.

She talked about Emily Dickinson every chance she could get. None of us knew who Emily Dickinson really was before she got there and you could see in her mind it was a capitol offense. She found out the curriculum didn’t have room to cover her (because like, we had a text book), and was way too upset about it. She started reading her poems whenever she found the time (usually somewhere in history class), and always gave us very detailed accounts about her dressing up as Emily and reading her poetry at the library.

Now, two things to note here:

  1. The library did not hire her to do this. She would literally just get in the mood, put on an Emily Dickinson costume that she made by herself, drive to different libraries, and just read poetry out loud to everyone there until someone eventually asked her to leave.
  2. The way she described these events…her tone, the look on her face, her posture…you could just tell that she was getting some sort of sexual gratification out of this? Like dressing up as Emily Dickinson in public and reading her sad poems is really what got this lady’s jollies rocking? Got her all hot and bothered? Which is…a lot, but why would you tell a bunch of seventh graders about it holy shit. What about that sounds like a good idea! What about that turns you back on!

So anyway, we learned a lot about Emily Dickinson against our will.

One of the Davids™ was reading a book for pleasure- which shouldn’t have been a shocker, a lot of kids always had books on them, but Stubel got really interested and asked if she could borrow it from him. He was like ‘sure, after I finish it?’ but she took it that day. He asked her for it back for like five weeks straight.

And…the strudels.

Okay, so the school was trying some dorky thing to promote ~togetherness~ or some virtue or something, I don’t remember the specifics of why, but each class had to make a huge themed poster and hang it on the wall outside the classroom. Which was like, whatever, not the most thrilling project but at least it allowed us to be productive vs just sitting there as the teacher runs about the room rambling about her family vacation from four years ago. Mrs. Stubel decided we needed a quirky nickname and after like three days of deliberation we were christened “Stubel’s Special Strudels”!

(points for alliteration or whatever, but no one actually voted for that and what exactly do strudels have to do with Catholicism? It became a big running joke amongst the kids)

Also, in case you were wondering, she didn’t explain the assignment correctly to us- so every other class had like these beautiful, artistic, well-themed and put together posters, while ours was just…literally a bunch of shit thrown together on paper. Nothing fit with each other, it was literally embarrassing to look at.

But then…she wouldn’t drop the strudel thing. Like she kept bringing it up. She got really into strudels and would just tell us random shit about them. Finally, someone jokes that we should get strudels one day for a party (like instead of a pizza party), and she’s Freaking Out and On Board. She really wants to buy us strudels and have a breakfast party now. She talked about it for like two days straight.

So like… you know in school when you would have a pizza party, usually the teacher would buy it? That’s how they always happened in my experience (not counting the last day of 10th grade when some kid had pizza delivered to the school for lunch but it didn’t get there until math class lol). But especially in grade school? Like if it wasn’t a PTA made party that’s super organized, the school would buy the food, right? Right?

Yeah, so she was like, if this is happening you guys need to give me the money. Just give me the money and then I’ll pick them up on my way to work!! And after some arguing some kids are on board. Strudels should only cost a couple dollars right?

And she’s like, oh no, I’m gonna get them from this high end bakery near my house so it’ll be special, but they’re not cheap and it’ll be a big order! I’m gonna need like fifteen dollars from each of you!

And at this point I’m just like…lady. Come on. 

But she keeps insisting. She’s not gonna go until every student in class pays up.

And I’m like…I’m poor. I don’t even like strudel.  And some of the less-naïve kids are siding with me.

And then she pulls that “you guys are just spoiling all the fun for your classmates” shit, like the naïve kids who already paid up, so it gets to the point where we just gotta cave and give her the money.

(I ended up stealing it out of my Crazy Bitch Aunt’s wallet so it’s whatever, I guess.)

And then of course, shockingly enough, every morning she was met with “where are the strudels?” and every morning she went wide eyed, slapped her forehead and yelled in embarrassed horror “I totally forgot! Tomorrow, guys, I promise!”

Honestly, with how scatterbrained and confused she always was…like to this day I can’t tell you with 100% certainty whether she hustled us or was just actually forgetting about the damn pastries, I choose to lean towards the hustled us side because that’s just the type of people I’m used to, but if I found out it was innocent forgetfulness I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.

She couldn’t handle more than one person talking at a time. Like, we’d have break periods, or group work, or something and all the talking made her go wide-eyed and batty. She’d look overworked and anxious and would be darting around the room trying to do work or something but she couldn’t focus and she’d yell at anyone who tried to talk to her directly. I remember one time she was using this boys desk for something so he asked “where am I supposed to sit?” and she snapped “Sit on the ceiling for all I care!”. And this kid was the Class Clown™ , so he immediately grabbed a chair in one hand and started climbing the bookcase to try and reach the ceiling. She’s standing right next to this and doesn’t even notice. He got all four chair legs planted on the ceiling and was trying to somehow maneuver his way into the chair (I really don’t know what the plan was exactly- he was really tall and it was a small building, so I think he probably had the idea that if he can get his body upside down and in the chair, and stretch out his arms like a hand-stand to hold onto bookcase, he could arguably sit on the ceiling.) but he slipped. Crashed into my desk and the two desks next to me, knocked over the book case, broke the chair in half and hit the desks with enough force to knock them down lower. It was hilarious. Everyone was loosing their shit cracking up (he was fine) and it still took Stubel like five minutes to notice his lying out across the desks right in front of her eyes. She was pissed but how did she miss any of it in the first place? She was barely being helpful in whatever it was she was trying to do.

This was the year the Phillies were going to the World Series, and all the grades were having a Phillies Rally in the cafeteria so a news crew was coming to the school and each class was supposed to come up with fun little cheers for them to broadcast. Multiple cheer ideas were presented to her and she vetoed all of them, someone even suggested just singing the damn eagles theme song with replaced words and calling it a day but she vetoed that too, she was very adamant that she could come up with a cheer all by herself and it’ll be the best one (whoever had the best cheer was winning like an ice cream day or something idk). And then like…literally five minutes before the rally she just hands us signs with the letters and was like ‘we’re just gonna spell out Phillies it will be cute won’t it my strudels???’. We were the weakest class there, predictably. I think we lost to the kindergarteners. There might still be a video online of me yelling “ i “ passionately at the top of my lungs. It was online bc our cheer was so bland the news crew cut it out of the broadcast.

I literally can’t say enough about how she never taught us anything. She’d be going on some tangent about how she doesn’t understand the science behind skiing, and I’d be like “Okay yes but please can you just tell me where Romania is on a map???” And she’d start fights whenever someone actually wanted to learn. It was so easy to get her angry but so hard for her to stay on topic. Kids started teaching the class themselves! Like seriously, she’d be rambling and one of us would just go up to the podium, open the teacher’s guide textbook and just start reading out loud and talking over her. By the time she noticed we’d be halfway through a lesson. And we understood it better than when she tried! You know something’s wrong when pre-teens are more qualified for a job than an adult who supposedly went to school for this.

We were in the church having run-throughs for our upcoming Confirmation and she almost set the church on fire…fifteen different times. In less than half an hour. How hard is it to hold a candle?

Okay, and here’s when stuff starts kicking up. It was October 28th, a Tuesday, and it was our last day of school that week because they were having parent-teacher conferences the rest of the week. So we were just hanging out, watching movies in class and reading (lord knows we weren’t learning), and Stubel calls me over to her desk.

So like, she had given everyone little bags with candy for Halloween, but I get up there and she hands me an extra one. And she’s like “Molly I know your birthday is tomorrow and I bought you a present but I left it on my coffee table this morning by accident! So just have the candy for now!”

And I’m like….”Ma’am I’m like, the sixth birthday this year. You didn’t give anyone else presents?”

And she goes “Oh, I know but this is a special secret surprise. I just know you’re gonna love it! Do you wanna stop by my house later this week to pick it up or should I just give it to you Monday after school?”

And like…In writing this sounds like a non-threatening exchange, and like, it was, but I felt so uncomfortable holy shit. I’m looking over my shoulder and shooting my friends SOS signals. Something about this felt so weird in my gut omfg. I told her thanks and I’d just see her Monday.

So we flash forward to Wednesday- my 13th birthday, the day the Phillies won the world series, and also the day my mother innocently strolled into the school for her meeting only to be met with screaming, the sound of heavy destruction, and the school secretary Mrs. Daily running at her in a panic, waving her arms and yelling “YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!”

So my poor mother, who thought she could handle this whole meeting in a few minutes and barely be an hour late for work, is now barricaded in the front office with the school secretary, as the noises from down the hall get louder and louder. The woman explains that they had gotten so many complaints about Mrs. Stubel that this morning, when she got to the school, the principal Sister Patricia called her in and said “Listen, we need you to be professional and still have the parent conferences, but we have to let you go. We just don’t think you fit in well here, and the kids need to come first and feel comfortable in their school.” and like, I’m paraphrasing because I wasn’t there, but we all know she was very polite and professional about it.

Mrs. Stubel, however…was not.

She flipped her chair and stormed out of the office, and locks herself in the seventh grade classroom. She started wrecking the shit out of that place, screaming obscenities and the top of her lungs, they had to call the cops on her! She was locked in there for almost an hour! And let me just give you a nice little list of everything she did in that classroom:

  • Smashed three windows.
  • Threw everything off her desk and carved swear words all over it.
  • Got cleaning fluid that she knew would damage the chalk boards, smeared it all over.
  • Cracked the chalk boards by repeatedly smashing chairs against them.
  • Wrote swear words all over the walls and on desks
  • Went into students desks, ripped up their books.
  • Stole my glasses. (which were in my desk bc I only used them in class at the time)
  • Threw some desks around.
  • Carved swear words into the boards. (there was so much carving I’m assuming she just had a knife on her person, which has to lead to the question, did she have a knife on her while she was in class with us?)
  • Physically ripped the hooks to hang backpacks on out of the wall.
  • Knocked the closet door off it’s hinges.
  • Ripped up all the books in the bookcases and threw their pages all around the room.
  • Wrote lewd phrases inside student’s desks.
  • Broke multiple chairs.
  • Used her podium as a battering ram against the wall that’s in front of where the backpacks go. (the wall won but Damage Was Inflicted)
  • Set a fire in the trash can.
  • When the principal and other teachers started trying to get in, she tossed her rolling chair at the door to scare them off.
  • She was screaming curse words at the top of her lungs the entire time, and cursing the school and the kids and the principal and the church in general, and the school building was small, so all the parents and the smaller children that had to come to the meetings (who were locked in their respective classrooms in fear) heard everything.
  • So much more? But it’s 4:30 in this morning and this list is already long.

So my mom is in the front office and deadass the

entire police force

shows up, running down the hallway to the classroom yelling at her to stop, and it takes a while for them to get her out holy shit. They knocked down the door and she tried to escape out of one of the broken windows! But they got her and dragged her out.

So of course, in such a small school with very involved parents this shit spread like wildfire. The entire town knew within the day. The poor principal called the newly retired old-seventh grade teacher and was like “So we…need some help” and the lady was like “I already heard I’ll be there Monday” omfg. I remember I got a text from one of my classmates saying “if your birthday wish was for us to be set free from the beast I love you” omfg.

So, we eventually go back to school on Monday and everyone’s buzzing. The principal has us go to the cafeteria and she ‘delicately’ explains the situation, and that the old teacher is coming out of retirement for us, the school has a restraining order against Mrs. Stubel now and that she’s sorry we had to deal with this mess. Our classroom had to go under some heavy reconstruction before we could be let back in there, so for like two weeks we alternated between the cafeteria and the preschooler’s classroom, we had no books or anything, just provided loose-leaf paper and pens. It was like, surreal, but everyone was just so happy to be rid of her and to be in the presence of a competent teacher omfg. We eventually were able to get back into our usual classroom.

  1. It took a while for things to go completely back to normal, though. After the big spectacle she made, for weeks after she was fired we were all very scared of the possibility of Mrs. Stubel returning to the school with a gun in hand. It was always a topic we whispered about at lunch with wide eyes and shivers. Like…genuine nightmare scenario.
  2. About two weeks after she was fired, a boy in the back of the classroom gasped loudly during SSR, and when we all looked at him, he whispered in anger “She never gave us our freakin’ strudels!”
  3. About three months after she was fired, we were lined up at the door to go to Library when a few of us looked through the windows and saw something darting through the trees. It was fast and we couldn’t make anything out, so we let it drop. When the class and teacher returned half and hour later, the book she had borrowed months before from one of the boys was sitting on his desk. It was just laying there, the room was silent, nothing had been disturbed…but I have never seen a book look so threatening. People were freaking out. Someone kept insisting that she turned the book into a bomb. No one figure out how she got in the school, and no one could figure out how she got it on the right desk, as we had switched the seating arrangement since she had last been there.  
  4. A full six months after she had left, it was nearing the end of the school year and our class was dicking around during our last computer class. Someone found a website (that we weren’t allowed to be on) that pulls up any police records attached to whoever’s name you enter, so someone decided to search Mrs. Stubel as a joke. We ended up finding out she had like six DUI’s.

Aaaaand that’s the story of the horrendous teacher I had for two months in 7th grade. One of my favorite party stories but tbh she still haunts me™ .

What is a story you have been dying to tell?

When I was 15 years old, I ran away from home because I was pissed off at my parents for a reason I cant remember. I didnt have much money, so I decided to hop onto the skytrain(public transport train in British Columbia) and ride it as far as it would go. I reached the end of the line in less then an hour, and decided I wanted to ride it all the way back again, while trying to formulate some kind of plan of how I wanted to live the rest of my life without my parents or anyone. At the last stop, or the first stop depending on your perspective of it, a girl came on and sat in the row right behind me. I didnt pay much attention to her at first, as I was busy writing my life plan on a napkin. It was a few minutes later that she got up and came sat next to me, curious as to what I was writing. I told her the story, and after a few laughs, we began talking about everything and anything. Her name was Amanda, 17 years old, and absolutely wonderful. She told me she was getting off at the last stop, which was also the first stop, depending on how you look at it. It was also the stop I had gotten on originally, and I told her we would ride to it together. The train ride took less then an hour, and what a wonderful hour indeed.

When the last stop did come, we both knew we probably wouldnt see each other ever again(this was before the days of cellphones, and I was a shy little kid afraid to make moves). As we got to the end of the sidewalk which split in two different directions, she went right and I went left. Before saying goodbye she turned to me and asked me a question that has become a wonderful part of my life; she asked me, “Tell me something you have done, or want to do, that you think I should do? It can be anything, as challenging as you want it to be, or as easy. As long as you give me the rest of my life to complete it, I promise I will do it..” I was confused as to why, but I thought about it, and told her, “Sing a song acapella in a room full of strangers.” She said perfect and asked me if I would like a challenge as well. I told her I did, and she told me, “read, from start to finish, “Ulysses” by James Joyce.” I had never heard of it at the time, but I agreed, and we said our goodbyes.

I have a awful memory, and cant remember most conversations I have with most people. But I remember all of that clearly. You know why? Because of the challenge she gave me. In the 12 years that have past since, I have tried to read that book in over 150 different sittings. Everytime I open my copy of the 780 page monster of a book, I always think of her, and I always think of that day. Ive never been sure if it was her intent or not, but she left her lasting memory on me with that challenge. I soon after learned what she did, was a completey wonderful and amazing thing for me. So I decided to keep it going. Ive met a lot of strangers in my life; some that have become friends, and some, due to living in different time zones and whatnot, didnt. I dont want to just have experiences and then let them go. I want to remember these meetings, and embrace the fact that they happened. So whenever I leave someone who has left an amazing impact of my life, I always make sure to add them to my Ulysses Bucket List. I ask them to give me a challenge, as difficult or as easy as they want it to be, and regardless of the fact that they have done it or not; simply something their heart has had wanted to do.

Some have been easy and fun; I met a man in India 9 years ago who told me to, for a week or a month, cook/buy twice as much food as I intend on eating, and give the other half to a stranger in need. I completed that mission 8 years ago, and thought about that man and the time we had all the way through. I met a girl on a cruise 6 years ago, who told me to jump into a body of water on a slightly cold day, without touching or feeling the temperature of the water first. I did that the very same year. I met a couple at an outdoor music festival a few years ago that told me to wear the most bizarre outfit imaginable and walk through a public place, completely oblivious to the fact that you arent looking normal. I did that task the very next day, at the same festival. Some have been difficult, to say the least: three guys I met in Amsterdam and smoked all night with, told me to go to a mall and give 10 strangers 10 presents. That one took a lot of courage, but I did it a year or so after I met them. It was nerve racking, but at the same time exhilerating leaving my comfort zone. A girl I met on a plane told me to sky dive; Im still in the process of getting that done. A couple I met in Cali on the beach told me to tell the 5 people I hated the most, that I love them and respect them. That one was very difficult because of my stubborness, but ive come close to completing that list many a times(still in the process, 2 more people to go).

And some things, have had an everlasting impact on my daily life. I met a girl at a music festival, who told me that whenever I get mad at someone, walk away, sing my happy song in my head for 5 minutes, go back to the person im mad at with a clam heart and mind, and work things out. Ive made this my way of life. I once met a man at a gym in a hotel I was staying at, that told me “whenever your body and brain tells your that you are exhausted and done…use your heart instead and push out 2 more reps.” Ive made this my motto when working out or working on any kind of extrenuating exercise in which my body demands me to quit. I also use it while working on anything, and while studying. One of the best pieces of advice ive ever received.

There are many others that each brought joy to my life. There are still many tasks I have yet to accomplish, and everytime I think of these tasks, I think of the people that gave them to me. It amazes me how well I remember all these people, while I cant remember so many aspects of even yesterday. These experiences, not only do I take from them a “mission” or a “challenge”, I also take from them a memory of them that never fails to appear inside of my mind. I opened my Ulysses book for probably the 300th time yesterday, and read a few pages, which prompted me to share this story with you today. Im in the final 30 pages of the book, also known as the most dreaded of the read(in the last 40 pages or so, James Joyce doesnt use a single punctuation mark; no periods, no commas, no nothing; a straight 50 page run-on sentence).

I never saw Amanda after that day, nor do I know if she ever did get a chance to sing a song to a room full of strangers. But what I do know, is that she gave me a gift that has never once stopped giving. So wherever you may be, thank you for giving me the Ulysses Bucket List. And I swear i’ll finish it one day. My life advice? Simple: Create your own Ulysses bucket list.

what's a fire and how does it - what's the word? - burn

so i have this disney playlist i listen to usually when i’m driving and i was blasting poor unfortunate souls this morning and i was thinking

what if ariel didn’t sign the scroll?

because she’s about to, okay, and she looks at the paper. the parchment made of seaweed, the ones that’s specially treated to survive underwater. and she thinks of her cave of treasures, her books that remain perfectly preserved underwater. “no thank you,” she says slowly, becoming keenly aware of air of this place, of the not-people she’d seen who hadn’t been able to pay the price for sea witch’s bargain. “i – no. thank you. but no.”

ursula tries to convince her otherwise, but ariel runs. she goes back to her cave, destroyed as it was by her father’s anger, and thinks.

she’s the daughter of triton. her books never got wet, though she lives in the ocean. she feels a pull inside her, to the land, to somewhere else, but what if – what if –

what if she doesn’t need the sea witch or her father to perform magic for her? what if she has her own?

ursula had wanted her voice because that’s how she performed her magic. singing in this cave had given it powers and protection, and when she saved her prince from the sea – she sang then too, to keep him safe, to guide him back to life and away from death.

so she has magic. she only needs to figure out how to use it.

so that’s what ariel does now. she’s quiet and keeps to herself, and her father and sisters think that it’s because she’s upset with her father, that she’s busy licking her wounds. she’s moved on from that. she has no trident, and is uninterested with fueling her magic with the souls of the damned like ursula has. so she needs to figure something else out.

she does what she’s not supposed to do, and goes where she’s not supposed to go, slipping past the guards and patrols to the one place in the sea that is forbidden to all of them.

the crevice in the earth where what remains of her grandmother lives.

ariel goes to amphitrite, and the sea goddess is so much bigger than ariel, the size of great whale as she curls at the bottom of the sea floor, too old and too tired to do anything more than sleep. “granddaughter,” the great being croaks, opening an eye as blue and as unfathomable as the sea, “you look like me.”

“they say i look like my mother,” she says, and to herself adds: that’s why father can barely stand to look at me.

“you have more of me in you than your mother,” she says, and she shifts and pulls her mass of red hair over her shoulder. “more of me in you than your father does, even.”

“i have magic,” she says, pulling her bravery to the fore as she swims closer to her grandmother, “i want you to teach me how to use it.” amphitrite pushes herself up, and it’s the first time she’s moved in a millennia, and ariel notices for the first time that her grandmother isn’t a mermaid – she has legs.

she has legs.

“you have power,” amphitrite corrects fiercely, “and i will teach you to wield it.”

and so she does. ariel spends her nights by her grandmother, learning to harness the power of the sea that runs in her veins, and sleeps her days away while her sisters and flounder and sebastian grow more and more concerned, but she refuses to tell them why. she refuses to be stopped.

but her heart still aches. she fell in love with her prince, and she wants him still. so she swims to the edge, goes to the beach where his castle resides in the dead of night when her lessons with her grandmother are complete, and sings

. she’s careful not to let any magic leak through, only her voice. she does not want to enchant him. she wants him to love her as she is. so she sings, her voice clear and powerful and cutting through the air. she hopes he can hear it.

then one day a figure walks to the beach, and it’s him, her prince. “hello?” he calls out, “are you out there? are you – please, it was you that saved me, wasn’t it? won’t you come out and let me see you?”

so she does, waves her tail at him until he catches sight of her and takes hesitant, disbelieving steps closer.

“you’re a mermaid,” he says, eyes wide, “i thought i saw – but it couldn’t be.”

“i am, and it can,” she says, heart beating wildly in her chest. he’s just as handsome as she remembered, and she wants him just as much. “my name is ariel.”

“ariel,” he repeats, and pulls off his boots and goes wading into the water, watching her to see if she flinches away from him. she doesn’t, and his strides grow bolder. “my name is eric.”

“eric,” she whispers, and when he’s close enough he touches her, trailing fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder and tangling them in her hair.

when he kisses her, she feels powerful enough to undo the world.

so there’s that now, spending her nights with her grandmother and her prince, and she knows how to make her own legs now, could walk onto land and be made a queen among the two legged men.

but she’s a princess here first, and before she can do that she needs to take care of something.

ursula.

the rotten sea witch with her rotten sea magic won’t be allowed to torment her people any longer.

she tells her grandmother, and amphitrite smiles and says, “an excellent decision, child. i’ve enjoyed our time together, but i think it’s time for me to sleep once more. i’ve taught you everything i can.”

and tears prick ariel’s eyes, but she holds them back. she knew that it couldn’t be forever, that her grandmother can’t die but no longer desires to live and this is the in-between.

“you’ll be an amazing queen,” amphitrite murmurs, and closes her eyes for a millennia more.

this isn’t something to be done in the dead of night, although it would be easier to do it then.

she will make a spectacle of it, she will remind the sea that her people are not to be trifled with.

once upon a time they feared a blue eyed, red haired sea queen with the power to destroy them all. it’s time for them to do so again.

so she drives ursula to the center of the city. her sisters cower and people hide, and her father comes rushing forward to save her.

“you’ve committed great crimes against my people,” she says, not flinching as lightning gathers in the sea witch’s hands, “so now shall a great crime be committed against you.”

“foolish girl,” the sea witch snarls.

triton is yelling. he won’t get there in time.

he doesn’t have to.

she doesn’t need to sing anymore. instead she lifts her hands and pulls ursula apart without ever touching her, not only renders flesh from bone but also sets free the souls she’s been hoarding, reverses the magic done to those who’d fallen into the sea witch’s trap.

they all stare at her, her people, her father, and her sisters. she looks to triton and says, “i’m not a little girl anymore.”

he opens his mouth, closes it again, then says, “i can see that.”

all at once everyone’s perceptions are turned sideways about their youngest princess. she commands a power that even her father doesn’t have access to, she’s not depressed and dreamy – she’s powerful young woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.

so she does what she wanted to do, she gives herself legs and steps onto the sand and launches herself into eric’s arms. she becomes his bride, and the rumors run rampant of what she is, of where she came from, but they can’t prove anything and so they rule.

they live long, happy lives. ariel is his consort, his advisor, his wife, his tactician, and his best friend. all those years reading drowned books have certainly paid off. she ages herself along with her husband, bears his children and then teaches them they ways of her – their – people.

her husband dies, and she disappears, like the stories of selkie women that everyone whispers around her. their children give their father a sea burial, and vow to see him again one day. what they know and none of their subjects do is this – their father’s body isn’t in that casket.

she returns to her ocean, her legs form into her glittering green tail, and she goes home. she uses her terribly powerful magic, and brings her husband with her. she went from princess ariel of the sea to queen ariel of the land, and now she’s back again.

she’s not quite a teenager, but neither is she the old woman she pretended to be on land. she’s returned her and her husband to the prime of their life, and as she gained legs to be with him, he now gives his up to be with her.

eric becomes a merman, and a prince by virtue of being ariel’s husband.

she returns to her family and her world without missing a beat, and they all welcome her as if she never left, treat her husband with kindness and respect.

because they all know.

it doesn’t matter that she’s the youngest. when, far in the future, triton’s reign ends –

ariel’s reign will begin.

Beginner Witch Tips

WARNING: I am a sarcastic butthole and it shows through out this hot mess of a post. This is some random craft junk I have learned in my days of practicing witchcraft

Witch craft is not magic.

I don’t care what you have heard. Witchcraft is not magic. It can not turn your eyes different colors. It can not make you into a animal. You will not be able to control the weather or summon wind with your fingers. Ghosts will not do as you say. This is not Harry Potter. Case closed

Intent over tools

Do you think it’s gonna matter if you use a butter knife as an athame? Or you have to sub a white candle for another color because you don’t have the funds to buy that color? Or you had to leave out an ingredient because you don’t have it or you’re allergic? No, it’s not. Witchcraft (to me) is about mind over matter. If you are making an effort for your God/god/goddess/deity/elf/fae/etc it isn’t gonna matter what or how you got there, but the intent you had getting there

Cursing and hexing is up to you and your beliefs

Totally up to you if you believe that this is okay or not. However, if you don’t like this, do not go and tell someone else it’s wrong. If they ask you how you feel you can tell them it’s not your thing. If you do like this, do not go and tell someone else it’s fine and try to get them to accept it. If they ask you about it, you can tell them that you are into it

You do not have to have an alter

It’s up to you and your practice. And if you can where you are etc. If you want one and can not have one, draw one or, my favorite, Set up a pinterest board for your god/goddess/fae/elf/deity etc. and save things that you thing relate to them.

It’s not about fancy stuff

This goes back to intent over tools, as long as you are comfortable with what you are doing and using, do it and use it. I use salsa and yogurt containers, coffee filters taped together, M&M tubes, and envelopes to keep crap in. I use a 99¢ Wal-Mart bandanna to do spells on that I got from Girl Scout camp and it has rainbow peace signs all over it. Do I care? Nope. Does anyone else care or will they judge you? Nope. we are all in the same boat here.

Hand making things is way too underrated  

I LOVE hand making things. Whether you are good or bad at it, it is a good way to save money, and personalize it just for you. Example: I made tarot cards out of printer paper that I cut out and wrote the card name, and definition of what it means (to me) and I love them. Pencil wand? Yas queen. DIY cauldron out of play-dough? Frick me u p daddy.

DONT EAT/SMOKE/DRINK SOMETHING YOU HAVE NO CLUE ABOUT

You’d think I would have to include this bUT
Some things are okay to consume. Sometimes if taking a certain medicine you can’t consume that. Sometimes you are allergic to one thing, and in turn you will be allergic to that thing too. Sometimes you are pregnant and it’S HIGHLY DANGEROUS TO CONSUME THINGS WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT DOES

Never ignore professional medical advice and help in favor of witchcraft methods.

Case c l o s e d

Spirit workers

Not nice spirits can attach to people who have depression and anxiety more so than people who don’t

There are good and bad spirits. if one makes you feel comfomy, do not feel bad for asking it to leave/getting rid of it

Don’t ask your tarot cards every time you have a question

This happens a lot. Especially when you get a new deck and it’s so new and shiny and you can’t w a i t to get your grubby little hands on it and do crap >:D but you don’t want to get into the habbit of “ohgoshgollybatman I have to go to the store, okay let’s see if I’ll get hit by a car… oh and do I really need the applejuice..”  or “do I REALLY need this plant..” bc the answer to that is always yes duh

Divination is not for predicting the future

Now stay with me, it is for guiding you in the future. It can not tell you what day you are going to die, who you are going to marry, etc 

The future is not written in stone

Let’s sayyyyy you do a simple past, present, and future reading with tarot, and you get a bad reading for the future, it doesn’t matter. That is how it is going right now, now you can see what you need to change etc 

You dont need a fancy journal for a grimore or book of shawdows

Heckadoodle I use a binder and notebook paper so I can move stuff around. I just write with a pencil and pen, and color with dollar store crayons or collered pencils. 
Now, you may be thinking, “Oh but, it’s a nice binder right?” Lemme stop you right there. It is falling apart, needs to be ducktaped, has a picture of my doggo inside and I’ve used it for school for abouutt.. 7 years?
Summin’ it up: It don’t gotta be fancy

If you forget to blow out candles set a timer on your phone

I do this all the freaking time and I’ll leave a candle out, and then here comes mother. Closet underage witches know the struggle. Trying to explain why you have a burning candle left in your room. Or if you are adult and have to adult after a spell or whatever and leave the house and come back to the candle just sittin’ there. Burning away. (my mom did this once and it caught her table on fire)
Timer. Yep.

You don’t have to know a certain language 

This is more focused to me bc i am nerd but okie dokie
I know Latin from school, therefore I mix it into my spells (like some on @witchy-recipes-and-things) and provide a translation. I don’t want anyone to think you have to have a certain language for your craft.

How to Ouija

Tbh this is too long already so if you want another post on it tell me and I’ll make one and link it

Sigils can be drawn everywhere

In your phone case, in your wallet, in a shoe, under fingernail polish, under seats, wherever whatever-I can also elaborate more on this

TAROT IS PRONOUNCED “TARO”

CONSENT IS KEY

When doing love spells, consent from the other person is a must. 

You can be a christian, athiest, pagan, whatever, and still do witchcraft

It is about the craft, not religion 

Witchcraft is not a religion, Wicca is

And you do not have to be Wiccan to partake in Witchcraft

Sage doesn’t have to be in cone shape to burn it

I put rubbed sage meant for cooking on a metal plate and torch the sucker Shane Dawson style but with one of the long lighters, then run around my house in my underware screaming “MAY THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPEL YOU BITCH” in Latin

When cleansing 

OPEN.THE.WINDOWS.WHEN.DEALING.WITH.SMOKE
Trust your witch mother who is allergic to everything and is an asthmatic, open the windows and doors.
Also, as the smoke leaves you room through the windows or whatever, the spirits/bad vibes/etc leave with it

You don’t have to believe everything you read

Witchcraft is how YOU feel about things. No matter how other people feel about things

You can have your own corresponces for things

Like I think cinnamon is hot, deals with the sun, direction south, used for healing love etc., but it can be totally different for you

Divination doers do not have to be witches and witches do not have to be divination doers

S T U D Y

Can not stress this enough. This is the best thing to do even if you can not practice your craft where you are atm. knowledge is power.

So here is a list I’ve complied :D (yes I’ve made all of these, I was too bored to ask people’s permission to add things, sue me) (All of the spells are all religion inclusive)

Learn you star sign with detail
Edible Flower List
Witch Tools
Tarot Meanings Cheat Sheet

Good First Spell-Calming Tea Spell
DIY Charcoal Pencil
Get Shit Done Bottle
Spell to Sleep
Sea in a Bottle
Protection and Calm Bottle
Find a Item You Lot

Referring to “When cleansing”, Line two, words 3-4, I am now your witch mother and if you ever have any questions feel free to ask! This list was requested from a witchling and if you have any requests feel free to ask :3

The Boxer

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 10k

Prompt:

“You’re supposed to be in the hospital gown, it’s why we laid it out for you,” Y/N stated, pointing the pen in her hand at the white gown by his feet.

“I’m not wearing that paper shit,” Harry grumbled, “and I’m perfectly fine to leave.”

“That cut says otherwise,” Y/N says.

Harry watches as she sets down the clipboard and turns on the sink to wash her hands, she’s cute. She’s nothing like the kind Harry would go for. His usual prey would be at the bar, lonely, maybe going through a breakup, but he knew for sure that by the end of the night she would be in his bed. Y/N on the other hand looked like too pure for him, and he hated that look.

From his experience Harry had learned that girls like Y/N believed that they were too good for a guy like him. Girls like Y/N, with an innocent smile, soft skin, and soft voices, tended to only use him for one thing, to make their parents upset. Harry had seen it time and time again, it was only a matter of weeks before the girl would crush his heart and move on to someone better.

“I don’t feel anything,” Harry stated.

Harry had grown numb to just about everything. He couldn’t feel the punches thrown at him, he couldn’t feel his emotions, it all just seemed gone to him. He didn’t mind though, no emotions meant he couldn’t get hurt, and no pain meant he was unstoppable.

or

Boxer Harry Styles highers, incredibly perky Y/N as his on-call nurse.


“I hate the graveyard shift,” Y/N stated, slumping into the chair.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I need the story of the Underground Shakespearian Ring

Okay, so the school I went to for 9th grade had this really bizarre grading setup that I still don’t understand- for some reason, instead of the teachers writing up and grading tests and exams and the like, all the work was sent to an unknown third party for them to grade??? It made no sense.

Now, for the most part, the school had decent teachers, and they would just teach the curriculum correctly and then you wouldn’t run into problems with the grading. My English teacher was not one of those teachers.

So like, she hated me pretty early on- she was my homeroom teacher and thought it was disrespectful that I slept in homeroom in the mornings (I was on sleeping pills and they never wore off completely until around 10am), I never had the vocab homework in on time (someone kept breaking into my locker and stealing my vocab books I had to buy a new one like five times), she thought it was “inherently pessimistic and stuck up” when she caught me reading a book called ‘Ninth Grade Slays’ (it was about vampires, not her?), and during our Greek Mythology unit I kept correcting her about the name pronunciations of the gods (she pronounced Hephaestus as Hepatitis one time holy shit). 

Anyway, her feelings on me aside, her teaching skills were shoddy at best. But I had had way worse teachers, so had the rest of the class, and Greek myths are pretty straight-up in what’s going on, so no one really had trouble with the third-party tests.

Then we get to the Romeo and Juliet unit.

Now, fun fact: Shakespeare has always come pretty easily to me. Like, to the point where I sometimes forget/fail to understand that other people have an incredibly hard time translating his works. (I told this whole story to my friends in the school I went to for 10th/11th/12th grade and when the drama department put on ‘Midsummers Night Dream’ one year, more than half the cast tried to get me to translate their scripts and monologues for them lmao).

So, anyway, I’m just a girl, reading Romeo and Juliet and digging how it’s going…and then the teacher starts ‘translating’ it.

Um.

I cannot sift through all the bullshit this woman was spewing, but let’s just say that my favorite part is during Romeo’s spew about Rosaline, there’s one part where he says something like ‘with cupid’s arrow/she hath diane’s will’, and the teacher was taking this to mean Rosaline was a Super Lesbian who was breaking the law or something and running away with her lover Diane, which would be a rad storyline, sure, but like…I’m just raising my hand like “Um Ma’am, Diana is the Roman goddess of chastity. What Romeo meant is that she told him she’s sworn off love and is probably becoming a nun?” and this woman just got. So angry. Like, excuse me, you are a student, you’re here to learn, so you clearly don’t know anything about this (I read Romeo and Juliet for the first time in like preschool whoops). Anyway, she continues on making up her own plot to the play, and I…well I was basically Hermione Fucking Granger at this point I couldn’t just sit there and listen to someone be this wrong about something omfg??? She just got angrier and angrier and stopped calling on me after a while.

So for a couple lessons I’m just left to seethe quietly, but one day after class this girl I knew since grade school came up to me and was like “Could you…? Tell me what the hell we’re supposed to be learning?” and I didn’t even like her but I liked the validation of being someone’s Chosen Teacher so I wrote out a summary for her of everything we had covered so far so she could actually write a comprehendible essay for our homework that night.

But THEN the during the class when we got our essays back, she made a HUGE DEAL, like ‘oh Molly, it wasn’t bad enough that you’ve been failing this course material, now you have to drag your friends into it by trying to re-write the play?’ (l m a o). Like this bitch had literally tried to fight me on ‘Paris is the guy Juliet’s father wants her to marry’ and she didn’t even put a grade on my essay where I said the play only ended in tragedy because of how young and naïve the kids were, that if they had taken a breather and thought things through it probably would’ve been fine (it was a damn good essay and I stand by it). But anyway, she’s trying to make me out to my classmate’s as someone who’s trying to sabotage their education for laughs.

This backfired on her.

See, it dawned on people one by one, that she was only teaching the wrong material -> so they wouldn’t know the right material -> so when they eventually would take the exams they would only have her crazy answers -> which the third party graders wouldn’t know about -> everyone fails this course that’s like half the overall grade of the year.

Most students consider that a problem.

So suddenly the class has decided I’m the fucking Shakespeare Whisperer or something, and one by one start begging me for help. At first I was confused, because as I said, it’s so easy for me that I didn’t realize literally the entire class was lost out of their asses here. omfg. So I was really getting hassled here but I didn’t want my entire class to fail you know???? So I started meeting with people during study halls or texting them after school so they knew what was going on. And then they started telling people in this teacher’s other classes, including upperclassmen who were lost as fuck, so this was quickly spiraling out of control on my end, but overall people were really starting to understand the plays better!! So I was feeling really great.

But then, the teacher noticed that none of the homework getting handed in to her matched up with her crazy translations, and knew I was the sole person to blame (naturally). She literally tried to get me suspended over this, she went to the school’s disciplinarian!

Note: This guy, Mr. C, knew I was a God damn angel- my science class was off the charts, inappropriately awful, so every time one of our science teacher’s wanted to give the entire class detention, instead of calling Mr. C up to the class room as was the rule, they’d send me down to get him so he’d know to write up every student except for me. So when my English teacher dragged me in there he was looking her like “What on Earth could this girl have possibly done to piss you off?” 😂😂

And when she explained he looked at her for a very long moment, glanced at me with a signature ‘Office’ Reaction Face™ , turned back to her and was like “You want her suspended…for starting a study group?” and I was CHOKING.

So that really pissed her off and they started fighting and this was a very overworked and Done man so at some point he gave up and was like “I’m not suspending her but fine we can put a ban on the study group if you leave my office” omfg. So all the other students get notified and now they’re back to freaking out about the upcoming exams.

So like two days later, I’m at lunch, complaining about this to one of my friends who had a different English teacher and thus no problem, and I’m on this whole angry rant (Because I’m pissed, a bunch of kid’s grades are gonna get fucked up because of this! They just wanted to do well! I just wanted to help them!) and my friends staring at me quietly the whole time and when I finish I’m like “What?” and she’s just like “…Molly did you literally start up Dumbledore’s Army in our fucking school?” and I died on scene.

But then I started thinking about the comparison and I was like? You know fucking what? If Harry Potter can get those kids to pass their fucking DADA test I can help kids pass their fucking English Exam. Bring it the fuck on, Umbridge.

So I started Spreading The Word that anyone who needs help with their Shakespeare course can still get help, we just all need to meet up once to hash out the details. After some back and forth notes and deliberations, we ended up meeting in the school library, which was hilarious for a few reasons:

1) It was directly across the hall from this teacher’s classroom.

2) It was actually a converted janitors closet, way smaller than all the other classrooms, and there were like 50 people shoved in there; Not exactly an ideal Room of Requirement

3) The library carried no Shakespeare texts, but had the entire Harry Potter series on display to see when you first walked in

But anyway, despite the fact that we were literally three feet away from her door while we were doing this, our teacher was none the wiser of the meeting. We worked out a game plan- everyone writes out bullshit essays that align with what the teacher’s expecting. After she grades those and gives them back, they get them to me- slipping them in my locker, handing it to me discreetly in the halls or in another class, what have you. I then try to power through the dizzying amount of confusion radiating out of the teacher’s mouth and onto these papers, and more or less write out better translation of what was going on in whatever scene they covered, what the highlights they needed to know were, stuff like that, and then slip it back to them in similar discreet fashion (so the teacher/disciplinarian wouldn’t see me and get suspicious ; also because I was like 15 and wanted to feel like a super cool secret agent). They would then keep my copies and use them as study guides for the upcoming exams, where they would then answer all the questions correctly, the way the third party graders would mark correctly, and pass the exams + the bullshit essays would get them high marks in the teacher’s homework grades. The teacher never caught on to what was happening, just thought her students finally started paying attention to her.

All in all, it was a complicated mess, but it fucking worked. I don’t think anyone failed their exams that year. Will I ever be cooler? No. I think I fucking peaked when I was 15.

The Dos and Don’ts of Beginning a Novel:  An Illustrated Guide

I’ve had a lot of asks lately for how to begin a book (or how not to), so here’s a post on my general rules of thumb for story openers and first chapters!  

Please note, these are incredibly broad generalizations;  if you think an opener is right for you, and your beta readers like it, there’s a good chance it’s A-OK.  When it comes to writing, one size does not fit all.  (Also note that this is for serious writers who are interested in improving their craft and/or professional publication, so kindly refrain from the obligatory handful of comments saying “umm, screw this, write however you want!!”)

So without further ado, let’s jump into it!

Don’t: 

1.  Open with a dream. 

“Just when Mary Sue was sure she’d disappear down the gullet of the monstrous, winged pig, she woke up bathed in sweat in her own bedroom.”

What?  So that entire winged pig confrontation took place in a dream and amounts to nothing?  I feel so cheated! 

Okay, not too many people open their novels with monstrous swine, but you get the idea:  false openings of any kind tend to make the reader feel as though you’ve wasted their time, and don’t usually jump into more meaty action of the story quickly enough.  It makes your opening feel lethargic and can leave your audience yawning.

Speaking of… 

2.  Open with a character waking up.  

This feels familiar to most of us, but unless your character is waking up to a zombie attack or an alien invasion, it’s generally a pretty easy recipe to get your story to drag.

No one picks a book to hear how your character brushes their teeth in the morning or what they’d like to have for dinner.  As a general rule of thumb, we read to explore things we wouldn’t otherwise get to experience.  And cussing out the alarm clock is not one of them.  

Granted, there are exceptions if your writing is exceptionally engaging, but in most cases it just sets a slow pace that will bore you and your reader to death and probably cause you to lose interest in your book within the first ten pages.  

3.  Bombard with exposition.  

Literary characters aren’t DeviantArt OCs.  And the best way to convey a character is not, in my experience, to devote the first ten pages to describing their physical appearance, personality, and backstory.  Develop your characters, and make sure their fully fleshed out – my tips on how to do so here – but you don’t need to dump all that on the reader before they have any reason to care about them.  Let the reader get to know the character gradually, learn about them, and fall in love with them as they would a person:  a little bit at a time.   

This is iffy when world building is involved, but even then it works best when the delivery feels organic and in tune with the book’s overall tone.  Think the opening of the Hobbit or Good Omens.

4.  Take yourself too seriously.

Your opener (and your novel in general) doesn’t need to be intellectually pretentious, nor is intellectual pretense the hallmark of good literature.  Good literature is, generally speaking, engaging, well-written, and enjoyable.  That’s it.  

So don’t concern yourself with creating a poetic masterpiece of an opening line/first chapter.  Just make one that’s – you guessed it – engaging, well-written, and enjoyable. 

5.  Be unintentionally hilarious.

Utilizing humor in your opening line is awesome, but check yourself to make sure your readers aren’t laughing for all the wrong reasons (this is another reason why betas are important.)  

These examples of the worst opening lines in published literature will show you what I mean – and possibly serve as a pleasant confidence booster as well: 

“As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that this would be the one man who would understand – who would take her away from all this – and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had.”

– Ali Kawashima

“She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.”

– Jeanne Villa

“As I gardened, gazing towards the autumnal sky, I longed to run my finger through the trail of mucus left by a single speckled slug – innocuously thrusting past my rhododendrons – and in feeling that warm slime, be swept back to planet Alderon, back into the tentacles of the alien who loved me.”

– Mary E. Patrick

“Before they met, his heart was a frozen block of ice, scarred by the skate blades of broken relationships, then she came along and like a beautiful Zamboni flooded his heart with warmth, scraped away the ugly slushy bits, and dumped them in the empty parking lot of his soul.”

– Howie McClennon

If these can get published, so can you.

Do:

1.  You know that one really interesting scene you’re itching to write?  Start with that.

Momentum is an important thing in storytelling.  If you set a fast, infectious beat, you and your reader will be itching to dance along with it.  

Similarly, slow, drowsy openers tend to lead to slow, drowsy stories that will put you both to sleep.

I see a lot of posts joking about “that awkward moment when you sit down to write but don’t know how to get to that one scene you actually wanted to write about.”  Write that scene!  If it’s at all possible, start off with it.  If not, there are still ways you can build your story around the scenes you actually want to write.

Keep in mind:  if you’re bored, your reader will almost certainly be bored as well.  So write what you want to write.  Write what makes you excited.  Don’t hold off until later, when it “really gets good.”  Odds are, the reader will not wait around that long, and you’re way more likely to become disillusioned with your story and quit.  If a scene is dragging, cut it out.  Burn bridges, find a way around.  Live, dammit. 

2.  Engage the reader.

There are several ways to go about this.  You can use wit and levity, you can present a question, and you can immerse the reader into the world you’ve created.  Just remember to do so with subtlety, and don’t try too hard;  believe me, it shows.  

Here are some of my personal favorite examples of engaging opening lines: 

“In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." 

– Douglas Adams, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

"It was the day my grandmother exploded.”

– Iain Banks, Crow Road.

“A white Pomeranian named Fluffy flew out of the a fifth-floor window in Panna, which was a grand-new building with the painter’s scaffolding still around it. Fluffy screamed.”

– Vikram Chandra, Sacred Games.

See what I’m saying?  They pull you in and do not let go.

3.  Introduce us to a main character (but do it right.)

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

– Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

This is one of my favorite literary openings of all time, because right off the bat we know almost everything we need to know about Shadow’s character (i.e. that he’s rugged, pragmatic, and loving.)   

Also note that it doesn’t tell us everything about Shadow:  it presents questions that make us want to read more.  How did Shadow get into prison?  When will he get out?  Will he reunite with his wife?  There’s also more details about Shadow slowly sprinkled in throughout the book, about his past, personality, and physical appearance.  This makes him feel more real and rounded as a character, and doesn’t pull the reader out of the story.

Obviously, I’m not saying you should rip off American Gods.  You don’t even need to include a hooker eating a guy with her cooch if you don’t want to.  

But this, and other successful openers, will give you just enough information about the main character to get the story started;  rarely any good comes from infodumping, and allowing your reader to get to know your character gradually will make them feel more real.   

4.  Learn from the greats.

My list of my favorite opening lines (and why I love them) is right here.

5.  Keep moving.  

The toughest part of being a writer is that it’s a rare and glorious occasion when you’re actually satisfied with something you write.  And to add another layer of complication, what you like best probably won’t be what your readers will like best. 

If you refuse to keep moving until you have the perfect first chapter, you will never write anything beyond your first chapter.  

Set a plan, and stick to it:  having a daily/weekly word or page goal can be extremely helpful, especially when you’re starting out.  Plotting is a lifesaver (some of my favorite posts on how to do so here, here, and here.)

Keep writing, keep moving, and rewrite later.  If you stay in one place for too long, you’ll never keep going. 

Best of luck, and happy writing.  <3

me being (very) brutally honest with the signs

Aries- You’re such a goddamn hothead all the goddamn time. Not everyone likes to be constantly doing something every second of every day. You get angry with people for the smallest and most trivial reasons but god forbid someone take a dig at you. You’re such a hypocrite and it’s annoying as fuck. You act like an edgy teenager that’s constantly throwing a tantrum. You also boss people around and expect everyone to just follow your lead and if they don’t, you get pissed at them for having a mind of their own. You seriously need to take a look at your life and stop seeing everything as a fucking challenge that’s rigged against you. My god, I get tired just being in your presence. 

Taurus- You’re a lazy fuck and way too materialistic and possessive. You literally have no desire to do anything because you love to sit on your ass. You take “treat yourself” to a whole new level and not in a healthy way whatsoever. It seems like every chance you get you cause arguments and then you contradict whatever the other person is saying just because you can’t look at anything from a different point of view. Even if you get to the point where you realize you’re in the wrong and the other person is right, you’ll just continue to argue for the sake of arguing and god forbid your ego take even the slightest blow. It’s irritating as shit like you really think you know best when in reality you’re just a stubborn bitch. What a bore.

Gemini- Look, I know you guys get a lot of flak. But take this into consideration…… it’s because most if not all of it is FUCKING TRUE. You have so many different personalities I don’t know which one is even real. You gossip 24/7 and flip-flop between who you talk to and who you talk about. You’re completely unreliable and unpredictable and also clingy as fuck. Seriously, I feel like I can’t get away from you. I just want to go to the bathroom, I don’t need to hear the story right now about how Sarah said that Dylan said that Kimberly found a sock in the dryer that wasn’t hers. Literally no one cares. Another thing that you do is once you get tired of someone, you just throw them away like garbage. (Also Trump is a gemini, and I know you guys can’t control that but like come on. Of course he’s a gemini.)

Cancer- You really need to stop being so whiny or I’m actually going to lose it. Everyone has problems so stop acting like such a victim all the goddamn time. You’re so moody all the time and you act like a small child that needs to have their diaper changed. You also cling onto people as soon as you meet them and cry if someone doesn’t answer your text within 5 fucking minutes. Don’t you have your own life to live? Oh wait, I forgot you spend every second in a dark room and refuse to come outside unless it’s to answer the door because you ordered shitty takeout. You consider changing your clothes adventurous and honestly it’s so boring. Introverted doesn’t even describe you, you’re more like a complete hermit (CRAB. HA!)

Leo- Hey leo, wow, are you actually reading this? I’m kind of shocked because I never thought you’d ever stop looking at yourself in the mirror. Seriously, you’re probably the most vain sign out of all of us. So much so that if someone criticizes you in even the smallest way, you get so offended and act like you’ve been shot in the chest. You think so highly of yourself, and while it’s great to have confidence, you take it to the next level, which is extreme arrogance. You love to have the conversation focused around you. You’re the type of friend that if someone is telling you about their problem or just their day in general, you’ll interrupt them and start talking about yourself and it’s DAMN ANNOYING. How do you still have friends?

Virgo- I’m gonna tell you right now, you’re not as perfect as you think you are. You’re so quick to critique other people that you write them off as not good enough before even getting to know them. You’re the type of person that would tell their friend that they were breathing too loudly. For fucks sake, you’re such an over analyzing pedant it makes me want to slap you in the face with my fucking asymmetrical hand. Your pessimism is damn near blinding, I probably wouldn’t want to hang around you for more than 10 minutes or you’d make me feel self conscious about how I fucking walk or some shit. You can’t take or make a joke. You’re skeptical about everything and you’re completely inflexible. You like to think of yourself as an intellectual but really you’re stuck up, narrow minded and someone I constantly find myself rolling my eyes at.

Libra- You are manipulative as shit. You’ll tell someone they look good without even looking up from your phone. You lie all the time and don’t really give a fuck if you hurt other people’s feelings because you really only look out for yourself. You’re also a huge fucking coward. When your friends need you to have their back and actually be there for them, you run and hide and say, “Oh sorry I just didn’t want to get involved!”. What a lame fucking excuse for ditching your friend in their time of need. You’re also extremely indecisive to the point where it’ll take you 3 hours just to choose where you want to go eat. It’s tiring as fuck. Just MAKE A CHOICE FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE. Have your own fucking opinion. You’re like a goddamn sheep.

Scorpio- Why the FUCK are you so aggressive for no fucking reason? You manipulate people just for the fun of it. You get jealous so easily and usually you don’t even have a reason to be jealous. You just are. It’s pathetic. You like to think that you’re so cool and mysterious but in reality people just see you as a moody and brooding asshole that no one really wants to bother getting to know. I mean, why would they? What’s the point? Every time someone even tries to get close to you, you completely brush them off and act like you don’t care about them because keeping your “mystifying” aura is soo important to you. And if you do let someone in, you treat them like they’re your possession and it’s creepy as hell. You obsess over them and you want to control them. God forbid they hang out with someone that isn’t you and then you resent them for no goddamn reason other than having a life of their own. Do me a favor scorpio and don’t talk to me.

Sagittarius- Honestly if a sag is reading this, you’re just straight up getting a taste of your own medicine. You’re tactless as shit and it makes me not want to be around you, ever. You’re inconsiderate of others and impatient with everyone. If someone isn’t moving up to your standards you will become agitated and aggressive and then you take it out on the person. You constantly need to be doing something else because your attention span lasts about 2 fucking seconds. You act like an 8 year old. You’re also really superficial. You don’t bother getting to know the deeper layers of a person because, like I said, you’re impatient and also just plain lazy. You take people for granted and are careless when handling the feelings of people closest to you. You’re also a really self-obsessed know-it-all. Go climb a fucking tree, sag.

Capricorn- Four words. Lighten. The fuck. Up. You are by far the most power-hungry of all the signs. You take everything so completely seriously that I don’t even know if you understand what “fun” even is. You always have to have two feet on the ground at all times and you can never ever be spontaneous and it’s so fucking dull. You’re conservative and disdainful nature can be so overbearing at times that even your friends need to get away from you. That is, if you have friends. You’re a complete pessimist so who knows if anyone can actually tolerate that. You constantly have to be the most successful person in a room, and you make sure you reach this level of success through abusive and controlling behavior towards the people around you. Your selfishness grosses me out.

Aquarius- I asked you what time it was. I didn’t ask you if I was afraid of time passing or the fact that it’s a manmade construct. For fucks sake, just shut the fuck up about this deep shit for once. I don’t want to contemplate how large the universe really is at fuckin 8:30 am on a Monday. You’re rebellious even when it doesn’t matter and honestly all it does is piss people off. You’re constantly trying to deviate from the norm that you make the same fucking mistakes that other people already made, but you don’t fucking learn from other people’s mistakes because you always have to go your own way. Maybe listen to other people for once? You’re the most detached sign out of all of them and you hurt people by acting aloof all the fucking time but you don’t care because you chalk it up to “this is who I am!!! I need my freedom!!!!”. You need to actually think about how your actions affect people you care about because if you don’t, you’re REALLY gonna end up alone and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it. 

Pisces- You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself all the time and get it through your head that you’re not always the damn victim. You don’t take responsibility for your actions and you always find a way to blame it on someone else because you’re NEVER in the wrong, are you? Poor little pisces. You’re not as innocent as you want everyone to believe. You’re constantly daydreaming and it becomes really annoying when I’m trying to talk to you and you just completely zone out because you love living in your little imaginary world. You’re the WORST at solving your own problems and conflicts because instead of dealing with them you just avoid it all together and end up leaving the mess for someone else to clean up. You’re really nosy- you love to get in other people’s business. But you don’t go to the person directly, you have to be sneaky about it and gather rumors from other people. You’re also very over-sensitive. Out of all the signs, you’re by far the most likely to respond to this post saying how this isn’t true and that I’m just a “big fat meany!!!” and then add a bunch of angry/crying emojis.


(disclaimer: Don’t worry, I don’t really hate your sign (unless you’re a  * * * * * * … lmao). This was just for fun and I know it’s harsh. Don’t take it too personally. You’re an individual and ultimately you determine who you really are. Except for you, * * * * * * . Fuck you.) 

SDCC Steven Universe Panel Highlights

I thought I’d summarize some details on the San Diego Comic Con panel for anyone who wants it.

The panel at SDCC opened with a live singing of the theme song.

Zach Callison is the moderator. He introduced the guests: Michaela Dietz (Amethyst), Deedee Magno Hall (Pearl), Estelle (Garnet), AJ Michalka (Stevonnie), and of course Rebecca Sugar. He gives her congrats on the Emmy nomination (which is for “Mr. Greg” if you didn’t know). Then he asks the other cast members some questions. This is all paraphrased, not direct quoting.

Zach to Michaela: What Amethyst quotes do you use most in daily life?

Michaela says that when she wakes up, she makes noises that sound like her Gem is cracked. Then she says maybe she should change her answer to “womp womp.”

Zach breaks in with “Which way to the baby war?” as his favorite.

Zach to Deedee: What songs do you sing around the house?

She responds “Which do I NOT sing?” She likes “Love Like You” in the shower. “Steven and the Stevens” when she’s doing dishes, and “Peace and Love” a lot lately. Her kids are learning the songs on piano and ukulele, so there’s lots of SU tunes happening in her house.

Zach to Estelle: How has the popularity of the show affected your music career?

Estelle basically says a new generation of people are noticing her music and realizing she is the singer on songs they encounter in the wild. Zach says he grew up on “American Boy.” ;)

Zach to AJ: How has Stevonnie changed since their first appearance?

She says Stevonnie has learned a lot, and has more confidence now.

Then the cast does a great little line read of the scene when Stevonnie first appears, beginning with them barging in with “Pretty cool right?” The voice actors all say their parts and perform it slightly differently, which is cute. Then they do a version of “Here Comes a Thought” with Estelle and AJ!

Zach to Rebecca: What’s next on Steven Universe?

(Of course she laughs.)

Rebecca says the show has recently had so many huge events, so there will be lots of fallout, like a roller coaster from here on out. Then they show a clip. It’s sort of like a trailer. It’s all about Lapis’s conflictedness not wanting to get caught in another war, Homeworld’s future actions, Pearl being unable to properly explain the context of everything even though she wants to, and Greg not knowing his place in all this.

Zach says he hadn’t seen it yet.

Then they talk a bit about the Save the Light game coming out. A trailer for the game pops up and it includes footage that hasn’t been seen. Including a new character: Squaridot, a Peridot from Homeworld.

Rebecca was very involved in the making of the game. She says having a console game is a dream come true because they could do so much more than with the small mobile game, Attack the Light. There are Fusions and original characters, and the mechanics are relationship-based, and Greg is a player character who can play guitar. She likes that Squaridot is a Peridot who hasn’t made the kind of progress that Peridot has made. They segue to say Shelby Rabara (Peridot’s voice actor) is taking over social media for the week.

Then they talk about the Art and Origins book being out, and how there’s a SDCC-exclusive version. Launching also is the podcast, a 10-episode production, about the production of the show. McKenzie Atwood is the host. Rebecca and Steven were Episode 1–I’ve already heard this (and I seem to recall there wasn’t really a lot of new info except that the Gem writing in the Kindergarten will say who each section belongs to if you can read it, and that a lot of Ishtar imagery was used, including the 7 lions and the stars). Rebecca did episode 1 of the podcast with her brother, and says she wishes she could do everything with Steven. Zach and Grace are Episode 2.  

They talk about how the soundtrack Volume 1 is out, and announce that a vinyl version is out in fall! A limited-run Stronger than You and Love Like You vinyl single is out for SDCC.

Then they play a name-the-song game with SU cosplayers. They complimented a Pearl cosplayer’s cool spear too. They read lyrics, tell what song it’s from, and if the player gets it right, they win a vinyl single. Quiz songs included “Love Like You,” “Wailing Stone,” “Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart,” “Steven and the Stevens,” “It’s Over, Isn’t It,” “What’s the Use of Feeling (Blue),” and “Comet.” Most people got them right, but if they got it wrong they got to try another one.

Then there’s a Q&A, which I’m paraphrasing the 12 questions:

1. Audience member: Fluorite is a polyamorous relationship, right? What inspired it?

Rebecca said she went to an LGBTQ center in Long Beach and chatted about what stuff they really wanted to see. Poly relationships came up. (So yes, that’s confirmed, though in my opinion it really didn’t have to be since they were pretty clear about it!)

2. Audience member: Fan theories–do they influence you or do you have a master plan?

Rebecca says she loves fan theories, but they work way further in the future, so no, they really don’t influence what the story does. She has loved reading the theories about the trial, because some are onto something, and some are like way off. Zach says the good stuff gets downvoted a lot.

3. Audience member: Says a favorite character of theirs is Rainbow Quartz, and wants to know will we see a version of her with Steven?

Rebecca says of course she can’t give spoilers, but that Rainbow Quartz 2.0 would inevitably be different. Then she quickly says, “Forget I said that.”

4. Audience member: How old is Lion? Have we seen all his powers?

Rebecca says it’s a good question and can’t say exactly. The episode “Buddy’s Book” gives a hint at the general time when Rose was spending time with seven lions. That’s a gauge for how old Lion is. She implies that Lion does have more to show us about what he can do.

5. Audience member: Regarding the “Off Colors” episode, which Off Color do you relate to?

Rebecca immediately says “Rhodonite, the neurotic.” Then Zach says he relates to Padparadscha because he’ll trail off in the middle of a sentence. Deedee says she relates to that too.

6. Audience member: On writing music for the show–any challenges?

Rebecca says it’s very challenging–they’re given no extra time to work on the songs. “Mr. Greg” was most challenging of course. Zach is glad the Emmys recognized Rebecca’s extra hours. He said he had a hard time when his voice changed. “Puberty is a thing,” he says, while talking about some songs he struggled with.

7. Audience member: Will there be a Blu-Ray?

Rebecca would like it. Making it happen will take more moments like this (the panel, people showing up for the show).

8. Audience member: Did Yellow Diamond shatter Pink Diamond?

Dude.

Zach: “We won’t tell anyone what you say Rebecca.”

Rebecca just says she’s really excited about the next run because it was a chance to do a real murder mystery.

9. Audience member: What inspired you to use gems/rocks?

Rebecca: “Aesthetic! It’d look cool!” But she learned a lot about myths. Smoky Quartz was fun to learn about gem trivia for, building important symbolism into their character. Estelle said gems are just really pretty, that’s enough of a reason.

10. Audience member: How often do you write a song and then build an episode around it or vice versa?

Rebecca says it depends. Character stories will need a song when dialogue just isn’t enough. “Here Comes a Thought” was unusual since it came before the episode. She wanted it to be a tool to teach kids about mindfulness meditation.

11. Audience member: Do you anticipate what’s going to be popular on your show?

Rebecca says on the inside they focus on loving what they’re making. Team ideas that are spur of the moment seem to catch on most with the fans too. They discuss Padparadscha’s immense popularity. Sapphires are sort of Zelda-like, Rebecca says, and she wanted one who reminded her of Peach. Lamar Abrams came up with the idea of making her hair kinda look like a crown to increase the feeling that she has a matching vibe.

12. Audience member: On Lars’ development: was it planned initially?

Rebecca says it happened naturally. He’s one of the oldest characters in the show, and she was drawing him in college. Lars-n-Sadie comics are older than SU. (This was already known but apparently some people didn’t know they predate the show.) So of course they were always going to be important. (Zach says Lars was important in the pilot for calling Steven names.)

Angel in the Darkness (M)

Originally posted by jungkook-gifs

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au 

Word Count: 5,468

A/N: This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (masturbating, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use……(alot of smut comes in later) This is a mature read! You have been warned!

 part 2



Your mother told you that there was a purpose for what everyone does. That there is always a reason for someone’s actions; whether it was bad or good. If it was a good action, the individual has learned the most rewarding path to handle situations; regardless if it was easy or not. If it was a bad action, the person could reflect on it, and with guidance, they will learn the right way toward dealing with obstacles. And to this day, that is how you viewed life. If you handled something well, you would be rewarded in the future, if you handled it poorly, you would need to reflect on why you did such a thing, till you find the right path. With these beliefs, you always wanted to find the ‘purpose’ of an individual’s actions, and help them find the right way. So that’s how you ended up working at a rehab centre; helping mentally to find the root cause of someone’s poor actions, and leading them to a better future.

Keep reading

I'm On My Knee

Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!

Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!

I’m On My Knee

“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”

    Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”

    Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”

    Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”

“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.

    Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.

    She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.

    “On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.

    Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.

    Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.

    “Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”

    Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.

    She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.

    The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.

    Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.

    The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”

    Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck.  Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.

    That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.

    Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and  made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings  that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.

    The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.

    Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”

    “No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.

    “Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.

    Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”

    Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.

    When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.

    “Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.

    As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”

    She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.

    As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.

    Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.

    He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.

    It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.

    Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.

    Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.

    Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

    As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.

    At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.

    His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”


A little AU meet-cute based on @billypoindexter‘s prompt (someone else may have already done it, but I haven’t written any zimbits in forever):

So I was watching Say Yes to the Dress yesterday and Corbin Bleu and his fiancé (now wife) Sasha Clements were on it and when they asked how they met Sasha said they met in a grocery store and she kind of recognized him, and figured he was an acquaintance whose name she had forgotten. So she goes “Hey!! How are you?” and they chat for a bit before she realizes that she knows him because he’s famous.


Bitty was rounding the end of the cereal aisle, rechecking the grocery list to see if he’d gotten everything and wondering what was wrong with the state of public education in New England that none of his roommates had apparently learned basic penmanship, when he ran into someone.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, and suppressed the wince as his accent reflexively came out full force. (It was partly the apologizing, and partly that he’d learned people were more forgiving if they thought he wasn’t from ’round here. He’d decided to embrace it; if he couldn’t get rid of the accent, it might as well be good for something.)

“No, no problem,” said the person, and then Bitty actually looked at him and felt that familiar terror of countless small-town grocery runs with his mother, where they ran into someone that he knew he was supposed to know, but could not place for the life of him, let alone remember an actual name.

“Well, hey!” he exclaimed, racking his brain frantically for the reason this guy looked so familiar. Surely he’d remember someone who looked like that. Lord. There was nothing, though, so he let autopilot take over. “How have you been?”

Tall, Dark, and Handsome blinked at him. (How could Bitty have forgotten eyes that blue? What even was wrong with him today? This was ridiculous.) “Uh, okay, actually. Yup. Everything going well.”

“Well, that’s great!” Bitty glanced at his list again. “Hey, can you read this? I genuinely can’t tell if this is supposed to be English.”

The guy obligingly took the paper from him and squinted at it. “Provolone, I think.”

Bitty took the list back and stared at it for a second. “I think you’re right. Honestly, Holster.”

“I was just heading toward the deli myself.”

“How perfect! I really kind of hate shopping by myself? But this was just supposed to be a quick in and out, or at least it was until I realized I apparently live with chickens in human guise who never learned to write properly.”

By the time Bitty and The Guy checked out and parted ways half an hour later, Bitty still hadn’t recalled his name, and by then it was clearly too late to admit it.

Oh well, he’d probably remember later, when he was trying to fall asleep.

~*~*~*~

“You know,” he called pointedly from the kitchen, “y’all could make yourselves useful and help me put all these things away.”

“Yes! Bro! Did you see that pass?” Holster yelled instead.

“Beauty,” Ransom answered, and then there was the sound of a high-five.

Bitty sighed and stuck his head around the corner to see what they were yelling about now.

SportsCenter, as usual, was on, playing highlights from the Falconers’ game the night before. As Bitty watched, it switched from the on-ice play to an intermission interview.

An intermission interview. With the guy from the grocery store.

Jack Zimmermann.

“Oh my god,” Bitty said for the second time that day, hands to his cheeks, which were indeed burning up.

Holster looked over at him in concern. “Bits? What’s wrong? Why do you look like a tomato?”

“I just spent half an hour casually grocery shopping with Jack fucking Zimmermann because I thought he looked familiar and I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t place him. Oh my god, I could just die.”

Ransom and Holster exchanged glances and then they were on him. “No shit! What’s he like? What did he buy? Tell us everything!”

“I can never shop there again,” Bitty said faintly.

me to me: hey, where’s the au where Jack jumps into a taxi to escape crazy fans and Bitty’s already using the taxi

me to me: georgia, you write stuff. you can just… write that

me to me: hey, good point

The door opens and shuts again quickly, which is strange enough as the taxi is sitting in the middle lane at a light that’s just turned green. What is more strange though, is a man throws himself into the car at the same time.

Bitty would ask ‘what the hell’, but he’s currently cradling his nose in his hands, having suffered an elbow to the face as the stranger slid across the car seat without looking.

“Crisse. Fuck. Shit. I am so sorry.”

The man turns to him. Bitty’s eyes are watering and he blinks to try and clear them. He’s fairly certain the man in the taxi with him is Jack Zimmermann.

The taxi driver has either not noticed what has happened, or is used to strange occurrences in their taxi, and is still driving Bitty on toward his apartment.

“Are you alright?” The man who Bitty is now convinced is Jack Zimmermann-he’s got a line of stitches on his jaw from a rough check in a game Bitty watched two nights ago–asks worriedly, hands dancing around Bitty’s face like he wants to make sure but is afraid to touch.

Bitty pulls his hands away and looks down. No blood. He presses his fingertips gently to his nose. It’s tender, but not horribly so.

“I’m good.”

Jack sighs and slumps back into the seat. “Thank god.”

He shuts his eyes and leans his head against the backrest. Bitty watches him, speechless. What are you meant to say when one of your favourite athletes ambushes your taxi? There is no precedent for that.

Eventually, Jack opens his eyes and turns to Bitty. “I really am sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I got in here.”

“Jumped,” Bitty corrects.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, it’s just. It’s more like you jumped in here, you know.”

Jack rubs at the back of his neck as his eyes drop to Bitty’s nose. “Yeah, guess so.”

Bitty nods slowly at him, and waits for further explanation, which doesn’t seem forthcoming. It’s not exactly surprising, judging from what little Bitty knows of Jack’s character from post-game interviews and Falconers Face-offs. He’s never been as verbal as some of his teammates. Still, you would think this situation would warrant an explanation.

“Why did you?” Bitty eventually asks, too curious to leave it alone.

Jack’s eyes dart out the window, then land back on Bitty. “It’s, uh, a little embarrassing, truthfully.”

“Try me.”

“Alright. I was–No, I should start with,” Jack mumbles to himself, then clears his throat. “I play hockey, and I’m, well, I’m… known.”

Bitty finds it almost endearing how uncomfortable Jack looks saying it.

Bitty nods. “I knew that part.”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Really? But you haven’t–I mean, you’re not reacting…” He stops himself with a huff. “I really don’t know a good way to say it.”

“Star-struck?” Bitty suggests.

“Eh,” Jack shrugs.

“I played in college,” Bitty tells him. “Lived in a frat house with hockey players for years. You’ve lost all aura of mystery and un-touchability to me, I’m afraid.”

Jack looks him over, and Bitty can guess what thoughts are going through his head. Thankfully, he refrains from saying anything. Bitty might have thrown him out the taxi if he did.

“I don’t mind. It’s… a nice change, truthfully.” Jack even smiles at Bitty as he says it. It’s small, sure, but it’s also an expression Bitty has never ever seen on his face. It feels nice to be shown something of who Jack really is. Bitty looks out the window before he starts reading into it and spins this random encounter into a fantasy. He’s surprised to see he’s only a few blocks from home. It’s felt like no time at all.

“I was running away from some of the, uh, ‘other’ kind of fans,” Jack tells Bitty.

Bitty swings his head back around. “Who says I’m a fan?” he teases with mock-offense.

“Oh.” Jack looks abashed. “I just assumed, because you knew who I was. That’s terrible.”

Bitty laughs. “No, you’re right. You’re a great player.”

Jack seems to wait a second to see if Bitty will go back on his word. When he doesn’t, Jack gives that same small smile again, and dips his head down and away. Every second he spends in Jack’s presence, Bitty feels like he’s learning more about him.

“I’m almost done with the taxi,” Bitty tells Jack as the driver pulls around the corner onto his street.

“Oh,” Jack says, looking at Bitty. If he didn’t know any better, Bitty would call the expression on his face disappointment.

“It’s been nice talking with you, Jack.”

“Yeah. You too, ah…”

“Eric.”

Jack holds out his hand, and Bitty takes it. Jack’s hand feels big around his own, and surprisingly cold. Bitty can’t help but try and memorise as much of the feel of it as he can. He drops Jack’s hand quickly when he catches on to what he’s doing though. He doesn’t want to seem creepy, or like those ‘other fans’ Jack mentioned earlier.

The driver pulls up to the curb where Bitty directs him. Bitty reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but is stopped as Jack grabs onto his wrist.

Bitty tilts his head at Jack.

“Let me pay,” Jack says. “It’s only fair.”

“It’s really alright,” Bitty refutes automatically, distracted by the feeling of Jack’s fingers on his arm.

“Please. I want to. You didn’t have to let me stay in here with you.”

Bitty opens his mouth to decline again, but Jack adds on, “Plus, you know I’m good for it.”

Bitty stares at Jack for a moment before nodding his head.

He gets out and shuts the door behind him. The taxi idles on the curb as he searches for the keys to get into the building. He feels eyes on him and turns around to see Jack watching him through the window. He gestures to Jack to drive on, but Jack shakes his head.

Bitty turns back to the door and bites his lip, feeling flustered at the consideration Jack’s showing him. His hand shakes a little as he tries to fit the key in the lock, but he manages to get the door open, and turns to wave goodbye to Jack before closing the door behind him.

He walks up the stairs to his apartment in a daze, thinking that tonight is a memory he’s going to carry with him forever. The night he shared a taxi with Jack Zimmermann.

Inside his apartment, Bitty holds his hand in front of his face. He curls his fingers down to his palm, closing his eyes and remembering what it felt having Jack’s hand in his.

He sighs out as he opens his eyes. He’s not going to spin a crazy future for him and Jack out of this one interaction. At least, not after tonight he won’t.

[read part two]

Writer

Summary: In which Bucky falls in love with you, a writer.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,531

Originally posted by lovelynemesis

When Bucky first met you, he didn’t know you were a writer. All he knew was that your coffee was scorching hot when it toppled over and spilled all over the front of his shirt. Your words were rushed as you fumbled over an apology and dug around your canvas bag for something he couldn’t see.

Bucky would learn minutes later that you were on a quest for crumpled up napkins to clean up the mess you’d made. He didn’t have the gall to tell you that a napkin was pointless. There was no way to clean up the mess he was after seeing you. Because, as silly as it sounds, he knew from the moment that you collided with him that he’d willingly withstand the heat of a thousand freshly brewed cups of coffee for another second with you.

Keep reading

✨Stay afraid but do it anyway.✨

And perhaps I’m a little touchy on the subject and maybe I hold Carrie a little too dear to my heart, but the reason I do is because Carrie Fisher helped me realize I was mentally ill.

Oh I knew I was crazy, in the same vague way you worry that you’ve left the stove on at home, despite not having cooked yourself a meal in weeks because you’re too depressed to eat a proper meal. (Except you don’t call it that, you call it “laziness” and maybe try and convince yourself it’s a new diet called “whatever requires the least amount of effort to put calories into my face”.)

Something was “off” inside my head, but no one seemed to care about it too much. Even when they threw me into eating rehab for a perceived eating disorder—despite lacking several of the vital criteria on the checklist to have typical eating disordered behavior—no one gave too much of a shit. I was just a girl who was “too nervous”, “too in touch with my emotions”, “too fragile”, I was “attention seeking”. And their remedy to this was ignore me and wonder why I crashed and burned at regular intervals, blame me for being selfish, then go back to not giving a fuck until it inconvenienced their life again.

I was crazy. But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe if I just tried harder…so I learned to cope. I became the one who Coped. I was There For Everyone. I became Reliable and above all else, I learned to be Funny and make It funny.

My mother still hates that. She thinks it’s crass for women to be funny. Personally I think I’m fucking hysterical, but then what do I know, I’m fucking nuts.

Later, now with hindsight and being able to look at my life from a safe(-r) mindset surrounded by people who care and want to help, I realize that what I was going through was (and is) untreated PTSD. Whether or not the PTSD caused the other issues, like the depression, the anxiety, the compulsive behaviors or the ADHD I think I might have, I don’t know. I likely will never know, because the Thing happened and shot my still developing child brain into a million tiny fragmented pieces of unparalleled terror and poor coping mechanisms. It doesn’t really matter at this point, all that matters is dealing with all of it as best as I can, however I can. But there’s a very real chance I might never have gotten to this stage if I hadn’t found out that Princess Leia, my childhood icon who helped me feel brave and strong while my world was ending, had written a book about living with mental health issues.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from it to be honest. I knew vaguely, that Carrie Fisher had issues. The word “junkie” had been used by my father—while unironically taking a drink from his self-medicating poison of choice and my mother tutted and tisked about how some people just ought to pull themselves together

Ten, maybe twelve minutes into the book locked away in my room, I can’t even tell you anymore whether I was crying because I was laughing so hard or if I was laughing because I was crying my heart out, but I was having a fucking revelation.

This was me, holy shit this was me, this was me, this was me, an unboken mantra in my head pounding to the beat of my heart, this was me, this is me—I do exist.

That’s a weird thought to have, right? I do exist. 

It wasn’t, “I’m normal”, because normal is not this. It’s not feeling like your mind is running a million miles a second in circles while simultaneously wading uphill through treacle and juggling chainsaws while trying to keep all your Life Plates spinning and oh gods someone just handed you a kitten to look after. What it is however, is fairly common, and suffered with varying degrees of severity by a rather sizable chunk of the world’s population. I mean, who knew? I sure as shit didn’t. I thought it was all in my head.

You know what I mean.

I’m told some people get up in the mornings and go through their entire day without once having an intrusive thought or struggling to do basic shit like take a shower and manage to remember to feed themselves. I know, seems fake right? It certainly does to me.

And here was Carrie, my Princess Leia, laying out her issues past, present and probable future, in what remains one of the funniest, most brutal attempts at self-lobotomy on paper I have ever had the privilege to read. I consumed that book in mere hours, I devoured her words and breathed them in like inhaling steam in a sauna and breathing out fire in their wake and moved onto her next book, then her next, then her next, and by then there was this blessed thing called Twitter and it should be impossible to be hilarious and poignant through 140 emojis or less, but that was the kind of brilliant she was. And this was me, this was someone like me. And she was witty and brilliant and funny and yes, things were difficult for her and yes, some parts of her life were an absolute clusterfuck of mistakes, addiction and general all round fuckery leading up to that point…but she was still there, y’know? She was still there.

And it breaks my heart a little every day, knowing that I’ll never be able to tell her how important that was to me. And to thank her for it.

So instead I try to pay it forward. Every day, from one day to the next, I try to be a little kinder, a little brighter—a little more like Our Lady Carrie—and throw two loving sparkly middle fingers up at the world that tries to stamp out and demonize the notion that mentally ill people like me, like you, exist. 

And we deserve to exist, and more than that, we deserve to be treated with human fucking decency.

And if you are of a mind that the latest news surrounding Carrie’s death means that she was any lesser of a vital energy force in this world, that she mattered less, that her words were less important or that she “deserved” to die because they found drugs in her autopsy report, it is with my profound and heartfelt best wishes, that I invite you to cordially:

✨🖕✨🖕✨🖕✨ Go Fuck Yourself ✨🖕✨🖕✨🖕✨

Don’t bother to RSVP.

Going off to university is super duper cool. It matures you drastically in a short amount of time. However, there were some specific things I started doing that really helped me out later in class and real life. 

  • Reading the news: my dudes, I know for some this sounds super boring or that social media has all the news that you need, but that is very wrong. Reputable news sources have some very strict standards for sources, evidence and message. Here are the best reputable news sources: 
    • Washington Post (free with an .edu email)
    • NPR (free in general, has great podcasts. see this post.)
    • New York Times (not so free with an .edu email, but cheaper)
    • Wall Street Journal ($4 a month with an .edu email)
    • The Economist (still expensive with an .edu account - useful for those who have a international major like polisci, international relations, spanish majors etc.)
    • Politico
    • The BBC
    • DON’T FORGET YOUR LOCAL AND STATE NEWS WHICH ARE IMPORTANT (and most likely to have funny headlines and stories - for example in Texas this dude ran for mayor of Corpus Christie, won, and then resigned 37 days later. Now this dude is running for Senate lolol). 
    • (There is no cable news on here, because cable news is mostly for entertainment and like 90% trash, sorry not sorry)
  • Have an agenda/planner: Homies, the only reason I was half as responsible as I was last year is due to writing everything down. Due dates for assignments, homework for each day, meetings, when I needed to get my oil changed - it all went into the agenda/planner. 
  • Make a budget: If you are responsible with what little money you have now it will be easier to be responsible with any sum of money later. Pinky Promise. 
  • Stay Healthy: Be as healthy as you can afford. Get your flu shot if you can (sometimes campus clinic will have them for free of for a reduced price), workout (the gym is included in your tuition, btw), take advantage of having pre-cut vegetable with your meal plan, don’t forget to have fun with friends, which is just as important as your flu shot. 
  • Find what relaxes you: For me this is skin care - which I recommend everyone do, but for me washing my face, using toner, a serum, a mask and moisturizing is super relaxing and I always feel like a better person afterwards. If Netflix relaxes you, go for it. Same with music, or running, or reading, or whatever you do to chill. Make time for it. 
  • Start Preparing for Real Life: Real life hits you hard if you are not prepared. Get work experience if you can, any type of work that you can put on your resume is useful, I promise! Intern in your field (to get experience, contacts and to make sure you WANT to work in that field). NETWORK AS MUCH AS YOU CAN. Get a LinkedIn and connect to literally everyone. It isn’t the same rules as reg social media. If you meet anyone in your field find them on LinkedIn and send them a message about enjoying meeting them. DO IT. 
  • Start Planning for More School: If you have plans for grad school the prep you are doing is different in some ways than above, mainly that you have to do more. Keep your GPA high, you also need to intern if you can, apply for major scholarships (Fullbright, Rhodes, Truman etc) even if you don’t think you’ll get it apply anyways, start looking for grad school and start sucking up to professors so you’ll get a good recommendation. 
  • Speak up in class: I think this is important because it endears you to professors. BUT it also makes sure you are actively thinking about what you’re learning. If you participate in a class debate–even better–because learning how to productively argue is ONE OF THE BEST SKILLS you can learn. 
  • Consider being politically active: To be fair, I am a little biased as a political science major. BUT GOVERNMENT IS SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT OKAY? Especially local government–which (at least in the USA) has the most impact on your life even if you don’t always see it. You don’t have to join a party, just be informed, go to town halls, contact your representatives, and VOTE. I SWEAR TO GOD VOTE. PEOPLE UNDER 30 ARE LEAST LIKELY TO VOTE BUT, MY DUDES, WE ARE LIVING WITH THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE ELECTION A LOT LONGER THAN ANYONE ELSE. ONLY LIKE 30% OF MILLENNIALS VOTED IN THE 2016 USA PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. WTF. SHAPE UP. 

These are just something that me and my friends and I have done. If you have any questions about how to get politically active in your area or how to contact your reps the best hmu because I interned for my local congressional rep and I run my school’s College Democrat club. 

The Dragon & The Wolf

Dragonpit scene - I love how Jon always wants to be on the front row when Daenerys arrives. 

When he said to everyone he already bend the knee. Danys face— she knew what that line meant. And was conflicted about how to react to this. They already know they are falling hard. At least she does and things like these doesnt make it easier. 

Ok I feel myself coming into a rant here. Its just so beautiful to me how Jon is so different for her than any other man she has ever met. I am rewatching GOT and she has never been around any man like she has been with Jon. 

He intrigues her so much and I don’t think she ever had or felt that for anyone. Her feelings for other men were always clear for her. 

She loved Drogo but it was set up and she fell for him during their relationship. But I feel like that relationship formed who she is now and she didnt really knew who she was back there. She loved -spending time with- Daario but she was always in control with him.

Jon is a completely different story for her. And Emilia plays that so well. He brings out this really special vurnable side of Daenerys we have rarely seen.

And she fell for it, and fell for it hard. 

She was so desperate to save Drogo and her decisions didn’t make any sense and I like how she was the same when she heard of Jon & co being in trouble. She didnt listen but just thought with her heart.

– k I am gonna stop here. I am not even close to Boatsex talk and I am already rambling —

“No one is less happy about this than I am” “I know” Love. Loved. LOVE this. How she just understands him. 

They are both people who ask for respect and honesty. She always asks people to follow her and wants their word and he is a man of his word so its only natural she understands it. Its like the scene he told her he was gonna go to the wall as well. She hates that he is this way but she also respects it. (and finds it extremely attractive).

Also, subtle handtouching. Like you touched last week and now you just wanna get more huh? 

THAT SCENE IN THE CORNER OF DRAGONPIT. They were like 2 schoolkids being all secretly. 

And again, I love how Jon kinda drops a cheesy line there and at any other man she’d roll her eyes but with him it just makes her heart drop.

And him trying to make a joke there. Like here they are, her dragon just died, his plan is going to hell and they share this beautiful bittersweet moment. 

Her whole speech about having to trust him sooner was so heartbreaking cause maybe then her dragon would still be alive. (I am gonna cry when she’ll see Viserion for the first time) 

Dragonstone scene - can they buy a mansion there?

THIS. THIS. Haha Jon, I am so onto you. First the cave paintings and now -Notherners like people who arrive together-trick. Yeah you just want her on that boat huh?

I felt so bad for Jorah tho’. She completely ignored his plan. And she knew she did that. At the end of the scene she leanded to the table a little like trying to hold her posture but full aware that many people, including Jorah, knows about her affection to the King of hte North. 

I find Jon much harder to read. But I think it is beautiful to see how he didnt trust her at first and really does see her for who she is. Like he told her. And how he is so amazed by her. He is so starstruck. I never really liked Jon with Yigritt she was definitely his first love but Dany is something he really pines for. Yigritt was also wrong and impossible but it happened anyway. Here he knows there is much more at stake. But he can’t deny his feelings any longer. And thats why he showed up at her door.

Now about Boatsex, I would have loved for it to go differently - well actually not different just - longer. More build up. But I understand why it went the way it went. Jon knew what he wanted and I love how they let the moment last for a bit with him standing at her door, looking in her eyes, waiting for her approval and she knew what he meant by looking in his eyes and let him in. She bend the knee. 

I was dying for a kiss here. And a little sad it didnt happen - there will be a lot of fanfic request about the missing part between the door and the bed – hint hint. 

But its like we are still gonna get our first kiss in season 8-kinda.

It was so beautifully brought yet stil hot. Jon’s ass was a nice distraction ASS-well. 

And him taking over control was so hot, not only for me but I think Daenerys agrees. Their bodies looked so beautiful together. Fire and Ice. They were so full of need and it was all lust and passionate and then my favorite part came and Jon broke the moment and we had time to realize that this isn’t just two character hooking up. No, they are in love. 

And he was so amazed by her and her beauty and how pure she looked. You can really feel he looks at Daenerys here, not with all the titles but just her and she realized this and she looks so vurnable and just so beautiful to him.

You can really see her kinda scared about what this is she’s feeling and it all just because so overwhelming for them. UGH THIS SCENE.

HOW HE STROKES HER HAIR. SO BEAUTIFUL. 

And how she hold his face. 

And then he just looks at her, when he looks at her, its like the first time I see clearly through his feelings and he just lets his guard down. He loves her. There’s no way to run from his feelings. No more excuses of -the great war is coming-. He never really let his feelings for her take over. Never fully thought with his heart and here he does and he just let it take over.

I just—-

Ps: Tyrion watching was odd but it just represented the scene Bran was talking about how their love ruined all kingdoms and how Tyrion cant feel but sad and confused about what he should do about this and if it is the right thing.

I am not sure how I will make it until 2019 to wait for more and I am so curious to see where all this will go. I am really curious how they will act after this episode and they will probably learn about Jon’s family name soon enough with only 2 episodes in and I do feel this will cause a problem for them. Jon will be all - wtf and Daenerys will be distrustfull about her claim to the throne. But I can suspect moments of Jon being all noble and telling her, by episode 5 probably, that he doesnt want the title but he does want her. Oh and she is definetely pregnant. BRING ON THE ANGST. 

Cant wait for Arya’s reaction to Dany btw. 

– Now I am off to fanfiction land – 

Thank you for an amazing 7th shipping season.

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Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk, right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover yourself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. You were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about the idea of spending a whole semester with Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though you still didn’t expect the shake of your head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of your head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that you were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way you expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine. Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to your awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see your face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself. You only knew that when he started talking again, you had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

A to Z (Fluff) - Loki Laufeyson

Originally posted by tomhiddlesnews

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

Apart from how beautiful you are to him, he likes your assertiveness and your loyalty. He loves how sweet you are to him, even though he thinks he’s a monster - you always tell him otherwise and he loves you for that.

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

He’d be scared to have a family with you, but he loves you and knows you deserve the world.

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle?

He likes to cuddle chest to chest with you because he’s a little spoon. He feels loved and appreciated by you when you wrap your arms around him and he can only give you the same affection

D = Dates what are dates with them like?

Loki Laufeyson is a fucking sPOILER!!! He loves to spoil you with everything and anything. Rose gold dress? He got it for you. Food? Already bought it. Romantic dates? He can take you to Paris with the snap of his fingers!

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

“You are my queen. I’m loyal to you and only you. I want to give you everything you want and deserve. I want to serve you and make sure you know how beautiful you are.”

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love?

Thor had badly beaten up Loki, he was bleeding and bruised - tossed into an alleyway. If you hadn’t stopped Thor, Loki would’ve been dead. You quickly ran to him, not caring that he was a so-called “villain”. You took him back to your room and took care of him. You fixed him up and made sure that Thor wouldn’t pick on him again. You soon learned that Loki was misunderstood and tried desperately to convince others - then Loki knew that he had to have you and call you his.

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

HE’S SUPER GENTLE WITH YOU!! Even when you’re mad at him and banging your fists against his chest, he would still treat you like you were the most fragile thing in the universe!

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

He loved holding your hand. It made him feel an indescribable feeling. Your hand was small and warm in his big cold hands and when you touched, sparks started flying like fireworks on Christmas. He likes to lace his fingers with yours because he finds that your hand is the perfect fit for his - and he just knew that the universe gave him an angel

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A Definitely Incomplete List Of My Favorite Moments From The Lightning Thief (book), because I'm having Feelings
  • Percy very causally mentioning times he accidentally hit a school bus with a canon or dropped fifth graders into shark-infested water
  • Grover Underwood
  • Just everything he’s ever done
  • Percy running an illegal candy ring out of his dorm room 
  • “I was worried they found out I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the internet and were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.”
  • When Percy thought Grover was going to give him some deep, meaningful commentary on life to make him feel better but Grover just wanted Percy’s lunch
  • Percy tried so hard to do well on his Latin final and Chiron somehow thinks it’s a good idea to tell him he’s ‘not normal’ in front of the class my poor boy
  • That one part where Percy essentially went “Oh hey mom’s home!!! Better reschedule this panic attack I was having!!” 
  • When Percy did that weird hand sign (that was never explained) and the door slammed on Gabe so hard he flew up the steps
  • The fact that when Grover finally tracked Percy down he wasn’t wearing any pants. Like, there was literally no reason for him to not have the fake feet and the jeans on. No actual reason for him to be free balling it. Percy just needed a shock apparently. Showing up in the middle of a hurricane with no pants, dramatic ass satyr I love him. 
  • The SATISFYING DEATH of Gabe’s Camaro + Sally apparently learned bullfighting just in case because she truly is the best mom
  • Percy killing the minotaur with its own horn
  • Percy dragging Grover over the camp line while crying for his mom literally end me
  • You drool when you sleep.” could we get more iconic here
  • Percy teasing Annabeth about her crush on Luke
  • When Luke stole some toiletries for Percy and he got a little choked up because it was apparently the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him
  • The fact that Chiron basically told Annabeth that Percy was her destiny
  • The fact that a recovering alcoholic god of wine who hates children was deemed fit to run a camp for children
  • Not so fun: Percy, upon meeting Mr. D, immediately recognizing the signs of an alcoholic and going out of his way to sit far away from him ‘just in case’
  • The fact that everyone just expected him to hear ‘the greek gods are real’ and move on?? why would no one let this boy be in shock omg
  • Zeus apparently had a thing for the fluffy 80′s hairstyles
  • “the real world is where the monsters are” 
  • The fact that Poseidon could have claimed Percy at literally any moment but he apparently decided he really needed that dramatic reveal during capture the flag.
  • When Zeus was feeling Extra Dramatic™ after Percy’s claiming so he started making it rain inside the camp boarders and everyone was lowkey freaking out
  • When Annabeth pulls off her invisible cap and declares she’s going on the quest with him and Percy was like, beyond unsurprised that she was there and didn’t even attempt to fight her 
  • Chiron forgot to give Percy a sword from his father for like, an entire month. 
  • Grover with those freaking flying shoes oh my God
  • Annabeth blushing literally any time Luke talks to her 
  • IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT ARGUS, HEAD OF CAMP SECURITY
  • lmao when Percy and Annabeth start bickering about something and Argus just winks at Percy because he knows
  • When they were playing hackey sack with an apple but it got too close to Grover’s mouth and he just ate the whole thing
  • The entire bus scene oh my God
  • “I was about to become the ADHD Poster Child of the Year” as he’s CRASHING A BUS
  • Annabeth on a fury’s back 
  • the explosion. just. all gr8. 
  • When Grover tries to play a path finder song and Percy just immediately slams into a tree. Also the fact that the path finder song was actually just a Hillary Duff number. 
  • “You two are giving me a migraine, and satyr’s don’t even get migraines!” 
  • Percy actually, truly trying to sell the story that the three of them are circus orphans who got separated from their ringleader 
  • Grover: hey guys this place is REALLY SHADY and we need to leave
  • Annabeth and Percy: but f o o d
  • Can you imagine walking into a store and finding your dead uncle’s body on display? Like????
  • When Medusa revealed herself and Annabeth’s running around invisible, Percy’s swinging a sword blindly and Grover’s flying around screaming and trying to whack her with a stick: everyone here is a MESS
  • When Annabeth was overly annoyed with Percy after that ordeal??? Sweetheart you fell for the trick too
  • Name something more iconic than 12 year old Percy Jackson mailing the decapitated head of Medusa to the gods on Mt. Olympus in an act of sheer pettiness. I dare you. 
  • When Percy was insisting on taking first watch while the others slept and Grover was basically like “hey kiddo listen to this” and played a song that immediately knocked him out so he could sleep all night 
  • “Percy. Say hello to the poodle.”
  • Percy seeing all the Greek creatures from the train window 
  • When Annabeth was dragging the boys to the St. Louis Arch and Percy’s claustrophobic ass Did Not Want To Get In That Tiny Elevator but he went anyway because he wanted Annabeth to be happy. That boy has had it bad since the start. 
  • “I am Echidna!”
  • “Isn’t…isn’t that a type of anteater?”
  • I HATE AUSTRALIA.” 
  • How many times has Percy actually been poisoned throughout all the series I literally want a count 
  • ‘Lemme just, uh….jump off the fucking St. Louis Arch and hope I don’t die when I hit the water.’
  • There is just something very aesthetic about Percy lighting a fire in the bottom of a river 
  • Percy’s got so much pent-up rage that he’s just immediately ready to wreck Ares upon meeting him omfg
  • THE THRILL RIDE O’ LOVE
  • Annabeth getting so worked up and flustered over going down there with Percy because it’s a love ride and Percy’s just like “you literally do not have to make this a Thing” lmao
  • Annabeth wouldn’t let Percy touch Aphrodite’s scarf because she didn’t want him getting infected by love magic but then…touched it herself lol
  • The entire sequence with the mechanical spiders and the cameras and the ride itself 
  • Percy’s plan to get off the ride!!!! He’s so smart okay can people stop calling him stupid!!! 
  • Grover trying to catch them both in mid-air but they‘re too heavy so the three of them just kind of slowly crash into one of those face-cut-out posters lol
  • Percy, turning to the camera’s broadcasting this shit on Olympus: “Show’s over! Thank You! Goodnight!” 
  • THE FUCKING ZOO BUS
  • Everything about that scene omg. The animals they had to help. Trying to convince Grover of how great he is. The baby percabeth. my h e a r t
  • “What if it does line up like the Trojan War? Athena versus Poseidon?”
  • “I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll be fighting next to you.”
  • “Why?”
  • “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain, any more stupid questions?”
  • Do you hear that sound? That’s me, ages 13-21(+) sobbing uncontrollably oh my God I love them so much
  • ‘let’s just set a fucking lion loose in Las Vegas’ 
  • “I put a Blessing of the Wild on them, so they’ll safely find food and shelter wherever they go.”
  • “Why can’t you put on of those on us?”
  • “It only works on wild animals.”
  • “So it would only effect Percy…”
  • “HEY!” 
  • When they get to the Lotus hotel and Grover starts playing that game where the deer shoot the hunters azxjhnhdjx
  • Percy physically having to drag his friends out of there once he realized it was the lair of the lotus eaters
  • When Annabeth gave the taxi driver her lotus credit card and he started calling her “Your Highness” lmao
  • Every time in this book Percy comes close to uncovering a Dark Truth the people around him are just like “let’s not worry about that :) “ and my polite boy actually shuts up it’s so wild because I would just keep going lol
  • CRUSTY THE WATER BED SALESMAN 
  • Listen that entire scene has lowkey always been one of my Favs and I’m not even sure why but Percy chopping his head off was g r e a t
  • The entrance to the Underworld is DOA Recording Studios and I love it
  • “We, uh…all drowned in a bathtub.”
  • Poor Charon just wants his Italian suits he doesn’t need all this bullshit 
  • Grover almost getting dragged into Tartarus: not good. very bad. bad shit. 
  • Annabeth getting emotionally attached to Cerberus in the span of 3 minutes: RELATABLE 
  • ‘huh my backpack that I thought I got rid of five days ago is getting weirdly heavy, that’s not suspicious though, right?’ 
  • When Hades just starts monologue-ing about all the shit he has to put up with
  • “what kind of awful things do you have to do to get sewn into Hades underwear?” p e r c y
  • when Percy realizes the Master Bolt is in his backpack and he’s just like. tell me why. why. I’m a good person. what did I DO. 
  • When Percy has to sacrifice his mom to get Annabeth and Grover out of there I Cri Evey Tiem 
  • My cute lil’ baby yelling around on a beach to get Ares to show up 
  • ahdbsjznx when Grover gives Percy a crushed, half eaten tin can for good like and Percy is just like “Grover…I don’t know what to say.” I LOVE HIM
  • My sweet son kicking the god of war’s ass. bless. blessed on this day. 
  • The news crews who suddenly started backtracking and writing Percy as a hero 
  • Percy, choking back tears, giving Gabe’s store’s phone number out on national television and promising everyone free appliances IM STILL CACKLING I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH HE’S ICONIC 
  • Hades actually releasing Sally because he’s Not As Big Of A Dick As He Could Have Been 
  • Percy: hey I think there’s a really good chance that Kronos was behind this whole mess-
  • Zeus and Poseidon: XXX KRONOS DO NOT INTERACT XXX
  • Poseidon rolling his eyes at literally everything Zeus says and does
  • Poseidon and Percy’s whole talk omg my sweet boy just wants his dad to love him and Poseidon’s trying to figure out how to show affection when he basically signed this kid’s death sentence I’m crying 
  • A man will never satisfy me as much or in the same way as Sally Jackson murdering Gabe Ugliano did 
  • Percy was spending months of summer stressing over who the friend that’s supposed to betray him was but like…Sweetie you had exactly three (3) friends and you knew two of them weren’t gonna hurt you
  • ahbdjsnx when Percy and Luke were having their conversation in the woods and like Luke’s acting shady af the whole time but it’s literally not until he litters that Percy is like “something…is Wrong.” this boy I s2g
  • Percy getting bit by a scorpion is Not A Favorite Moment but the nymphs helping him out was 
  • Percy making his Official Decision to go home for the school year only after Annabeth reveals that he actually did talk her into trying again with her family 
  • I didn’t mean to write out a summary of the whole damn book it’s six am listen I’m just feeling nostalgia for the original series in this chili’s tonight 
  • whoops